Bruce Mathews: Picture Perfect

I know it's going to be an interesting interview since we're meeting at the cemetery. Thankfully, it's not at midnight, there's no full moon, and the other clichés are also absent. We meet in the morning at Elmwood Cemetery, where Bruce Mathews sits on the board.

Mathews heads up the Elmwood Family History Project for the Elmwood Cemetery Society. He gathers information, stories and photos of people buried in Elmwood, and links up their family trees. The cemetery opened in 1872, it's the second-oldest cemetery in Kansas City, and is the final resting place for over 36,000 people. So it's a lot of hard work.

But helping sort out the genealogy of Elmwood is not his day job. Mathews spends his day with digital cameras, quality lenses, and image-editing software. As a freelance photographer, his office is the golf course. He has other clients too, such as hospitals, law schools, the Kansas City Chamber of Commerce, and more. He's shot everything from headshots of doctors, to surgeries, to events. “I've photographed open-heart surgery about half-a-dozen times,” he said. “That's what I love about photography, the wide variety of places and people I get to shoot.”

But he's known in the golf world as KC's golf photographer. It all started in the 70s – no doubt when Bruce and I had more hair. He worked as the Director of Planning for the Urban Renewal Agency in Kansas City. He bought a 35mm Canon camera and started photographing blighted areas of the city to document some urban renewal cases, with his Business Administration degree. “What my degree taught me,” he said, “was that I didn't want to manage people. I enjoyed photography.”

So he moved on. In 1985, he took the risk and went out on his own. One of his biggest successes was shooting for the Children's Mercy Hospital Golf Classic. With greats like Tom Watson, Arnold Palmer, Jack Nicklaus, Lee Trevino, Gary Player, Annika Sorenstam, Karrie Webb, Phil Mickelson, and Greg Norman, who can argue? And Mathews has shot them all. “I've had the chance to meet and photograph almost every golfer on the Tour,” Mathews said. “I've shot on and off for Tom Watson for over 30 years, in conjunction with the Children's Mercy Hospital Golf Classic, and other events.”

Mathews has taken pictures of people such as Bill Clinton, Colin Powell, and Kofi Annan, and he's snapped shots at the U.S. Supreme Court in Washington, D.C. If you think that's pressure, he's also done a lot of aerial photos. One time, in a helicopter over Dubuque, Iowa, his pilot's door flew open while shooting riverboats docking near the National Mississippi River Museum. “That shoot scared me half-to-death,” he said. In Kansas City, he shoots aerial shots of golf courses and other projects, too. “We fly out of the downtown airport and we'll unhinge one of the window in the Cessna,” Mathews said. “As we're flying, the draft will keep the window up and I'll just shoot out of the window.”

Most of his shooting, however, takes place on solid ground. He works for the Club Manager's Association, where he travels to shoot different golf courses around the nation. He's worked for them over 20 years now. “Every other year they'll pick about half-a-dozen clubs around the country, and I'll go and shoot stock photos of the club activities for them,” he said.

His wife Melanie frequently travels with him on these events, making golf a family affair. His youngest son, Mike, works as Assistant Superintendent at Mission Hills, and his oldest son, Andy, also plays golf, while managing his construction business.

Coincidentally, they had horses when his kids were young, and part of the land they leased for the horses has now became Staley Farm. And Mathews would cut hay on what is now Tiffany Greens. Things do change.

Besides the beautiful courses in Kansas City, Mathews has a few other favorites that he's shot. One, an elite course 30 miles outside of Las Vegas, ranks in his top five. “At Cascata, there are no homes on the course, and the superintendent has virtually an unlimited budget. They fly in a lot of the high-rollers on helicopters. It's absolutely beautiful,” he said. For $500 bucks a tee time, he's probably right. Throw in a mandatory caddie for another $50, and you have yourself a round of golf.

“We made an 80-foot banner that hung over the trade show floor of the Golf Course Superintendent's Conference, one year,” Mathews said. “What I did was photograph Cascata every hour from sunrise to sunset, to reflect the day in the life of a superintendent. And we pieced the images together to represent the different times of day on the golf course.” The image above shows the progression.

That's great, but does Mathew's get to golf on these outings? “Sometimes I'll sneak in nine holes in the middle of the day, since the best time to photograph a golf course is early in the morning, or later in the afternoon when you have nice shadows and better light,” he said.

And who are the nicest golfers he's ever met? “Gene Sarazen [who shot a double eagle at the Masters] was the nicest golfer I think I've ever met, along with Tom Watson, and Ben Crenshaw. Because they are so much into the
integrity of the game, and the history of the game.”

Obviously there's a lot more to Bruce Mathews. But today, like a lot of his days, we'll let the photos tell the rest of the story. Enjoy the pictures. And if you meet him
at Elmwood Cemetery, he's not the guy who looks like Vincent Price.

