the Golden Gate Bridge has endured largely unchanged for nearly a century. Tucked be- low hills that are often swathed with coastal fog, the layout sits in a micro- climate banana belt. A creek bifurcates the hilly course, while mature red- woods flank a number of fairways, and a couple of tees offer sublime views of towering Mt. Tamalpais. Emblematic of so many public nine-hole courses, Mill Valley is short, a bit scruffy and warmly welcoming to golfers of all abilities and ages. “You’ll see a lot of
young people out here,” says Head Pro Gil Ben- nett, who over a 45-year career has worked at a number of Northern California courses. He names several other lo- cal public facilities and adds, “They don’t want the kids. We do. People can also drive up and very often get on without making a tee time. And they get around in less than two hours.”
that range from $16 to $23 for nine holes—and a replay for just $12— the muni’s rates may be the only thing that’s cheap in Mill Valley, where run-down cottages go for a cool million. In fact, if the town were to do the unthinkable and zone the 42 acres of the course for housing, the conservative estimate of its worth would be around eleventy- zillion bucks. While demand for Marin real estate wasn’t quite that intense at the start of 20th century, Northern California saw a boom in golf course construction. Clubs formed through- out Marin. And plans for this nine- hole course and private club started over a dinner conversation at the home of one Jim Finn, in the winter of 1915-1916, only to go on hold during the First World War. In the spring of 1919, 40 charter members purchased acreage from Hugh and Ida Boyle, namesakes of the nearby Boyle Park and descen- dants of the original Spanish land grant holder, John Reed. John H. Clark, a greenskeeper and pro golfer who also designed the original Marin Country Club in San Rafael, laid out the cleverly routed course. His son, Bob Clark, served as Mill Valley’s first professional, with PGA Class A credentials.
Although the founders hoped
to the city for $25,000. It took three votes before two-thirds of the citizens approved. After fees, taxes, loan payoffs and other expenses, the remaining members walked away with $308 apiece. In 1939, Mill Valley went public. Little has changed since, other than the first tee used to be on the other side of Buena Vista Avenue. At 2,096 yards, the course is a par 32; tees for the “back nine” add 20 yards and a stroke. The 18-hole course rat- ing is 62.7, with a 108 slope. Each of its holes is distinctive, with four par 3s and five par 4s. While the city has occasionally put
money into Mill Valley, the operation is largely left on its own, which shows. Because of shade-throwing trees, five tee boxes are made of artificial turf, some new, some needing replacement. California’s four-year drought has been rough on Mill Valley’s fairways. The pro shop offers beer, soft drinks and modest array of snacks, but is otherwise bare bones. The liabilities are balanced by
Mill Valley’s charms. Between the sixth green and the seventh tee is a mystical walk through a Muir Woods-like grove of coastal red- woods. The joy of hitting wedges into par-4 greens is a rare pleasure for those with double-digit handicaps. Mill Valley clearly has a full measure of yin and yang. It’s “driving range” is a
netted box, set up for teach- ing by former Head Pro Doug Acton, who ran the course from 2010 to 2014. The
Tassone, who manages a medical practice when not working in a round, says that the relaxed vibe around the Mill Valley course is what makes it special. “Everyone who comes here is very
down to earth. It’s not The Olympic Club or San Francisco. But it’s a place where everyone feels comfortable and loves golf. It’s total blue collar.” Well, egalitarian might be a more
apt description, because this is after all, Marin County. With green fees
for a 300-member club, the roster topped out at 120. The course had its moment in the national sun when a photo of the fourth green—with Mount Tam in the background— appeared in the March 1936 edition of National Geographic. But the grinding Great Depression took its toll, as courses in Sleepy Hollow, San Rafael and Belvedere vanished. Mill Valley’s membership declined to just 38. The club offered to sell the course
60-year-old Acton grew up in Marin, played Mill Valley as a youth and holds the course record, 55. The “strong amateur” has played many fine tracks, but nine-holers are his favorite. “Almost every nine-hole course has peculiar elements, and they are something of an acquired taste,” he explains. “But all of them have heart. All have soul. And there’s no stuffi- ness or pretension at a place like Mill Valley. It’s a civic asset.”
FALL 2015 /
NCGA.ORG / 19
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