Few writers, if any, did more to chronicle the growth and development of Long Island and New York-area golf courses than journalist Ralph Trost. Writing for several New York newspapers, Trost published hundreds of articles and columns on the sport of golf and the local grounds – public and private – on which it was played. His work, which spanned the 1920s boom period through the post-WWII/1950s course die-off, covered nearly every golf course that existed on Long Island during that time.
One course that Trost wrote about in more depth and frequency than most others was the original Lido Club, and with good reason. C.B. Macdonald's Lido was considered one of the best golf courses on the planet during its brief run from 1917 to 1942.
Sometime in the 1930s, most likely, Trost published a pamphlet entitled, "A World Travelled Sports Writer Plays Lido: An Unbiased and Candid Opinion of Lido Golf Course." In it he compares Lido to olives and clam chowder – items that are "a bit jolting at first," but leave you wanting more once you've acquired a taste.
A copy of the pamphlet was sent to Golf On Long Island by a member of the Seiden family. The Seidens owned the Lido Club from 1938 through its World War II-era demise, the losing postwar battle to recover the land and golf course, and the eventual construction of the current Robert Trent Jones course on adjacent ground in the 1950s. It's not clear exactly when the pamphlet was published or where it was distributed.
The following is an unedited transcript of Trost's review of the Lido Club, likely written sometime in the 1930s.
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A World Travelled Sports Writer Plays Lido
An Unbiased and Candid Opinion of Lido Golf Course
By Ralph Trost
Nationally Known Golf Authority and Sports Writer
A Robin Hood … in reverse
That’s this reporter’s best description of Lido, the course that gives in abundance to the skilled what it takes in super-abundance from the unwise golfers.
Lido, I’ve heard said, is like olives, Scotch whiskey—or New England clam chowder. All are a bit jolting at first but then a fellow acquires a taste. Of Lido, I’m certain, all he wants is more.
Looking back over the years I’ve witnessed golf played at Lido, I’ll admit that at first glance Lido looked a bit weird. Not a tree loomed against the sky. Nothing broke what seemed a monotony of unrelieved stretches and the course itself rolled like a rumpled pancake sprinkled with sand instead of sugar. And that, sir, is the same impression striking the golfer who visits the famed British courses at Sandwich, St. Andrews, Troon, Princes or Westward Ho! and Deal. Why Deal and Lido, insofar as general atmosphere is concerned, are as alike as two peas in a pod.
Just a golf course built upon land that isn’t much good for anything else. That’s the first reaction at Lido. It’s a broad, even if unthinking, compliment to Lido. Lido is not “natural.” It was made that way. At the cost of almost $2,000,000 by a group of millionaire sportsmen who had both the inclination and the courage to buy the best.
Having once built a perfect course, those millionaires built another down at Southampton closer to their summer homes.
Lido, one learns, represents not superb scenery of the sort that prints best in pictures. Lido’s riches are not evident things to be dangled before the eyes like diamond pendants. Rather are they like a Rembrandt or a Goya; things which must be studied to be understood and such, in the end, are the true treasures.
Lido is a most precise test of real golf ability. It was built with meticulosity, not thrown up helter-skelter. It is a persistent challenge to those who want to play golf and not play at it. It is a course only as hard as the golfer makes it and it can be most difficult for those who would try to bully it when what should be done is cajole it. Lido will give — not to a slugger but to a golfer.
If one dare suggest that Lido might be played in the 90s by a woman golfer whose ability with wood-headed clubs includes nothing greater than a carry of 125 yards, the suggestion would be scoffed. But it has been proved true. Lido is not a slugger’s course and to prove it this reporter obtained the services of a woman golfer whose play had been confined to a public course where bunkers existed in name only, and the 5600 yards assigned to the 18 holes on the score card dwindled to a mere 4900 yards under a tape.
There was one understanding in connection with her round. She was to attempt to play her shots where directed. She did her own swinging, her own putting. The reporter took care of the wagers which ranged from a bet she would beat 115, all the way down to an even $5.00 that she’d break 100. Her usually golf-wise parent bet against her attaining such scores even though it was he, at the time, who had established the Lido course record in a championship tournament.
As feared, Lido awed the girl at first and a nine had to be penciled on the score card when she holed out on the first. Yes, a nine where, of all places on Lido, no nine should ever bloom. But then she played under direction, with the idea of wheedling out a score and not bullying the course into submission.