—Peter Blunt

Chris Stigall: Talk. Golf

Chris Stigall talks about Kansas City. He talks about politics, property taxes and penguins. He talks about life, liberty and leprechauns. He talks about golf, guns and guacamole. As you can tell, he's diverse. He'll talk some, laugh a bit, then talk some more. And since talking is his day job, it works out well for him.

Stigall talks to Kansas City early mornings on KCMO Talk Radio 710 AM. His Morning Show kicks off at 5 a.m. and wraps up at 9 a.m., so after meetings and other business, he has most afternoons available for more talking . . . on the golf course. “I usually get out and play once or twice a week during the season,” he said.

Most of Stigall's golf takes place in tournaments. He's invited to play in a lot of media events, and he enjoys them. But being from Richmond, Mo., he calls Shirkey Golf Course his home course. His father, a member at Shirkey, introduced him to the game when he was just a little gabber.

Back then, Stigall didn't have the patience to learn the game. “My dad would take me out and try to show me how to play, and I hated it,” he said. Did he say hate? Golf? Let's find out more. “My dad tried to teach me, but I just didn't have the patience to go through the swing, the lessons. I was a little attention deficit disorder that way,” he said. But he did enjoy riding around in the golf cart with his dad.

And those memories must have sunk in, because now Stigall has incredible respect and understanding for the game. “Golf is a game that is eternally cool,” he said. “Everyone that plays it has respect for it. It's still a gentleman's game.” It's this gentleman's attitude that appeals to him. He feels a connection to the earlier days of golf, the rat-pack era. “I look at vintage golf footage from that time, and there's just something charming about it.” He can't put a finger on it, but it must be the underlying respect for the game. Or the cigars and cocktails. “I don't care if you're a good or bad golfer. I care if you respect the game. My dad stressed that,” he said.

Stigall got into the game after college, when he went to work in radio. Working at 1510, he did a lot of golfing. “Those guys do nothing but golf,” he said joking. Or was it a joke?

Today he shoots in the 90s. “It's a lot of fun,” he said. “I've just gotten to the point where I'm not ticked off with it when I don't do well.”

Stigall realized a while back that he was taking the game too seriously. And once he came to this self-realization, that golf was for enjoyment, his game improved. “I told myself one day, you're not playing for your living. You're not dependent on your game. Just settle down and relax with it,” he said. “Once I figured out how to advance the ball and got comfortable with my swing, as long as I didn't embarrass myself totally, that's when I started enjoying the game.”

As for embarrassment, he battles, like many of us, the first-tee nerves. “I would let 50 teams go ahead of me before I would let them watch me tee off. It was really ridiculous, since most of them were no better than me,” he said.

As his game improves, he understands his strengths and weaknesses. “Mostly weaknesses,” he laughs. “I'm not a straight-drive guy and I'm not a great putter, but if I'm a few yards from the green, I can pop it up there.” He does this with his newly acquired 8-iron bump-and-run technique, so he calls his short game the best part of his play.

As for his driver, last year it stayed in the bag. “Some of my friends thought I should seek counseling, I was so frustrated hitting my driver,” he said. But on the brighter side, he hits his 3-iron well. Something that many of us high-handicap golfers just can't do.

His putter he has no choice but to pull out of the bag. “Putting is the weakest part of my game,” he said. “Let's just say I love scrambles.”

Stigall understands that the mental part of the game is keeping him from breaking 90. “You start thinking, ‘I can't hit this club,' and then I couldn't hit it,” he said. “The same for putting. The whole game.”
But shooting par is not what's important to him. It's just being on the course, golfing. “I love the camaraderie, and I love to smoke a cigar. And it's one of the few places I can do it and not feel guilty about it,” he said.

He'll grab a nice Dunhill cigar if he's going to play 18 holes and really invest in the day. But, “If I know it's going to be a long, hot day, and I'm not going to play well, I'll smoke the cheap ones,” he said. Stigall does plan on instilling the “law and order” of golf into his two-plus kids (he has one on the way). And he looks forward to teaching them the game. What about golfing with his wife? She doesn't play, so he doesn't have to worry about her showing him up. “Remember that Everybody Loves Raymond episode where Ray's wife Debra takes up the game and plays better than he does?” Stigall asks.
Some of the dialogue went like this:

Debra: Look, I got us matching visors!
Ray: Oh, yeah, hey, look at those. (He reads what's on the visor) “I love birdies.”
Debra: Yeah. I know it doesn't have anything to do with golf, but I just thought they were cute.

Enough said.

So that's what golf boils down to for Chris Stigall. Respect for the game. A good cigar. Talking with friends. And if you listen to him on his morning show, more than likely a golf reference will come up. And maybe a reference to pirates. Or Dr. Seuss. Give him a call. He'll talk.

