Homer Martinson

I first met Homer when I was 12 years old in 1961 as a young caddie. He was the golf professional at Wayzata Country Club, hired when the club opened in 1956. Homer was a character. Once you met Homer you never forgot him. Homer had a way of endearing himself to all. I worked in and around Homer for 10 formative years. He was then my golf professional after I became a member of the club at age 23, until I moved to Interlachen 6 years later. He had a big influence on my life. 

You could not look at Homer without smiling - 5' 8" at best, round in shape, always with a cigar stub stuck in the corner of his mouth. Homer's legs were so short he used to say that he could not wear shorts because.....well, you know why. He never changed. He always looked the same from the day I met him until the last time I saw him, late in his life. 

The secret to Homer was how he treated people. I don't think I have ever known anybody who was so universally liked. The wealthy and important adored him. And he would treat everybody else, whether he knew them or not, the same way. It's easy to treat the rich and famous well, but it's everyone else that you build your reputation on. Homer did that. 

Several years ago Homer was at the Chaska Town Course waiting for a group of friends to finish playing. A couple of men Homer did not know, were waiting for a cab to take to the airport to catch a flight. It appeared the cab was not going to make it. Overhearing their story he shuffled them into his car and off they went for the 45 minute drive to the airport!  2 guys he did not know and would never see again. 

But his good intentions did not always end as planned. Many years ago Homer volunteered to drive an employee of the Wayzata CC to a rehab center 2 hours away. It was the middle of the winter and about halfway there they were hit with a bad snow storm. Homer was unable to drive further. Homer gave the man $20 for bus fare to the center and turned around to go back to Wayzata. Once back in Wayzata he decided to stop at the "Municipal" for a refreshment. He walked in to see the same man sitting at the bar spending Homer's $20.  Seems he found a ride back with someone who drove a little faster than Homer. 

I think everyone saw his genuine caring and interest in them. As a result everyone helped Homer. Times were much different in the golf business. The golf pro owned the shop, there were no retail stores selling equipment, there was loyalty to your pro. And the Wayzata CC members were loyal. 

Wayzata CC opened in 1956. It was designed by Robert Bruce Harris, who at the time was considered a top architect. Unfortunately his time at the top was only about 6 months in length. His place in the spotlight of golf course architecture was short lived.  Thus Wayzata CC was a new club in the 60's as they filled their membership.

I watched as Homer treated each person as special.  The club would always gain members in the spring and early summer.  Saturday morning was when the men played. One by one in April, May and June, on Saturdays, new members would make their way up the walk to the pro shop. They would be without a game and have no friends. In addition they would be afraid of embarrassing themselves playing golf. It's a lonely feeling. 

Who would be at the end of the walk but Homer, your first friend at Wayzata CC. He was welcoming, friendly, funny and had a genuine interest in you. He would get you a golf game with 3 other new friends, playing with similar ability to you. New members never forgot how Homer treated them after making the long, lonely walk up the path to the pro shop. 

It was just this lesson I put to use when I became a friend of Lou Holtz, at the time the football coach at Minnesota. I was on the practice tee at Interlachen one June day when I recognized Lou down the way. We were the only 2 on the practice tee at the time. Remembering how Homer treated a new member I introduced myself. He had just joined, come out alone and didn't know anyone at Interlachen. We played that day and many after in the few years he lived in Edina. 

It's a funny thing about country clubs. People remember their 1st day, who they played with and who talked to them. Homer figured that out.

Homer's strength was not in his business skills. Much of the time there was nobody in the pro shop to help a member make a purchase. Not that the members were thieves, but keeping track of inventory had to be a problem.  "Tell Homer I took a dozen balls," Jerry Lindholm said to me one day as I waited to caddie. I told Homer, but who knows if he remembered to charge him.

The members made sure Homer's business worked. One December day I came to the club to hang with Homer when Bob Naegle walked in to do some Christmas shopping. Bob Naegle was a significant businessman in the upper midwest owning one of the largest outdoor advertising companies in the country.

"Homer, have you got any cashmere or alpaca sweaters?" Mr. Naegle asked.  Cashmere has always been a luxury item, but in the 60's alpaca was nearly as expensive.

"I have a few, but let me get the catalogue and you can see the styles and colors," responded Homer.

I sat in the corner and watched as Mr. Naegle bought a dozen cashmere sweaters, all in the same style in various colors for himself. Then he went ahead and bought alpaca sweaters for his sons and a few friends. Even in today's dollars he spent a lot of money. He did it because he liked Homer.

