Chris Clouser (pronounced “Closer”) authored the best work on Maxwell. In his book The Midwest Associate he examines some of Maxwell’s templte holes. “One such hole” he said in an interview for Cybergolf, “is a drive to a plateau, then a drop shot.” The par-4 5th at Dornick is a solid example of both this template and how Maxwell loved to use specimen trees to force shaped shots. The tee shot must travel 240-260 and must be center or right-of-center or a large elm with overhanging branches will block the approach shot. The hole turns 90-degrees left and is two clubs downhill to a green set obliquely behind a bunker. It’s a heroic shot similar to the tee-shot at the 5th at Bethpage Black. If the tee shot is not long and straight, forget hitting the green in regulation.
The sixth hole is one of only three flaws on the golf course. Let’s examine all three now and get them out of the way. Someone stuck a little tree – as small and useless as the Hinkle Tree at Inverness right smack in front of the green. Great – we have a bunker in the sky. Sources say the tree may be removed and most agree that it has no use. Next, the first and second hole seem not to fit with the rest of the course, but they were not as Maxwell originally designed them and now serve to simply get the player to three tee, where the solid architecture starts in earnest. Finally, the twelfth hole is all wrong.
On the tee of this hard-left-bending hole, greenside trees are directly in the center line. Worse still, even from “Position A,” the right edge of the fairway, the only play is a hard draw. “I was in the best spot possible” said one participant in the Oilman’s tournament “and I had no shot.”
Look, he Mona Lisa has no eyebrows (there’s a sure bar bet winner for you). So it’s like Britt said to me about relationships, “nobody’s perfect and if they are, then that’s their flaw.” By the way, when she asked me what I thought her flaw was, I responded that she was perfect.
The rest of the course is fascinating. A short but perilous par four appears at seven. A drive and a pitch for most, you can try to drive the green, but water on the right, sand on the left, and uneven lies as you approach the green defend par admirably. The kidney shaped green features many swales. The eighth green, fronted by bunkers, has a back portion that flows away from the player, testing distance control.
The back nine features equally atmospheric moments. The eleventh green, a two-tiered, curvy beast comes back to the clubhouse so during tournament time spectators have easy access to more exciting golf. The fourteenth, another short, but sexy par-4 plays uphill to a heaving green set in a sea of sand. With all the equipment advances, now it can be driven where in Perry’s day it could not, but that leads to more exciting swings – a two or a six? Take your chance, glory or defeat.
The 13th and 15th require shots shaped around a wide variety of trees: pecans, cedars, oaks, elms and many others. The exquisite and unique 16th plays directly to the base of a forty-foot cliff with the flag sitting directly on top of this mountain, sarcastically winking at you like a bawdy harlot sitting at the bar, enticing you to come to her. Such a hole would never be built today and the brilliantly used rock face would be dynamited out of existence.
Begun in 1914, Maxwell tinkered with the design until he died in 1952, changing both the sequencing of holes and the routing. While no majors have been contested here, many major champions have played in the Maxwell during their college days including David Duval, Mike Weir, Justin Leonard and Jim Furyk. The PGA Tour held the Ardmore Open at Dornick in the ‘50s. Many state amateur championships have been contested on these thin and twisting corridors.
Even with all this, the most powerful moment of the day was seeing Maxwell’s grave, high on a steep, almost vertical hill just off the seventh fairway and overlooking the hole on one side and the lake of the old “Rod and Gun Club” on the other. It’s a difficult climb up the rugged, craggy, almost perpendicular hill, especially in long black pants and wing tipped shoes. (I always dress impeccably whenever a guest at any private club). The rock is friable and crumbles easily, even under my mere 134 pounds, making footing treacherous. With yardage book in one hand, “Gatorade Rain” in the other, I grasp at whatever I can for support. One foot at a time, I grab long grass here, hug a tree there, and find footholds wherever I can.
