Lady in waiting

Bill Fields, Golf World, 18 February 2000

.....Mark Parsinen, teaming up with business partner Art Dunkley and golf course architect Kyle Phillips on Kingsbarns, knew that if his new course was going to gamer respect it had to look old, even though it was new and shaped by men and bulldozers instead of sheep and the wind. To that end, he consulted with a Glasgow University geologist, Dr. Robert Price, who wrote a book on the geomorphology of Scottish links. Price took Parsinen on field trips, and Parsinen did the same with his crew.

Among the things Parsinen, a sturdy 50-year-old who struck it rich with a computer company in California during the 1980s, learned was that in contrast to the way some modem designers try to mimic nature, the “movement” on many dunes is at the bottom, not the top. Once Phillips finished the routing and Parsinen was working with the crew, he kept a sand box in the back of his Range Rover so shapers could see what he had in mind. “It’s one thing to draw something up,” he says, “but it’s another to ‘feel’ how you want it to look. At first the guys on the equipment were frustrated, but once they realized what we were trying to do, they got into it as much as I was.”

Although Kingsbarns won’t officially open until the week of the British Open, at a cost of £85, its attributes stood out, even in a gale and despite its shaggy greens. The setting--the North Sea can be seen from every hole--is breathtaking. It is obvious Parsinen paid attention to his geology lessons. Like its historic neighbor, the Old Course, Kingsbarns has wide fairways with strategically favorable routes, and greens the size of Delaware. Unlike the Old, the elevation changes are more dramatic and almost all the trouble is visible--golfers aren’t likely to come upon their ball in an impossible bunker and wonder how it got there. “You can play a damned good shot there and find the ball in a damned bad place,” George Duncan said once, appraising the frustrating charm of the Old Course.

Kingsbarns’ par-3 15th hole will most likely produce the most comment and white knuckles. Playing as long as 205 yards over a finger of rocky beach, it resembles the 16th at Cypress Point. The 17th hole, a 470-yard par 4 from the tips, has the rugged difficulty of some of the par 4s at Royal Troon, with the added distraction that the tee shot be hit over the sea. Fortified with enough titanium and Weetabix, a long hitter can be tempted to drive the green at the 330-yard sixth. The still-maturing carpet of fescue, and the bunkers that are still under construction are the only hints that the course hasn’t been there for centuries.

The R&A led by former longtime secretary and current captain, Sir Michael Bonnallack, provided an interest-free loan to Kingsbarns in return for access at reduced rates for its members and local golfers from St. Andrews. Don’t be surprised if a British Amateur or Walker Cup is staged at Kingsbams soon. And if the R&A ever breaks with tradition for a British Open site, Kingsbarns figures to be on a short list of sites. “No one has said that is an unreasonable expectation [or] a ridiculous dream,” says Parsinen. “We want to be good enough to be considered.”

It is tempting to say that golf and life are joined without a seam in St. Andrews, but that would be to ignore history. King James II of Scotland banned the game in 1457 because he thought it was distracting young men from their archery practice. In the late 18th century, many of the craftsmen who stuffed wet feathers into leather cases to make the golf balls of the day lost their lives due to the hard labor. Later, rabbit farmers and golfers fought over rights to the linksland. The tussle lasted nearly 20 years; the golfers won.

Lately brows have been furrowed over the St. Andrews Bay Development under construction above the Kingask cliffs south of town on the way to Kingsbarns. The $85 million project spearheaded by American Don Panoz, with 36 holes and a 208-room hotel with all the trimmings, has the town fathers debating its effect on the atmosphere of St. Andrews and its 14,500 citizens. “Some think we’re in danger of becoming a mini-Florida with frost,” says David Joy, himself a fourth-generation St. Andrean whose grandfather, Willie, was one of Old Tom Morris’ caddies in the I890s. “There’s been a lot of finger-pointing, but there is a lot of talk, too. And that’s good.”

No St. Andrean will tell you the town hasn’t changed. A couple of years ago Joy was speaking at a town dinner honoring the Scottish poet Robert Bums. Of 150 or so people on hand, only five, when Joy asked, said they were born and bred St. Andreans. “I don’t know how many natives of St. Andrews can afford to live here now,” says Margaret Squires, owner of the Quarto bookshop on Golf Place, which sells textbooks and golf books. “A working person used to be able to live here, but that’s less and less likely.” Adds Ian Rodger, who played about 200 rounds of golf last year, “There are not many of us natives left, but you’ve got to move with the times; you’ve got to have progress. I don’t think the life of the town will change.”

Golf has been “cool” for a long time in St. Andrews, among more than a clutch of gentlemen golfers beginning more than 200 years ago when weaving became popular. Men could delegate some of that work to their wives and children, affording themselves more time to play. It was easy for St. Andreans to take their historic links for granted.......