A Pine Grove Tale - The Crew

In the spring semester of my freshman year at Northern Michigan University, way back in 2003, I got to talking to my buddy Landen about his plans for the summer months. Landen grew up a stone’s throw from my small hometown of Norway, Michigan, and he told me that he’d be living back home and working on the grounds crew at Pine Grove Country Club in Iron Mountain. A job working outside mowing grass at a beautiful golf course sounded pretty good to me, so I asked Landen if he could hook me up and put in a good word for me with the guy in charge.

“The boss’s name is Rich. He’s a good guy. I’ll get you in touch.”

I had no idea this simple conversation in the hallway of the now extinct Payne Hall dormitory would result in a recurring summer job with a cast of characters that the greatest Hollywood writers couldn’t conjure up on their best day. And if they did, nobody would believe they could be real people. Allow me to make some introductions.

Rich

After a brief phone conversation with Rich, he told me to stop up at his house so we could talk about a job. Rich’s house was actually on the golf course, about thirty yards from the grounds crew shop. The first time I met Rich in person, his overall appearance and demeanor scared the living shit out of me. Rich was well-built and had these piercing, steely blue eyes that could unnerve you with their piercing intensity. Over the years, I would learn that Rich had a great sense of humor and an uncanny ability to deal with bullshit, but when his anger got the best of him, look the fuck out. He was not a guy I ever wanted to let down, let alone cross. There were plenty of times where workers at the course, myself included, fucked up or did things that pissed off Rich, but he gave people second, third, fourth, and fifth changes because he had a good heart. Rich was a tough guy who would yell profanity and had no qualms about cussing someone out, but I grew to love him and took pride in the fact he let me work, especially as a greens mower, on his pristine golf course. One time I was down visiting my buddy Hammer at Central Michigan, and we got hammered and called Rich at like midnight and left a voicemail saying hello and that we loved him. None of us ever said a word about it, but I bet Rich laughed when he listened to the message.

Mike

Mike was second-in-command right after Rich. Small, quick-witted, smart as hell, and drily hilarious, Mike always knew what to do and could complete any task with a cigarette burning. One time I told Rich that I aspired to be like Mike, and Rich said, “Well, six pack a day ‘til you’re eighty and you’re on your way.”

Mitch

Mitch was the third man in charge. He was okay, took himself way too seriously and was kind of a dick at times, but much closer in age to me, and we got along fine. Mitch would pop off back at Rich on occasion which led to some animated, and sometimes volatile, screaming matches.

Ralph

Fucking Ralph. Crazy, wide as he was tall, and a true Detroit sports fan. I always appreciated the time I was able to spend with Ralph and wish we had been closer in age and able to build more of a friendship outside of work. Going out drinking with Ralph on a Friday or Saturday night was always a goal of mine, but it’s probably best it never happened as I likely would have died.

Jebba

When I first started at Pine Grove, Rich was driving over to the county jail every morning to pick up Jebba on a work release program. Jebba had earned a jail sentence after a number of DUIs and other activities related to drunken revelry. He was one of those classic old school blue collar dudes who could drink a 30-pack and a bottle of whiskey at night, and still be up working everyone else into the ground at 5 AM and through an entire eight-hour shift the next day.

That Old Fucker

I think That Old Fucker’s real name was Jim, but I honestly cannot say that for certain. TOF was probably the guy on the crew that everyone else knew the least, mostly because he spent all day every day driving around a big rough mower. By the time TOF had mowed alongside every fairway on the course, it was time to start back over at the beginning. He brought his lunch pale with him on the mower and parked in the shade to eat around mid-day. I bet on any given day, TOF didn’t take twenty total steps.

Mark G.

Holy shit, where do I even begin with Mark G.? I guess I should begin with the first time I met him. It was a weekend morning, and I had just gotten back to the shop after cleaning the reel and roller on my greens mower. I drove around to the front of the shop to put my trailer away, and there was this skinny dude with a Tigers hat and a dip in talking at about 110 decibels. “I brought this chick home from the bar last night. I made her cum so many times it ruined my fucking couch!” That was the first thing I ever heard come out of Mark G.’s mouth. I was like, who the hell is this guy? Does he work here? I would come to understand that this was only the beginning of Mark G.’s craziness.

Todd the Bod

You know that old stereotype of how you’ll see a family with a really career-oriented and successful father, but his kid is a fucking dunce? That’s Todd the Bod. His dad was a doctor in town, and Todd was just floating through life directionless refilling water coolers and raking sandtraps at the course. I got a kick out of him, but Todd got fired for reasons that will be shared at a later date.

Dynamo Dan

Dynamo Dan had a master’s degree from the University of Wisconsin, yet his career was doing seasonal work on the ground crew for $6.50/hour. Quite the character. He had spent time on a Navy submarine, so privacy meant nothing to him, and he did not hesitate to just start peeing anywhere and everywhere regardless of who was present.

John and Brandon

I have to lump these two together because they were somehow related and almost had a whole brain between the two of them. John was the cause of one of the greatest Rich blowups I ever witnessed.

Tammy

Tammy was the lone woman on the crew. She mostly took care of the clubhouse flower beds and divots on tee boxes, but she would banter and break balls with all the men and tell someone to fuck off when they had it coming. Tammy definitely spoke her mind and told you exactly what she was thinking, which is something I can appreciate.

Chris

Chris was another college kid and a lazy turd.

Landen

I can’t call this post complete without mentioning the guy who got me the job. Landen was just a solid, hard-working dude. One of those guys who could weld and fix anything. I remember one time it was absolutely pouring rain. Everybody else savored rain days because it meant we couldn’t do much work on the course and everyone would go home to enjoy a day off, loss of pay be damned. When I came in the following day, Landen told me he had been out running the weed whacker for eight hours in the pouring rain. He and I worked and played intramural sports together during the school year, and I always enjoyed my time with him.

Hammer

It was amazing when Hammer was working at Pine Grove with me. Imagine spending all day working and laughing with your best friend. Hammer and I would both bring a cooler full of food with three sandwiches and tons of other snacks and other nutrition. We were both 19-20 years old and easily walking 7-10 miles per day at work, so we couldn’t eat enough. We’d ride to work together, spend most of the day together at work, go lift together at Bianco’s, ride home together, shower, eat, and then usually hang out at night. What a time to be alive.

Luke

Luke was a kid from my hometown who was a great ahead of me in school. I didn’t know him very well, and we never hung out, but Luke and I became fast and easy friends for the summers he was at the Grove. We were always sharing laughs at work and would let it rip at the local hometown bars on the weekends, telling stories from the golf course and the mayhem we had witness during the work week.

Mike T.

Like Luke, Mike T. only worked at the course for a summer or two, but he and I got along famously and really formed a bond. Mike T. was from Iron Mountain, and we had a lot in common and shared some great memories both in and out of work. Mike T. was a main protagonist in my only career trip to a gentleman’s club, the infamous Golden Nugget in, I’m not joking, Spread Eagle, Wisconsin. I was sad to say goodbye to Mike T. at the end of each summer.