Cow pasture that defied Depression
Your support helps us to tell the story
From reproductive rights to climate change to Big Tech, The Independent is on the ground when the story is developing. Whether it's investigating the financials of Elon Musk's pro-Trump PAC or producing our latest documentary, 'The A Word', which shines a light on the American women fighting for reproductive rights, we know how important it is to parse out the facts from the messaging.
At such a critical moment in US history, we need reporters on the ground. Your donation allows us to keep sending journalists to speak to both sides of the story.
The Independent is trusted by Americans across the entire political spectrum. And unlike many other quality news outlets, we choose not to lock Americans out of our reporting and analysis with paywalls. We believe quality journalism should be available to everyone, paid for by those who can afford it.
Your support makes all the difference.MULE-SKINNERS insisted on being paid in advance so they would have enough money to buy feed for their animals. The rate was 25 cents an hour; the job, to build a golf course on the cow pasture owned by the Tulsa oil baron, Waite Phillips, writes Tim Glover from Tulsa. It was 1933 and, in what was once Indian territory, the market crashed from Sitting Bulls to Running Bears. They were in the middle of the Great Depression.
One in five men in America was out of work and some wise folk in Tulsa wanted to build a golf club as an 'economic necessity to preserve our health and sanity'. What was needed from Phillips was 300 acres and a few hundred thousand dollars. Phillips said he would play ball if the proposers raised dollars 150,000 and he gave them 18 days to do so. They fell 10 grand short but Phillips donated the land anyway.
The architect was Perry Duke Maxwell, a banker who became a self-taught course architect. He collaborated with the Scotsman, Alister Mackenzie, at Augusta National and it was Maxwell who was responsible for the greens. His fee for Southern Hills was dollars 7,500 and, working to the principle that 'first you need a suitable piece of land, then you do as little to it as possible', he created one of the finest courses in the US.
One of the finest holes is the 12th, a par four measuring 448 yards. Ben Hogan was fortunate enough to be stationed in Tulsa during the Second World War and, war or no war, Hogan discovered the joys of playing Southern Hills. He ranked the 12th among his favourite holes. It is a tight dogleg left with water in front of the green.
Bruce Lietzke recalls the hole during the second round of the US Open here in 1977. 'I was paired with Sam Snead and Arnold Palmer. Palmer hit his second shot 25ft over the back of the green into the trees and I hit mine 10ft over. Snead faded a five wood 15ft from the pin. Well, Arnold pitched in and I bounced mine in from the rough. Snead couldn't believe what he was seeing. Then he stepped up and side-saddled that putt in. The gallery went crazy.'
Join our commenting forum
Join thought-provoking conversations, follow other Independent readers and see their replies
Comments