I can vividly recall her driving carefully down the right edge of the 11th fairway as she steered a safe course to a five on the second hole. With no favoring wind, and a shakiness hanging over from that nine on the first, no effort was made to carry the cliff on a straight route down the second. The third hole called for a full spoon shot but her course was to play a safe mashie-iron shot, dependence being put upon a chip shot. The chip was perfectly played and lo, down went a five foot putt for a par three.
No hole played provided a simpler looking six than the fourth. Her drive across the first lagoon was purposely played for the fairway at the left. Her second, an iron, was popped along toward the neck from whence it was simpler playing a third shot across the second water. Another iron put the ball on the green and two putts obtained a six.
Hole after hole was played in a similar manner. Wild gambling was banned. A hurried second on the 9th did plant her ball deep in trouble on the left and an eight blossomed where a five looked so simple. But, all told the score was about what had been anticipated. The card read:
PAR 4 4 3 5 4 5 5 3 4 — 37
PLAYER 9 5 3 6 5 6 6 3 8 — 51
And gambling golf was done with. She played the inner nine in 48 to beat the 100 mark. The high spots on the nine were her drive down the 10th which was hit for the first, not the 10th fairway, her hugging the right of the 11th fairway all the way, her tacking first right and then left down the 15th, her playing short on the 16th and, off the 18th tee, driving at the broad handkerchief of fairway on the left.
She had one burst of good fortune and that came at the 13th, of all holes, where, with a chance for a par four presented, the second shot was half-topped, the ball rolling into a bunker back of the green. From there she most fortunately got down in two to save at least one shot as swiftly as she had thrown away shots on the first and ninth.
Lack of trajectory, and many safe shots, had piled up an eight on the 575 yard 17th. That killed all hope of an easy 95 and presented the chance for gambling with a wood second on the 18th. That shot, curved off into one of the shallow bunkers, laid the foundation for an ugly seven. But the 100 score was beaten and all wagers won.
This, remember, all happened to a woman golfer who played from the red markers, not the women’s tees. It does, I believe, prove my point and that Lido, tough as it can be made for the big hitters who go well back on the blue tees, is a truly reasonable golf course for those who want to play golf. For ordinary walking and club-swinging, the writer suggests a beach or polo field.
There were but two good putts holed, at the 3rd and 13th. And three taken on the 18th made a putt total of 35 which no good player counts as better than normal. The round, all told, was ordinary except in one phase. It did break 100 and that, as perusal of week-end score sheets anywhere proves, is better than average. However, the score was about what the reporter thought it would be — a score within reach of some 90% of all golfdom but not attained by more than half that. That is, if all putts are holed.
Lido is no flatterer. But one does get what he or she deserves. And whether the player be strong or weak, each stroke played is a precise golf shot and not just a fling at the ball.
Since the World War days there has been a demand for golf courses of the type that are extremely difficult for the best players but flattering to the poor. Courses of this type have no carries to be made from the tee, no bunkers to catch weakly hit or poorly judged seconds. This variety has little more than length from its elevated tees to its closely bunkered greens. The result is that ordinary golfers drive with abandon; hit second shots without aim or true consideration and do not begin the actual playing of golf until within reach of the greens.
Little by little these courses are being revamped to fit true golf. Tees are being moved forward so that the greens will be within reach of the shots ordinary golfers should play. The result is higher scores but more golf shots.
So too is another idea dying, the one which demanded “scenery” and hills. Beautiful things, trees. But they have no place in golf. Any golf follower who has seen the way trees have ruined fairly good shots from one man’s clubs while acting as billiard cushions for the wild shots of another, knows that trees are golf’s most unfair hazard; a hazard wholly undependable and warranted only as safety measures to direct, never penalize, play.
Hills too, are losing their flavor. Not entirely because so many players haven’t the heart condition permitting long, steep uphill grinds and sudden down grades, but because golf is becoming wise to the fact that the game requires only gentle rises and slight slopes to introduce the variety of shots in the game.
The reporter whose work takes him to golf courses all over the country finds that other courses change frequently, Lido seldom. Lido needs no changing with each alteration in golf balls, with each improvement in clubs. Lido’s charm is not sheer length, it’s subtlety. Lido is a course for strong minds — not strong backs.
