Editor’s Perspective
“ But now the days grow short I’m in the autumn of the year And now I think of my life as vintage wine From fine old kegs From the brim to the dregs And it poured sweet and clear It was a very good year”
No,
I’m not dying, and neither are any of the guys pictured. Insofar as I know, anyway. I had a little brush with mortality this summer, but got my oil changed and my radiator flushed so I should be good for another 20K miles or so. Well, actually, yes we are. And so are you. Hey, hold on... before you throw this magazine in the trash like it’s infected with Ebola, grab a beverage and some Cheetos and come along with me. Summer of 1976, Greensboro North Carolina. The Cardinal Golf Club, Gary Stafford Superintendent.
My job for the summer: stripper (of sod), weedeater, resident mud turtle (there was no such thing as an “irrigation tech” in those days), pesticide applicator (John Beam 300-gallon tow-behind spray tank and a handgun) and occasional cup changer/tee, greens, collar mower. I’m pretty sure everybody in this picture could tell a similar tale. The occasion of the gathering that brought all of us together was a celebration. On the surface that may seem strange, since you don’t usually celebrate when a good friend has their long-time employer tell them thanks for the memories. I can tell you my
8 | Virginia Turfgrass Journal November/December 2018 www.vaturf.org
Mark Vaughn, CGCS Virginia Turfgrass Journal Editor
first emotion was not gratitude when I heard that The Tides management had made the decision to close The Golden Eagle Golf Club. I, and everyone in the photo, thought about our buddy Sterling Caudle and what the future held for him. And after the initial shock wore off, thought a little more about what the future holds for US. I don’t know who gets the credit, maybe Sterling himself, but it didn’t take long for the depression to wear off and thoughts of camaraderie to develop. In a matter of a couple of weeks, the gathering of friends went from thought to reality. And what a good day it was. I’m ashamed to admit that October day was my first visit to The Golden Eagle. Oh sure, I’d been telling Sterling for over 20 years that I was coming to see him, but I always seemed to talk myself out of it. It’s a long way, it’s too hot/cold, I’m busy/he’s busy, I’ll do it next month/year. Yeah, that’s it. Next year in this crazy business will be …….not so crazy. My point in telling you my summer of ’76 story was twofold, neither of which was to make you feel sorry for me. When I dropped my passengers off in Richmond after our celebration with Sterling, I still had 2.5 hours of seat time in the pickup to Danville (told you it was a long way). Plenty of time on good ol’ lonely US 360 to think. I didn’t have the digital picture in hand at the time, but in my mind’s