Category Archives: Lost golf courses

In stock

Seventeen months after the first interview — with the engaging, gracious and sharp-witted Mike Rak, who showed me all around Hilltop Public Golf Links in Columbia Heights and whetted my appetite for learning more about lost courses — we have a book in print. What a journey. Thanks, everyone, for the support.

Moving on … you might want to know where you can get the book. In addition to the online options mentioned at the end of this post, these fine bookstores, retail outlets and golf pro shops have it in stock:

— Balmoral Golf Course, Battle Lake
— The Bluffs at Coffee Mill, Wabasha
— The Bookcase, Wayzata
— The Book Shelf, Winona
— Common Good Books, St. Paul (Grand and Snelling)
— Eagle Valley Golf Course, Woodbury
— Edinburgh USA, Brooklyn Park

— Golf Headquarters, Rochester
— Golf USA, Eden Prairie
— Indian Hills Golf Club, Stillwater
— Lake Country Booksellers, White Bear Lake
— Lester Park Golf Course, Duluth
— Love From Minnesota, Roseville
— The Mane Tease, White Bear Lake

— Micawber’s Books, St. Paul (St. Anthony Park neighborhood)
— Minnesota History Center, St. Paul
— Northland Golf & Ski, La Crosse, Wis.
— Oak Marsh Golf Course, Oakdale
— The Ponds at Battle Creek Golf Course, Maplewood
— Pearl Street Books, La Crosse, Wis.
— Pine Creek Golf Course, La Crescent
— Roseville Cedarholm Golf Course
— Ross Himlie Photography, Rushford
— Rushford Foods, Rushford
— Southview Country Club, West St. Paul
— Stillwater Country Club

— SubText: A Bookstore, St. Paul (Selby and Western avenues)
— Valley Bookseller, Stillwater
— White Bear Lake Historical Society
— Winona County History Center

Please consider patronage of these businesses. I will be working to get the book stocked on additional store and pro-shop shelves in the coming weeks and will be updating the list when “Fore! Gone.” becomes available at other sites.

The book also is available through this website (just find a “click to order” button; the process is simple and safe), or on Amazon.com.

Was there a bunker in your back yard?

lostcoursemap

There they are: Minnesota’s Lost Golf Courses. Click on the red type for a closer, interactive look.

Some background:

Five months ago, during one of my marathon sessions poking around on Google Maps, searching for this lost clubhouse or that lost water hazard or that farmer’s back 40 that used to be a back nine, I stumbled on a remarkable feature: Google makes it possible for visitors to create their own maps. Why, you could make a Google map of where family members live, two or three or five branches down the family tree; a Google map of all the golf courses you’ve played; or a Google map of, oh, I don’t know, the 20 most godawful truck stops in America you’ve visited.

My Google map, no surprise, just had to be of Minnesota’s Lost Golf Courses.

I spent about three hours that night creating the map, placing more than 80 “markers” in spots in Minnesota that correspond to sites of lost golf courses. For me, it was the kind of exercise I couldn’t stop with once I started. I love maps. I remember sketching out dozens of maps of states when I was a kid, and I even remember — this is a 45-years-overdue confession, Sister Martha Ann McGinnis, former principal of St. Mary’s Elementary School in Caledonia — once carefully drawing in an extra red-ink line on a map of South America that would cause the next owner of the textbook to unwittingly incorrectly answer a question about the railroads of Brazil.

But I digress. (I do that often.)

The Google map of Minnesota’s lost golf courses was made public a few months ago, though I didn’t advertise it. I’ll admit, I wanted to wait until closer to the release date of my book. Now that the book is a week away, maybe less, from being printed, I thought I would give folks an opportunity to see exactly where the lost golf courses I came across were situated.

Because Google’s mapping capabilities are so highly detailed, I was able to place most of the lost-course map markers within just a couple of hundred yards of the actual site of the lost course. If, for instance, you want to know where the old Hilltop Public Golf Links site was, you can zoom in just a little bit and see that it was in the northeastern corner of the city of Columbia Heights. Or you can zoom in really close and see the EXACT spot of the course — that house at the northeast corner of Chatham Road and 45th Avenue Northeast is the house of the former Hilltop course caretaker. The clubhouse was just across Chatham.

