Lessons learned: A test of honesty

This is the second in a three-part series about lessons Healy learned in his early days working on a golf course.

York Golf Club’s No. 15 was a short par 4, with the main branch of Salt Creek running just in front of the long tee, and from there a spur ran to the side and in front of the shorter tee, then along the right side of the fairway, back around to the front of the elevated green, and then a final loop to pass behind the green on its way back to the main part of Salt Creek.

As a ball hawk, I was working the spur immediately in front of the green in the early afternoon. A foursome came up to hit their shots onto the green.

“Hey kid, sell me some golf balls?” said one of the foursome. He went on: “I’ll buy 25 to 50 balls, if they are good quality, and give you 25 cents each cash, right here and now”

“Can’t do it,” I said. “All the golf balls I find I sell back to the club.”

“How much does the club pay you for high quality balls?” asked the golfer.

“For the good ones that don’t need to be repainted I get 9 cents per ball,” I replied.

“Come on kid, the course will never know, sell me a few dozen of your best,” he replied.

“Sorry, sir” I said. “The club gets all the balls I find.”

“Kid, I like your reply,” said the golfer. “I manage three golf courses in the area, and I’m looking for an honest ball hawk who won’t rob me blind.” “Give me a call if you are interested,” he said as he hit up onto the green and played out No. 15. He had left his business card at the edge of the creek.

His card included the names of the courses he managed, and they were quite close to York GC and to where I lived. I kept his card for a while, wondering if I should give a call and at least discuss the business deal he was offering me.

In the end I never called. Part of the reason was that my ball hawk business along with working maintenance and first tee at York sometimes meant close to 100-hour work weeks.

The other reason I didn’t call him was that I realized I disliked having someone attempt to test my honesty.

The third and last lesson learned on hole 15 is as a result of the dumbest thing I have ever done. I can still hear the blast of the double barrel shotgun.

Read Healy’s final “lesson learned” in next week’s e-newsletter.

Do you have nostalgic experiences of your own from your early days working in golf course maintenance? If so, we’d like to hear them. E-mail Senior Editor Marisa Palmieri at mpalmieri@gie.net, and we'll run our favorites on golfcourseindustry.com.

Michael J. Healy, Ph.D., is a turfgrass pathologist in private practice operating out of southern Alabama. He can be reached at: 251-986-6240 or mjhealy@gulftel.com.