The Golf Writer Who Became a Course Owner: Tom Coyne’s Journey to Save Sullivan County Golf Club

Living the Dream, Then Making It Better

Tom Coyne has what many would consider a dream job. As a bestselling author and editor of The Golfer’s Journal, he’s spent years traveling the world, playing some of the most prestigious and exclusive golf courses imaginable. He’s walked the hallowed fairways of Augusta National Golf Club, where the Masters Tournament captivates millions each spring. He’s teed off at St. Andrews in Scotland, the oldest golf course in the world and the spiritual home of the game. He’s experienced the breathtaking ocean views at Pebble Beach in California, where the Pacific Ocean crashes against the cliffs beside perfectly manicured greens. With over a thousand courses under his belt, Coyne has seen golf at its most glamorous, its most exclusive, and its most expensive. As he readily admits with a laugh, “It’s not a bad perk of the job, Lee, I’m not gonna lie to you!” But despite all this luxury and access to golf’s upper echelon, Coyne found himself drawn to something completely different – a forgotten, struggling nine-hole course in rural New York that was on the verge of disappearing forever. His philosophy that “there’s all sorts of different places in golf” and that “there needs to be all sorts of different places in golf” would lead him on an unexpected journey from golf writer to golf course owner, trading in his visitor’s pass to the world’s finest clubs for the keys to a mower and a challenge that would change his life.

A Course with History and Heart

The Sullivan County Golf Club sits in Liberty, New York, a small town tucked into the Catskill Mountains about two hours north of Manhattan. When it opened in 1925, the rural nine-hole course was part of the vibrant Borscht Belt resort era, when tourists flocked to the Catskills for summer vacations. The course even made national headlines in 1931 when a local pilot used what was then the 8th fairway as a runway for a daring transatlantic flight to Denmark – a moment of aviation history that’s commemorated in the club’s logo today. For decades, the course was a beloved local gathering place, woven into the fabric of the community. Dan Yaun, who started caddying there as a teenager, represents the deep roots many families have at Sullivan County – there’s even a street named after his family, and the club championship board is dotted with Yaun victories over the years. But as tourism patterns changed and golfers increasingly sought out fancier, more modern facilities, Sullivan County Golf Club began its slow decline. The tourists took their clubs and money elsewhere, leaving the course’s survival in the hands of a dwindling group of dedicated locals. “It was going downhill a little bit,” Yaun recalled with understatement. “Basically I think we were maintaining it ourselves.” By 2023, deer outnumbered players on the course. The 170 acres were still golf-able but unprofitable, and the property went up for sale, signaling what seemed like the inevitable end of nearly a century of local golf history.

An Unlikely Connection

Enter Shaun Smith, a self-described “turf nerd” who had become the course’s only remaining greenskeeper. Smith loved Sullivan County Golf Club for what it represented – an accessible, unpretentious place where anyone could play. “It’s always been the local course on the edge of town; it’s kind of always been for everybody,” he explained. Facing the course’s likely closure, Smith reached out to someone he admired from afar: Tom Coyne, whose golf writing he had followed. What started as a conversation between a fan and a writer evolved into something much more significant. When Coyne came up to visit, he saw a property that looked ready to close – leaky roofs, abandoned mowers, and mold growing thick in the neglected clubhouse. Yet beneath the deterioration, he saw something valuable that had nothing to do with real estate or profit margins. He found a course stripped of all the trappings that modern golf had accumulated – no tee times, no valets, no swimming pools or tennis courts, and absolutely no attitude. “We couldn’t be less stuffy,” Coyne observed. “We are not fussy. You don’t have to get dressed up. You just show up, bring your dog, and go play golf.” For a purist, this was golf in its most elemental form – wild fairways “kept like a bad haircut,” nothing manicured to country club perfection, but playable and genuinely accessible to anyone regardless of their background or bank account. This was the story Coyne wanted to tell, but more than that, it represented an opportunity to shift from consuming golf to providing it. Rather than just writing about the game, he could actually preserve and nurture a place where it could be played.