On the same map, you can see the Columbia Heights Ultrafiltration Plant, which the golf course wrapped around; Kordiak Park, which was the northern boundary of the course; and a Columbia Heights water tower, which occupies a spot right about where the 17th green used to be. If you really know what you’re looking for, you can even spot a brick “gatehouse” by the Ultrafiltration Plant that golfers used to bounce their balls off of, leading to really cheap pars. (More about that in the book.)

So … was there a bunker in your back yard? Or maybe your neighborhood, your city or your county? The map might tell you.

A few caveats:

— I wasn’t able to pinpoint the exact locations on about one-quarter of the lost courses mentioned in the book. For example, I can’t tell you exactly where Midiron Country Club in Mountain Iron was situated, so I had to settle for simply placing a marker on the city of Mountain Iron. If you go to the Web page with the map and look down the listing of courses in the left-hand menu, you’ll see designations that show which locations I can almost exactly identify and which are less precise.

— I can’t claim that these are ALL of the lost courses in Minnesota, any more than anyone could claim to make a map of, say, all of the sites of meteorite landings in Kazakhstan. I identified the courses that have some sort of verifiable proof of having existed. I know there are more. If you know of any, or know of any corrections to the map that I should make, I welcome your comments or a personal email to me at bissenjoe@gmail.com.

Enjoy!

hilltopp

Another four bite the dust

This post is back under its original title, with some editorial commentary included. The list of lost courses since 2000 can now be found at this link: Minnesota’s lost courses since 2000: The list.

parkview4

“Modern” lost golf courses aren’t really my strong suit. My focus the past four years and in writing “Fore! Gone.” has been to find courses that were abandoned before the year 2000 arrived. The final curtain, using that parameter, belonged to Rich Acres in Richfield, which witnessed its last four-putt in December 1999 before turning into an airport runway. (And don’t try to catch me with a technicality over when the millennium ended. That has been debated for years, with no definitive answer evident. I’m going with Dec. 31, 1999, as the end of the millennium, whether anyone likes it or not.)

Since then, dozens of Minnesota golf courses have gone the way of dinosaurs. It has been part of a nationwide phenomenon. Golf chugged along in terms of popularity and new-course construction for years, with a particularly strong head of steam in the early 1990s, and without regard to a minority of voices who were sounding warnings of declining participation. It was a supply-and-demand phenomenon. The supply curve was going up; the demand curve was going down; and far too many golf-course developers didn’t anticipate that the twain would unhappily meet. That happened in about 2000, and courses soon began closing.

Since then, the naysayers have ruled. “Golf courses are losing money.” (Yes, many of them are. No arguing that point.  And an underreported minority are doing fine.) “Golf takes too long, and it’s too expensive.” (In many cases, true and true. In others, not so much.) “Golf is too hard.” (What, you want me to walk your ball up the fairway another hundred yards, past the bunker fronting the green? It’s not supposed to be easy. That’s part of the game’s often-maddening beauty.) “Golf is dying.” (Give me a break. Every person who types that phrase will die before golf will.)

OK, I’ll shut up and resume the original post from autumn 2013.

Say goodbye to:

hudson

Hudson Golf Club: Just across the St. Croix River and the Minnesota border in the Wisconsin city of Hudson, this was the city’s private course for many years. It was established in 1955. It was bought in early 2010 by Hanson Brothers Golf, which also owns and operates River Falls Golf Club, but the Hansons shut down Hudson GC during the 2013 season, saying it wasn’t economically viable. Plans are to turn it into commercial development. Predictably, there is controversy in Hudson over the fate of the site — not so much that the golf course is gone as over what it will become.

Looking at the place only from its perimeters — the property is now posted with dozens of “no trespassing” signs — it looked like a very good golf course site, with elevation changes, water and a variety of trees. The photo above is, I believe, of the course’s southwesternmost hole. No, I didn’t trespass. I took it from a high point of a store parking lot that backs up to the property.

———————————————————————————

parkview

Parkview: A cruel joke, or did somebody in Eagan press some mysterious rewind button?

