It's a reflection of history when, at 4:45 a.m., Ron McWhorter turns the key to open the offices of Reynolds’ golf course maintenance team. This happens every morning. Ron, the superintendent of The Landing, is the first to turn on the lights. He’s the one who brews the first pot of coffee.
This is the most productive time of the day,” Ron says. “I use the quiet time to formulate a plan for our 14-person crew. It’s always about trying to make The Landing course better today than it was yesterday.”
There have been a lot of yesterdays for Ron, and a lot of firsts. He first arrived at what would become The Landing in 1986, when it was still a frontier accentuated with deer stands. He installed the first greens and bunkers, drainage system, sod, and built up the first tee boxes.
“I’ve had my hands on this course, literally, from the very beginning. It’s like my baby. I’ve nurtured it, helped it grow, and prayed for it to thrive. The caring never stops.”
Ron’s family in the surrounding area goes back at least seven generations. When he was hired 38 years ago, he knew plenty about Georgia’s soil and grass, but he didn’t know about the game played on it with a little dimpled ball. Curious, he would pay close attention to how Members swung the clubs. He stopped his work cart out of courtesy and stayed long enough to take mental notes.
Those moments were my golf lessons. I’d watch players strike the ball and then I’d mimic their swings. Over the years, I’ve learned enough to get my own score into the 70s. It’s all because of the Members.”
He spends so much time on The Landing course that the corners of his eyes have observed other things, too: white squirrels, black squirrels, foxes, a peacock on the sixteenth hole.
“The peacock strutted across the fairway and into the woods. I never saw it again.”
Ron still can’t figure out how a player on the first hole hit a tee shot so perfectly straight (up) that it came down and landed on his back. No matter how much golf Ron sees, however, far more eyes are on his work.
“It’s like trying to cook a great meal for people with different taste buds,” he says. “Some players want the greens fast, some want them slow. The rough is too tight or too thick. I’m always trying to find the perfect sweet spot.”
Ron has experienced the joy of perfection only twice since he helped The Landing take root. The first time was in 2007 when he grabbed a seven-iron by accident on the 17th tee and made a hole-in-one. The other happened during one of those idyllic sunsets at the fourth green, where he and his bride-to-be, Shanta, had their engagement photo taken.
“That was a rare moment,” Ron says, “when I took time to appreciate the beauty around me.”
From his perspective, the course itself can always look a little better than it ever has. The word “perfect,” however, is not in his vernacular.
“If I ever believe the course is perfect, then that will be my message to pass the baton to someone else and ride off into the sunset.”
That day is not in Ron’s sights. Tomorrow he will start the coffee again at 4:45 a.m. He’ll scroll through years of notes, develop a fresh game plan, say a prayer, and continue his pursuit for an elusive perfection.
The Trademark Toothpick
“As a kid, I wanted to be like my Great Uncle Willie. He smoked cigars, so I tried one but it was too smelly. I put a toothpick in my mouth instead and have been with it as my habit ever since. I’ll put a new one in before work and take it out when my head hits the pillow at night. The only time my friends have seen me without one was on my wedding day: I put the toothpick in my jacket pocket, said my vows, and put it right back in my mouth.”
