Shawnee: Teeing Up a New Identity

It's tempting to arrive at the Shawnee Inn and Golf Resort on the Delaware River, avail yourself of a self-guided tour -- that's a compliment, because it's a friendly, laid-back place -- and, after several hours or a few days, roll down the road, thinking that change must come slowly to such a peaceful, 98-year-old property.

Yes, Shawnee is a place that revels in a rich and storied past, with historic black-and-white golf photos (of the likes of Sam Snead, Dwight Eisenhower and Jackie Gleason, taken on its premises) lining the spacious hallways of its 80-room inn, but if you peek inside, lift the duvet, there's change afoot. In this case, appearances are about as deceptive as those A.W. Tillinghast-designed greens that left us scratching our heads after a day of golf at Shawnee.

What has been taking shape, just out of view, is the formation of a coherent vision and the initial steps to update a resort -- if not its 27 holes of golf -- that wants to retain its pastoral, by-the-lazy (but occasionally raging) river identity while making an inspired appeal to travelers (and golfers) who think they need to board a plane to find a fully amenitized, memorable destination.

"We all knew Shawnee was going to go through a renaissance," says Pete Kirkwood, 38, a member of the second generation of the family that has owned the resort since 1977. "We knew we had to scrape away the accretions of many years to discover the gem in the middle of the building. The question is, what would be the vocabulary, the vernacular, of the renaissance, the unifying principle that would make everything make sense together."

Kirkwood's sense of how Shawnee could move forward but stay connected to its past came as an epiphany, albeit one that was shaped over months and years by his own accidental architecture-and-design studies and his family's global migrations and travels.

Kirkwood and his wife, Liz, had lived in northern California, taking special note of the American Arts and Crafts-style homes in Berkeley. They traveled to southern California to see other houses, including iconic homes designed by Greene & Greene. As they did, Pete gained further appreciation for the Arts and Crafts design aesthetic, an offshoot of the British movement that flourished at the turn of the 20th century but still resonates a hundred years later what with its emphasis on craftsmanship and keeping with local landscape and natural surroundings.

Meanwhile, two generations of Kirkwoods had long traveled to the Far East and Pete's three brothers make their homes there. Those familial ties to the Pacific Rim as well as outright Asian design influences, Pete believed, could be incorporated into an Arts and Crafts aesthetic. And it would leave room for other complementary influences ranging from Gustav Stickley to Frank Lloyd Wright.

"Arts and Crafts is more than an aesthetic, it's a philosophy," says Kirkwood. "It's very much tied to nature."

Returning to Shawnee about three and a half years ago, Pete experienced a "Eureka!" moment when he began to consider the sophisticated lifestyle preferences of travelers from Shawnee's core markets: New York and Philadelphia. "The zeitgeist is all about getting back to nature, simplicity, to being more honest about our relationship with the world."

So, with the vision and direction clear that a new aesthetic could be embraced, the resort's initial foray has been to design rooms, furniture and furnishings, which present a visitor with a cleaner, updated-but-still authentic Shawnee experience. Working with Amish craftsman in an off-the-grid factory in Ohio, the Kirkwoods began commissioning chairs, desks, sofas, bedsteads, ottomans and cabinetry -- about 20 pieces in all -- each with a proprietary ShawneeCraft logo and a structural sturdiness that recalls Stickley and California Mission. So far, they have furnished an 1,100-square-foot hospitality suite that overlooks river and golf course, two cottages and six suites (known as The Legacy Collection) including one in the inn.

The Power of "Wow"

Barney Adams' book The Wow Factor was suggested to us just after we had decided to start reviewing golf-related tomes on our site. A small coincidence in the grand scheme of things, yes, but one which helped convince me to read it.

In truth, I was a bit skeptical of it having any great impact on those who were not "unbridled" (see cover left) golf enthusiasts and, candidly, thought it might leave me cold. 

To the uninitiated, Barney Adams is the entrepreneur behind Adams Golf, the inventor of the Tight Lies fairway wood, a club that revolutionized -- and I use the word correctly here -- the golf club industry and the way the game is played from the fairway.

What a wonderful surprise it is to say that not only was the book captivating from an inside-the-golf-industry sense but also very valuable for its business management insights. It is an incredible tool for would-be entrepreneurs. This is no easy task and I am no easy mark here, because I majored in entrepreneurial management, worked for Wall Street Journal television and opened the book with life-hardened expectations.

