Band of brothers

Hand-mowing fairways and cooling greens (whether by fan or water hose) are time-consuming, grunt-labor tasks. Can a volunteer opt out of such an assignment? Not if Latshaw Rules apply. The senior Latshaw says his rules were simple: "Plan on spending the whole week, accept whatever job I give you and expect to do it all week."

EMERGENCY SERVICES
Not all volunteers are assigned exhausting jobs. Some are held in reserve for potential emergencies. Dave Ward, who prepared Olympia Fields near Chicago for the 2003 U.S. Open, stockpiled extra chain saws, hoses, pumps, shovels and sand, just in case a terrible storm hit.

But one thing he hadn't planned on was frost. Eleven days before the Open, on June 1, temperatures dipped below freezing. The grass stopped growing. Ward, an honorary member of the Latshaw fraternity because of past volunteer service, was able to call several friends for advice. They told him not to worry. It took time for the turf to start growing again—there were record-low scores during the first two days of that Open—but by the weekend, Ward had the rough at the depths and the greens at the speed the U.S. Golf Association wanted.

Eric Greytok, only 28 years old when he handled the 2000 U.S. Open at Pebble Beach, remembers a fog delay during opening day that required a massive reshuffling of manpower and tee times. His volunteers, including Ward, worked even later than normal because of the weather delay.

"The most fun I've ever had in this profession was at the 2000 Open," says Ward. "I was mowing the 18th green at Pebble Beach at 10:30 at night. There was just enough moisture on the grass that I could see my path."

At Thursday's opening round of the 2003 PGA at Oak Hill, a large portion of the Northeast was hit by a power outage. That took even Paul B. Latshaw by surprise. "The previous winter we had considered every possible disaster, from flood to famine to lightning and fire," he says. "But we never considered a blackout."

Latshaw and the volunteers first had to find small generators and get them to the merchandise tents, to keep the all-important cash registers ringing. Then it was on to food-service vendors to keep refrigerated food cold. Then they had to attend to network television's computers and carts. At 2 a.m., Latshaw was wiring together a temporary system to charge radios and carts when the power was restored.

ESPIRIT DE CORPS
There's a true camaraderie that develops in this network of volunteer-superintendents.

"It sounds crazy," says Greytok, who moved from Pebble Beach to Winged Foot in 2001, "but when I heard about the 2006 Open, I got excited, mainly because I was going to see all my friends and we were all going to be able to hang out in one spot."

Each major event has an air-conditioned hospitality tent specifically for these volunteers, providing hot meals, cots, closed-circuit television coverage and real-time scoring. Head superintendents try to outdo one another in extra amenities. At Olympia Fields, Ward offered deep-dish Chicago-style pizza one day, a local brand of ice cream another day and a local-brewery beer bash on the Sunday evening after the final round. For this year's PGA Championship, Myers is bringing in several Golden Tee video golf games to entertain the troops.

During down time, some volunteers just sit and talk with one another about their jobs, getting tips, suggestions and ideas. Most never get to see the tournament to conclusion. After their Sunday-morning duties, they rush off to the airport to be back at their regular jobs on Monday morning.

THE PAYOFF
A successful major championship can be lucrative. His fraternity credits the senior Latshaw for being the Arnold Palmer of their profession, making today's big salaries possible.

Latshaw made $30,000 at Oakmont in 1978 and took the Augusta job in 1983 for $50,000, but as his reputation grew, so did his pay. He earned his first $100,000 salary at Wilmington (Del.) Country Club in 1990, and signed for $200,000 when he took over the Winged Foot job in 1999. But after organizing a massive tree-removal program, which resulted in the USGA awarding Winged Foot's West Course the 2006 Open, Latshaw decided, at age 61, to leave the Open preparation to a younger generation.

Today, a superintendent at a major can earn a big salary and bigger bonus. One prominent superintendent on the East Coast received a bonus of $250,000 after his major went off with no complications. The biggest bonus Latshaw ever received was $30,000, after the U.S. Open at Congressional. "And they had to review everything first, to make sure it had been a successful Open," he says with a laugh.

Do volunteers resent that the man in charge gets a big payday for their labor? The ones we talked to don't, because they know, sooner or later, their time will come. "On the Sunday night after the final round [of the 2003 PGA], I told my wife, 'I think it's time to move on,' " the younger Latshaw says. "Sure enough, within a week, I got the offer to take over Muirfield Village in Ohio. It was a bit more money, but honestly, I took it because I'd always wanted to work for Mr. Nicklaus."

Not every major has a happy ending. Ward says he received few thank-yous from his club's membership after the U.S. Open at Olympia Fields and was told he might want to look elsewhere before his contract expired in April. So he took the job growing in and then maintaining a new public course, Coyote Run in Flossmoor (built from the abandoned Cherry Hills Country Club, the course on which he'd grown up), even though his salary dropped to $80,000 from $170,000. But it was next door, so his family wasn't disrupted. He left on his own terms, and finds he's now much happier.

"Some guys thrive on national championships. I find I don't miss it," Ward says. After the Open at Winged Foot's West Course last summer, Greytok spent months, with a far smaller crew, reclaiming the club's equally strong East Course, which had been turned into parking lots and hospitality tents for the championship. "The Open wasn't over for me until Sept. 23," he says, "the day we got the East Course back up and running."

This spring, Greytok left Winged Foot for a job in Oregon, growing in the Tom Doak-designed Wicked Pony Golf Club. "It was purely a lifestyle change," he says. "My wife and I are committed to raising our kids in a smaller, more intimate atmosphere. As for majors, I don't think I'll ever miss it. I accomplished what I wanted to. It's a lot of work. I can still volunteer for a week, have some laughs, get my fill and go home and think, You know, I'm so glad I walked away from all that."