Putters over paradise

A 100th(ish) birthday party

At the end of August, the City of Hamilton’s official account posted on X/Twitter. The post was an invitation to a 100th birthday celebration for the Chedoke Golf Course schedule for tomorrow - Saturday, September 14th from 9 to 11 AM. In honour of the club’s 100th birthday, the city is planting 100 new trees along the Martin Course, which is the eastern portion of Chedoke, abutting Kirkendall South and the remnants of Chedoke Creek.

The club’s “100th” anniversary gives us a chance to reflect on how Chedoke came to be and what the future might hold for the 5th largest parcel of land owned by the city of Hamilton.1

So let’s dive into the backstory and the future possibilities for the Chedoke Golf Club.

A lawyer’s hobby

To understand Chedoke Golf Club, we need to know its backstory.

And, as often seems to be the case in Hamilton, the backstory connects a constellation of local institutions and prominent figures.

Even though the Chedoke Golf Club is celebrating its 100th anniversary this weekend, golf has been played there for 128 years. That’s because the Chedoke Golf Club started off as the site of the Hamilton Golf and Country Club (HGCC).

Originally the Hamilton Golf Club, the HGCC started in 1894, and is believed to be the brainchild of local lawyer P.D. Crerar.

Crerar, who hailed from a small town on the border between the Scottish Highlands and Lowlands, immigrated to Canada at age 20 to work for his brother, a prominent Toronto lawyer. On a short trip to London, Crerar fell ill. After consulting with a doctor, he was told he needed less time huddled over law books in dusty old offices and more time in the revitalizing splendour of the outdoors. The doctor gave him two choices: horse-back riding or golf, which was a fad sweeping the world at the time. And, honestly, seemed like the easier option, as it didn’t necessitate the acquisition of a horse.

But Crerar was also taking a chance with the relatively unknown sport. Golf has a long history, with the contemporary sport being traced to 15th century Scotland, but it had only gained widespread popularity in the late 1800’s. Indeed, the first British Open was played the year after Crerar was born. Still, he gave it a chance and quickly fell in love with the game, determined to carry on playing it as he sailed back toward Hamilton.

***

Returning home with a love of the sport, Crerar was frustrated that there were few places he could practice what the doctor ordered.

Local legend has it that the half-brother of the city’s namesake and founder was enamoured with the sport. Peter Hunter Hamilton, whose spacious mansion - Holmstead (sometimes spelled Holmestead) - occupied the block bounded by today’s Duke, Park, Bold, and MacNab streets, was the centre of a vast farm that stretched from James to Bay, and south from Main to Aberdeen. On his property, he set aside some land for a private golf links where, as one Spec contributor noted in the 1930’s, “devotees of the ancient and honourable game more or less impatiently listened to the triumphs and woes of the fellow players.”2 But, by Crerar’s time, the land including the golf course had been sold for housing and Holmstead had been taken over by the family of William Hendrie, the businessman and champion equestrian whose horse farm in Aldershot would later become part of the Royal Botanical Gardens.

Crerar had few options for places to play. There were three small holes at the H.A.A.A. grounds but the largest course in the city, at Dundurn Castle, was set up for the personal enjoyment of Donald MacInnes, one of the city’s wealthiest businessmen. MacInnes had started the Bank of Hamilton, served on the board of the Hamilton-based Canada Life Assurance Company, and, by the time Crerar had returned to the city, been named a senator by Sir John A. MacDonald.

Though they differed politically (MacInnes was a staunch Tory and Crerar was one of Hamilton’s most prominent Liberals), the eager lawyer knew he would need the support of MacInnes if he was going to get a club started in the city. Collaborating on the project, the pair was able to secure land beside what was then the Jockey Club at the northeast corner of Barton and Ottawa (the site of today’s Centre on Barton). A few modest holes, some small amenities, and a whole lot of ambition. The Hamilton Golf Club was born.3

Most Hamiltonians had little familiarity with golf at the time, which explains why the Spec reported on it with bemusement. The first game at the Hamilton Golf Club, held in late October, 1894, was a doubles match between a team of Senator MacInnes and F.G.H. Pattison on one side and a team of our swashbuckling celebrity Mayor Alexander Stewart and T.H. Macpherson on the other, with the latter team winning by three holes.

