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Editor’s note: This article is part of The Changemakers series, focusing on the behind-the-scenes executives and people fueling the future growth of their sports.
PHILADELPHIA — From the eastern edge of Merion Golf Club, a tranquil stream flows southeast, meandering across the 12th hole and framing the historic 11th green, where Bobby Jones famously secured the 1930 Grand Slam. This waterway is interspersed with tributaries that carve through the course. One tributary hugs the fifth fairway, often hailed as the best par 4 in the world. Everything about Merion is pristine, a testament to generations of wealth in the region that have ensured its upkeep. The club has seen continuous efforts to shape, reshape, renovate, and restore its grounds, including the installation of a multi-million dollar underground turf conditioning system.
The stream continues its journey from Merion, flowing alongside sprawling estates set back from the street. It meanders out of Haverford toward Ardmore, winding through manicured lawns and parks, eventually slicing through Powder Mill Park in Wynnewood. Then it approaches Township Line Road, the dividing line between Philadelphia and its western suburbs. Here, the water trickles beneath an overpass before passing a deserted driving range. A little further, it weaves through the remnants of a municipal golf course, past the site of a former clubhouse that tragically burned down in 2016. Connected to the same creek that nourishes Merion and designed by the same architect, Cobbs Creek Golf Club now stands as a shadow of its former self—overgrown and barely recognizable. Nature has reclaimed what history once crafted and time has neglected.
These two locations represent two sides of the street, two interpretations of the same sport, separated by a mere four miles.
In any other context, Cobbs Creek might have been left for dead long ago. The last time it was operational, the course was plagued by dying trees, severe erosion, and holes in various stages of disrepair, rendering it not only unplayable but dangerously so. Without a clubhouse, the course operated from two double-wide trailers until its closure in October 2020.
Yet, whispers of revival had always persisted. Anyone familiar with municipal golf in a major city is aware of such rumors. Chatter about a magnificent renovation, one that could restore Cobbs to its former glory and offer the public a course as fine as the private clubs, was common. This talk began as early as the early 2000s, when news spread that a nonprofit group was working to save Cobbs. Conversations buzzed around old plastic tables in what was once the clubhouse and in the parking lot, where old-timers gathered with cards in hand and coolers in their trunks. Even around the first tee box, where players stacked up, receiving notices of temporary greens due to flooding, everyone shared the same question: What if?
Despite its challenges, Cobbs Creek retained an undeniable aura, even in its decline. The quality of its design didn’t require a discerning eye to appreciate. The land itself was shaped by features that money cannot buy—elevation, natural water flow, and picturesque vistas. Originally opening its 18 holes in 1916, Cobbs Creek quickly earned its place among the premier public golf courses in the country. A century later, its original layout is often referred to as simply “the bones.” They remain beneath the surface, somewhere.
When the course closed, the nonprofit Cobbs Creek Foundation, composed of local corporate leaders and golf architecture aficionados, assumed control of the facility through a public-private partnership. Initially, the plan focused on restoring the course and implementing an educational program for youth in the surrounding neighborhoods, with a projected cost of around $20 million and a proposed opening date of June 2023.
However, by 2022, that plan became unfeasible. Efforts to lower the creek’s floodplain encountered a multitude of obstacles. Necessary approvals from the U.S. Army Corps of Engineers and the Pennsylvania Department of Environmental Protection, among other state and federal bodies, complicated the project significantly. The Cobbs Creek Foundation secured a 70-year lease for just $1 to oversee the property and developed a new, expansive plan. This revised initiative called for the reconstruction of over three miles of creek and tributaries, the creation of dozens of acres of wetlands, a complete renovation of Cobbs’ original 18 holes, the introduction of a new nine-hole course, a driving range, a short course, and the establishment of a youth education center. The new estimated cost: approximately $65 million, with a revised opening date set for sometime in 2024.
As is often the case in Philadelphia, skepticism grew and controversy surfaced. The clearance of several hundred trees sparked backlash from environmental groups and local residents. Controversial campaign contributions from the foundation to a local councilman faced scrutiny, and various stages of project planning were delayed due to denied permits.
With all these challenges, the vision of Cobbs’ revival seemed like a distant dream.
