Sure, the original Goofy Golf in Panama City Beach still stands. But the world of the pink dino looks destined for extinction.
By TAMARA LUSH
Published June 27, 2004
ORLANDO - After 11 holes of miniature golf with five children in the hot sun, Vicky Moraes declared the Hawaiian Rumble course a winner.
The kids like the 75-foot mock volcano looming over the layout. She likes the fine mist of water at every hole, cooling her and the 1-year-old in the stroller. The bathrooms are clean, it's safe for families and there are smoothies at the cafe in the lobby.
But the course also makes the 26-year-old Orlando resident nostalgic about the miniature golf of her childhood.
"Windmills, chickens, alligators," she remembered with a laugh.
Her children, who visited most of Orlando's best "adventure golf" venues by age 6, never have played through the legs of a pink brontosaurus or tried to putt through a spinning windmill.
The mom-and-pop miniature golf courses of decades past, with kitschy concrete apes, mechanical windmills and alligators whose mouths close before each ball, are on the downswing.
"They are a dying breed," acknowledged Jeff Scheiber of Cost Inc., a Wisconsin-based miniature golf course design and construction company.
Earlier this month on St. Pete Beach, the Ruins De El Dorado on Gulf Boulevard was bulldozed. The owners discovered it was more lucrative to sell the property to condo developers.
That leaves only one miniature golf course on St. Pete Beach. Polynesian Putter, a tropical themed course, doesn't have special effects, smoothies or cooling mist. It's main draw is a large, brindle-colored tiki head facing Gulf Boulevard.
In 1930, about 20,000 courses dotted the United States. Today, there are about 4,000. Only a handful are left in Pinellas and Hillsborough counties, and few are locally owned. A Putt-Putt course, a national chain franchise, closed earlier this year in Tampa. Miniature golf experts estimate there are about 200 courses in Florida, compared to 3,000 in the 1930s.
Now courses are more extravagant. They are lushly landscaped and carefully planned. Some offer pyrotechnics. Some feature waterfalls and river rapids. Some come in a kit, ready to assemble. Others are owned by chains or franchises, similar to a McDonald's; Congo River Golf boasts four locations in the greater Orlando area and one in Palm Harbor, among many others.
Congo River represents the latest in miniature golf: excitement.
While previous courses represented old-fashioned innocence, courses such as Congo River's showcase mock danger. Most courses revolve around pirate themes, Polynesian travels or, at Congo River, a jungle safari.
"Alligators!" reads one ad for the course. "Explore caves and waterfalls!"
The caves and waterfalls are fiberglass. The live alligators are kept well away from the tourists and behind a net.
University of South Florida history professor Gary Mormino said the demise of the more sedate miniature golf reflects the psychology of society.
"Americans have such a high stimuli factor," he said. "Mini golf is pretty low-tech. How does it compete against flume rides and congo rapids and roller coasters?"
The answer, miniature golf experts say, is to take the tacky out of the courses and streamline them. Make them respectable, beautiful even, and people will come to play. The number of players is rising, experts say, even though the number of courses has declined.
First popular in the 1930s after the Great Depression, miniature golf became associated with family fun, suburbia and first dates.
"People are at least interacting when they play mini golf together," said Mormino, who specializes in the American urban experience. "There's a certain innocence about miniature golf."
In 1959, a man named Lee Koplin developed one of the the first course of its kind in Panama City Beach. Koplin called it Goofy Golf and featured giant creatures made out of chicken wire and cement as course obstacles.
Tim Hollis, an Alabama native whose recent book, Florida's Miracle Strip: From Redneck Riviera to Emerald Coast, recounts his childhood memories of playing miniature golf around the Panhandle, along with other roadside attractions, said Goofy Golf expanded into several locations and states. Course owners around the country copied the concept and hand made their own statues and figurines of fantasy creatures and giant animals.
But over the years, the courses fell into disrepair. Some owners retired. Others realized the land was worth more than they were making and sold their courses.
The original Goofy Golf in Panama City Beach is still open, purple brontosaurus and all. The other few courses on the beach are owned by chains, and Goofy Golf is more of a pop culture roadside attraction.
"I don't know how long it's going to be able to hang on, given the prices of land," Hollis said. "It's a part of pop culture that people are not going to be able to see in the future."
The nearby Miracle Strip Amusement Park in Panama City Beach is closing on Labor Day to make room for a shopping center.
"You're not going to get rich with mini golf," sighed Gabrielle Knight, whose family owns Polynesian Putter, the last miniature golf course left on St. Pete Beach.
Now miniature golf caters to corporate retreats and well-scripted birthday parties. Some courses are difficult, and the Professional Miniature Golf Association based in South Carolina holds tournaments around the country.
"Mini golf is becoming much more high-end," said Scheiber, who is based in Cost's Orlando office and helped design one of Orlando's two Hawaiian Rumble courses and another at a Marriott vacation resort off Interstate 4.
The Hawaiian Rumble on International Drive opened two months ago. It is the second of its kind. The owner, a 22-year-old Orlando native whose father owns other successful tourist businesses in the area, including Skull Kingdom, is proud to show off the $2.5-million course.
Faisal Ansari, who sports designer sunglasses and a pedicure, points to the construction in the lobby as another measure of success.
A Ben & Jerry's ice cream shop is slated for one nook in the lobby. Another room will feature an Internet cafe, just steps away from the golf balls, fake shark's teeth necklaces and tropical leis on sale in the gift shop. Next door to the cafe, which serves sandwiches, daiquiris and beer, will be a bar.
But the centerpiece of Ansari's International Drive compound is the course.
Ansari spent about $250,000 on landscaping. Another few hundred thousand was spent on the volcano, which smokes at the top and has a waterfall running down the front. Players can putt through the volcano as they listen to surf classics such as Wipe Out on the in-ground speakers nestled amongst bromeliads and creeping ivy.
He said the steamy tropical fantasy is best at night, when the course is filled with people, billowing mist and loud music.
It costs $9.95 plus tax for an adult to play 18 holes of golf at Hawaiian Rumble. Most people opt to play both courses around the volcano. That costs $14.95, plus tax. The mom-and-pop places often charged $4 or less for a round.
"People have gotten used to nicer courses," shrugged Ansari.
But even the glitzy courses like Hawaiian Rumble have competition.
A few miles down I-4, two giant themed courses have opened in recent years. One is called Fantasia Gardens. And at Winter Summerland, golfers wind their way through Santa's summer workshop.
The two courses are owned by Disney.
- Researcher Caryn Baird contributed to this report. Tamara Lush can be reached at lush@sptimes.com or 727-893-8612.
