Golf began in the Scottish Lowlands at some point before 1456, when James II (also known as James of the Fiery Face) banned it along with football. He declared that the sport was to be “utterly cryed down and not to be used” because it distracted young men from practicing their archery—a crucial skill in a time of perpetual war with England. But his effort proved futile, and his decree is best known as the first written record of golf. Within a few short centuries, golf was a favorite sport of the Scottish royal family and aristocratic families like the Kinlochs.
Sir Alexander, a 19th-century Kinloch patriarch, championed golf and made sure that his two sons inherited his passion for the sport. The family even built a private driving course near their ancestral home. He was an old-school golfer, the kind who only played for symbolic sums and organized rowdy and bountiful potluck dinners with his golf clubs. Gilmerton House is on Scotland’s Golf Coast, a green swath of 21 courses that run up against dramatic cliffs pouring into the ocean. Golf has boosted the local economy ever since 1850 when rails first connected the picturesque towns to Edinburgh. It’s also just a drive from St. Andrews Link, one of the oldest golf courses in the world and home to the Royal and Ancient Golf Club. As royals have been playing at St. Andrews since at least the 15th century, the course is royal and ancient in its own right.
Controversy is not new to golf, although in the 19th century the sport kept its distance from international incidents and human rights. In the 19th century, St. Andrews represented the aristocratic old guard of golf. Tom Morris, the son of a weaver and friend of the Kinlochs, became the unlikely Keeper of the Green at St. Andrews Links for 39 years. Golf was not a game only played by aristocrats; Morris learned golf by playing with a cork with a nail driven through it on the streets of his hometown. Golf was his ticket from the lower class to a seat next to Scotland’s elite.
Morris faced outsized pushpack when he attempted to fill in a bunker at the 15th hole at St. Andrews Links in 1869. A litigious local lawyer and obsessive golfer named A. G. Sutherland objected, even threatening to sue if the bunker was not restored. Sutherland insisted that Morris had no right “to destroy or remodel the links as it pleases him and his clique,” that he ought to leave the ground “as nature has placed it.” Sutherland talked other golf aficionados into a frenzy. Soon the bunker controversy spread across Scotland.
Two of them, Sir Alexander Kinloch and Mr. Robert Dalzell (who happened to be cousins) agreed to take action against Morris’ heedless vandalism. Still dressed in their evening clothes, they ventured onto the green at night and roused the gardener. With the promise of a healthy monetary reward, they recruited him to provide shovels, a wheelbarrow, and his own manpower. Together, they shoveled in the night until the bunker took shape once more. Either to escape blame, or simply to poke the hot-tempered and humorless Sutherland, they took a piece of paper, wrote Sutherland, and placed it on the bunker. Sutherland, of course, could not convince anyone he had not done the deed himself, and the perpetrators kept their secret for years to come.
But strife was not the norm for golfers of the 19th century. Despite their disputes, they wined, dined, and parred together, enjoying the social events around the sport nearly as much as a good match. And now, in the year of our Lord two thousand and twenty-three, there is a new rift in the world of golf between the warring factions of LIV Golf and the PGA Tour. As lines are drawn and the teams are chosen for the upcoming Ryder Cup event, there remains questions about the inclusion of those former PGA tour pros who defected. At its core, LIV golf is structured similarly to other golf associations. But due to its main financial backer (Saudi Arabia’s Public Investment Fund), a politically-charged environment emerged that often pitted golfers and friends against each other off the course.
Just as strife was not the norm for golfers of the 19th century, it’s also not the norm for golfers of today. This is no truer than the scene last week at Gilmerton House, the stately manor in East Lothian. Just as generations of Kinlochs have been held in high regard – as Captains and founding members of courses like North Berwick, Muirfield and R&A St Andrews – the current property is held in a similarly high regard. These days, it is a favorite place for players in the PGA and DP world tours to stay.
“It’s an amazing place, a classic old country manor”, European Ryder Cup captain Luke Donald remarked.
Although still owned by the Kinloch family, it has been available to rent as an exclusive-use basis for the past 25 years. As a inaugural member of the Storied Collection, a group of historic properties spread across the UK and Ireland, it’s a true gem that has served as the backdrop for numerous special occasions – everything from family gatherings and weddings to corporate events and get togethers. And again last week, as the host to numerous Scottish Open participants and scene of a Tuesday evening cookout with nearly 70 guests including both players and their families.
“It’s important to spend time with each other, creating the kinds of moments we had on Tuesday…”, Mr. Donald continued.
In a surprise announcement that left many exasperated (none more than recent Scottish Open winner Rory McIlroy), the world learned last month that PGA, LIV and DP World Tours have reached a (tentative) merger agreement. Although there are still some crucial points to be ironed out (pored over last week in a hearing investigation by a US Senate bipartisan subcommittee), there is hope. Like Sir Kinloch and Mr. Dalzell many moons past, shoveling late into the night, the bunker (and order) is nearly restored.
So as golfers are set to tee off this week at The 151st Open Championship at Royal Liverpool, and the current Ryder Cup captain makes his final decisions, it’s time once again for the players to lay down their figurative swords, remove their caps and embrace like gentlemen at the end of a round. Like the bunker controversy of 1869, and like many controversies prior, this too shall pass.
