Tale of the PGA switcheroo - Professional Golfer's Association plans to include the Valhalla golf course in its championship rotation, then changes its mind

Golf Digest, August, 2000 by Dave Kindred

A change in future PGA venues revealed the realpolitik of big-business sports

You'd think the Valhalla Golf Club people would be furious. They'd been promised the 2004 PGA Championship. Then, in a deal kept secret even from some PGA of America executives, the tournament was given to another club. You'd think such betrayal would turn Valhalla vindictive.

You'd be wrong. To understand why, you need to know two questions and their answers.

The first question came late in 1992, at Valhalla, shortly after the PGA awarded the club its 1996 championship. Jim Awtrey, the PGA's chief executive officer, said to Valhalla's founder and owner, Dwight Gahm, "Let's take a walk."

During Valhalla's courtship of the PGA, the men had become friends. Now they walked toward the ninth green cut into the Kentucky hills outside Louisville. "I want to ask you something," Awtrey said, "and I don't want you to laugh."

"Shoot," Gahm said.

"What would you think of the PGA of America buying your golf course and putting it in a rotation for our championship?"

The second question came seven years later, again from Awtrey to a wealthy man who'd built a golf course. This time Awtrey stood on Whistling Straits. There, along Lake Michigan, Pete Dye's design conspired with fog, wind and chill to give the Wisconsin shoreline the feel of an Irish links.

On June 23, 1999, Awtrey teed it up with Whistling Straits' owner, Herb Kohler Jr. As with Gahm, Awtrey bonded with Kohler in a common cause. For two years, they'd talked about a PGA Championship at Whistling Straits. But that June morning, Awtrey had read an unsettling newspaper item: Whistling Straits was under consideration for a major championship-the 2005 U.S. Open.

"Herb," Awtrey said, "is there anything you haven't told me?"

Answers from Gahm and Kohler set in motion events that embarrassed the PGA of America and revealed the realpolitik of big-business sports.

The day of their walk in 1992, Dwight Gahm didn't laugh at the question. Instead, he looked at Awtrey and said nothing until he replied, "Let's go tell the boys." He meant his sons, Walt, Gordy and Phil. There's a Ben Cartwright/Bonanza air to the Gahms, four men at once family, confidants and business associates. In the clubhouse, the patriarch said, "Boys, we're gonna sell the course to the PGA." Just like that.

"Dad, whatever you want to do," Walt said.

No haggling. They weren't in golf to make money. Valhalla had been a piece of serendipity, beginning with the land. In 1981, Dwight Gahm's banker said, "Buy it," and Gahm said, "What do I want with that land?" The banker said, "Just buy it," and Gahm said, "Where am I going to get the money?" The banker smiled and said, "I'll take care of that." So Gahm bought 430 acres.

He'd built kitchen cabinets for 25 years. What to do with an abandoned Kentucky horse farm? Houses? A factory? Twenty minutes outside Louisville, the land had value beyond its beauty.

One day Gahm said to his three sons: "Golf."

Just like that.

Dwight Gahm played football in high school, college and the U.S. Army, a center/linebacker who at age 81 today straightens up, raises his chest and says, "Hell, I was great." Out of the Army he went into business delivering diapers. He joined a country club for a $25 initiation fee and $2.34 monthly dues. "And I couldn't afford it," he says. He became a scratch player.

If it would be golf for that land, what kind of course? "World-class," Gahm told the boys, "with one of the Big Four tournaments."

As to who would design such a course, Gahm asked, "How would we reach Jack Nicklaus?"

Walt called Bob Griese, the old Dolphins' quarterback, on the chance he knew Nicklaus, a Dolphins fan. Not only did Griese know Nicklaus, he would see him that week at the Doral Open. So on Doral's first tee, Griese told Nicklaus about Dwight Gahm and his sons. The next Monday, the greatest golfer in history made a phone call to the hell-yes-I-was-great old linebacker.

By 1986 Nicklaus had built Valhalla, and by '92 the club had won the '96 PGA Championship. Every daily ticket and high-dollar corporate tent was sold 11 months in advance. At tournament's end, Awtrey announced the championship would return to Valhalla in 2000.

Then, on Oct. 19, 1998, now partners with the Gahms (the sale will be completed this year), the PGA also awarded Valhalla the 2004 PGA Championship and the Ryder Cup in 2007. Dwight Gahm: "All a miracle."

Not everyone was giddy. Some players disliked Valhalla. David Duval considered it a minor-league track. Critics wondered if it made sense to play four major events at one site in 11 years.

Then, as Awtrey evaluated courses for the 2007 PGA, life did what life does. It turned fascinating, complicated and worrisome. When he asked Herb Kohler that question, Awtrey heard back: Yes, Whistling Straits is on the USGA's short list for the 2005 U.S. Open.

What to do? Awtrey wanted Whistling Straits. But he had only the 2007 date open before 2010. He knew this: He didn't want the U.S. Open going to Whistling Straits in 2005. So he told Kohler: We'll bring the 2004 PGA Championship to your place if you'll commit to us before year's end.