You know, there's this phrase people always use
about, well, if walls could talk. Right. We use
it for old houses or castles, but maybe a spooky
hotel somewhere. Yeah, definitely. But nobody
ever really says if the grass could talk. Which
is pretty ironic, honestly, because soil usually
holds onto history a lot longer than architecture
does. That is entirely true. I mean, buildings
get knocked down or burned. Yeah. The land, the
land just stays. And that is exactly the vibe
of today's deep dive. We are looking at a place
that... On the surface, at least, is the very
definition of manicured perfection. It is. It's
quiet. It's green. People speak in these hushed,
respectful tones because it's a golf course.
Right. Specifically, Golf de St. Cloud, just
west of Paris. But if you scratch that surface,
even just an inch, you aren't finding sand traps
and sprinkler systems. Right. You're finding
deep layers of French identity. You're finding
the footprint of an empress, the literal blood
of a 19th century war, and the secret whispers
of modern French presidents. I really have to
say, when I first looked at the topic for today,
I thought, OK, we're doing a sports deep dive.
Sure. Cool. We'll talk about handicaps and swing
mechanics and course ratings. But the source
material. This incredibly comprehensive breakdown
of the club's history and geography that we have,
it shows this isn't a sports story at all. Not
even close. This is a time travel story. It really
is. The mission today is to figure out how one
specific plot of land, this 36 -hole complex
in the suburbs, basically became a microcosm
for the last 200 years of French history. Yeah.
We're going to look at how a place goes from
an imperial estate to a battlefield and finally
to a réseau d 'influence. A network of power.
Well, let's orient everyone first, just to set
the stage for you listening. Yeah. We are in
the suburbs of Paris. Right. Geographically,
we are straddling the parishes of Garches, Rue
Malmaison, and Vaucresson. Okay. It's only about
12 kilometers from the center of Paris, so it's
close enough to see the city, but far enough
out to feel like a complete escape. And the club
itself officially opens in 1913. Now, usually
when we talk about golf courses, we just skip
right to who played there, the famous athletes.
Naturally. But the sources here make a huge deal
about the architect, Harry Shaplin Colt. Yes.
Now, I know that name pops up in golf circles
a lot, but for those of us who don't spend our
weekends reading course design magazines, why
does he matter? Think of Harry Colt as the architect
who stopped trying to fight nature. Okay, what
do you mean by that? Well, before him, a lot
of course design was very geometric, very artificial.
Colt was part of this golden age of architecture.
His whole philosophy was that the course should
look like it's always been there. Like it naturally
occurred. Exactly. He didn't just move Earth
to move it. He draped the holes over the existing
landscape. So he's the guy who makes it look
completely natural, even though it's highly engineered.
He is. And he designed the main course at St.
Cloud. The vert, or green course. It's a par
71, nearly 6 ,000 meters long. Which is a solid
length. It is, and is considered a masterpiece
because it uses the rolling terrain of those
Parisian suburbs to dictate your strategy. You
aren't just hitting a ball. Right. You're solving
a puzzle that the land itself set up for you.
And then there's the second course, the jaune,
or yellow course, which came a bit later in 1930.
The notes say this one is a par 67. Yes. Now,
I'm not a scratch golfer, but a par 67 sounds,
well, it sounds really short. It is unusual,
but that's what makes it so fascinating. In modern
golf, everyone is obsessed with length. You know,
7 ,000 yards, massive booming drives. Yeah, grip
it and rip it. Exactly. But a par 67 is a total
throwback. It means there are more par threes,
fewer par fives. You simply cannot overpower
a course like that. You have to be smart. It's
like the difference between a heavyweight boxing
match and a fencing duel. The yellow course requires
precision, guile, strategy. It was designed by
Colt and his associate John Morrison to be a
completely different kind of test. OK, so we
have this fencing duel of a golf course. But
let's actually go back before the golfers even
arrived. Because in 1913, when Henry Cashard
decides to build a course here. The American
lawyer. Right, this American lawyer. When he
decides to build it, he isn't just buying some
random farm. He is buying a major legacy. He
really is. Henry Cashard is this interesting
figure all on his own. An American in Paris,
very wealthy, heavily connected. But the land
he buys, it used to belong to Empress Josephine.
