The importance and appeal of diversity

By Jeff Mingay

American Heritage Dictionary
di-verse (di-vûrs', di-, di'vûrs')
adj.

1. Differing one from another.

2. Made up distinct characteristics, qualities, or elements.

When it comes to hiring a golf architect for a new project, certain developers are sold on designers who deliver very similar products time after time. They simply know what they’re going to get; and, somewhat understandably, they're comfortable with that.

In fact, a number of golf architects built – and are building – very successful businesses in this market. The question is: are they doing proper service for golf? After all, one of the game’s grand attractions is the remarkable diversity of courses throughout the world.

In my view, the great A.W. Tillinghast set the benchmark in regard to a truly diversified portfolio. As I've written elsewhere, compare Tillinghast’s Somerset Hills (1917), San Francisco Golf Club (1918) and Winged Foot (1923), for example. If you weren’t privy, you’d think each of these outstanding courses was designed by a different architect.

They’re all by Tillinghast.

To start, Tillinghast consistently allowed inherent site characteristics and conditions to drive his golf course designs. This methodology always results in creation of courses of distinction.

There are no architectural standards in Tillinghast’s world; and, he wasn’t afraid to employ varying styles from site to site. Most obvious are Tille’s varying bunker styles. Take the aforementioned trio for example: Somerset Hills features grass-down, flat bottom bunkers that contrast Winged Foot’s predominately dished hazards with sand flashed high on the interior faces, which are completely different than San Francisco’s more intricately shaped, lacey edge bunkers of years past.

Like all of the true greats throughout the history of golf architecture, Tillinghast was a leader – not a follower. He was an innovator who bucked trends rather than followed them, starting new fads in the process of repeatedly creating genuinely individual courses chock full of character.

Harry Colt did the same at the turn of the twentieth century, beginning with his revolutionary work in the heathlands outside London, England. In fact, Colt’s work (including original designs at Toronto and Hamilton that revolutionized golf architecture in Canada) is credited with instigating the so-called Golden Age of golf design, during the interwar period.

In the post-World War II era, Robert Trent Jones emerged. RTJ bucked many Golden Age trends, introducing his self-proclaimed “heroic” style of golf architecture, only to be followed by another maverick, Pete Dye, who came along during the mid-1960s to create outstanding courses at The Golf Club, Crooked Stick and Harbour Town that turned the tide again. Dye re-introduced links-like principles and characteristics, originally employed by the Golden Age greats, to the American golf landscape.

Admittedly, I’m not a fan of certain styles of course architecture. But I realize all styles have fans; which, in part, is why original course architecture (original = very good, at worst) should be preserved. More important though, original golf course designs should be preserved (and, where need be, restored) in order to maintain the remarkable diversity of courses throughout the world; which, again, is one of golf’s great attractions.

Many years from now, I’ll be thrilled to look back and see a remarkably diverse portfolio of golf courses (created in collaboration with others, and on my own) derived from inherent site characteristics and conditions, as well as clients’ needs and desires, and other practical matters properly dealt with.

That’s exactly what Tillinghast left golf. His body of work continues to inspire today.

Originally appeared at MingayGolf.blogspot.com, May 27, 2007