History of The Royal Troon
It is doubtful if any championship course has suffered more from the relentless forces of nature and the comparatively puny yet still destructive weapons of war devised by man than the rugged links of Royal Troon where the 133rd Open Championship will be played in July 2004.
Bombardment from land, sea and air threatened the first century of the club’s existence. Floods and sand storms, crashing aircraft, unexploded hand grenades, runaway tanks and mysterious ice bombs falling from clear skies made golf at Troon a frustrating and often dangerous sport. There were no fatalities, but many near misses.
Visitors in the modern era, subjected to nothing more scary than fierce winds off the Irish Sea and deafeningly close encounters with jumbo jets leaving and approaching nearby Prestwick airport, enjoy the uncompromising challenge and perfect condition of Troon’s links with scarcely a thought for its early traumas.
It was in 1878 that local doctor John Highet and Glasgow builder James Dickie conceived the idea of forming a small golf club on a large area of rough duneland owned by the Duke of Portland. Surveyors poured cold water on the idea with huge estimates for the cost of clearing and draining the land and finally five modest holes were laid out and a disused railway carriage hauled into place as a makeshift clubhouse for the 24 original members.
Within eight years the course had been extended, first to six, then 12 and eventually 18 holes, and a substantial stone clubhouse erected. Carved out through dunes covered with whins and brambles and hollows that were soft and marshy with casual water, the course quickly acquired a reputation for the fine quality of its greens, which it retains to this day. Bobby Locke, the 1950 Open champion at Troon, sent the club a Christmas card each year which always bore the same message: “Still the best greens in the world.”
Yet in those early days nature did its best to thwart Troon’s golfers. Gale force winds off the sea regularly covered the course in a thick layer of hundreds of tons of sand, a problem that lasted 80 years until the erection of protective fences and the planting of marram grasses in the dunes.
Storms also overwhelmed the wall that guarded the spot where the Pow Burn meets the sea in 1896. Two new groynes were built at considerable expense, but again in 1913 and 1936 the sea encroached two hundred yards into the golf course. More than 2,000 sand bags had to be laid in 1950 and further sea defence measures in the 1990s cost a quarter of a million pounds.
Man teamed up with nature to frustrate Troon’s early members. Local farmers drove carts across the course to harvest seaweed for fertiliser and then dumped it on the fairways to dry. The coastal area was also popular for weekend picnics and many a non-golfing family gratefully spread out their fare on the finely groomed greens.
But worse was to come from man-made hazards. During the first World War part of the links area was used as a hand-grenade practice range and well into the last decade of the 20th century greenkeepers cutting turf would hear the heart-stopping clink of metal on metal as another unexploded grenade wormed its way towards the surface.
The second world conflict brought further danger and destruction to the links. Tank training for the Normandy invasion was taking place across the beaches and through the dunes. Access across the golf course was strictly controlled through clearly defined lanes, but who can argue with a renegade tank?
Certainly not the young schoolboy who was cutting the 12th green. A tank suddenly appeared behind him and charged into the heart of the green. With flailing tracks cutting a deep swathe in the immaculate surface it executed a sharp right turn and disappeared into the dunes. The schoolboy was Norman Fergusson who was subsequently to become the club’s highly respected greens superintendent.
An even closer encounter was to befall caddie-master Bob Manson when a Mustang dropped out of the sky, skimmed over his head and made an emergency landing which ripped out the fourth green. The pilot stepped unharmed from the wreckage and, presumably with thoughts of a restorative whisky in mind, asked calmly: “Was that the Marine Hotel I just passed?”
With the return of peace, the scars in Troon’s fine turf quickly healed, but a mysterious aerial bombardment came literally out of the blue. Great chunks of ice started to rain down on the course from cloudless skies, thudding into the turf and upsetting many a tentative putting stroke.
Prestwick airport was being extensively developed to serve the increasing trans-Atlantic traffic. Arriving from the west at high altitude, planes were shedding ice that had built up on wing edges as they came in to land, dropping their potentially lethal missiles at the far end of the links. There were, luckily, no direct hits, but the nerves of many members were put to a severe test. The development of de-icing equipment finally put an end to the rain of terror.
Now only an occasional, almost silent, appearance of a jumbo jet from behind the sandhills, rapidly followed by the thunder of its engines as some 300 tons of machinery, flaps and undercarriage lowered like a giant eagle swooping on its prey, intrudes on an otherwise tranquil game.
Yet none of the problems faced by Troon over many years have detracted from its championship record. When first selected to host the Open in 1923, the ferocious weather was best mastered by tall English professional Arthur Havers. His strong, four-knuckle left-hand grip helped him punch the ball low in the wind and he holed a bunker shot at the last hole to beat defending champion Walter Hagen by a single stroke. It was to be the last British victory for 10 years.
Almost completely encircled by bunkers the green rises to the back and left. Two holes in one on the first day of the 1981 Open were scored with a 9-iron and 5-iron showing how wind speed and direction can change so swiftly on British links courses.
Despite the success of that championship and the enlightened attitude of Troon in becoming the first to open its clubhouse doors to competing professionals, there was a gap of 27 years before Bobby Locke won the second of his four Opens, successfully defending the title he had won the year before at Royal St George’s.
Troon’s next appearance in the spotlight was in 1962, a championship which marked a watershed in the history of the Open. Arnold Palmer, in full swashbuckling mode, won by six strokes from Kel Nagle, with the rest of the field trailing 13 shots in his wake. He had fired the imagination of the golf-watching public in the previous two Opens at St Andrews and Birkdale and huge crowds followed him at Troon. The stewarding arrangements that had been perfectly adequate for years just couldn’t cope. From that point on the R&A has fenced the perimeter of all Open courses and roped off the fairways.
Palmer also started an American take-over of championships played at Troon. Tom Weiskopf was next in line in 1973. He opened with rounds of 68-67 in a week plagued by rain, a start that gave him sufficient strokes in hand to withstand a last round challenge of 66 from Neil Coles and 65 from Jack Nicklaus. It was to prove the only major success for a man of such supreme golfing talent.
Although Tom Watson captured the fourth of his five Open titles at Royal Troon, the club had been granted the all-important prefix to commemorate its centenary in 1978, it was not one of his regal performances. Watson ground out a 284 total and then watched from the clubhouse as those who led going into the final round failed to hang on to their advantage.
For the first time in 1989 the title was decided by a four-hole play-off. Previously nothing less than a full round had been played to resolve ties, but in order to complete the championship within four days the new mini-round play-off had been introduced. Greg Norman’s final round 64 set a clubhouse target of 275 that survived for two hours and was finally matched by fellow Australian Wayne Grady and American Mark Calcavecchia. The matter was resolved when the American hit a five-iron to six feet from the right rough at the 18th with Grady trailing and Norman close under the lip of a bunker 310 yards from the tee.
Troon’s reputation for superb greens was further enhanced in 1997 when young American Justin Leonard had only 25 putts in a final round of 65 to beat Darren Clarke and Jesper Parnevik by three shots and third-placed Jim Furyk by seven. In a masterful display he holed four putts between 10 and 36 feet in the closing nine holes. Perhaps he should add Royal Troon to his Christmas card list.
The preceding was furnished by OpenGolf.com
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