“There is no doubt the game will become popular,” wrote the Spec, noting that it was “altogether a most enjoyable afternoon.”4

To ensure the city’s well-connected elite were satisfied and the club would be a draw for high-status people of all persuasions, Crerar was content to step back and guide its growth from the sidelines. And, for good measure, he ensured MacInnes would be the club’s first president and his second-in-command (and successor) would be A.G. Ramsay, the President of the Canada Life Assurance Company on the board of which sat MacInnes.

At the first club annual general meeting, the executive decided to stay at the Jockey Club for at least the next season.5

Mr. Barnes and a piece of Paradise

Play at the Jockey Club did not last long. Golfers reported having a difficult time focusing on their game when races occurred and, by early 1895, the area had become simultaneously overused and undermaintained to the point where members regularly complained.

The club’s executive made the decision to pursue “a change of ‘terrain’” for the next year.6 In Hamilton Golf Club lore, two members of the club, including T.H. Macpherson (Mayor Stewart’s doubles partner from the club’s first game), were returning to the city after visiting a friend and passed by a place they thought would be perfect for golf. To them, it was paradise. Literally.

The location was Paradise Farm, a sprawling agricultural operation past the city limits on Aberdeen, between the bucolic Chedoke Creek and the shallow ravine splitting the city from the quiet of Ainslie’s Wood to the west. The land was farmed by Duncan McNab, but was owned by a prominent local named Thomas Barnes. More on him in a second.

The Hamilton Golf Club quickly began negotiating with Barnes, who allowed them the use of the space for a hefty lease of $150 (somewhere around $4,000 in today’s currency) alongside McNab’s crops and livestock.

So, in 1896, the club opened a small course of seven holes that weaved through the fields where cows grazed among the golfers. “Stones and natural hazards were numerous,” observed the Spec.7

The club settled into Paradise Farm easily, and interest in the sport continued to grow. Just one year later, the HGCC announced they would expand their membership to 75 men (maintaining their cap of 15 women) and began seriously considering fencing for the green to keep wayward cows from wandering into a game. The club had a surplus, having no trouble covering costs with their $5 membership fee for men ($2.50 for women).

Part of their financial success came from the generosity of Barnes, whose landholdings were immense. Seeing his new tenants as reliable and a steady source of income, Barnes allowed the HGCC to build a clubhouse on his property, significantly reducing their financial strain.8

***

To say Thomas Barnes was influential would be an understatement. Like many of Hamilton’s early figures, Barnes dabbled in a little bit of everything. He was involved in Conservative politics in what was then Barton Township, going so far as to mount a campaign for reeve (an early term for mayor) there in 1877. Unsuccessful in that attempt, he returned to his primary job of farming. But he branched out with enthusiasm, becoming a landlord, a contractor, a supplier of ore to local industrial operations, a massive property holder, a horticulturalist who sold shrubs to the city, a vintner, a race horse owner, and a quarry operator.

Controversy and drama seemed to follow Barnes through all of his ventures. On the legal front, he was sued by employees and associates many times throughout the years for a failure to pay wages and honour contracts.9 And his industrial operations were no less above-board; his quarry in Hannon (Upper Stoney Creek mountain) was notorious for its dangerously poor working conditions. Workers endured regular injuries from explosions, mechanical mishaps, and blows to the head and, in April of 1900, a worker at the quarry was crushed to death by falling stone.10 Workplace safety didn’t seem to be Barnes’ specialty, as one of the heavy machines he owned through his contracting business ran over a small child in 1901.11

It was on his way to that quarry in 1904 that Barnes was the attempted victim of actual highway robbery. Heading out to Hannon on the Rymal Road to pay wages (so apparently he did pay his workers on occasion), Barnes was held up, but, through a combination of bravado and quick thinking, convinced the would-be highwayman that he was broke. The robber, whom Barnes later described as “a foreigner, tall and dark”, was later identified as James Russell after being arrested by the police in Buffalo, New York for stealing overcoats.12 The subsequent trial became a media sensation in Hamilton, with regular coverage in the Spec of the court proceedings.