Yet, along Lansdowne Avenue, the framework of what will become a 30,000-square-foot building is taking shape. This facility will host the country’s second TGR Learning Lab, an educational center operated by Tiger Woods’ TGR Foundation, designed to provide year-round Science, Technology, Engineering, and Math (STEM) education and college readiness programs to over 4,500 local youth. In front of this building, bulldozers are preparing the land for a new nine-hole, par-3 short course, both expected to open in spring 2025. Nearby, preparations are underway for a two-story driving range that will include a restaurant, pro shop, community event space, and a museum—where a junior putting green will be installed, thanks to a $250,000 grant from Jordan Spieth’s family foundation.
For anyone who grew up playing Cobbs, witnessing these developments is nothing short of astonishing. The anticipation of what lies ahead is even more exhilarating. The renovation of the course and the installation of wetlands are slated to begin next summer, with an additional new 9-hole course to follow.
New price tag: $150 million, of which $100 million has already been raised. The final completion date is projected for 2027.
If successful, Cobbs Creek will operate as a financially self-sustaining nonprofit that channels educational opportunities into the community, provides affordable play for local residents, and potentially attracts a PGA Tour event to the city. This raises an important question: if a sport historically bound by barriers can be transformed into a model of inclusivity, then what other changes are possible? And where else can public golf be reimagined?
In the early 1990s, as Cobbs faced its steep decline before being shuffled between various management companies for the next thirty years, Merion Golf Club confronted a pivotal decision. Set to host the 1994 Women’s U.S. Open, the club was shaken by a new USGA policy stating that all clubs chosen to host national championships must adopt inclusive membership policies. Merion hired a consulting firm to survey its all-white membership, asking whether the club should consider integration. Unable to commit to allowing minority members by the tournament date, Merion withdrew as the host of the national championship.
Shocking? Yes. Surprising? No. Aronimink Golf Club, another prestigious private club in the Philadelphia suburbs, withdrew from hosting the 1993 PGA Championship due to its all-white, all-male membership. Pine Valley, the top-ranked golf course in the U.S., located about 20 miles outside Philadelphia, only opened its doors to women in 2021.
Aside from policies, these courses, along with numerous other elite clubs throughout the tri-state area, are products of a group of early-20th-century golf course architects known as “The Philadelphia School.” This collective, which worked with and occasionally for one another, included A.W. Tillinghast, George Crump, George Thomas, Hugh Wilson, and Boston transplant William Flynn, all of whom significantly influenced the Golden Era of course design in the United States. Yet today, most of their courses are surrounded by high hedges—places that are visually isolated from the outside world.
Cobbs, however, is a notable exception. In 1914, when the Golf Association of Philadelphia enlisted Wilson to design the city’s much-needed public course, the 35-year-old architect was fresh off creating 36 holes at Merion, including the acclaimed East Course. His work was defined by both natural talent and rigorous study. Wilson, a product of Philadelphia’s high society and a Princeton graduate, began his design career by traveling across Great Britain to study the game’s greatest layouts, including St. Andrews, Prestwick, Muirfield, North Berwick, and Hoylake. According to family lore, he was originally ticketed to return to the U.S. aboard the Titanic in spring 1912 but missed the departure.
Wilson’s design of Cobbs Creek was both classic and innovative. He enlisted Flynn, who later created renowned courses like Shinnecock Hills, Cherry Hills, and Lancaster Country Club, to construct every green and bunker personally. From its inception, Cobbs Creek was celebrated as a triumph in public golf, open to juniors, novices, working-class players, women, and minorities.
When the question arises about why Cobbs is worth saving, the answer lies not only in its remarkable design but also in its historical significance within a sport often associated with exclusion.
In 1940, Charlie Sifford, then a 17-year-old caddie in Charlotte and 21 years away from becoming the first Black member of the PGA Tour, fled after an encounter with a drunken white store owner who threatened him with racial slurs. In his 1992 biography, “Just Let Me Play,” Sifford recounted smashing a Coke bottle over the man’s face, knowing he wouldn’t receive a fair trial in the Jim Crow South. He hopped a train to Philadelphia, where he heard jobs were plentiful and the golf was good.