Sandy Queen: Initiative on the 16th Hole

In 1974, Sandy Queen packed his bags – grabbed his high-school-sweetheart bride – and drove 1500 miles from Miami, Florida to Overland Park. He had just taken a job at Safeway working the night shift, excited for what life offered and a change of scenery.

At the time, Queen had just gotten a new set of golf clubs – his first set – from his parents for high-school graduation, a surprise indeed. “I had played a couple of times on a par-3 course with my uncle, and my parents thought I kind of enjoyed it. I don't know what they were thinking getting me the clubs,” he said, “but really, that's what started my career.”

So, during the day he played golf. And on one of those days, on the 16th hole at Overland Park Golf Club, he decided to leave the tee box and stroll into the nearby farmhouse. “There used to be a little white house over here,” Queen said pointing from the tees, “and I walked into the house and asked if they needed any help. They sent me down to St. Andrews a few days later.”

The white house is gone, replaced by offices, including the one Queen works in, which just happens to overlook good ol' number 16. “Funny how those things work out, isn't it?” he said.
Queen – now the Manager of Golf Course Operations for Overland Park – works for Jim Cox, The Director of Parks and Recreation, the same man who hired him 34 years ago. Not a bad record for either of them. Queen oversees the OP golf courses, the Deanna Rose Children's Farmstead, and parks that make up approximately 25% of those in the city. He's done much with his own gumption, but has had help along the way.

Queen trained under Everett Vinzant and his assistant, John Cosnotti. “They were leaders in the PGA at the time,” he said. Today, Overland Park Golf Course hosts their annual Everett Vinzant/John Cosnotti
Memorial Golf Tournament – a junior golf tournament – bearing both of his mentors' names.

In his extensive golf career, Queen has witnessed many changes in the golf industry, and from different work perspectives. In the 70s, he recalls, golf was slow. Then things changed. “In the mid 80s to 1990, golf turned from a sport and a game, into a business,” he said. “And it really changed the way we operated.”
Supply was low and demand was high back then. But golf was cheap. At Smiley's miniature golf course, Queen recalls, one Friday when they had done 500 rounds at $3 a round, while at St. Andrews where he was working at the time, they did 300 rounds at $5 a round. A funny time, those '80s.

In 1988, Overland Park residents played for $8, and nonresident for $10. But in 1989, Queen remembers that as the year the prices went up. Then the golfers came out in the 90s and golf boomed. “I've been fortunate to work for a city that's had tremendous growth over the last 30 years.” He's experienced it all, and now the cyclical nature brings back a slower period for golf. He's back to what it was like in the 70s and 80s, promoting the game. Queen's goal with Overland Park golf is to teach new people – juniors, ladies, seniors and super seniors (those 75+) – the game.

At Overland Park Golf Club, he's implemented four sets of tees, the new set ready to accommodate the beginners. After all, Queen understands the role of a course like Overland Park. It's a learning course. Somewhere new golfers can go without feeling intimidated. “We teach people how to play golf and how to have fun playing golf,” he said. “And we feed the rest of the golf market. We're the beginning.”

Managing the O.P. courses, Queen has to play a lot of golf in the name of “research.” His friends kid him about it, but in reality, he's out on the Overland Park courses evaluating them. “I'll normally play three days a week,” he said. “But I play a little bit differently. I'll go out in the mornings and try to get six or seven holes in on one of the golf courses. I kind of bounce around a little bit ahead of play, and I'll go from hole to hole to observe the maintenance and course conditions.”

A dream-score 69 ranks as his best of the 500+ rounds he's played at Overland Park Golf Club. On the last three holes of the perfect round, he had five-foot birdie putts on all of them, but only sunk one. It's the only time he's broken par here. Normally, his respectable 11 handicap shows its face on the course.
Queen plays with family and friends, too. He plays in a church league, and every other weekend with his sister and brother-in-law. This year, he hopes his wife will play golf with him. “My wife's scheduled to take up the game this year. She's very athletic, and into racquetball and volleyball, but she thinks golf is a little slow,” he said. But he thinks this will be the year she gets into it. And when she does, he'll have a playing partner for some of the fine courses he gets to play when traveling. Like Bandon Dunes, Prairie Dunes, Cypress Pointe, and Torrey Pines – some of his favorites. “Prairie Dunes amazes me the most. We have such a gem – a Perry Maxwell golf course – just a great golf course here in the Midwest.”

Besides playing golf, his current hobby involves the sport, too. Queen currently serves on the national board of directors for the Golf Course Superintendents Association of America (GCSAA). This will be his third year in the position, and he enjoys it. “The GCSAA trains golf course superintendents the technology necessary to provide high-quality playing conditions,” he said. And that's what he likes about it. Preserving golf for generations to come. “I've had some really super breaks in life,” he said. On and off the putting green.

