PUBLISHER’S PITCH

Meeting ‘The Man’ of Ballybunion on a road less traveled

My wanderlust is very much a part of my modus operandi. Making new acquaintances while I follow this little white 1.68-inch-wide bouncy ball all over world is the main reason I love the game of golf. This issue contains part two of our circumnavigation of Ireland with Co-Publisher Kirk Tourtillotte and I last August. Part one appeared in the December issue, which you can find in ‘Past Issues’ on CascadeGolfer.com.

During our 2,000-mile trek, we met handfuls of interesting people along the way: club pros, chefs, Irish street punks, politicos and hearty rural folk. But, without a doubt, the cake-taking character we spent time with is not a wallflower but part of Irish golfing folklore and a hero to the town he’s lived in for decades.

Ballybunion’s Jackie Hourigan is “The Man” in this little 1,600-person village, which is known around the world as a golfing wonder. Ballybunion Golf Club is to Ireland as St. Andrews is to Scotland.

I never heard of the man until I started doing research. We wanted our stay to be authentically pub-like, where the inn was on the top floor, and the potatoes and soda bread were below.

I stumbled across amazing reviews of a small eightroom inn called the Harty Costello Town House. I woke up at 2 a.m. to ring them for a reservation. A soft-spoken Irishman answered “Ay, may I help ya?” It was Jackie’s son John, the inn chef and co-manager there with Jackie. He said they’d love to host us, and it’s the “the place to stay” when playing there. He shared, “when you’re here, ya need to meet Jackie — he saved Ballybunion and is a past club captain. I’ll tell him you’re coming. Please share when you’re arriving, I’ll make sure he’s aware.” Click.

When we arrived a month later, 90-minutes late, we unloaded our Opel SUV and walked up a narrow, steep, creaky flight of steps that smelled comfy like an old book collector’s store.

At the top of the staircase was a lean, tall gent with a full head of perfectly groomed silver hair in a Ballybunion sweater who said “goo-ehd-ness, ya maast be Dick Steeephens from Sea-ah-tell, Wooshington, air ya naut?”

His words shook me, but not in a scary way. His greeting was warm, colloquial. “I am, sir. Oh my God, are you Jackie?” We laughed, he gave me a firm handshake and put his left hand on my right shoulder to steady me thankfully as I was gonna fall backwards down the stairwell. He nicely ordered us to quickly stow our bags — he made dinner reservations. No check in or credit card, just gave us old brass room keys.

We did as we were told, and five minutes later we’re dining at a bistro owned by his lovely lady friend — everyone there knew his name.

For two hours over local seafood, fresh chops and white wine, Jackie regaled us with decades of stories. While he was a club leader, many years ago, ocean erosion was washing away the mantle underneath the course and huge chunks of Ballybunion’s links coastline — the course was imploding. It was Jackie, and his clubmates, that saved it with emergency efforts, geologists and soil experts who soon built a seawall to save the hallowed grounds.

But perhaps his pièce de résistance moment was in September 1998, when the White House shared that President Bill Clinton would be making a quick trip to Ireland and would be taking his own road less traveled to play a round at Ballybunion — only days to prepare.

At the same time, news was swirling regarding Ken Starr’s independent report that was submitted to the House Judiciary Committee. The town was enduring a lull in tourism and biz, and were now thrust into their own version of “Guess Who’s Coming to Dinner?”

Rather than make it political, Jackie and town leaders welcomed thousands of visitors taking in Clinton’s visit and round of golf. They quickly commissioned a local artisan to sculpt a seven-foot-tall statue of the President golfing for his visit. The famous monument still stands today, now bronzed, to commemorate the impromptu historic appearance there. Jackie proudly shared this while showing us the statue and was quoted in The Irish Times as saying, “I was very emotional. We embraced (he and Clinton) and I thanked him for all he had done for Ballybunion...”

After dinner, Jackie invited me to join him at his pub, where I just listened to endless tales of his life and brushes with legends such as Christy O’Connor, Tom Watson, the President, heads of state and sojourning golfers who enlightened his life.

Surely, each were enlightened tenfold by Jackie, just as I was.