Sifford moved in with an uncle in North Philadelphia, not far from what is now Temple University, and secured a job as a shipping clerk at the Nabisco plant. One weekend, with a fresh paycheck in hand, Sifford spent a long night playing poker and emerged early on a Sunday morning to a rising sun. Outside, he noticed a man catching a streetcar with a golf bag slung over his shoulder. From “Just Let Me Play”: “Say, where you going with them clubs?” I called out to him.
“I’m going to Cobbs Creek,” he replied over his shoulder.
“Where’s that?”
“It’s all the way out to the end of the Market Street trolley.” Sifford joined the man and made his way to Cobbs. He later wrote: “The course was intended for everyone to use, and I was both surprised and delighted to see both Black and white players enjoying the game side by side there. I’d never seen anything like that in North Carolina.”
By that time, Cobbs had already established itself as a sanctuary for Black golfers. Howard Wheeler and others called the course home long before Sifford. The United Golf Association (UGA), founded in the mid-1920s to provide minority golfers with competitive opportunities, hosted its national championship at Cobbs in 1936, 1947, and 1956. Heavyweight boxing champion Joe Louis was a Cobbs regular, as were trailblazers Lee Elder and Ted Rhodes. In 1961, the Philadelphia NAACP hosted a tournament there to raise funds for the Freedom Riders jailed in Mississippi that summer. The deep-rooted connection between Tiger Woods and Charlie Sifford motivated Woods’ involvement in the Cobbs Creek revival.
Cobbs Creek meant a great deal to countless individuals, serving diverse needs across varying backgrounds. However, like many municipal courses, it was vulnerable to neglect. The heavy play exceeded reasonable limits, causing conditions to deteriorate. For years, it also served as a cross-country course, with its challenging hills punishing generations of runners.
Around 1952, amid the Cold War, the U.S. Army scouted multiple sites around Philadelphia for anti-aircraft batteries. The chosen location? The 13th green of Cobbs Creek. Massive silos were dug, and the course was rerouted around these installations. Six years later, the Army filled in the silos but left a vacant expanse behind. Cobbs’ routing was never restored to Wilson’s original design.
In time, a driving range and batting cage facility was erected atop the old anti-aircraft site. The City Line Sports Center, managed by the same companies that oversaw Philadelphia’s public golf courses, eventually fell into disrepair, just like Cobbs.
By the turn of the century, Cobbs had become a shadow of its former self. Floodwaters washed away greens each spring, while the sun baked out fairways and tee boxes during the summer. The Karakung Course, a second 18 built in 1927 by Abner “Ab” Smith, suffered even worse conditions. A string of superintendents did what they could, but no effort could surmount the staggering deficit of resources. The property deteriorated further, with vandalism going unaddressed and abandoned cars occasionally left throughout the grounds.
As time passed, what was once a vibrant course faded from memory.
A few weeks ago, on a Monday morning in Philadelphia, Enrique Hervada and Don Dissinger sat together in a booth at the Llanerch Diner on Township Line Road. The two serve as contemporary representatives for a long line of individuals who have taken on the Herculean task of restoring Cobbs Creek.
Hervada, the Chief Operating Officer of the Cobbs Creek Foundation, is one of seven full-time staff members dedicated to this effort. He is among those striving to raise the final $50 million of a project whose costs have ballooned to three times the initial estimate. At least $30 million will be allocated to fortifying the creek and creating wetlands to mitigate flooding on the course and in surrounding neighborhoods. “It might kill us by the time we’re done,” Hervada remarked over breakfast. “It’s just—it’s a massive project in terms of cost and permitting.”
Upon hearing this, Dissinger set down his fork. The 70-year-old, who is quasi-retired, was overseeing the construction of two high-rises in Miami when the foundation reached out to him in December 2022. After assisting in the restoration of Merion Golf Club in 2014, Dissinger became an informal member of the Cobbs restoration committee. However, the foundation needed additional expertise.
A former partner at the design firm EwingCole, Dissinger played a significant role in constructing Citizens Bank Park in Philadelphia and MetLife Stadium in East Rutherford, N.J. His career has been defined by navigating municipal red tape, zoning laws, and state and federal permits. But with a property spanning 350 acres and touching three counties (Philadelphia, Montgomery, and Delaware), he has never encountered a project quite like Cobbs Creek. “The number of permits I have on this exceeds the number of permits I had between those stadiums—combined,” Dissinger stated.