"Homer, I want you to come out to the desert this winter and stay with us," he said as he signed the chit. "We'll play El Dorado and Tamarisk," and out the door he went.   

Homer was a great story teller. He told me one day about playing at El Dorado in the late 50's with a member he called Big Bill Smith. On the 9th hole a man came up in a cart and asked if President Eisenhower could play through. "Sure ," said Bill.

President Eisenhower came up in a cart and, with Homer and Bill Smith standing aside, the President teed off. Nothing Bill Smith said ever came out in a whisper. As he leaned his 6' 6", 250 lb. frame over Homer, he said, "I suppose the son of a bitch doesn't even pay dues!" 

He could also tell a story at someone's expense and get away with it. At a dinner hosted by a member known to stretch the rules a bit, Homer introduced him by saying, "Jack is the only guy that can hit a white ball into a bush and have it come out yellow!"

One summer I picked up the balls on the driving range, while hitting a few of the practice balls along the way. For years afterward Homer would tell stories about my never having enough balls available for the members because I had hit them all. Not true, however there may have been a few times where I had to pick up a bag and run it to the tee while a member waited! He loved telling the story. People love a good story teller. Homer had that skill. 

In the 15 years I was around Homer I only saw him get mad twice. One fall day the rep from Ernie Saborac called on Homer. Sabarac represented Foot Joy shoes and socks. "What color socks do you want for next year," the rep asked, knowing full well the only colors that sold were black and blue.

"Just give me an assortment," was the response.  The rep said nothing. 

The next spring in came a big box of socks that were orange, red, light blue and light green, with a few blacks and blues. Colors no one would buy or wear. The next time the rep showed up was not a good day, particularly for him.  Homer hollered at him, then chased him down the path trying to kick him in the butt for what he had done. 

I saw him do the same thing to a member, "Mr. Jones". Jones always teed off in the first group on Saturday in the 7:30 starting time, but wanted to play earlier. He would be standing at the door of the pro shop waiting for Homer to open the door every week.

One Saturday, catching Homer when he may have gotten out of the wrong side of the bed, Jones made the mistake of saying, "if you would get out of bed in the morning, maybe we could play earlier." Homer exploded and the argument was on, ending with Homer threatening Jones and chasing him down the path.

If Homer wasn't the most loved pro in town and "Mr. Jones" wasn't the most disliked member at the club, I'm sure there would have been repercussions. To my knowledge there were none. 

Homer was a good player but not great. His stature inhibited his athletic ability. Length was a challenge. However, he was a very good putter with a long flowing stroke. I always thought he developed it on the fast, severely sloped greens at Wayzata.

Friday was the pro's day when golf professionals would invite a pro friend from another club to come and play. Unlike today where Friday is the busiest day of the week at clubs, Fridays in the 60's were very quiet. Homer had invited Bill Kidd, his close friend and golf professional at Interlachen. At that time there were virtually no golf carts and all golf pros walked with a caddie. I was lucky enough to caddie for Homer and Mr. Kidd that day.

In those days professionals all played using their big staff bags, unlike today where staff bags are only carried on tour. Homer and Mr. Kidd were both on the Ben Hogan staff and had large light brown Hogan bags. Carrying both staff bags for them, the round was played in a brisk 3 hours and 15 minutes, Bill shooting 70 and Homer not far behind. 

Homer was considered a fine teacher and spent much of his time on the lesson tee,  but not everyone got better immediately. Carl Jacobsen, a big man that hit short drives, stumbled into the shop a few days after a lesson.

"Homer, Homer, you won't believe how far I hit my drive at ten," he said excitedly. 

"Great," said Homer, "where did it go?"

"Well, it was very, very long and it hit the road grader on the other side of the highway," he reported, with a big smile. 

One morning Homer was giving a lesson to an attractive, well endowed woman, new to the game. I watched as she took a few slashes at the ball. She was struggling with her arm swing when Homer finally said to her, "Well, we're gonna have to go over or under those things cause we're not going through 'em!" 

Homer was responsible for my not turning professional. It was after my senior year in college and I was waiting to go on active duty in the National Guard Reserves. I was not a great player, but was # 1 on my college team for a couple of years, qualified for State Ams and State Opens, never distinguishing myself, but competed a lot. Certainly nothing that warranted turning pro.

We were driving over to play at Woodhill Country Club, a course very nearly visible from our club. "I'm thinking about what I am going to do after my 4 months of active duty and wondering about turning pro," I said as we made the 5 minute drive. "Do you think I should turn pro?"

"No," was all he said. I never thought about turning pro again. 

Homer was a funny, funny guy who cared for people and had great people skills. He was a big influence in A Life In Golf.