At Pine Valley there are two standing bets: 1) An average player
won’t break 100 or a good player 90 the first time he plays the course. 2) On at
least one hole the player will score more than five shots above par.
Once, somebody played holes 13–15 in 7-1-11. His opponent won the
15th hole with a 10. Another player who often shot in the mid-70s had his second
shot to the short par-4 8th hole bounce off the green. His opponent was on the
green in two—but putted off. The hole was halved in 11.
In the 1950s Woodie Platt, a very good golfer from Philadelphia,
began one particular round 3-2-1-3. Platt, then six under, stopped at the bar in
the clubhouse adjacent to the 5th tee to recount his accomplishment. There he
remained for three hours and later explained: “Why go on? I couldn’t do any
better—only worse.’”
What makes Pine Valley so difficult is that the course was carved
into the Pine Barrens of south New Jersey, so scrub pines vie with natural sand,
which has been used so effectively in the course’s design, for dominance. One
bunker is affectionately called “Hell’s Half Acre,” but it really covers three
times that. In fact, there’s so much sand at Pine Valley that the club has its
own sand and gravel pits. But it’s the proportion and arrangement of sand
and “grungle”—a combination of scrubby, twisting vegetation, Scotch
broom, honeysuckle, cacti and imported heather growing in the sand—that give the
course the look of an Army training ground.
For the accomplished golfer Pine Valley is relatively short at 6,999
yards. It also has wide fairways, no out of bounds and huge, sloping greens. To
top-caliber players, the typical Pine Valley tee shot isn’t alarming: An
airborne shot must carry some 140 to 184 yards in order to reach the
desired fairway. As for the first-time visitor, take either of the standard
bets. Nowhere are golf’s mind games put more to the test. Just knowing that the
first slightly mis-hit shot may ruin your score can easily paralyze you, waiting
for disaster to happen.
God made Pine Valley, some argue, but the human most responsible
for the brilliant layout is George Arthur Crump. The miracle Crump achieved is
the result of his ability to allow nature to exist without too much meddling,
his knowing exactly what he wanted before he started, his willingness to listen
to other people’s design ideas, and a result of the era not being fully
mechanized.
When harsh weather closed Philadelphia golf courses, Crump and his
friends sometimes headed for Atlantic City where they knew courses would be open
for play. By the fall of 1912 the group had decided it was time for a year-round
course close to Philadelphia. Crump was put in charge of finding the land.
It seems, according to club lore, that on one Atlantic City trip
Crump pointed out the train window and said to his pals, “That’s it! That’s the
place for our course.” Another version has it that Crump knew of this parcel of
land before the search began because he had hunted on it for years. Yet another
has Crump owning the land, apparently having inherited it from his father.
Anyone familiar with golf and this land would have seen it
contained a number of natural elements we now commonly associate with a good,
interesting course: rolling terrain, water, trees and a sandy-based soil.
Immeasurable credit must go to Crump for not thinking he could improve on what
nature had already put there.
According to The Pine Valley Golf Club—a Chronicle, Crump
knew exactly what he wanted his year-round prize to be: “He abandoned
parallelism. He desired to keep each hole free of view of any other. He wanted
no more than two successive holes in the same direction. He believed a course
should ‘box the compass.’ He felt a layout should provide every ‘shot in the
bag.’ He thought that in fairness to a long shot the player should have ample
green to hit to, a smaller shot (deserving) a smaller green. More than anything
else, he believed that a good shot should be rewarded and a bad one
penalized—even if severely.”
Not only did Crump listen to and adopt some of Englishman Harry S.
Colt’s design ideas (Colt designed the New Course at St. Andrews and revised the
English Course at Sunningdale Golf Club in England), he also invited other good
players, especially those with an eye toward architecture, to Pine Valley to get
their impressions about his early work in progress. In the early 20th century
Philadelphia was home to some of golf’s greatest architects, including A.W.
Tillinghast and George C. Thomas Jr. Their praise for Crump’s work was
unanimous.
The first thing you come to after crossing the same railroad
tracks that took Crump and his pals to Atlantic City is a small white building
with a simple sign that reads: Borough of Pine Valley. After that, it all seems
reminiscent of a trip to summer camp. You are welcomed by tall pine trees, more
white buildings and a narrow road winding around lily-covered ponds.
Where the road turns and the pond comes into full view, the
enormity of Pine Valley hits home. To the left looking up the hill is the 18th
tee and fairway, but you’ve never seen such a wide green, closely
crisscrossed-mown and cared-for fairway. Through the trees ahead you catch a
glimpse of the clubhouse, an understated stucco edifice. Soon you pass by
another pond—where Crump had his bungalow—and directly below the clubhouse is
the famous 5th hole, the 232-yard par 3 that’s played uphill to a severely
sloping green.
Perennially ranked first in the world, Pine Valley remains the
most coveted invitation in golf. Not long ago in the Las Vegas airport, two men
were overheard introducing themselves. One said to the other, “I’m from the
Delaware Valley and I’ve played Pine Valley once.” He didn’t need to say
more.