This revival began years ago, around 2007, with a few enthusiasts delving into archives, retracing Cobbs’ history and sharing findings online. Early archivists, notably Dr. Joseph Bausch, a chemistry professor at Villanova University, and Mike Cirba, an Information Management Executive, sowed the seeds for what became the Friends of Cobbs Creek. Both had become “obsessed with what it was and what it could be.” They began compiling information into a book that has now reached 400 pages and is in its 12th volume, serving as the primary source for everything written about Cobbs Creek, including much of this article.
Initially, Bausch and Cirba believed the path forward was straightforward. However, they soon learned that Philadelphians held a different perspective. “There was always a sense that this can’t happen here. It was a pervasive negativity,” Cirba reflected. “I think we entered this with a certain level of naiveté, but that might have been our greatest asset.”
Bausch and Cirba held the earliest meetings with city officials about saving and renovating the course, only to be met with skepticism: a great idea, but where was the funding?
A board was formed, and interest grew among influential local businesspeople, including Cobbs Creek Foundation founding CEO Chris Lange and president Jeff Shanahan, along with Chris Maguire and the Maguire Foundation. The group expanded, and ideas became larger.
Cobbs Creek and the TGR Foundation eventually joined forces. Since 2006, Woods’ charitable foundation has operated a year-round learning lab in Anaheim, California, providing over 30 classes and workshops for 5th-12th grade students. According to TGR, 98 percent of its scholars graduate from high school and enroll in college, with 91 percent being first-generation college students. Woods, himself, was familiar with Cobbs Creek even before the partnership. He regarded Charlie Sifford as a grandfather figure and named his only son after him.
Somehow, the restoration of 18 holes now seems almost secondary. The foundation aims to serve 4,500 local students annually. The property is now viewed as two distinct parts: a golf course and a campus.
Sitting in his office at Villanova, Bausch can only shake his head in amazement. “I always believed this would be an incredible project,” he said, “but it has far exceeded anything I could have ever envisioned.”
Yet, the matter of the golf course remains. Appropriately, two locals are tasked with overseeing what comes next. Hanse Design—the esteemed golf architecture firm of Gil Hanse and Jim Wagner—is based in Malvern, roughly 15 miles from Cobbs.
Wagner grew up nearby and played Cobbs as a high school golfer at Cardinal O’Hara. Hanse is a transplant, but he understands the local culture. Before his firm undertook high-profile restorations like Merion, Aronimink, Oakmont, and Winged Foot, Hanse developed a fondness for Cobbs Creek. As a little-known architect in the early 2000s, he rebuilt Cobbs’ third and fourth greens after severe flood damage—pro bono.
That charitable work will now continue in 2025 and 2026. Hanse and Wagner will not only restore Cobbs Creek Golf Club to Hugh Wilson’s original design but also lay out the new nine-hole course on the former Karakung land.
The scale of this project is monumental.
During my recent visit, I stood near the old 12th tee box, surveying an area that once featured the 11th green, the 13th green, and panoramic views of tree-lined fairways. If I didn’t know what had existed before, I would struggle to believe it. Anyone imagining a “restoration” is misled. The original Cobbs Creek has vanished, reclaimed by nature. What remains is the view from the 12th tee box at Cobbs Creek.
“You can’t put it back,” Wagner stated. “It’s impossible to restore it to what it once was because so much has changed in the environment. Mother Nature has reconfigured things.”
However, the intention and vision of what the golf course was meant to be can be returned. At long last, that process is underway. Something larger than anyone in Philadelphia ever imagined. Something just as exceptional as all those private clubs, yet open to all.
Today, this land resides in Philadelphia. But if a successful model emerges at Cobbs Creek—melding golf and STEM education under a self-sustaining nonprofit framework—other cities might need to take notice. Chicago. Detroit. St. Louis. Los Angeles. Houston. Perhaps they will discover a municipal course that time has forgotten and envision something entirely different. Perhaps, indeed, times can change.
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(Illustration: Dan Goldfarb / The Athletic; Photos: Courtesy Cobbs Creek Foundation, Brendan Quinn / The Athletic)
