The Dry Cleaner Was Alright......
As the sad news came tonight that our good friend of Golf Architecture, George Bahto had moved on to his greater rewards, I feel I need to find the words about this kind man that I had affectionately called, "Uncle George."
The first time I had met him in person, it was literally 15 years and four days past this very day, March 14th, 1999, at a desolate, almost seemingly vacated Apache Indian Reservation outside Globe, Arizona where George, myself and the entire Renaissance golf crew held court till 3:30am in the morning talking about all things golf architecture related as we narrowly avoided the thieving one-arm bandits and crooked black jack tables of the Apache Gold casino.
A lot of things were discussed that night and into the early morning; lifetime friendships created, because that's what events like these produce and the good times just kept on coming like a New Jersey Devil highlight film. Oh the memories!
One of my favorite days with the great man occurred in 2005, when smiling Uncle George pulled up into the parking lot of the then temporary Friar's Head clubhouse with the top down of this red convertible Cadillac Allanté. The day was perfect, nothing but blue sky and scattered clouds; I jumped in and off we went. Instantly, I was thinking of the rock band Rush's hit song, "Red Barcetta" heading into the direction of Long Island's Southampton where we pulled into the Shinnecock superintendent's parking area where we got out to look and rummage around the large mound of dirt that was once the remains of Seth Raynor's Biarritz hole there. Hoping back into the Cadillac, we made our way over to the National, visited with our good friend Bill Sallenetti, who then gave us a golf cart to be on our way. No sticks mind you! None needed on this golfing journey and tour with the National Golf Links of America's biggest fan. Nothing more then two blue collar guys on the grounds of the golf course of America's most elite. This was a hole by hole journey where each architectural feature of the golf course was discussed and celebrated. Soon, we jumped back into the Allanté and drove up through the NGLA gates where George told me the sad story of the day they took C.B. Macdonald to the hospital for the last time. His driver drove him on the same road we sat on, probably with the same view to give Macdonald one last glimpse of his creation--the famed NGLA clubhouse--and away they went for good. You could see a glimmer of a tear in George's eye and anyone that was fortunate tour NGLA with George, no doubt knows this look that was on his face.
Soon we found ourselves in the Southampton cemetery, George knowing exactly where to go; we pulled up, got out and were standing at the foot of C.B. Macdonald's grave. A few feet over, that of his son in law, H.G. Whigham and across from that, the grave of Seth Raynor, which Macdonald had moved from the cheap section of the cemetery, to be located with him and his family in the pristine and manicured Macdonald family plot. Uncle George said with a tear in his eye, "Macdonald would have none of it, he wanted Seth with him over here!" Passion and love of a subject matter just doesn't get any better! That particular day was one of the best!
The last day I was fortunate to see George on my last trip back to New York, it was a chilly but beautiful October morning at Sleepy Hollow and Uncle George was over-seeing the finishing touches of the carry bunkers on hole #2. For years, George literally frothed at mouth to get to Sleepy Hollow and restore it, and when both he and Gil Hanse were allowed to do so, they recreated and in some cases, vastly improved most of the great features of that wonderful place. Its a testament again to how an elite club in America could trust the intellect of a working class owner of a dry cleaning shop in Edison, New Jersey, and they were right in doing so. To them, Uncle George was alright! He got it and flaunted it and the results are in the restored beauty of a great golf course with the backdrop of the Hudson River Valley. Oh, and I got my tour again that day with him as we surveyed the old Biarritz of that club. There was never a dull moment either, as later we said our goodbye's after a Mexican feast of a dinner much the same way the first night I met him-knee deep in architecture enthusiasts, builders and architects from the firms of Gil Hanse and Mike DeVries, who happened to be working at nearby Siwanoy.
As I sit here this early morning thinking to myself, hoping that George's journey to meet his maker was rather good. Sitting there waiting for him at the gates were both Misters Macdonald and Raynor, not there to guide him, but more thank him just like I do here today. He enriched my life with his friendship; his intelligence and most, his desire to do something beyond the normal and took it way beyond the next level. He was a major inspiration to those that wanted to excel in their lives.
Uncle George, you were more then alright, you were good!