On April 1, 1921, two visionary Oakville residents conceived what is now one of the finest private nine-hole golf courses in North America: The Oakville Golf Club, on Sixth Line just north of the QEW, borders Sixteen Mile Creek. It was founded 55 years before its more famous neighbour just to the north on the other side of the Sixteen. On April 1, 2022, it enters its 101st year.
In 1921, the discovery of insulin was announced. Agnes Macphail would become the first woman elected to Parliament on December 6 when W.L. Mackenzie King won the election with a majority of just one seat.
Several significant concerns were operating in Oakville: two jam factories, a cider mill, a winery, a grist mill, two lumber companies, a tannery, a tire and rubber company, a paint company, two automobile agencies, three coal and ice companies and a basket factory that serviced the bountiful strawberry farms on the sandy soil south of Iroquois Ridge. Oakville was renowned as the strawberry capital of Canada.
The Soldier’s Memorial was unveiled at George's Square in July that year to "honour and perpetuate the memory of the heroism and sacrifice of those who gave their lives in the Great World War.”
Thirty names are on that memorial. Oakville’s population was 3,289.
Following is an account of the founding of the Oakville Golf Club.
According to Banfield Taylor, a founder, the idea of a golf club on the Sixth Line was conceived "just about April 1, 1921." Ban, as he was known, recounted its establishment in a book celebrating the club’s 60th anniversary in1981.
He elaborated on the circumstances behind that vision: "In November of 1920, I had a severe attack of rheumatic fever which resulted in a heart murmur. When I started to get around, about April 1, 1921, I was told I had to take things very quietly and do nothing more strenuous than walking for the next three years."
He was devastated.
"Until that time, I had played tennis very vigorously, mostly with Stuart Brown, who was then one of the top players in Ontario. With the new restrictions on my activities, it was suggested that I should take up golf."
April 1 being a Friday that year and cool according to weather archives of the time, he and his friend Stuart would no doubt have got together that weekend to decide how to deal with the news about tennis.
Stuart, who had recently begun to practice law in Toronto, lived on Sixth Line, a country lane just past the outskirts of town, not far from the basket factory and the train station on what was then called Dundas Street. His house was on the north side of the Lower Middle Road, an unpaved byway challenging to traverse in spring and after every heavy rain.
The house, which is still there, overlooked to the north a rolling expanse of meadow that was divided by Munn's Creek. The Munn family had settled in 1803 on land to the north near where the creek rises, on what became Sixth Line and Dundas Road (eventually Highway 5). They called it Munn's Corners.
A few red-winged blackbirds would have been circling the bullrushes and willows that grew on the creek's bank, their distinctive cry mingling with robins as they staked out territories for nesting and raising their young.
This is an imagined conversation about how a vision of a golf club would become a reality.
The pair would have commiserated Ban’s fate over whiskies as they eyed the cattle and sheep grazing in the field to the north. In the distance, a few pigs were rooting in the earth by the barn.
Smoke from Stuart's cigarette and Ban's pipe swirled around their heads. "You belong to a golf club, don’t you?" enquired Ban.
"Yes. Toronto Golf. The one near Port Credit. You see it from the train on the north side. But getting there along the Lower Middle is not a pleasant journey, and the train schedules don’t always work for me. I don’t use it much. I must say I enjoy the game when I can get there."
Ban continued. "If I can’t play tennis, I’ve got to do something. Much as I like sitting around like this with a few drinks and a good smoke, I never feel as alive as after some exercise. I’ve tried golf myself a few times. I like it even though the rules are sometimes a bit painful. Why isn’t there a golf course here in Oakville?"
Stu stared out over the meadow. After a long pause, he answered. "Why? Why not indeed! And, my friend, we’re looking at it right now!"
The two looked out at the field before them with new interest.
"Stu," said Ban, "Don’t want to be a stick in the mud, but there’s a problem. Bill Buckle’s been grazing his cows and sheep out there for years. That’s where he fattens ‘em up, and his pigs, too, before he takes ‘em down that store of his on Colborne. You know, the one at Dunn. I don’t think he’d sell."
After a pause, Stu replied, "I’m not so sure it matters. For one thing, Bill’s getting on. He opened that store before I was even around. But he doesn’t own the land! The Lightbourn family does. And our pal Teddy Lightbourn’s a client of mine too.”
"Well, well!" said Ban. "Isn't that interesting? Ted’s a great guy! Stu, why don’t we wander over and have a look at our new golf course!"
They put on winter coats and boots because a cold east wind was blowing up from the lake. While there were a few lingering snowdrifts in places sheltered from the sun, the previous week's warm spell had eliminated the rest of the snow, coaxing out pussy willows along the creek. Snowdrops and bluebells nodded on its more sheltered banks.
They talked about the unfairness of fate, not being able to play tennis down at the Oakville Club anymore, but also fairways and where to place greens and tee boxes.
"You know, this isn’t big enough for nine holes," said Stuart, finally. "But I have another idea. The owner of that field on the other side of the crick told me last year he would sell it if he could. It goes all the way to the bank of the Sixteen."
"Gosh! If we could get that, we could make his farmhouse our clubhouse," said Ban. "What do you think it’d cost us?"
"I dunno. But I figure if we had $10,000 we could talk seriously. And I bet there are lots of people in Oakville that’d give their eye teeth for a golf course here."
