Colonial in Winter: The Yellow Rose of Texas

I’m finishing my piece on Dallas Public golf today.  Until then, here’s the Colonial piece.  Click over to Cybergolf for more pictures.

Texas sunrise: the pale, grey light of dawn slowly blossoms into broad, golden beams of sunlight. It’s a new day, and as the sun slips over the horizon to shine a little light on Colonial Country Club, that’s when Colonial also begins to emerge from sleep, and stretch golden arms of her own. Shimmering before us like sunlight on a rippling sea, Colonial blooms each winter morning like a yellow rose, dignified, graceful, and hardy. Her dormant fairways a fine shade of “biscuit brown,” even in somber late December, she glows warmly like a crown of glory, fairways alight with a fire of winter, each green an iridescent emerald bobbing in the ocean of tan Bermuda grass.

Yet the trees cast a different hue upon the landscape. Normally, verdant cloisters of broad leafy canopies, these bare branches loom, close and menacing. Like a phantasmagorical scene from an Edgar Allan Poe tale, the trees make Colonial look ghostly: a desolate heath, a windswept plain. A cold gust bit fiercely, then waned, then swirled around us again, giving a mournful howl. As if on cue, a single hawk flew its sentinel reconnaissance overhead with piercing, cunning eyes, hunting.

Still, a line of golfers stood on the range, eager as gun-dogs, excited anticipation on every face. Bleak December had dismayed the trees, but not the golf course, nor the buoyant hearts of the players. Keith Foster had just completed renovations, the largest-scale and most extensive project undertaken in decades; changes were made to every hole. Word around the club was that they were terrific. They had invested over $3 million, and everything got completed on-time, under budget, and in apple-pie order.

Basking for decades in the esteem of countless champions, Colonial is one of the most historic courses in the country. Home to Ben Hogan, host to the oldest PGA tournament continuously held at one course, and the 1941 U.S. Open venue, Colonial was called one of the three best clubs on the PGA TOUR by golf historian Chris Clouser, (along with Riviera, and Westchester C.C.). Indeed, with over seventy years of epic stories, the older, more venerable members find their reminiscences in great demand.

One common remembrance is a time when 320-yard drives didn’t turn every course into a lawn darts competition. Colonial, like so many great courses, needed to defend itself from the superballs that pass for golf balls, and the football helmets on a stick that pass for drivers. It built its sterling reputation on being a course that rewarded skill, not brute strength, finesse and thoughtful play, not bomb and gauge. But without land to build new tees for an 8,000 yard behemoth, they had to think creatively.

“We couldn’t add raw distance,” began Colonial’s Matt Blake, “so we pitched some fairways back just a bit so that drives don’t run out as much. This is designed to only affect players using the tips, not the other sets of tees. We also added bunkers to pinch landing areas on a few holes, and moved some bunkers further back, so that they are still the same strategic challenge that the architects intended.”

It worked. The course’s length only increased a mere 180 yards. With fairways contoured to prevent long rollouts and gigantic forward bounces which leave a flip wedge in, Colonial will still reward the shotmaker. With greenside bunkers moved closer to greens, and fairway bunkers moved further out from the tee boxes, the course will play as it has in years past. Foster also removed some trees behind greens, built green surrounds that can be “short cut” to closely shaved areas which allow myriad options: bump and run, pitch and check, putt, or chip.

Foster’s tie-ins and shaping were natural and smooth. Most importantly, the course looked and played as it has for many years. It may not be exactly the way the architects designed it when John Bredemus and Perry Maxwell first sent Colonial’s founder Marvin Leonard various sets of routings in the ’30s, but the membership likes it, and it’s a fair and interesting test for the tournament. The routing is essentially the same, but between re-routing the Trinity River in 1968 and smoothing and flattening the greens so the pros didn’t get too frustrated, some of Maxwell and Bredemus’s work has disappeared.

