The Grass Doctor

Farmer West did a commendable job keeping his hayfield cut low for members of the Ho-Ho-Kus (NJ) Golf Club. It was 1890 and no one in the United States knew anything about keeping a green, or for that matter, just exactly what a green was. West was well compensated for his efforts but Ho-Ho-Kus still looked and played like a low cut hayfield.

Just a few miles away, the Paterson (NJ) Golf Club opened for play. With a membership full of worldly businessmen, the Paterson directors made a worldly business decision – they hired a man with a Scottish surname to tend to their nine hole course. Maybe they were on to something because Greenkeeper Boyd put the course into pretty darn good shape. Much better than a hayfield.

Golf soon exploded in North America and the demand for qualified greenkeepers like Boyd soared. Relatives summoned their golf playing brothers and cousins back home in the land of William Wallace. Gentlemen of means imported greenkeepers just like they would cases of Scotch. Some came on their own accord with just a brogue for a resume. And there in lied the problem. They weren’t all qualified and if they were this wasn’t Scotland.

Many North American golf clubs failed agronomically between 1890-1910. They failed miserably. This wasn’t home town seaside linksland but rock and clay. Worms and fungus. The greenkeepers with accents were left searching for answers that weren’t available, that is, until one of their brethren answered the call for help.

Reginald Beale made a name for himself grassing in what was considered the greatest parkland golf course of its day – the Sunningdale Golf Club in England. His success led him to author “The Practical Greenkeeper” which became an early bible for turf management. He became golf’s top consultant inspecting over 350 European courses. In 1908, Beale was contacted by the Country Club in Brookline, Massachusetts to advise them on a seed mixture for use in a construction project. The results were more than satisfactory.

Word spread quickly about the grass doctor. Beale put together a consultation tour of the United States and Canada and set sail across the Atlantic in 1911. He visited Arcola, Baltusrol, Chicago Golf, Merion, Royal Montreal, Shinnecock Hills, National Golf Links and over twenty other prominent clubs of the time. He returned in 1913 to visit Piping Rock, Pine Valley, Garden City, Toronto, Skokie, Atlantic City and many clients from his first tour. His recommendations were revolutionary.

“Good soil preparation with proper fertilization, at least four inches of friable soil, good surface drainage, and seed chosen for the purpose for which they are to be used for.”

What Reginald Beale did was introduce science to the art of greenkeeping. In his wake would follow Dr’s Piper and Oakley and the Arlington Turf Gardens, the U.S.G.A. Green Section, and the development of turf management courses at institutions of higher learning. A genuine apostle of the Royal and Ancient game, Reginald Beale saved American golf.

Beale's greenkeeping bible circa 1919

                            

Golf’s First Pest

The Ice Age and all its glorious glacial movements crawled across North America 650 million years ago providing the ultimate environmentally-friendly control of golf’s first pest – the earthworm. The ice suppressed the worms to the point that it wiped them out. Good news for the future of golf.

Unfortunately for American greenkeepers who burst on the scene a few years later, worms had been reintroduced by European settlers. Everything about the long, slimy, porosity increasing, organic digesting annelids was good for the soil. Unless, of course, the soil was under your putting green.

Middens, the little brown calling cards we all lovingly refer to as worm casts, pock marked turn of the 20^th century greens much to the dismay of early golf enthusiasts. This dismay was often voiced to the greenkeeper in rather unparlimentary language.

No one felt the wrath of earthworms greater than good ole George Low, the pro/greenkeeper of the Dyker Meadow Golf Club in Brooklyn, New York. The Carnoutsie native had never seen anything like it back home in Scotland. “Mon, thur no worms, thur snakes!” They drove the diminutive Scotsman nuts.

Dyker Meadow enjoyed the reputation of having the finest greens in the golf course rich New York Metropolitan area during the birth of American golf. Situated on the shores of the Gravesand Bay close by the Atlantic Ocean, the fertile soil of the golf links made it quite cozy for an earthworm and his extended family to set up house.

In the fall of 1900, a reporter from the Brooklyn Daily Eagle wrote a scathing article about Low’s precious greens. “There is not a putting green on the handsome Dyker Meadow course that is in good condition. The worms have cast little heaps of dirt that make the running of a ball a matter of speculation.” Damn those middens. Ole George went to work.

Every greenkeeper had a secret recipe for a worm drench and Low’s consisted of tobacco, mustard, soap and water. The concoction was applied in the evening and by morning the greens were covered with writhing worms. The half dead worms were carried off in pails; sun dried and used as garden manure. The casts were whipped off the green with bamboo poles. Just a little hard work and Dyker Meadow was back on top.

The greenkeeping skills of George Low caught the attention of Louis Keller, a man who just built a new golf course and was looking to take it to the next level. They came to an agreement and Low packed his bags of magic and moved to New Jersey. He would spend the next twenty years polishing a real diamond in the rough – the Baltusrol Golf Club – while waiting for the arrival of golf’s next foe – the Japanese Beetle.

"Worms are vermin...so are fleas. If worms are a benefit to golf courses, fleas are of benefit to dogs."   Walter Travis  1920        

An advertisement from 1910 for a commercial worm eradicant.