Building Trust and Taking a Chance

The connection between Coyne and Smith went deeper than their shared love of golf. “I recognized a kindred sort of golf sicko like myself. So, we bonded on that level,” Coyne said. But there was another bond, perhaps even more meaningful: both men were in recovery, navigating sobriety in a world that often revolves around social drinking. “There was also connection there in that Shaun’s sober and I’m sober,” Coyne explained. “I think people who’ve gone down that path and know what that experience is like, there’s a connection there and an understanding with someone that is pretty meaningful.” Smith agreed, noting that their shared experience “really became something that we forged kind of a trust around quicker than maybe two strangers would have otherwise.” This foundation of mutual understanding and respect enabled them to take a remarkable leap together. Coyne proposed an unusual arrangement to the course’s former owners: let him and Smith run Sullivan County Golf Club for a year, and if they could turn it around, Coyne would buy the place. Suddenly, the bestselling author who had been welcomed into golf’s most exclusive clubhouses found himself mowing fairways and confronting the unglamorous realities of course ownership. Together with golf course architect Colton Craig, they began reimagining the property. They re-routed some holes to better showcase the natural topography and mountain views, added a putting course and driving range, and worked to make the facility attractive to golfers from outside the immediate area while preserving its essential character as a rural Catskills course. “This has to remain a rural Catskills Sullivan County golf course,” Coyne insisted. “And it has to feel like that. That’s gotta be the identity. It has to feel like you’ve gone somewhere else.”

A Movement Grows

What happened next exceeded anyone’s expectations. As word spread about the rescue effort, Sullivan County Golf Club captured people’s imagination in ways that transcended golf. “Caddyshack” star Bill Murray and NFL player Jason Kelce came on board as Coyne’s partners, lending their names and support to the cause. Membership applications began arriving from across the country, many from people who would likely never visit the course but wanted to support what it represented. “For folks that have joined just for the sake of joining, they’re enabling people to play golf who wouldn’t have a golf course otherwise,” Coyne explained. “I think that that’s a beautiful thing about the golf community. You know, it’s not just about my golf, it’s about our golf.” The course maintained its commitment to accessibility – you could still play for less money than you might spend on lunch at other courses. The democratic spirit meant that “you’re not sure who came in on a first-class flight and who’s the local schoolteacher,” Coyne noted. “Everyone’s just there for the love of golf and the love of camaraderie.” This egalitarian approach stood in stark contrast to the often exclusionary culture that had come to define much of golf, especially at the sport’s higher levels. Sullivan County Golf Club became a statement about what golf could be when stripped of pretension and returned to its fundamental appeal – the challenge of the game itself, the beauty of the outdoors, and the companionship of others who share your passion for it.

Lessons from the Ground Up

The experience fundamentally changed Coyne’s relationship with golf and with himself. When he now visits premiere courses like Pebble Beach and sees their grounds crews at work, he feels both appreciation and a touch of envy. “I even, like, covet a pile of dirt,” he laughed, “’cause that’s a good pile of dirt!” It’s the perspective of someone who’s been on the other side, who understands the invisible labor that makes golf possible. He documented the entire journey in his latest book, “A Course Called Home,” which chronicles his transition from golf consumer to golf provider. The experience taught him that golf, at its core, is a great equalizer. “Golf doesn’t let you hide,” he observed. “You know, I’ve seen some very powerful or famous people look very normal after about two holes.” The game reveals who we really are, stripping away the veneer of status and success. When asked if he would do it all again, knowing the challenges he’d face, Coyne’s answer was immediate and unequivocal: “Yes. Absolutely. 100 percent. And for one simple reason: It’s ’cause of the people that it’s put in my life. This was something where I absolutely got to be part of a team who wanted to make something good in the world. What a gift!” In the end, Tom Coyne’s journey from golf writer to course owner represents something larger than one man’s midlife adventure or even the salvation of a single course. It’s a reminder that some of life’s most meaningful experiences come not from visiting exclusive places or accumulating impressive credentials, but from rolling up your sleeves and working alongside others to preserve something worth saving. Sullivan County Golf Club stands as a testament to the idea that golf – and perhaps life itself – is at its best when it’s accessible, unpretentious, and focused on bringing people together rather than keeping them apart.