Rob Wilkin : One of Kansas City's Best

Things were different in 1988. Cheers, Roseanne, and A Different World tied for being the number one TV show. Larry Brown's Jayhawks won the NCAA Basketball Championship, and Lasorda's Dodgers won the world series. Back then, you could jam to “Don't Worry, Be Happy” while filling up your gas tank for around a buck a gallon. A new Compaq 286 computer would set you back $5000, and the federal debt was only 2.6 trillion, compared to 9.4 trillion today. Good times, indeed.

Curtis Strange defeated Nick Faldo in an 18-hole playoff to win the 1988 U.S. Open, and Rob Wilkin–golf pro at Heritage Park Golf Course in Olathe–remembers it well. He was there at The Country Club in Brookline, Massachusetts, with his clubs. He qualified, made his way to the east coast, played some practice rounds with Tom Watson, Payne Stewart, Lee Trevino, and Corey Pavin, then made the cut. Wilkin finished 65th. “It was a great experience, and I cashed a check, which is better than I've done in the four PGA's I've played in,” Wilkin said.

He shot his way through the U.S. Open sectionals once, and was first alternate one time, and second alternate three times. But being an alternate doesn't seem to pay off. “One time at Milburn, in a sectional, I was tied with Pernice for third,” Wilkin said. “We were going to play it off to figure out the alternate spots, but Tom said ‘forget it,' and left. When Pernice says ‘forget it, no playoff,' you know you're not getting in.”

This year, the sectional qualifier will be at Creekmoor for the first go, and then it's on to your venue of choice, the closest in St. Louis this year for the second round. If you have a handicap of 1.4 or lower, you can challenge Wilkin for one of the traditionally seven to
nine available spots. You may make the cut, but it's going to be tough to beat this man.

How will Wilkin prepare for the sectional? “I haven't played at Creekmoor yet, so I'll go play it once before the qualifier. Sometimes it's better to not know where all the trouble is on the course.” That theory worked well for him at The Deuce at The National,
where Wilkin grooved a course-record 64 his first time out. “It was better not knowing where the hazards were,” he said.

Rob Wilkin has been the Player of the Year for the Midwest Section of the PGA sixteen times in his career, including last year. No easy task with the caliber of golf in this city. “Winning Player of the Year this year was an accomplishment,” Wilkin said, “because there was such steep competition.” A humble man, he only mentions his victory after being asked about it. He had to beat out the likes of PGA pros Blake Graham, John Richman, Troy Halterman, and Steve Gotsche. “They're out there. You have to stay sharp,” Wilkin said. And that's his plan for this year.

Wilkin has played in four PGA Championships, most recently the 2001 event at the Atlanta Athletic Club. David Toms may have beaten Wilkin that year, but we'll see what happens in 2008. Wilkin's heading back to Georgia again this year–along with the friendly competition of Richman, Halterman, and Gotsche–to play in the PGA Professional National Championship at Reynolds Plantation. Two years ago, at the same event in Vernona, New York, Wilkin shot a 67 in the first round. “I had the lead after the first round,” he said, “but I ended up 29th or 30th.”

One of these days he's going to win one, as he loves the competitive side of the game, and he has no thoughts of giving it up. “I enjoy competitive golf, posting a number. It's a part of me,” Wilkin said. You can talk to Wilkin out at Heritage Park where he's been the head golf pro going on 11 years. Ask him about his two-year stint on what's now the Nationwide Tour, competing in 26 tournaments a year and motoring across the U.S. in his mini-van. Or ask him about the final stage of qualifying school, where he nearly gained his tour card. (“The pressure at q-school is tremendous. In 1990 I was in 25th place going into the sixth round. A 73 would have gotten my tour card, and I shot a 75,” he said.) Or ask him about being captain of the golf team at KU a few years back. Whatever your choice of conversation, you're certain to talk golf.

While talking golf is great, playing is better. It's been a long winter, and Wilkin's ready to post numbers. He's been sticking with his routine all winter to stay fit, so he's ready. “I'm a huge believer of swinging a weighted club through the winter. Swing it 100 times until the muscles in your forearms are aching,” he said. What else does he do to stay sharp? “Well, there's the putting green over there,” he said. “And you make time. Every golfer knows you have to find some time in your schedule for the game.”

Wilkin plays golf on Monday, then makes time for two or three practice sessions during the week. And he is consistent with his schedule, and, consistent with his game. “I'm solid on four footers. And I keep the ball in play,” he said.

This year, Wilkin may have one minor scheduling issue: The final day of The Watson Challenge is on the same day as the opening round of the U.S. Open at Torrey Pines. After all, this will be Wilkin's twenty-year reunion with the U.S. Open, and he may have a tough choice to make.

—Roger Hunt