Adapted from writings by Allan Brawley, Forrest Richardson and Mark Fine

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Robert Hunter (Wiles Robert Hunter) was born in 1874 in Terre Haute, Indiana, where he grew up the son of a factory owner who served as a colonel under Ulysses S. Grant in the American Civil War. His father’s stature in the community introduced Hunter to politics at an early age. When a serious economic recession descended over the industrial economy of the U.S. in 1893, Hunter found his first calling — social work. In 1896 Hunter undertook a project that would radically change his life and, indirectly, lead him to his historic involvement in golf — he went to work at the Charity

Organization Society in Chicago. He would go on to write his first book, Tenement Conditions in Chicago (1901), and received an appointment to head the prestigious University Settlement House in New York. Hunter’s life moved quickly from there. He married a wealthy heiress, Caroline Stokes, in 1903 and wrote Poverty, published in 1904, which catapulted him into the rarified air of politics and literature. However, the pace of his life and the bleak realities of his work with the poor took a toll on Hunter’s health and mental well-being. “His family and friends were extremely worried about him,” says Allan Brawley, professor emeritus of social work at Arizona State University and author of a biography on Robert Hunter, Speaking Out for America’s Poor: A Millionaire Socialist in the Progressive Era. His physician recommended sun and moderate exercise. And so, Robert Hunter came to golf sometime around 1905. While still deeply involved in politics, Hunter enjoyed the immense freedom that his newfound wealth provided. He played golf with many of the top golf professionals of the day and rapidly developed into an exceptional player who would win numerous amateur tournaments. Hunter played many of the great American courses onLong Island, the likes of Shinnecock Hills and The National Golf Links. He was a member at Wee Burn as early as 1911. In 1912, Hunter sailed for the British Isles to conduct an extensive study of the revered links courses. The observations he made on that and subsequent sojourns — and the friendships he forged, including one with H.S. Colt — would come to change American golf course architecture forever. Over much of the next decade, Hunter operated at a fevered pace. He remained active in politics, both as a force in the Socialist Party and as a writer. His interest in golf, however, evolved from therapeutic activity into something of an obsession. Hunter became enamored with the Scottish immigrant Donald Ross and visited Ross frequently at Pinehurst. He began to correspond with other leading architects including Walter Travis, C.B. Macdonald, Devereux Emmet, George Crump, George C. Thomas, and A.W. Tillinghast. In his mind, if not at his hand, Hunter had already begun work on his ambitious and groundbreaking book – The Links. In 1918, downhearted and disturbed by the state of the American Socialist movement, Hunter resigned his membership in the American Socialist Party and accepted a teaching position at the University of California in Berkeley. Unburdened by the weight of his political involvements — at least temporarily — Hunter threw himself into his passion for golf and golf course architecture. It was in 1920 that Hunter transformed his theoretical study of architecture into practice. He became one of the founding members of Berkeley Country Club and was elected their first secretary. Hunter went on to develop a routing plan for the golf course on the property and even did models of the greens. Hunter did not highlight or take credit for Berkeley’s layout in his book The Links, which was published in 1926. Sometime around 1925 Hunter contacted AlisterMackenzie for help in compiling photos and illustrations for The Links. This led to a lasting working relationship between the two men. In fact, it was at Hunter’s urging that Mackenzie first traveled to California in search of new design opportunities. Together Mackenzie and Hunter would go on to change the landscape of golf in California, creating several courses that are still considered among the world’s best including Cypress Point Golf Club, Pasatiempo, and The Valley Club of Montecito. By 1930 Hunter had essentially retired from the golf course design business. He lived in Montecito and refocused his efforts back toward politics and writing. Robert Hunter died in May of 1942. The New York Times marked his passing with an editorial that acknowledged that while poverty and injustice still remained, Hunter played a role in a beneficent change in society. The editorial concluded that, “His generation was the better because of the enthusiasm of his early years and wisdom of his later ones.”

Quotes by Robert Hunter

There can be no real golf without hazards, and unless these be varied, plentiful, and adroitly placed there will be no great golfers. Hazards are the decisive influence in the making of golfers.

(Speaking about Pine Valle) These superb hazards are a part of nature. Where does art begin?

All artificial hazards should be made to fit into the ground as if placed there by nature. To accomplish this is a great art. Indeed, when it is really done well it is. I think it may truly be said, a fine art, worthy of the hand of a gifted sculptor.

Without well-placed hazards, golf would fail to arouse and to satisfy man’s sporting instincts.

Hazards—how well chosen the name! They are risks; and penalties must come to those who take risks and fail.

Hazards make golf dramatic; and the thrills that come to one who ventures wisely and succeeds are truly delectable.

Without hazards golf would be but a dull sport, with the life and soul gone out of it.

Wind and water, hillocks and hollows, mounds and pits, marram grass and bents—these are the hazards of the links; and while they are all difficult to contend with, there is not one of them which cannot be overcome by the skill of the golfer.

The best architects seek, in placing their hazards, to call forth great shots. Some of their best holes reward handsomely fine golf, but have no obvious penalties for bad golf. Such holes are so cunningly laid out that those playing bad shots lose strokes by the position in which they find themselves.

Scores of the most interesting hazards on the seaside courses lie in places where the most foolhardy American architect would never think of putting one of them.

Many…hazards punish severely extremely well-played shots—shots often which have so little missed perfection as to make it seem cruel to enforce penalties. And yet even he who pays the penalty knows that were it not for these magnificent hazards, so often placed haphazard—golf on the links would not possess that overpowering fascination which makes the game there sublime.

To make great holes, hazards need not be numerous. A few well placed are quite sufficient to arouse any amount of lively interest and to call forth shots of which the best golfer may well be proud.

All artificial hazards should be made to fit into the ground as if placed there by nature.