Once the trail concluded and he had put the whole businesses behind him, Barnes was able to carry on with his own activities, which eventually included massive real estate deals. He sold his lands near the waterfront (today’s Barton-Tiffany site), began carving up his own farm into housing surveys (Barnesdale Ave/Boulevard runs through what was his main property), and soon became involved with local railway interests. That, it would seem, was how Barnes became involved with the HGCC.

Barnes, through his local celebrity and connections, became part of the team that helped build the Brantford and Hamilton Electric Railway (the B&H). Through secretive backroom deals, the bankrupt original backers of the project sold their share to the Cataract Power Company of Hamilton (side note: I’ve mentioned them before, but I’ll have to do something on Cararact, which essentially controlled Hamilton like some kind of Weyland-Yutani Corporation in the late 1800’s/early 1900’s), who brought Barnes into the fold to help with the project.13 The B&H, once completed, wound its way through the city to the corner of Queen and Aberdeen, before starting to make its slow ascent up the side of the mountain behind a little agricultural operation known as Paradise Farm.

Ten years after Barnes had allowed the club to build their clubhouse on his land, through which the profitable B&H railway now ran (and stopped), the HGCC completed the purchase of the space they had been using, paying Barnes the hefty sum of $12,000 for the land.14 That’s the equivalent of around $318,000 today.

City golfer, country golfer

In the years between buying out Mr. Barnes and the start of World War I, the HGCC solidified its status as a place to be in the city. Youth dances and society luncheons and province-wide tournaments drew people from far and wide to the soft slopes of Paradise Farm.

But, as interest in the club grew, so too did the realization that their small plot would not suffice forever. The complaints of club members mounted as the city grew to meet their little slice of paradise and other clubs began improving their surroundings. Players were spoiled by the size of Toronto’s clubs, were annoyed by the presence of the B&H to the club’s south, and grew frustrated at the expansion of the west-end industrial operations along the Toronto, Hamilton, and Buffalo (TH&B) line to their north.

Even though the club’s executive poured nearly $9,000 into improving the greens and the clubhouse in 1912, by the following year, they had decided to relocate. The executive decided to look for farms further afield from the city to create more space between them and the irritants that members had complained about.

A short trip up the B&H line in the quiet village of Ancaster, the club found the perfect spot. The Bevan Farm had everything they needed: access to the city, but enough space to ensure they could expand unimpeded, sandy soil and a water supply, and a stately manor that could serve as their clubhouse.

The club quickly secured the farm and the services of Henry Shapland Colt, easily the most famous and respected architect of golf courses in the world. Colt, just off designing the Eden Course in St. Andrews, Scotland, accepted the HGCC’s offer and set his rate at £315 - roughly $54,270 CAD in today’s currency. On September 11, 1915, Colt’s 18 hole course was briefly opened for play, to allow the club’s esteemed members a chance to test the new course. It was a resounding success, with the Spec reporting that “many masculine enthusiasts availed themselves of the opportunity of playing on Saturday afternoon when some excellent scores were turned in.”15

By June 1 of 1916, the new Hamilton Golf and Country Club was up-and-running.

But that left the old course at Paradise Farm empty and many Hamiltonians unable to pay the new HGCC membership fees or get to the club’s relatively remote new location.

And so it remained for 5 years, until local residents pressured the Hamilton Chamber of Commerce to step up to the tee.

***

After the chaos of World War I and the “Spanish” Influenza Pandemic from 1918 to 1920, the rest of the decade was looking up for many Hamiltonians. Unemployment was down, wages were up, and people were looking for social activities to indulge in during their down time. Golf’s popularity grew steadily, becoming a sport people could participate in regardless of their gender, and do so while taking in fresh air in a bucolic, pastoral-like setting.