Napoleon's wife. The very same. This land was
part of her imperial estate. Wow. So long before
anyone was worried about their backswing or their
putting grip, this was the playground of the
Bonaparte family. It's such a strange continuity,
isn't it? How so? Well, you go from the literal
emperor of France owning the land to a private
club for the wealthy elite. Oh. It really feels
like the definition of exclusive didn't change
at all, just the price of the admission ticket.
That is a brilliant way to put it. It shifts
from hereditary power to financial and social
power. But the land remains a sanctuary for the
elite. However, and this is the big pivot in
our deep dive today, that sanctuary was violently
breached. This is the part of the research that
honestly stopped me in my tracks. We jump from
the luxury of the empress to 1871. The Franco
-Prussian War. Yes. And we need to set the scene
here because this wasn't just a minor skirmish
in the woods. Right. Paris was under a brutal
siege. The city was starving. It was incredibly
cold winter. January 1871. A nightmare scenario.
Absolutely. The French forces were desperate
to break the German lines that were surrounding
the city. And that breakout attempt happens literally
on the golf course. Specifically, the Battle
of Busanval. Today, if you walk down the 15th
fairway of the green course, you are walking
down the exact main line of the French advance.
That is so jarring to think about. I mean, the
15th fairway is usually where you're thinking
about, I don't know, maybe hitting a smooth five
iron or deciding if you should load up. Yeah.
But in 1871, that exact same grass was a muddy,
frozen killing field. It was horrific. The French
National Guard, many of whom were just civilians
with minimal military training, charged up those
slopes directly into Prussian artillery fire.
Oh, wow. It was a complete disaster. The Prussians
won the battle. The French lost thousands of
men. And the attempt to save Paris failed entirely.
And there's one death in particular that the
Gulf Club still actively memorializes today.
The painter Henri Reynaud. This is the story
that really haunts the place. Henri Regnault
wasn't just some random foot soldier. He was
a bona fide celebrity of the art world. Right.
The source material highlights him specifically.
He was 27 years old, incredibly talented. He
had already won the prestigious Prix de Rome.
He was widely considered the absolute future
of French painting. So it would be like, imagine
if a famous young musician or an A -list actor
today was just handed a rifle and sent to the
front lines. Exactly. And he was killed during
that battle, right? There, on the land that is
now the golf course, it was a huge national tragedy.
For the public, it symbolized the complete waste
of the war. France sacrificing its brightest
young talent for a lost cause. But the amazing
thing is, they didn't just pave over his memory
when they built the course. No, they didn't.
If you play the course today, when you get to
the 14th hole, there's a physical reminder, a
bust, a statue of Henri Regnault. That's the
detail that really gets me. Think about the cognitive
dissonance there for you as a player. Yeah. You're
playing a game of leisure. You're out with your
friends on a beautiful weekend, maybe betting
a few euros on the match. You walk off the 14th
green high -fiving because you made a great putt,
and boom. You're face -to -face with it. You're
staring at the face of a 27 -year -old artist
who died screaming in the mud right where you're
standing. It's a memento mori. A stark reminder
of death right in the middle of a playground.
Exactly. It forces you to acknowledge that the
piece you were enjoying on that fairway was bought
at a very high price. It prevents the place from
just being a generic resort. It anchors it in
the tragic history of the nation. Anchored in
history is a great phrase for it. But let's fast
forward a bit. The war ends. The course gets
built. The world wars come and go. Right. And
we get to the modern era. And this is where the
secrets part of our deep dive comes in. Because
Sainte -Claude isn't just about dead painters
and old emperors. It's about living politicians.
This is where we get into the Republic of Golf.
In France, power isn't always exercised inside
the Elysee Palace. Sometimes it happens on a
Monday morning walk. The source material specifically
flags President François Mitterrand here. And
the routine they describe is so specific it sounds
like a religious ritual. It essentially was a
ritual. Starting in April 1983, Mitterrand would
go to St. Cloud almost every single Monday morning.