Even so, Colonial still remains a clever test of creative, patient, skillful golf, and is beloved in Texas, (both for its heritage and Ben Hogan’s). That was the reason for my visit, to write about Colonial’s transformation, as well as to learn more about Maxwell’s role in building Colonial, regarded by many as one of the gems of his resume and, finally, to compare and contrast it with Maxwell’s other work.

Everyone seemed happy with Foster’s efforts, especially the membership, many of whom are safely inside on this crisp morning, sipping tea and enjoying breakfast. Some choose the old-school refinement of strawberries and cream, some savor the Colonial country breakfast – a bacon and egg sandwich, cheesy grits, and biscuits – and still others share laughs with their friends over huevos rancheros. A few feet away, the club Christmas tree glows, decorated tastefully, with its simple but elegant red velvet balls and white lights, contrasted against the deep evergreen branches.

Those intrepid enough to brave the cold, however, are now milling about the starter’s hut, waiting for their hole assignment. With a short delay for the frost to burn off, we were sent off in shotgun fashion, assigned to a random hole. One by one, the starter called the names off his list.

“Smith…you start on 8.”

“Thanks, Joe,” Smith (not his real name), responded. Two carts peeled away from the line that had formed.

“Jones…” A tall, lanky red-head perked up inquiringly. “You’re on 9.” Off they went.

One by one, the ritual continued. As each group received their assignment, then drove off, I did some quick math in my head, recalling the few holes that were still waiting to be doled out. There were a few notables that had not been called. I was just putting two and two together in my head, and realizing with both fear and excitement that today two and two might just add up frighteningly to…

“Three!” Joe said triumphantly, beaming at me.

Unbelievable. How’s that for luck? I’m gonna have a horseshoe imprint on my forehead before I’ve finished my morning coffee. Oh well, it makes good copy.

For those of you scoring at home, Colonial’s hardest and most infamous stretch of holes is 3-4-5, the “Horrible Horseshoe.” Two brutally long par-4s, the latter of which borders the Trinity River, sandwich a long uphill par-3. The main defense is length.

Starting on three may have been the next best thing to starting on either one or six. Starting at one you get to see the natural progression as the architect intended. Starting at six, you would finish with the Horseshoe, an unforgettable way to end the day. Starting on three might be a rough wake-up call, but it also showcases, arguably, the best and most famous holes first.

Happily, Foster’s skillful work and excellent results shone through immediately, and at the most crucial point on the course – its heart and soul. Standing on the third tee, looking at the hard left bend the fairway takes, the line between fairway and rough is so seamless, it’s almost imperceptible. The left side of the fairway – the shorter route to the green – now has a gentle bank, back and to the right, to soften the landing of a touring pro’s draw off the tee. Yet it had no effect on my three-wood shot to the middle of the fairway.

A badly-pulled long iron and a bladed pitch left me a downhill 35-foot putt. Here’s where Colonial’s sublime greens showed all their subtlety. The putt looked to break several feet right to left, but Jerry – our genial and well-informed caddie – read a mere foot of break only. The ball rolled in the front door for an opening par. Jerry never missed a read the entire day. To me, that’s the first duty of a caddie. Ask for him when you visit Colonial.

The fifth hole had similar shaping and strategies. The landing area on this dog-leg right that closely hugs the Trinity River, has a gentle, almost imperceptible cant back and to the left, again to prevent a long fade from running too far. Again, the line between fairway and rough was so gentle, so smooth that one had trouble determining where the fairway ended and the rough began. The same was true of the fairway and the green, it was eminently natural. It also meted out penalties ruthlessly. I blocked my approach with a fairway-wood only a little and the Trinity River made my Nike Platinum disappear faster than a rabbit in a conjuring trick. Maybe a straight ball will get you in more trouble at Colonial than anywhere else, but my crooked ones sure didn’t help me.

Other holes followed the same theme. The fairways on six and nine sloped back and to the left toward the furthest set of tees, but had no effect on the shorter boxes set at different angles. The bunkers on seven, twelve and fifteen close the front of the greens so tightly, you can forget about bumping and running the ball. Fairway bunkers were ready to snare poorly struck drives.