The book's inside sleeve note is not as foreshadowing as you would imagine. It describes a rags-to-riches story, but, in fact, the journey Adams, who is nicknamed "Barnyard," took is more accurately described as "rags-to-rags-to-near destitution-to-rags-to-riches." An almost unbelievable fairy tale. And if being a golf "nerd" (I mean, club fitter) turned management guru is not an amazing enough transformation, you can add effective writer to Adams' credits. He weaves his story in a linear, cogent manner, using his natural "down-home" folksy style to navigate the reader through the arcane but highly competitive golf equipment industry while imparting the crucial business lessons he learned.

As the title suggests, an essential concept for Adams is "the Wow  factor" and here I must digress. I had just received the book and was driving west on Interstate 80 on my way to tee it up in eastern Pennsylvania when I looked up and saw a large, light-blue billboard with white letters taking up most of the space, spelling "Wow." (It turned out to be marketing the availability of that billboard for rent, but that is not the point.) The "Wow" was as prominent on the billboard as it is on the book's cover and seemed to have been written in the same font. I at least mouthed -- but may have said out loud -- "Wow" in response to this coincidence. My reaction is a deconstructed description of what Adams means in his title.

It is an experience or event that happens that literally makes you say "Wow." It happened to me that day and it happened when most golfers tested the early model of the Tight Lies club. Adams' recognition of the power of that feeling and some amazing intestinal fortitude paved the way to his success.

I'll skip past offering any other foresights because often what seems to turn them into true pearls of wisdom is Adams' voice itself. So non-assuming, never preaching, he seems like a patient father who is resigned to the fact that you probably won't believe him, but knows that if you do, he'll most likely save you pain. Suffice it to say his insights are written with the perfect blend of candor, humor and humility.

In conclusion, I will add this and only because you've heard it countless times before and Adams breaks no new ground here: If you do what you truly love, almost anything is possible.

For Barnyard it wasn't about the money; if it had been, he would have quit the business on numerous occasions. Adams simply loved golf equipment, had a particular aptitude for making it and an unwavering faith that something good might come of it. As I sit here writing this review I have another epiphany, another unintended vision. Barney's faith (read: stubbornness)  -- in its single-mindedness -- is inspiring on a personal level, especially when I look objectively at why I undertook my own golf-related venture. If there is a secret ingredient for being a successful entrepreneur, that refusal to quit just may be it.

Thank you, Barney, I needed that. -- Rico Williams

Better Driving Through Chemistry

When word reached Styled to a Tee that PowerBilt was coming to New York Tuesday for the unveiling of its new Air Force One driver, my curiosity was instantly piqued.

The event at the Golf Club at Chelsea Piers, which boasts Manhattan's only outdoor driving range on the West Side Highway at Pier 59, promised to showcase new technology behind one of golf's most venerable brands.

It was also going to allow me to reconnect with a company whose products I've used in a variety of athletic pursuits, from hockey sticks and gloves, to its world-famous baseball bats and several brands of golf clubs. PowerBilt is a division of Hillerich & Bradsby Co., which dates back to 1884 and the invention of the revolutionary Louisville Slugger baseball bat. In fact, H&B, now managed by the fourth generation of the Hillerich family, is the longest-running family-owned sports equipment manufacturer in the world.

In golf, it's one of the companies that has survived the mass shakeout over the years that has befallen other iconic names. H&B expanded into golf in 1916, with the PowerBilt brand following in 1933. Over the years its clubs have been used by players to win eight majors, most notable perhaps was Fuzzy Zoeller -- who is still with the company --  capturing the 1979 Masters on his first attempt and 1984 U.S. Open.

But the 21st century has bought new challenges to the golf industry as space-age materials and increased marketing muscle have concentrated market share to a few elite names. So I wondered what story PowerBilt had to tell.

It's this: Nitrogen-Charged Technology. That's right -- this is not chemistry class -- but PowerBilt's new Air Force One drivers, fairway woods and hybrid clubs are all filled with nitrogen gas helping to create the thinnest face in golf and, if its press release is accurate, the largest sweet spot.

