| I went for a long drive with my girlfriend in the rolling hilly country east of Cleveland yesterday. She’s a talented decorative painter who does amazing things to make plain furniture and cabinetry into works of art. It was simply a beautiful day for a drive, but the stated purpose was to visit Amish country to pick up some wood samples from Mr. Yoder (they all seem to be named “Yoder”), a craftsman in a rural community an hour or so away. It turned out Mr. Yoder was a younger guy who, despite looking like an extra from the cast of “Witness,” is the key master carpenter for a multi-million-dollar fantasy home being built by some ultra-wealthy couple. The guy was sharp as a tack and selling his products all over the nation. The whole Amish thing amazes me because, as much as they keep to themselves, they are remarkable businesspeople who command top dollar for anything from a rocking chair to a homemade banana cream pie – both of which we bought along the way. I poked around his humble shop as the two of them conversed in a strange foreign language involving wood grains and faux finishes and dovetail joints. Now I know how “outsiders” feel when we’re all talking turf. Anyway, as we meandered around Northeast Ohio enjoying the country drive to and from the little Amish enclave, we passed six golf courses along the way. Let me set the scene: it’s a Saturday, it’s nearly 70 and mostly sunny and the area has just experienced the rainiest, foulest April in history. For weeks, it’s been like living in an old black-and-white film-noir detective movie where everything is dark, gray and wet. Had I not been recruited for this errand, nothing would have stopped me from having a golf club in my hands. Facility number one along our route was an isolated but very well-known private done by a big-name designer 15 years ago. I’d played there as a guest back when one of the facility’s claims to fame was that it only allowed 100 members. Since then, the place has struggled a bit and even merged with another club. I wasn’t overly surprised to see maybe 15 cars in the lot because it is still pretty exclusive. So we drove on. Number two was a public joint I’d heard of but never played. It’s supposedly a pretty decent track with a reputation as a fun place for an outing. We pulled into the entrance about noon, came around the corner and counted exactly nine cars. We stumbled on courses three and four along the small highway that wound to and from our destination. Both were “country” courses. You know the type…weathered signage, an aging fleet of battered golf cars, gravel parking lot, layout probably done by somebody’s brother-in-law 40 years ago and maybe a buck a hole to play. Five cars in one lot and three – count ‘em – three cars in the other. Facilities five and six were older, venerable private clubs in the east suburbs. Each has its own little member niche, but they were both designed by revered old Scottish dead guys and are among the handful of clubs that are the backbone of golf in our metropolitan area. Just a glance at the holes that were visible on my drive-by tour suggested far more empty fairways and greens than I’d expect for golf-starved memberships. In short, lots of white space on the tee sheets. So, on the day that spring finally showed up in my little part of the world – a day that golfers should have been flocking to anyplace with mowed greens and flagsticks stuck in the ground – not one of them was even close to busy. WTF? Oh... of course I meant, “Where’s The Foursomes?” As I pondered this puzzling question, I thought back on Mr. Yoder. What would the Amish do in the face of diminished demand for chairs and pies and fierce competition from others (the Shakers, maybe)? Well, for one they’d outwork the other guys. They’d push harder to find business. They’d market more heavily – yes, they advertise and promote themselves. They’d find new products to offer. But mainly they’d do some SOMETHING besides the status quo and not just sit around wondering WTF. I’m not saying you should grow a beard and shun electricity. But maybe thinking a little more like Mr. Yoder and his friends might help you keep an old-fashioned business going in the 21st century. GCI |
Explore the May 2011 Issue
Check out more from this issue and find your next story to read.
Latest from Golf Course Industry
- Making the grade — at or near grade
- PBI-Gordon receives local business honor
- Florida's Windsor takes environmental step
- GCSAA names Grassroots Ambassador Leadership Award winners
- Turf & Soil Diagnostics promotes Duane Otto to president
- Reel Turf Techs: Ben Herberger
- Brian Costello elected ASGCA president
- The Aquatrols Company story