Like clockwork. Yes. Now remember, Mitterrand
was a very complex figure, highly intellectual,
somewhat distant, very calculating. He didn't
just play golf to get some fresh air. He played
exactly nine holes. And he always brought the
exact same guy with him, Jacques Attali. His
special advisor, his Sherpa, essentially. So
picture this. It's the 1980s. The Cold War is
still very much a reality. The French economy
is going through massive structural changes.
Tense times. Very tense. And you have the president
of the republic and his top brain walking these
quiet fairways. They definitely aren't talking
about how to fix their slice, are they? Highly
doubtful. The club refers to this as Riso d 'Influence.
Networks of influence. Right. You have to imagine
that while they were walking up the fourth or
the fifth hole, they were discussing cabinet
reshuffles, nuclear policy, international relations.
Just massive state decisions between putts. Exactly.
The isolation of the golf course provides something
the highest offices of government cannot. True.
Absolute privacy. No microphones. No secretaries
listening in. Just the wind, the grass and the
game. It's the ultimate smoke -filled back room,
except it's out in the fresh air on manicured
greens. And there's a specific visual that connects
this beautifully, right? The view from the eighth
hole. Oh, yes. Hole eight offers this direct,
perfectly framed view of the Eiffel Tower. Which
is incredibly symbolic in itself. You're standing
there discussing the fate of the nation with
your top advisor, and you look up and see the
Iron Lady of Paris just staring back at you.
It's like the city is watching your every move.
It visually connects the quiet sanctuary of the
club directly to the loud machinery of the state.
It reminds you that you are only 12 kilometers
away from the harsh reality you are governing.
I just love the mental image of Mitterrand trying
to line up a tricky putt while Attali is whispering
in his ear about inflation rates. It's quite
a picture. But we have to be fair to the serious
golfers listening to this. St. Cloud isn't just
a political prop or a historical graveyard. It's
a seriously prestigious competitive venue. Oh,
absolutely. We cannot let the political history
overshadow the actual sport. St. Cloud has a
massive competitive pedigree. It hosted the Open
de France, which, by the way, is the oldest national
open in continental Europe. That's a huge deal.
It is. And they hosted it 13 times between 1926
and 1987. And when you look at the winners on
that list, these aren't obscure, forgotten names.
These are titans of the sport. They are the literal
history of golf. You have Aubrey Boomer winning
back in 1926. Then, right after World War II
in 1946, Henry Cotton wins. Can we pause on Henry
Cotty for a second? Because that name might not
mean much to a casual sports fan today. Sure.
Henry Cotton was essentially... the Tiger Woods
of European golf in the 30s and 40s. He was British,
incredibly stylish, lived this glamorous high
society life. But on the course, he was a fierce,
ruthless competitor. So him winning there was
his statement. Exactly. Him winning at St. Cloud
right after the devastation of the war signaled
to the world that the club was fully back as
a premier elite venue. And then the modern legends
start rolling in. Yeah. 1980, Greg Norman. The
great white shark himself. A legendary power
player. And that's really interesting because
as we discussed earlier, St. Cloud, especially
the green course designed by Colt, isn't a monster
distance course. Right. It's about strategy.
So seeing a pure power player like Norman Wynn
there shows that this course demands true versatility.
You can't just bomb the ball off the tee. You
have to think your way around. And then my personal
favorite from the research list, 1995, the Tournois
-Perry -de -Perry. The winners were a duo. The
Spanish Armada, that is pure, unadulterated golf
magic right there. Totally. Sev and Ola Zabel
were arguably the most creative, imaginative
players in the history of the game. St. Cloud
is absolutely perfect for them because it requires
that exact imagination. It's not a robotic point
A to point B course. Exactly. Seeing them win
there is like seeing a master conductor working
in the world's most acoustically perfect concert
hall. The player and the venue were perfectly
matched. But the notes also make a point to emphasize
that St. Cloud isn't just an old boys club when
it comes to tournaments. The women's golf history
here is arguably even more consistent. It is
deeply significant to their identity. Since 1927,
Saint -Claude has hosted the French International
Lady Juniors Amateur Championship. They call
it the Esmond Cup. 1927. That is literally a
century of consistency. Just think about how
much the world and women's sports in general
has changed since 1927. Unrecognizable. But every
single year, the best young female golfers in
the world come to this exact same plot of land
to test them. It's an ultimate proving ground.
