Golf needs more people like Bill Peterson.
Every Wednesday after the weekly game at Rivers Edge Golf Course in Alpena, Mich., a group of us gathers upstairs for drinks. Sitting around the table are businessmen, retirees, scratch golfers, weekend hackers and former college players.
What most of them have in common is Bill Peterson.
Peterson's resume is remarkable: 19 City Open titles, a top-10 finish in the Michigan Open and multiple appearances in the match-play portion of the Michigan Amateur, including a run to the semifinals.
But the trophies aren't what have made him a legend.
The people around that table have. Because for more than 30 years, Bill Peterson taught many in Alpena how to play the game.
If you were looking for pats on the back, Peterson wasn't your guy. He believed compliments should be earned, not given away. If he told you "good shot" or "well done," you remembered it. Because you knew he meant it.
My dad taught me the game, but Peterson played a big role in it, too.
As a kid, I couldn't wait for the start of the week because Monday was Junior Day at Alpena Golf Club. Beginning around age 7, I'd either walk over from our house on the third hole or my dad would drop me off on his way to work.
The dew clung to the grass, soaking through to my socks before I had reached the range. I didn’t care.
Peterson was already there, organizing the growing group of kids before gathering us for a lesson. Some mornings we focused on the short game. Other times we’d head directly to the driving range. If someone dared talk while he was teaching, the look alone was usually enough to elicit silence.
After the lesson, Peterson and Mike Caderatte, a football coach, would unleash more than 100 kids from age 6 to 16 onto the golf course. Looking back, I'm still not sure how they pulled it off. Somehow, they kept us moving, taught us the game and made sure everyone got home in one piece.
Peterson ran Junior Day for 30 years. Yes, 30!
Last week, Peterson and I met at the 19th Hole, the restaurant and bar he owns with his sister, Sue. "The Hole," as it's popularly known around Alpena, was opened by their father in 1955. After he died in 1981, Bill and Sue took it over.
I've played hundreds of rounds with Peterson over the years. We've shared meals, drinks and countless conversations. But I had never been in his office. Sitting amid the papers and clutter that only Peterson could navigate, we spent nearly an hour talking about everything Alpena Golf. We talked about former club pros, funny stories from the City Open, and I asked him why he spent three decades running Junior Day.
"Because I wanted to be different than my dad," he said matter-of-factly and without hesitation.
Pete Peterson worked tirelessly to build the family business, but the long hours didn't leave much time to be a father. Bill wanted something different.
When his oldest son, Adam, was old enough to swing a club, Monday mornings provided an opportunity to spend time together. Over the next 30 years, hundreds of kids joined them.
Erik, Bill's youngest son, has added four more City Open titles to the family trophy case. He remembers Junior Day, afternoons spent hanging around the restaurant and the countless hours at Alpena Golf Club. Sometimes Bill would leave the boys at the course to chip and putt while he worked the lunch rush, picking them up later that afternoon.
"He's why I hit a draw," Erik says.
Bill had cut a golf hole through the trees on the family property. The only way to play it was with a draw. Like so many golfers around Alpena, Erik learned to shape the ball the way his dad did.
Today, the fade has become golf's preferred shot, but Peterson grew up in an era when everyone wanted to draw the ball. Come to Alpena and watch the best players in town. You'll still see plenty of draws flying through the air, a reminder of the influence the 19-time City Open champion had on generations of golfers.
Last month at Alpena's annual two-man best-ball, another event Peterson has dominated over the years, winning with at least five different partners, he greeted one of the competitors with a hug. That player was Jim Bluck, the director of agronomy at Arcadia Bluffs, one of the top public golf courses in the country.
Bluck began his golf career at Alpena Community College.
His coach? Bill Peterson.
That’s because in addition to running Junior Day for 30 years, Peterson coached the ACC golf team for 25.
When I finally got good enough as a teenager to play in men's night, Peterson was one of the first to invite me into his game. No one took it easy on me. The group drank beer, smoked cigarettes and gambled, and whether you were 16 or 62, everyone wanted to beat you. And if you lost, you paid your debts.
That's how Peterson was. Earning a spot in the game meant he respected you. It didn't mean he was going to give you any special treatment.
As a teenager, I played well enough in the opening round of the City Open to earn a spot in the final group with Peterson.
I was beaten before we even teed off. I could barely get my tee in the ground on the first hole and made a triple. After Peterson missed a birdie putt, he slammed the head of his putter into the bottom of his shoe and dropped a loud expletive.
I was beyond intimidated. But after I hit another awful drive on the second hole, he put his hand on my shoulder.
"You're a good player," he said. "Relax."
It wasn't a long speech. But coming from Peterson, it didn’t have to be. It meant the world to me. I shot 80 and lost by a bundle, but I've never forgotten that moment.
We exhaust a lot of time and energy searching for golf’s next superstar. The game should worry about finding a few more Bill Petersons instead.
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