“I see why all-star golfers win here with frequency,” began club guest Gary Wiseman, the drummer for Dallas rock band Bowling for Soup and an avid golfer, a sixteen handicap. “When I missed a target on the approach, I was punished severely by the bunkers. The bunkering was excellent, beautiful and shrewdly placed. At some courses, there’s a right side and a wrong side to miss on. Here, there’s no right side to miss. Misses find a bunker and believe me, it is scary standing out there even in the middle of the fairway, the entrance to the greens is so slim and the bunkers so deep.”

Nevertheless, even being turned into Texas Toast wasn’t enough to dim the outlook of either Wiseman or Chris Burney, Bowling for Soup’s golf loving guitar player, who joined us.

“It was so exciting for me. I’ve dreamed of playing here all my life,” Wiseman said gratefully, his star-struck eyes and broad smile lighting up his whole face. “It was everything I’d expected and then some. But it was also all-around tough. There is nowhere to hide out there.”

Indeed, Wiseman was plucky. At one point, deep in the woods, he punched out between two trees. It was a razor thin opening and the shot was laser perfect.

“That was amazing!” I said, impressed. “Did you move the ball back in your stance and shorten your swing to hit that?”

“No,” Gary replied sheepishly, “I just closed my eyes and prayed.”

Chris Burney had a similar shot on the gorgeous, par-3 eighth. The picture of him short and right of the green staring at an endless line of trees is iconic. Still, he agreed that the changes were flawless and that the bunkers were murder. “The course looks so natural, it’s impressive that he [Foster] could make it look so smooth,” he observed. Then his face fell into a look of frustration and horror. “It was hard,” he admitted exhaustedly. “Those bunkers are tough, and the approaches are so hard. Everywhere I missed, there was a bunker.” Then he brightened again. “It’s a terrific finish from fifteen on. I also liked nine. But despite it being so hard, there’s no doubt, it’s the greatest course I’ve ever played yet. It’s a masterpiece.”

Well said, Chris. It is a masterpiece; and that’s one Texas institution talking about another Texas institution, and they know institutions at Colonial. Take Ben Hogan, for example. The club – Hogan’s Heroes in this case – have a room dedicated to the man.

Seeing this was a holy moment. I’ll never forget it as long as I live. I was seeing some of golf’s ancient treasures. There was a wicker basket from Merion. In a case stood a replica each of the Wanamaker, Claret Jug, and U.S. Open trophies. I counted five Colonial trophies and five matching medals. Ben even gave the club his shoes, (size 9-1/2).

On a darker note, the most compelling image in the collection is the photo of Ben being loaded into the stretcher after the accident. The look on Ben’s face is surprising. He’s awake and alert. A blanket covers him neck to toes. But it’s the expression he wears that is mesmerizing. He wears the same stoic, icy dignity and calm he did leaning on his putter. Once again, he shows he was a rock during the tough times. That’s how he won ten majors. Many people even think that in that photo, with that same steely resolve, he looks exactly like Sean Connery. The “get well” bath robe given to him from George Burns, Bing Crosby, Harpo Marx, Leo Derocher, and others sits next to it.

Best of all, Ben’s actual locker is set up to one side. It’s fully stocked. Several shirts – all grey or white, except one yellow and one light blue – a mirror, towel, razor blade, shoes, watch, shoe bag, bag and clubs, and his plaid jacket sit in organized fashion, as though awaiting their owner at any moment. You can even see yourself in Hogan’s mirror. Imagine what he saw…

Despite being a composite of holes designed by both Perry Maxwell and John Bredemus, the course is listed by most as a Maxwell course, especially after his revisions for the 1941 U.S. Open, and the renown of the Horrible Horseshoe. There is clearly a great deal of Maxwell in the design, such as clamshell bunkers, numerous dog-legs, judicious use of specimen trees, and diagonal use of wash areas as hazards. It also follows his broader tenets: it was eminently natural, it utilized as many of the severe natural features as possible, the variety of holes ad the routing give the course character. But much of the Maxwell details to the greens may have been removed during subsequent tournament preparations.

