Gib,
You have covered everything socialistic, so to speak, now what about aesthetically?
This place shall have "SOUL", so much so that no one shall ever have to shriek. It will roll and tumble forth across about 350 acres or so of sandy or sandy loam with a few interesting patches of indigenous trees to spice things up.
The clubhouse will be reached by a long and meandering entrance lane that dips and curves like a roiling putt along one of Goodale's Dornoch greens. And once one arrives, the unassuming club will appear at the last second, around the bend and over a slight vertical curve, just slightly more abrupt than a civil engineer would approve of, even one from my alma mater. Then............there it is..................as if it has always been there.
A simple gravel and/or crushed granite car park, or to the point, a series of them staggered down a slight grade and diminished in importance by the magnificent native trees that will separate the actual parking areas. And no concrete curbs shall be in evidence, instead there shall be 8-10' lengths of New England granite cut into 6" x 6" curbs elegantly edging the crushed granite which will sound just right underfoot.
Then onto the club itself which may have a small porte-cochere if only for inclement weather, and NOT for the use of headphone wearing "greeters". If any greeters show up, they shall be turned into topdressing. So this shall consist of a couple of small structures, an elegantly rustic golf shop to the left and 30-50' to its right, the club with a series of the aforementioned porches surrounding all and creating a sense of community. And most definitely with those rocking chairs with curb service. But Gib, a few very good blended scotches shall be allowed for those occasions when a scotch on the rocks is just what the doctor ordered.
One then wanders into this perfectly proportioned space between these buildings to behold the course beyond: sprawling, more brown than green, not a bunker rake on the premises (these will be hazards) and not a cart girl named Gretchen anywhere.
The course will start, like your Lake does, directly outside the golf shop window, so close that an extra wide backswing would break the glass. And the 10th tee (if it happens to not be an 18-hole loop) would directly abut the outside bar. So close that an extra wide backswing would break someone's manhattan or Arrogant Bastard.
No concrete would exist ANYWHERE on the premises, most especially on the golf course. Instead there would be very discreet maintenance lanes of decomposed granite that would be oh so out-of-the-way. And each tee would be so close to the preceeding green that an extra wide backswing would smack someone plumb-bobbing a putt on that previous green. (maybe that would teach them not to plumb-bob).
There would be no discernable differentiation between what was there and what wasn't. There would be no "death by cape and bay" bunkering. ANYWHERE. The hazards, instead, would be so sublimely naturalistic and visceral that one would want to weep at the awesome power and vitality that they would bring to this golf course. And there would be no ROUND greens surrounded by multi-faceted fingery and lacy bunkers. This excercise in dichotomy does not work in my visual head nor is it appropriate for Papazian Hills. No, this will be a golf course for the shot-maker. Because it would be primarily designed by the ultimate shot-maker, the knock-down, punchy, soft-fadey, make it do anything you want it to do architect. I guess that would be you, or else you would have to name it something else.
In short (because this surely ain't), this place would simply -fit. That, more than anything else, would assure that it would be perfectly suited to you, your Dad, Todd Hagen and George Bahto.
Oh, and one more thing, it would have a biarritz, a redan, a long, a short, an eden, an alps, a cape..................a bottle,................................................a punchbowl.......................................................................
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