"PowerBilt is at the forefront of 'what's next' in golf club technology," says Ross Kvinge, president of PowerBilt. "This provides real benefits to all golfers -- no matter how fast they swing -- so they can maximize their 'smash factor.'" (The term refers to the amount of energy the golfer transfers from the swing to the ball.)

What is more verifiable is that with this cutting-edge Nitrogen-Charged Technology (patented, with multiple patents pending), PowerBilt's new clubs are the only offered in multiple-face thicknesses. A typical high-end driver has a face thickness of 3mm or more. The Air Force One driver is offered in two face thicknesses -- 2.8mm and 2.6mm -- and, fitted properly with a player's swing speed, the company touts that most golfers will see 10 to 20 yards more in driving distance. Well, who doesn't want that?

In the blustery, late fall conditions present on the Chelsea Piers' range, those extra yards escaped me.  Full disclosure being the only way to insure credibility, I must relate that I did not properly warm up and I was in street shoes, which slipped a bit on the synthetic mats at The Piers.

The PowerBilt story, however, is a compelling one. The metal woods come in two designs: geometric (the square-shaped heads found on a lot of new clubs these days) and the player series (more conventional shape that better allows low handicappers to shape shots). I look forward to receiving the driver participants were invited to pick out (more disclosure) and trying it out on a course, in golf shoes, with new balls and the temperature above 55 degrees. Surely, that's the only reason I wasn't bombing it 280, which is about 15 yards longer than my best drives.

The suggested retail price for an Air Force One driver is $499.99, pushing it into the premium market; fairway woods are $349.99 each; and hybrids sell for $249.99. Look for an engaging infomercial hitting the airwaves soon that will promote the Air Force One.

Those of you who follow golf know how colorful Fuzzy Zoeller can be. -- Rico Williams

Hiaasen Goes Soft on the Environment

"In a sad but ironic way, the boom in golf courses is actually keeping greener what's left of Florida. Loblolly pines and Bermuda grass are better than concrete and asphalt, and infinitely more hospitable to wildlife and humans alike."

-- Carl Hiaasen, The Downhill Lie

Huh?

Carl?

Carl Hiaasen?

Is that you?

Nah? Can't be.

Alas, it is. The literary lion who would safeguard the environment, the great protector of Florida's dwindling wilds, public-access coastline, and remaining undeveloped acres, he who would urge all readers, especially the young, to cherish nature, can now cross off golf course/real estate/land developer as among the villains he once so ably targeted. See, Carl Hiaasen, the erstwhile brilliant Metro columnist for The Miami Herald and scourge of all who would befoul the marshlands and coastline, has gone soft. The uncompromising love of nature, gone; the fire in the belly, extinguished.

And the culprit is golf. He checked his conscience at the pro shop.

Carl, is there an apology coming? Something that explains the logic of this:

"The great irony is that golf courses are becoming the last bit of wildlife refuge we have. I saw a bobcat on a golf course once, and I don't know that there's anyplace else you could do that now."

                         -- Carl Hiaasen as quoted in The New York Times, May 2008

Had any golf course architect, land developer, home builder, zoning lawyer, lobbyist, politician or golfer offered this explanation to Hiaasen, the writer I once read surely would have laughed -- or done worse -- in his face.

Let's get a few things straight. I have no problem with Carl Hiaasen taking up golf and appreciating it just like everyone else. But the man who smugly dismissed anything connected with it for all those years, who saw builders of golf courses as committing crimes against nature, and golfers as abetting those crimes, is now selling a book about trying to break 90!

There's a great episode in the book, where Hiaasen walks into a golf shop, eavesdrops on a conversation, hears one sentence, and regurgitates it without context:

Overhead at a local sporting goods store, from a man slightly older than me, being fitted for new clubs: "Tiger Woods and I are exactly the same height."

And we should give a rat's ass because...?

-- Carl Hiaasen, The Downhill Lie, p. 167

Carl Hiaasen kept a two-year diary about taking up golf again in his mid 50s. He writes about speaking with Mike Lupica several times about this as a book project.

And we should give a rat's ass about Carl Hiaasen's golf game because...?

There are many labels we can give to Hiaasen at this point: hypocrite, sellout, fraud. That's for those who can assess what this book means relative to his full body of work, his years as a columnist and his novels, including those for young readers, Hoot and Flush.