Additionally, the scale of the course is enormous. The size and scope of the playing field closely resembled Bethpage Black, Oakmont, and Winged Foot. The regulation/members’ tees play 6,700 yards, also similar to Bethpage. In the old days, many par-4s had to be driver-3-wood-wedge holes for mere mortals. The fairways were surprisingly wide. (Interestingly, back in the ’40s the fifty yard wide playing corridors were described by the press as “narrow.”)

The “oversized” greens were absolutely perfect, smooth and true. As pros don’t like heavily undulating greens – even Tiger Woods once remarked, “I hate greens that have elephants buried under them,” – the breaks at Colonial often look greater than they really are. That makes them tricky to read, and makes scoring at Colonial difficult without having to “trick-up” the course.

While Maxwell was known for his “Maxwell rolls,” massive undulations with confounding breaks – Southern Hills or Crystal Downs for example – Colonial’s greens are tamer and are more accessible to touring pros who face them every year. They can only take Southern Hills’s greens once every decade, not every year. But the soft tilts, twists, and turns of Colonial are refined, a few inches here, a few inches there, much like Garden City Golf Club.

The benign greens and the relative flatness of the course are the only major difference between Colonial and Southern Hills, Southern Hills has better terrain and greens than Colonial, and Oklahoma City Golf and Country Club better still, but comparing them side by side, you see a striking resemblance. On the other hand, Colonial is a remarkably easy course to walk. Much wider in winter, with little rough and no leaves, it’s more fun for the bogey golfer, and the fast firm conditions hearken back to the way Maxwell intended it to play when he built it.

Some might argue that winter is an even better time to see Colonial than in summer. With the trees bare, one can see across many holes at once, vast expanses of the open plain on which the course sits. Texas’s Yellow Rose blooms only in winter, and the magical shapes and hues created by the gold course and the pale brown of the dead trees’ bony arms, are a stark setting in the still silence of a windless day. When the Texas winds howl, it’s even more gothic. Tim Burton would join in a heartbeat.

If I might make a suggestion, they should host a televised tournament in December. People would have never seen a tournament under such conditions, it would be a new twist. Instead of the normal made-for-TV vacuous desert “shootouts”, invite thirty-two stars to return for two days and play this venerable course at a time when she looks as though she’s dressed for Halloween. Of course they’ll come. The hospitality and history of Colonial rival any major championship venue, and the fans would find the contrast with May fascinating.

Privately, perhaps for members and their guests, they could do something similar, or even throw two great tournaments/parties, one at Halloween to celebrate the course’s changeover to gold, then another in February for “Rites of spring” to celebrate the change back.

Either way, Colonial proved versatile – it can play impeccably in any time of year. They club should take great pride in every greenskeeper, superintendent, and their assistants. The plan constructed to defend the course was first rate, state-of-the-art golf course architecture problem solving. Moreover, the course was gorgeous. Who needs an evergreen in Texas? Her Yellow Rose endures winter’s chill, just as well, blooming brightly and proudly, just as she has for more than seven decades, a reflection of the same unconquerable spirit of her stewards.

Odds and Ends

There are only 87 bunkers on the course. Maxwell didn’t need 180 when 80ish more interestingly placed can defend the course just as well.

The fairways are dormant bermuda 419, A-4 bent grass for the greens (same as Baltusrol).

There are twenty different sized jackets kept from which they’ll choose the winner’s. Don’t worry. They even had one to fit Lumpy. They sometimes gave out green jackets.

The trophy looks like something given away at a motor speedway.

There was a second Christmas tree in the clubhouse. This one was in the pro shop, and was green, white, and gold. For ornaments, they used tinsel and shiny, brand new golf shoes.