By 1921, there were more Hamiltonians interested in golf than the HGCC could accommodate. And, even if the club could fit all the new members in, many of the people who wanted to play could not afford a membership to play alongside people in the city’s political, social, and industrial elite. As the Spec noted, many Hamiltonians “have a desire to play golf, but feel that present opportunities to learn the game are somewhat beyond them from a financial point of view.”16

In spite of all that, there was an opportunity on the horizon. Earlier that year, the residents of Kirkendall organized a public meeting to discuss the poor state of Aberdeen. The street was, at the time, the dividing line between the City of Hamilton and the Township of Barton. It had remained an unpaved dirt path for years, which was bothering the residents of what was then, according to the Spec, the “extreme southwest end of the city”. Because the road was split between the City and the Township, it would have been fiscally impossible to pave, which meant the Kirkendallians would need to pressure Hamilton to annex everything north of the Escarpment, all the way west to Paradise Road. Amidst their lobbying efforts, representatives of the HGCC stated they would be content, if the city pursue annexation, to lease the land to the city for three years to be used as a public golf course.17 Even if annexation was a while off, there was clear interest in a people’s course on Aberdeen.

With this as their motivation, a group of those interested in the sport approached the Hamilton Chamber of Commerce with a proposal: as the city’s respected small-business advocates, they had the authority and power to be the driving force behind a new “citizen’s golf club”. And this new club for the masses could be located at the vacant course on Aberdeen.

In late November of 1921, the Chamber invited Ralph Connable, the driving force behind Toronto’s two “citizen’s golf clubs”, to report on their success. Connable’s glowing statements and enthusiasm for the idea inspired the group to strike a committee to advance the plan. The committee, which cleverly included the sports editors for both the Spec and the Herald, was led by George C. Martin, an agent with the TH&B railroad, a civic booster extraordinaire, and committed sportsman who held positions with clubs across the city, from the Horse Show Committee to the Victoria Curling Club.18

The Chamber opened applications on December 1, 1921 to gauge interest in the citizen’s club. In two days, they had close to 200 completed applications and another 300 forms circulating in the community. Within a week, another 300 forms needed to be printed and distributed due to the interest in the club.19 By December 16, the Chamber announced “that applications for membership in the proposed citizens’ golf club had reached a number which practically assured establishment of the organization” and that negotiations with the HGCC had been successful, with the hard work of “reclaiming” the club from nature to start “as early as possible in order that it might be ready for play in the spring.” And, importantly, the Chamber’s committee on the citizen’s golf club had announced the name of the new facility: the Chedoke Golf Club.20

At the club’s first annual general meeting in January of the following year, Martin announced that the group had applied for a provincial charter and that membership had reached a staggering 650. With each member paying a $10 yearly fee and a lengthy waitlist, the new Chedoke Club seemed like it was starting off on strong footing.21

When the course opened to the public on May 13, 1922, the members - now totaling over 900 - were treated to appearances by professional golfers, state-of-the-art facilities, and a guided tour by club employees.22 Over the next year, until the club closed for the season on October 21, thousands of working Hamiltonians played the course, marveling in the beauty of a slice of paradise they would have otherwise not been able to access.

A course for the people, by the people

As the new citizen’s golf club entered its first winter, it faced two pressing matters. The first, was a demand from local children to use the snow-covered slopes for tobogganing. With the help of the city - in particular, T.B. McQuesten who was serving, at the time, as the “Chairman of the Special Toboggan Slides Committee of the Parks Board” - the city constructed a series of small ramps and platforms for the use of tobogganers starting on New Year’s Day, 1923.23

The second matter was a special section of the Parks Act which allowed the club to pursue a controversial option. If the club’s executive so chose, they could ask the city to pass a by-law that would bring the Chedoke Golf Club under municipal ownership, turning a community-owned club into a civic-owned club, though one that was still managed day-to-day by the Chedoke Golf Club association. The executive studied the motion carefully, but opted to hold off making any decisions that would impact the 1923 playing season. But it was anyone’s guess what would happen on January 1, 1924, at which point their lease from the HGCC would be up.24

By November of 1923, the club’s members were abuzz over Chedoke’s future. A special meeting had been called for the evening of Friday, November 9 to discuss the civic option. The Spec reported on the rumour that the club would reject municipal ownership, leading some members to worry that they would never be able to secure the $90,000 the HGCC wanted for the sale of the property or that, to do so, the club would need to be privatized.25

The rumours were unfounded and, instead, the Parks Board announced it was willing to take on the financial responsibility for the club for five years while still allowing the association’s executive an opportunity to oversee the regular operation of the course.26 The Parks Board wanted it, the Chedoke Club wanted it, hell, even the Trades and Labour Council passed a resolution in favour of it (unanimously, I might add) when they found out 75% of the club’s members were considered “working class”.27

The only roadblock was city council.

