The U.S. Senior Open revisits the Inverness Club in Toledo, Ohio this week. Most tenderly-aged avid golfers remember remnants of the story of the ‘Hinkle Tree’ from the 1979 U.S. Open at the Inverness Club. For those who weren’t around, the story goes like this:
While waiting to tee off on the eighth hole in the first round at Inverness, a fairly long par five, he spotted a hole through the trees left of the fairway that he thought could shorten the hole. Taking a two-iron, he drilled it through the trees into the adjoining 17th fairway, hit another two-iron onto the green, two-putted for birdie and went along his way. Fellow competitor Chi Chi Rodriguez, playing with Hinkle, followed suit.
The players didn’t think much of it, until the next day when they woke up, arrived at the eighth tee, and found a newly-planted Norway Spruce where the hole in the trees used to be. The USGA had spoken.
Most people recall that the tree prevented Hinkle and Rodriguez from taking the alternative route, but that is not the case. On the second day Hinkle and Rodriguez both hit driver over the new tree and into the 17th fairway again. Hinkle this time hit a mid-iron to the green and made another birdie. But the legend of the ‘Hinkle Tree’ was secure. And the tree, which still stands at the Inverness Club, is a landmark to this day.
The return to Inverness and the stories of the ‘Hinkle Tree’ reminded me of the story when I got to meet Lon Hinkle. After his Tour playing career was over, Hinkle landed in Big Fork, Montana and was the professional at the Eagle Bend Golf Club. I qualified for the 1994 U.S. Public Links Championship at Eagle Bend. Prior to the start of the event, Hinkle came out to the first tee to conduct a clinic for the players. I wasn’t really sure what was happening. All I knew was that I was practicing on the putting green and people began gathering around the first tee. So I moseyed on over to get a look at what the fuss was about.
Up on the tee is this portly, balding guy with a squeaky voice, just sort of discussing the weather with a few of the players standing around the first tee. I am pretty sure that every player in the field would have given this guy two a side and played him for paychecks. Most of the players there were college-age, so they had no clue who Lon Hinkle was or what his history was, as they were about 5 years old when Hinkle made his fame on the Tour. Hinkle was at one time a top-ten professional golfer, and he was also the 1981 World Long Drive Champion. I knew the name, but he had never really inspired great devotion. He just didn’t look right.
The first hole at Eagle Bend is about a 400 yard par four. It doglegs almost 90 degrees to the right, as it works its way around condos on the right that are out of bounds. We had been there for two days playing practice rounds, and the primary motivation when playing the hole was to keep the ball away from the out of bounds.
After a quorum had developed around the first tee, Hinkle teed up a ball and pulled out a driver. Then, in that squeaky voice that just begged you to underestimate him, told the assembled group that he was about to teach them the secret to playing the first hole at Eagle Bend. He stepped up to the ball after taking a couple modest practice swings. Then it happened. He shifted to his left, pointing about halfway across the right side of the first tee, and told the kids to move out of the way. Hinkle waited no more than two seconds for the crowd to move, then unleashed and gargantuan missile directly over the condominiums and out of sight.
Everyone was stunned. You could have heard a pin drop, as the slack-jawed assemblage tried to get a grip on what had just happened. Hinkle turned to one kid and said “Run on up to the corner and tell me where that ball is.” The kid sprinted up, gave a little jump and sprinted back. While the boy was catching his breath, Hinkle demanded “Well?” The kid said “Left fringe, about 12-feet.” Hinkle said “That’s how you play number one at Eagle Bend. Clinic over.” He holstered his driver and walked off leaving a trail of amazement in his wake.
Not one player tried it during the tournament.