In the early 2000s, a variety of parties in Eagan argued over the fate of Carriage Hills Golf Course, a shortish, 18-hole, public layout that, the owners said, had become unprofitable. Some wanted the course to remain open, some wanted the course to become green space, and some — primarily the course owners — wanted to develop the land. The course closed in 2005, and the accompanying heated debate went all the way to the Minnesota Supreme Court. Ultimately, the land became residential development.

Parkview became Carriage Hills Redux: Same city, similar-style course (18 holes, public, par 63), same scenario (a money-losing proposition for the owners) and same arguments (stay open, go green or plow it under and build homes). The battle was perhaps a bit less contentious than the Carriage Hills battle, but it still stirred emotion. Parkview, which opened in 1966, stayed open for part of the 2013 season before closing.

Incidentally, this three-way tug-of-war between owners, green-space boosters and golfers with emotional ties to the embattled courses is nothing new in Minnesota. Fifty years ago, the same happened in St. Louis Park, as Westwood Hills Golf Course lived out its final days. That course’s remarkable history is covered at length in “Fore! Gone.”

The photo atop this post is from when Parkview was operational. It was contributed by a woman who lives in a home adjacent to the former course. I visited there briefly last week, during a light snowfall, and took the photo just above (click any of these photos for closer looks), while land-movers were razing all evidence of tees and greens and cul-de-sacking away. Incidentally, the aforementioned woman was chagrined — not upset, I wouldn’t say, but chagrined — that her home will be closer to a new home than any other in the neighborhood. The houses will lie 105 feet from each other; zoning laws, she said, require a 100-foot separation.

More background on Parkview can be found in this St. Paul Pioneer Press story: http://www.twincities.com/ci_23143189/eagan-parkview-golf-club-will-reopen-shorter-season

——————————————————————-

Red Oak and Lakeview: The former, a nine-hole course, served golfers in the Mound and Lake Minnetonka areas for 58 years. The latter, an 18-hole layout just 500 yards away, lived to be 45. Both courses were owned by the Wenkstern family. Neither will be open for tee times in 2014.

A tribute to Red Oak and Lakeview can be read at The Laker and The Pioneer website:

http://lakerpioneer.com/2013/08/19/lakeview-and-red-oak-golf-courses-sold-to-developer/

 

 

Lost courses, like you’ve never seen them before

ne2

Wow, I bet you’re all salivating over that title — like Pavlov’s schnauzers, on the morning the doc brought an extra bag of bones into the laboratory.

Yes, the title of this post is more than a little self-deprecating. First off, how many of you have even seen a lost golf course site before, at least knowingly? Probably not many. Most of them are nondescript. Second, it’s not like a handful of amateur, that is to say amateurish, photos are going to bring to life golf courses that have been closed for 78, 74 and close to 40 years. (I’ll leave that task up to “Fore! Gone.”)

More than anything, this post is just my vehicle for getting some use out of the fancy-schmancy toy I bought the other day: my new Android cellphone/camera/texter/device-for-getting-lost-between-seat-cushions. OK, it’s not fancy — just a lower-rung Droid Ultra, no bells, no whistles. And it’s not schmancy — if it runs the newest apps or coolest new games, there’s almost no chance I’m going to figger them out.

But my daughter did show me one feature that I thought was neat: the panoramic photo-taking feature. So, like the kid with the new toy at Christmas, I brought out the toy today and shot panoramic photos of some East Metro lost courses. Nothing earth-shattering here, but I think they do point out just how lost most of Minnesota’s lost golf courses really are. (You should be able to click on the photo for a larger view. I’m going to apologize for the thumbnail-size photos on this post — if I try to make them bigger, they get really fuzzy. I’m sure there’s a way to do it, but it’s beyond my knowhow. West Metro panoramic photos, for better or worse, coming soon.)

Bayport Golf Club: The grounds of this 1930s course are shown in the photo at the top of this post. I was standing near the first or second hole, and the photo includes three well-known Bayport features: Andersen Windows, Croixdale senior care center and Minnesota Highway 95. The related chapter in “Fore! Gone.” is titled “Nuts to You.”

——————————————————————————-

ne1

Above: Oddest Minnesota golf-course site ever. Within about 500 yards of the Bayport Golf Club site. Chapter title: “Playing with Conviction.”