***

Hamilton’s council for 1923 was, as many in the period were, deeply conservative. An organization calling itself the “Citizen’s Campaign Committee” was successful in electing 11 of its 14 endorsed candidates to office on a platform of “non-partisanship” (read: conservatism), low taxes, and pro-business policies. With those 11 members, the CCC controlled 52% of council. Compared to the two Labour Party-backed councillors, the CCC was the real powerhouse. And, to top it off, one of the CCC-backed aldermen for Ward 3 (which abutted Chedoke Golf Club, still in Barton Township), John Telford, campaigned on a platform of the “Chedoke property for a public park”.28

Telford was the mover behind a council motion to approve the civic takeover, but had ulterior motives for doing so. Speaking before council on December 11, 1923, Telford told the body that “people should remember that this land is not being bought as a golf club, but may be used for park purposes later on, if golf peters out.”29

During the last meeting of the term on December 26, 1923, the mood in council chambers was tense. When the motion hit the floor, the council members began peppering staff and their colleagues with questions. Right-wing Ward 7 alderman Charles Brayley asked why the motion had not been submitted to the voters as a referendum question. Alderman Morrison, also backed by the CCC, suggested it should be converted to a park immediately. Controller Calvin Davis informed the chamber that the HGCC had received an even better offer for the land from private interests, but were, out of civic duty, giving the city the first chance at buying the land. By the time Ward 8 alderman Sam Lawrence began speaking, club members were worried about the future of their beloved Chedoke. But Lawrence, in his trademark technical and uninspiring way, made the case for a working person’s golf club and signaled his approval. All their concerns addressed and their suggestions noted, the chair called for a vote. Twenty-one voices simply shouted “carried!” without a note of dissent.30

The Chedoke Golf Club would become a civic course.

***

In early January, the acting city clerk placed notices in the Spec announcing the city’s by-law approving the purchase of the course and noting that objections could be made until the end of March that year.31

By the time the course opened for the first time as a public amenity on Saturday, April 26, 1924, the city was actively pursuing the formal annexation of the lands from Barton Township, fulfilling the demands of Kirkendallians from years prior. That year, the club turned a healthy profit of $7,600, which was re-invested in the city’s parks and belayed any concerns the more fiscally-conservative members of council had about their purchase.32

On March 30, 1925, the Board of Control approved the annexation of Chedoke from Barton, saving the city the awkwardness of needing to pay property taxes to another municipality for a service it provided.33 By May, the province agreed to the annexation, and the club became part of the City of Hamilton.

Over the next few years, enthusiasm around the club cooled and membership began to dip slightly. But, still, the Chedoke Club continued to make money and help the city recoup the investment it made. Their revenue was so impressive that they were able to provide the Parks Board an extra $1,675 on top of their expected payments in 1927 and put aside money for a live-in groundskeeper’s home for the course.34

The club was so optimistic about its future that, in 1929, it approached the Parks Board with a request for an additional $15,000 for upgrades and a new course layout.35 Council, sharing the optimistic feeling, approved the expenses just a few months before the start of the Great Depression. Luckily for the Chedoke Club, work had already started, leaving the city with a stunning new course in a time of crushing poverty. Those were the last major upgrades for a while, as even a request for a new road through the course were put off in the depths of the Depression to ensure spending was allocated to other causes. Though, when Aberdeen was paved and new sewers needed to be installed, the club got their paved road as requested.36

***

The rest of Chedoke’s history is rather straightforward. After a second course was opened in 1951, Parks Board member Sam Manson (a man to rival Martin’s dedication to sports in the city) raised concerns that some members of council would use a proposed tax increase as an excuse to offload park properties, including Gage Park and the Chedoke Golf Club, but Manson’s concerns were unfounded.37

That year, a second course opened, and was named after Martin’s successor as club president, Harold Beddoe. And so it has remained. Though, as we inched closer and closer to the 100th anniversary of the civic takeover of Chedoke, it became clear that not everyone was enamoured with a 36-hole golf course taking up 1.2 square kilometres of civic space.

