A big, prestigious country club is rocked by an outsider who challenges its membership and traditions and causes a stir in the surrounding community. This isn’t another “”Caddyshack”” sequel. This is Augusta National.
Guardian
The Masters, arguably the most prestigious golf tournament in the world, runs April 10-13. A top field is assembled and the defending champion returns in pursuit of a threepeat, but most of the discussion revolves around climate.
The weather report calls for light showers early in the week, but clearing as the weekend progresses. The report concerning the political climate paints a far stormier picture.
Just less than 10 months ago, the chair of the National Council of Women’s Organizations, Martha Burk, wrote a letter to the chairman of Augusta National Golf Club, Hootie Johnson. Burk’s letter urged Johnson to add a woman to the rolls of Augusta’s membership. Johnson’s reply stated in no uncertain terms that the club did not intend to be bullied and that any decision on the subject would be made on the club’s timetable, “”and not at the point of a bayonet.””
The seemingly knee-jerk reaction paints a stereotypical picture of this man called Hootie: a rich, white, old South, racist, sexist male as stubborn as he is old. Hootie’s past paints quite a different picture. This is the same man who lobbied for the removal of the Confederate flag from the South Carolina capitol building, was a driving force in admitting a black member to Augusta and was president of the first statewide bank to put a woman on its board of directors.
These public endeavors aside, Augusta National is not the only exclusive club to which Johnson belongs, and furthermore, it is only one of countless elite social clubs that dot the country. So why has the debate closed in on this quiet Georgia town? Why on this club? Why now?
Burk’s role in the ongoing battle has been that of the aggressor, launching a barrage of equal rights claims at the Augusta membership huddled in a bunker fortified by the freedom of association. While all-male and all-female country clubs are not common, they exist in noteworthy numbers. The chances are, however, that unless you belong to one, you can’t name any of these other clubs. Four nationally televised days in April, each year, give Augusta National something most other places don’t have — visibility. That in turn gives Burk something she desperately needs — publicity.
The national media has fixed this iconoclastic clash and turned the leader of an obscure D.C. political lobby into a household name. It has also brought gender struggles to the forefront of the national conscience. Were it not for the war, Augusta would likely have claimed front-page attention in many media markets. Burk has brought notoriety to herself and the cause with significant effect.
Burk asked CBS — who owns the broadcast rights to The Masters — not to broadcast the event. They refused, but not before Johnson “”fired”” the sponsors, not wishing them to endure scorn for his club’s policies and chose to do it alone. The result is a delightfully commercial-free telecast, but a constant reminder of the controversy. Stir has also been caused by Burk’s plan to protest outside the club during the tournament. The changing of a city council ordinance, and protest permit procedures have caused the potential impact of the demonstration to be lessened, and a federal judge’s ruling on April 7 that prevents protests from being held outside the club’s front gate further marginalizes the effect of the protesters. (Burk appealed the decision.)
These ordinances have not prevented others from applying to protest. Reverend Jesse Jackson has applied to bring a group to speak out against Augusta National’s policy, and a one-man offshoot of the Klu Klux Klan has promised to come in order to protest Jackson’s protesting.
While the legal powers that seem to side with Augusta National’s traditional decision not to admit women (the club has no formal policy excluding women from becoming members), the social stigma associated with the discrimination is having an effect. Several members have resigned from the club and others have intimated they would decline an invitation to join were it offered. The war of attrition has claimed casualties on either side, but both Burk and Johnson are resolutely stubborn and neither appears willing to back down.
And so it stands. A drama and a comedy unfold in the beautifully tailored landscape of Augusta’s prize landmark. The extreme reformists square off with the stuffy traditionalists in a duel for the ages, and just because this version of the story includes everyone chasing after a Tiger, instead of a gopher, it doesn’t make it any less outrageous.
The actors, the build-up, the story line … all signs point to a memorable weekend. And oh yeah, they’ll be playing golf too.