And they've also had the Baliano Trophy in 36
and 47, the European Ladies Team Championship
in 75. It really seems like the club has made
a specific intentional point of being a central
hub for the women's game. It really has. And
that adds a whole other layer to its identity.
It's not just a dusty place for old presidents
to hide away. It's a launch pad for young, up
-and -coming female athletes. It balances that
heavy old world history with a constant, fresh
inflexibility. And that continues even recently,
right? The Legends Open to France was hosted
there in 2021. Yes, won by Thomas Livet. So the
story is still actively being written. It hasn't
become a museum piece under glass that you can't
touch. It's still a living, breathing, competitive
arena. So let's try to pull all these different
threads together for you listening. Because we
started this conversation talking about deception.
We did. About how a place can look like one simple
thing, but actually be something entirely different
underneath. And I really think St. Cloud is the
ultimate example of that concept. If you just
drive past it on the road or look at it on a
satellite map, you see a golf course, you see
green grass, fairways, a few sand traps. Very
simple. Very peaceful. But if you possess the
context, the history we've talked about today,
you see a palimpsest. You see layers of history
written over other layers. You see the ghost
of Empress Josephine walking the grounds. You
see the smoke and the artillery fire of the Battle
of Boussainval right there on the 15th fairway.
You see the tragic bust of Henri Regnault watching
you on the 14th. And you see Francois Mitterrand
and Jacques Attali deep in a classified conversation
on the eighth hole with the Eiffel Tower looming
in the distance. Yeah. And then you overlay all
of that with the roars of the crowd for Sev Ballestros
or the intense focus of a junior women's champion
lining up a putt. It's almost overwhelming when
you stack it all up like that. It challenges
the way we look at leisure spaces. We tend to
think of a golf course or even just local park
as a break from the real. world, a place where
history just stops. But St. Cloud proves that
the real world is everywhere. History doesn't
just politely stop at the clubhouse gate. The
land remembers what happened there. And frankly,
the game of golf is richer for it. How so? Well,
playing that 15th hole has to be a totally different
experience when you know what happened beneath
your feet. It demands certain respect from the
player. It makes me wonder about other everyday
places we visit. The park down the street. The
shopping mall that used to be. Well, who knows
what it used to be? That is the big takeaway
here. Everywhere has a story, if you are willing
to dig deeply enough. St. Cloud just happens
to have a particularly dramatic, bloody, and
glamorous one. It's essentially a museum without
walls, where you just happen to be able to play
around a golf. I love that. A museum without
walls. Next time you're on a golf course, you'll
probably be looking at the ground a little differently.
Maybe wondering who marched there before you
decided to slice your drive into the woods. Hey,
I resent that. But honestly, it brings up a wild
thought to leave you all with. We've talked about
the history stacked on top of this land, but
think about the physical maintenance of a golf
course. A groundskeeping. Yeah. To keep a course
that pristine, they are constantly digging, aerating
the soil, moving earth for new bunkers or irrigation
lines. Oh, I see where you're going. Right. Every
time a groundskeeper puts a shovel in the dirt
at St. Cloud, they are actively managing a historical
site. What are they quietly unearthing out there?
A rusted belt buckle from 1871. Exactly. A shattered
piece of Prussian artillery, or maybe even something
from Empress Josephine's garden. They're literally
manicuring the surface to hide the chaos underneath,
day in and day out. It makes you wonder how many
historical artifacts are sitting at the bottom
of those pristine white sand traps. That is a
fascinating thing to mull over. Just try to keep
your ball out of the bunkers and leave the digging
to the historians. Solid advice as always. That
is it for this deep dive into the hidden layers
of Gulf to St. Cloud. We really hope we've given
you a brand new perspective on how history hides
in plain sight. Keep looking beneath the surface.
We will catch you on the next one.