A future for the greens

One year after the 90th anniversary of the civic takeover of Chedoke, the city initiated a review of both Chedoke and the King’s Forest Golf Club in Rosedale, hiring the firm Global Golf Advisors to take a look at the market for golf in the area.

The firm found that the local golf market had not significantly increased since 2010 and that spending on golf was trending downward. To counter this, they recommended adjusting fees, offering special packages to “junior golfers”, and implementing an aggressive rain check policy to reward “golfers for coming to the Courses and braving the weather on days when it is raining.”

Shortly after council debated the report, Hamilton-based prof Zach Spicer published a piece on Raise the Hammer encouraging us to ask the question: should Hamilton even be in the golf business?

The following year, the Chedoke Golf Club posted a loss of over $160,000. The next two years featured losses as well. That’s why, in mid 2020, Spec columnist Scott Radley penned an article calling on the city to sell the courses.

Of course, that was just a few months after COVID-19 hit. The same summer Radley’s article appeared, demand for outdoor activities skyrocketed as people longed for social activities they could engage in safely and with some distance. That meant that Chedoke went from posting a loss of nearly $200,000 in the decidedly chilly year of 2019 to posting a profit of over $400,000 in 2020.

By the time the 2022 municipal election came around, the club’s earnings were more modest, but they were no longer losing as much as when Global Golf Advisors took a look at the state of play in 2015.

In the spring of last year, Ward 1 councillor Maureen Wilson called for a review of Hamilton’s golf operations - not because the clubs were or were not profitable, but because she had heard from many constituents at the doors during the campaign that they thought too much of Chedoke was dedicated to a single sport, denying other people a chance to enjoy a municipal asset. Much like her distant predecessor, John Telford, Wilson was raising the prospect that the Chedoke lands could serve a greater purpose than just being reserved for one sport.

Area residents - even some avid golfers - have supported a review, with some suggesting the club could slim down to 18 holes instead of 36. The Spec article on the suggestion featured photos of runners jogging through the fairway, as, I’ll admit, I have done on more than one occasion while training (though always before play starts in the spring).

Chedoke is a peaceful and incredible space in the city. Soft rolling hills at the foot of the Escarpment, small creeks and lush forests, winding trails and some very popular Escarpment stairs. But so much of the space is reserved for a single sport. A sport that costs between $41 and $54 to play (not including equipment). A sport with a strict dresscode (collared shirts, no denim, shorts of a dictated length) that may not be accessible for everyone. A sport that requires over 1.2 square kilometres of space to play.

Then again, the Chedoke Golf Club has a long history and has recently begun to make money for the city. It was taken over by the municipality to ensure everyone had the ability to play golf, not just the wealthy elites.

As Chedoke celebrates its 100th anniversary of municipal ownership, we should start an honest conversation about the club’s future. Can it make room for other sports? Can it be an all-purpose greenspace? Can it stay a golf club for the masses?

And, importantly, how can we better protect, activate, and enliven a place we once called paradise?

Cool facts for cool people

• If you give any Spec opinion from the last while a read, check out Eugene Ellmen’s article from September 9, where a passionate case is made that decay is not inevitable and that chatter about downtown living through a “zombie apocalypse” is not helpful. Insightful piece.

• Former Hamilton Mountain MP Scott Duvall is at it again over on X/Twitter. After targeting Mayor Horwath for not attending the Labour Day Parade (I don’t know if she did or not), Duvall took a break for a few days before logging in to, once again, lay out a buffet of political opinions that cross the spectrum. He expressed support for Matt Francis’s attempt to cancel the affordable housing project on Lake Ave South, complained about the “Carbon Tax”, and reposted a reply from an account that has engaged in climate denial, transphobia, US 2020 election denial, Islamophobia, and anti-immigrant hysteria. The friends you keep, eh? Someone take that man’s phone away before he jumps on the MAGA train.