Built With a Reservation

Smack in the middle of the desert, a one-hour drive from any metropolitan area, an Arizona Indian tribe tests an uncharted territory: the golf business.

By Mark Stewart

Think "Indian reservation" and it's not uncommon for "casino gambling" to be the first response. The San Carlos Apache tribe does own a casino on its land in Arizona, but diverted $3.5 million of its resources to add another feature to its sprawling reservation near the fading mining town of Globe: a golf course.

The tribe is betting that the course, built with untrained tribal labor in just seven months and at about half the budget of comparable courses, will draw golfers as well as gamblers to the facility located nearly two hours by car from either of the state's largest cities, Phoenix and Tucson.

Despite its remote locale - it's some 60 miles to Superstition Mountain, just east of Phoenix, and the nearest 18-hole facility, and nearly 100 miles to Tucson - Apache Stronghold, with the rolling terrain of a Scottish links course, appears to be a good bet for several reasons.

The Apache Stronghold course was bankrolled by the casino, whose revenues are not taxed and, therefore, plentiful for construction of the course. Secondly, no development will be allowed, thereby preserving the natural desert landscapes. In addition, the Apache tribe controls the water, the land is free and there are no environmental regulations or taxes.

"Golf was part of our plans from the very beginning when we were building the casino in 1994," says tribal member Myron Moses, a former criminal investigator with the Bureau of Indian Affairs who has also served as the casino's general manager.

But golf was new to the tribe of 11,500 members, so new that former club manager Bob Horan says, "We had to tell them tees and greens, which is which." That meant the tribe required assistance before it was able to proceed with the project, help it found in the form of the Arizona Golf Association.

The AGA is not in the course-building business, but it had the expertise to suggest architects, evaluate the proposals and present these evaluations to a committee organized to oversee the project. It was this decision to become partners of sorts with the AGA that paid swift dividends. Bank of America became interested in financing the project, originally visualized as a resort-type course. Initially, the bank was concerned that the market would be insufficient to command the necessary green fees and that the course cost would exceed expectations.

The AGA brought in the National Golf Foundation to review the course's financial feasibility. The NGF determined that the project could anticipate 20,000 rounds a year at an average green fee of $30. The AGA then offered its member base of 60,000 as a marketing pool, thereby boosting the yearly target of rounds to 35,000 and the 18-hole fee to $45.

"It's been a little disappointing so far, but play is starting to pick up," says Al Murdock, who came aboard as the course's head professional in August. "We had 20,000 to 24,000 rounds the first year, but it was cold in December and January."

Tom Doak and his firm, Michigan-based Renaissance Golf Design, were hired and given a free hand and virtually limitless land in designing his first course west of the Mississippi River. The topographical maps provided to him had no boundaries.

"When I asked the tribe, 'How far does the land go?' they just giggled," Doak recalls. "Then they said, 'We have 2,000 square miles. We want the course to start and end at the casino.' Other than that, it didn't matter, except they wanted the greens close to the tees." That proviso was made with two goals: golf carts would not be mandatory, and it would prove additionally beneficial when a caddie program is implemented.

"We came up with a budget early on, really modest for doing a course in (the) desert," says Doak, "and we made it $3.5 million for golf course construction, about half of what's involved in the more famous courses in Arizona. We did practically no earth-moving or resoiling of the ground. We didn't have to tear up much, so we didn't have to fix much." The only reshaping took place at the greens and tees.

Starting with the groundbreaking in March 1998, virtually all the labor was supplied by tribal members. Doak employed only a handful of course construction professionals on site, while at the peak of activity 50 to 60 Apaches were on the crew. A number of them continue to be employed in the day-to-day operation of the course. There's no question that Apache Stronghold offered Doak unique opportunities. "The thing that excites me the most is the topography," he said. "Theirs was almost ideal - a couple of high ridges to work off and play around for the elevated tees, broad, more open ground for some holes, then break off into a narrow valley on the back. None of the holes is alike because there's such a variety of land.

Some of the terrain is really rugged because we didn't have to worry about development; there will never be condos we have to route around. This will stay desert as far as I can see into the future."

In the end, dozens of possible routings were evaluated before the final layout was chosen, and it was selected based on the necessity to avoid archeological sites and use natural drainage.

"We wanted to make it look not like our golf course but like the land it's sitting on," Doak added. "We were also trying to do a different take on a desert courseÉ The casino will draw people who play but are by no means excellent golfers. We kept down the number of bunkers, figuring these players had enough to deal with just getting around the course. The length and topography are what's hard. You never really have a level lie."

Grass, usually one of the last considerations in the planning process, was the priority at Apache Stronghold. The region receives less rain than other parts of an already arid state, due primarily to the high elevation. Because its remote location presents an irrigation problem, planting and maintaining the turf forced planners to seek advice.

Utilizing Arizona Meteorological Network surveys from the University of Arizona, daily soil and air temperatures for the previous three years were tracked and matched with rainfall data for that period. The findings? Bermudagrass, standard on most Arizona courses, could not be supported with overseeding.

The AGA, with input from leading grass breeders and professors nationwide, recommended non-Bermuda grasses. The goal was to achieve the best conditioning from April through October, thereby optimizing Apache Stronghold when resort courses are usually at their worst. A new bluegrass strain that could stand up to the area's summer heat was researched, and because of its resilience, that was the grass selected for the fairways.

The new bluegrass covers a swatch of timeless land with a colorful history, a hint of which is provided on a hill behind the ninth green, by the statue of a bow-and-arrow-armed Apache warrior on horseback. It's a fitting symbol for this course. After all, Geronimo once roamed here and, according to legend, Apache Stronghold is a mystical region where the Apache could walk invisibly among his enemies.

Ed Gowan, executive director of the Arizona Golf Association, thinks there could be more course involvement by Indian tribes. "It could be a trend," he said. "It could have a huge impact on Southwest golf with their land and water advantages - if they decide to run the courses like a business."

As the Apache tribe has discovered, most new businesses come with an element of risk. Unlike other course builders, however, the odds at Apache Stronghold truly favor the house.