Finally, I crest the hill and a singular site greets my eyes. A semi-circle of Ionic pillars topped with a capstone stands sentinel over eight gravestones and one bench. The first, Puritan Holt Woods, was laid to rest in 1931; the last, Herbert Earl Deskins, passed in 1985. Oaks, elms and red buds – a tree with pink blossoms serenely shade the area. In the third row from the top, there are the markers of the doting wife Ray, and Perry Duke Maxwell next to her, 1879-1952
What a final resting place; as quiet and moving as one could ever wish. God grant me the same pleasure one day. A wall separates the graves from another portion bordered by a wrought-iron fence which leads to the expansive vista of the lake.
The climb down is harder, both on my legs and on my heart. I must tear myself away from the place of reflection and restful repose. Only Mike Strantz’s 11th tee at Monterey Peninsula Country Club (Shore Course), the last hole he ever built, moved me more. It occurs to me that perhaps Mike and Perry are playing together in Heaven today, as though waiting for me to commune with them. It’s good to meet you too, Mr. Maxwell. Keep a weather eye on Mike for me; in fact both eyes, as often as you can spare them.
So what did I miss at the tournament by coming here, another “Tiger walk?” Sure he is making history, but many other pens and keyboards will tell that tale. Seeing Perry and his legacy resonating through the decades is more compelling than a Saturday of Woods’ death stares and fist pumps. Tiger may be “Who’s Now,” but who cares “Who’s now?” Nobody, that’s who! Perry Maxwell echoes through eternity in ways Stuart Scott, Erin Andrews, the chumps in “Chuck and Larry” and Glenn Jacobs (the “mastermind” behind “Who’s Now”), refuse to understand. It’s not what you do for a living that makes you great, it’s what you do for others. Are you working for the game’s greater glory or merely your own?
Similarly, Oklahoma City Golf & Country club is also a triumph. Greens swerve every which way. They are canted sidehill, then away from the player, then back to front. Template holes abound from the par-5 5th, with a giant knoll semi-hiding the green which is a punchbowl and sits one club downhill to the pint-sized par-4 8th modeled after the “Sahara” hole at NGLA. At a mere 280 yards, it screams to be driven, but sits in an ocean of deep bunkers. The green is hidden behind a hill and the fairway plays directly into the teeth of the hill.
That is the strength of OCG&CC, the fiercest terrain is used to be a plateau that must be challenged off the tee. Holes feature alternate shot requirements; fade off the tee, then draw into the green. The next hole requires just the opposite, keeping the player off balance and preventing him from finding a groove.
After crossing a road, the 10th through 14th play over, along and around a burn as deep, serpentine and ubiquitous as the fabled Barry Burn at Carnoustie. It has no name, but I call it Scary Burn. (America has its own Carnoustie!)
Darkness fell as I approached the 16th hole, so I will return to Oklahoma City next May and report further. I gratefully accepted Dornick Head pro Steve Ramsey and Maxwell Collegiate Tournament director Bob Bramlett’s invitation to cover the Maxwell for Cybergolf.
Just like Britt may be picky about steaks, I picky about golf courses. Look, Southern Hills is terrific. It’s a piece of golf history, there’s no question. Run don’t walk to play it. But Southern Hills is a big Ribeye. It’s a solid steak, but it has some fat on it (a sameness to a few holes) and you have too like dealing with that to choose it over other choice cuts. That’s fine if that is your personal preference.
By contrast, Dornick Hills is a porterhouse with the course itself as the huge, delectable T-Bone and Perry’s grave as the strip steak portion you get as a bonus. Oklahoma City G&CC is a chateaubriand; hugely impressive in presentation, but much more importantly, the greatest substance of all. The routing is impregnable and the fascinating, boldly twisting greens cement its place in the pantheon of not only Maxwell’s greatest work, but among the country’s greatest courses. Failure to list Dornick and OCGCC in a list of Maxwell’s masterpieces is a colossal blunder. They must be mentioned in the same breath as Southern Hills, Crystal Downs, and Prairie Dunes.
And just as all that talk about food made me hungry, Britt was standing in front of me. Her bag was in one hand, her jacket in the other, floral flip-flops on her long, thin feet.
“I’m hungry. What do you want for dinner?”
Think fast! Think fast! What’s the right answer?
“Why don’t you pick?” I answered wisely.