"That road to Toronto Golf is a disgrace. And the members there are so full of themselves. We could start by asking for subscriptions of what, say $100? Would that be too much? If we just sold 100, we’d have $10,000."
"Stuart, I think we have a plan," said Ban. The two shook hands and returned to the house to plot the next steps, toasting the new venture over more whiskies and smokes.
Their first step was to take the idea to Stuart's mutual friend and neighbour, Frank Worrell. He lived north of the Catholic cemetery on Old Mill Road, an extension of the Sixth Line past Leighland that crossed Lower Middle Road, now the QEW.
He was a good choice. His roots in Oakville were deep. His grandfather had been the first rector of St. Jude’s Anglican Church. And, like Stuart, he commuted to Toronto, where he worked for Sun Life. Frank endorsed the idea enthusiastically, and the three set about turning it into reality.
The first hurdle was the land. Stuart was a lawyer whose studies had been interrupted by the recent war. He’d been wounded in 1918 in France while serving with the 3rd Machine Gun Battalion as Captain. He returned to Canada early in 1919, completed his studies and was called to the bar that year.
Stuart went to their friend Ted, who thought it a wonderful idea. He took it to his family.
Negotiations ensued, and it was agreed that, for $10,000 with a down payment of $2,500 and assumption of a small first mortgage, the family would take back a second for the balance. A condition was that Ted had a role in the governance of the new club until the mortgage was repaid. This would give them the working capital to commence construction.
The next hurdle was to raise the funds to close the deal and construct the golf course. Both Stuart and Ted commuted to Toronto every weekday on the 8:03 train and knew many of their fellow commuters. Ted was also a member of an impromptu bridge group that gathered most afternoons on the returning train (trains were slower in those days). These early commuters would be their first targets.
They were right about the reception. Within a few weeks, they had more than their goal of 100 subscriptions. The next problem was design. "I know the pro at Toronto pretty well," said Stuart. "And he knows Stanley Thompson, the guy who designed most of the golf courses around here, including Toronto. Maybe he’d help us out."
George Cummings did agree to help on the condition he could play a ceremonial first round with some of his pals. He laid out a six-hole design that straddled the little valley of Munn’s Creek, meandering up and down its gentle slopes to take full advantage of the terrain.
By May, they were ready to go. They owned fifty acres of land and had a design. It was a warm spring with temperatures in the 60s (F) through the rest of April. Construction started immediately, and in July, with sheep still grazing beside the fairways, the six-hole golf course opened.
The same spring, the founders bought an additional almost eight acres from W.C. Richardson, the one with the farmhouse. There were raspberries in patches on either side of the lane into it. When they were finished that summer, the canes were ploughed under, and the nine-hole course was ready for 1922.
As a clubhouse, the upper floor had two bedrooms, occupied by two young women who made sandwiches and served refreshments to the members in the early years. They were the aunts of Cameron Grout, a current member whose grandfather was one of the original subscribers.
The club’s official opening was held in September 1922, with the ceremonial first round promised to Mr. Cummings. He had invited William Freeman, Nicol Thompson, and George Lyons. Freeman and Thompson were pros at the Lambton and Hamilton golf clubs. Lyons was eight times amateur champion of Canada, playing out of Lambton. Unfortunately, there is no record of their scores.
Cummings’ son, Lou, then 17, became the first pro, and the club’s first president was the duly appointed Ted Lightbourn, a position he held until 1934, probably when the mortgage was paid off. Ted was also a charter member of the Oakville Club and the Oakville Lawn Bowling Club and later became Sunday School Superintendent at St. Jude’s.
Ban Taylor, whose bout of rheumatic fever led to the conversion of a cow pasture into the beautiful and unique golf course it is today, acted with Stu Brown as provisional officers at the club’s incorporation and served on the board subsequently. He won the club championship in 1936 and 1942. His wife Margaret was ladies club champion in 1928, 1929 as Margaret Young, then in 1930, 1934, 1935 and 1938 as Mrs. A.B. Taylor!
His complete recovery is evidenced by the fact much of the preceding narrative is based on conversations he had over 60 years later with Fred Oliver, president of the club in 1980, in preparation for its 60th anniversary year in 1981. Ban would have been well into his eighties. Fred was a former Oakville police chief and town and regional councillor who passed away in February 2011 at 87.
As for tennis, the club soon installed two grass courts, in 1923, under the direction of Stuart Brown, probably with the collusion of Ban, but the courts were lost to the parking lot as automobiles became predominant after the Second World War.
That clubhouse is long gone, replaced as the 1975 season drew to a close.
Under the direction of the club’s then-president, J.F. Kennedy, on October 28 that year, members voted to construct a new building. The contract was awarded to Pinetree Construction of Oakville for $265,616.
That structure served the membership well for many years, but time took its toll. In 2007, a major renovation was undertaken – but the bones of the old building remain, hidden under a classical structure that fully complements the rest of the Oakville Golf Club - a beautiful and challenging golf course in the heart of the town that grew up around it.
Ban Taylor, Stuart Brown, Frank Worrell, Ted Lightbourn and the rest of the subscribers from that far away time would be very pleased with what the club’s subsequent stewards achieved over the intervening century, and there is no doubt there are many smiles from on high as the club enters its second century.