———————————————————————————-

ne3

No lost golf course sites above, at least none that I know of. I just couldn’t pass through the Bayport-Stillwater area without getting a panoramic photo of downtown Stillwater, the St. Croix River and neighboring Wisconsin. (Considering how overbearing people can get about the Viking-Packer rivalry, is it even possible to write “neighboring” when it comes to the two states?)

———————————————————————

ne4

Matoska Country Club: If you’ve ever played Gem Lake Hills Golf Course and taken a gander at the million-dollar homes immediately to the south, you’ve taken a gander at the former grounds of Matoska CC, where, incidentally, a gander or one of its relatives once met an unkind fate at the hands of a Matoska golfer. Chapter title: Thor and Tom’s Place.

———————————————————————

nw

Northwood Country Club: Minnesota’s first Jewish Golf Club, in North St. Paul. Nothing to see here, really. Just streets, houses, a park and a water tower. Purely out of shame, I was prepared to not post this photo. Then I thought, what the heck. Might as well give any of my photographer friends who stumble upon this a good guffaw over the rotten photo. (It’s what happens when you hold the camera still when you’re supposed to be panning at a consistent pace. Guffaw away.)

 

 

The old haunt – almost

westwoodnature2

A trip to the western suburbs yesterday took me, predictably, to my new favorite spot to visit: Westwood Hills Nature Center in St. Louis Park. It’s a great place for a hike through the woods along Westwood Lake; it’s also an excellent spot to take kids to learn about nature. Doesn’t hurt that there’s no admission charge. (The turn-of-the-seasons photo was taken from the road that leads into the nature center. Click on it for a larger view. Another photo, below, shows a red-tailed hawk that the Westwood staff tends to; it is blind in one eye and likely wouldn’t survive if it were released.)

Predictably, I suppose, I had an ulterior motive in making the visit. Two of them, really: A, I wanted to drop off a flyer advertising the impending publication of “Fore! Gone.” at the nature center, which was built on the site of what I’m calling “the king” of lost golf courses, Westwood Hills Country Club / Golf Course; and, B, every time I set foot on the grounds, I learn something.

What I learned yesterday: The old golf course grounds might be haunted.

Emphasis here should be on the might have been. For one thing, there is the highly debatable notion that dead guys got caught in the giant afterlife linen closet in the sky and donned white sheets cuz it’s all they could find to wear and then came back to worldly places with which they were familiar. For another, as it turns out, The Haunting in northwest St. Louis Park, if it really does exist, doesn’t appear to exist on the old Westwood Hills golf grounds.

Still, it was amusing to ponder, if only for the hour or so it took to look at old aerial maps in an attempt to fortify or refute the “haunting” notion.

Someone I met at the nature center referred me to a page from the 2002 book “Ghost Stories of Minnesota” by Gina Teel. Under the heading “Fox Farmer Phantom,” Teel wrote:

“The ghost of a fox farmer is said to haunt Lamplighter Park in St. Louis Park. The eerie figure is set aglow by a spectral lantern that lights the path he is doomed to walk for all eternity.”

Cue the creepy organ music, and continue:

“Residents in surrounding neighborhoods have for years claimed to see the ghostly shape at night walking on the other side of the pond.”

I also was told yesterday that there was indeed once a fox farm in that area of St. Louis Park, and it was speculated that the fox farm might have been on part of the former golf course grounds. So when I got home, I turned on all of the lights as brightly as possible, armed myself with the latest anti-ghost technology (I know; there’s no such thing) and checked to see if the old fox farm or the current Lamplighter Park occupied the Westwood Hills golf grounds.

Darn it; that was disappointing. Looks to me like the northern edge of the golf course grounds in that specific area was Franklin Avenue/Westmoreland Lane, which actually is a path that now appears to divide Lamplighter Park from the grounds of St. Louis Park Junior High School. The junior high rests on what used to be the golf course; Lamplighter Park, I am pretty sure, does not.

So the ghost story, at least as it relates to Westwood Hills Golf Course, appears to have been debunked. Although I suppose it’s plausible to wonder if more than one twilight golfer at Westwood Hills was scared half to death not by the notion of standing over a 5-foot putt for bogey but rather over a 5-foot putt with the Bogey Man — the real thing — 100 yards in the distance, rounding up his spectral foxes.

westwoodcenter

redtail1

lamplighter