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A Gathering of Kindred Spirits

It’s 1972 in Louisville, Kentucky. Seventeen people, plus their spouses, traveled from across the country to come together to celebrate an ancient game that is loved by millions worldwide. Those who gathered were members of something that barely existed yet at that time: the Golf Collectors Society, an organization so new it still had that fresh-paint smell of possibility.

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Two years earlier, Joe Murdoch and Robert “Bob” Kuntz had sent out a call to anyone who might understand. Twenty-five people answered. These were the ones who got it, who felt their pulse quicken at the sight of a hickory-shafted mashie, who could spend hours tracing the stitching on a leather golf ball from 1905, who believed that every dented club head and faded scorecard held a story worth saving.

They were preservationists, sure. Historians, absolutely. But more than that, they were romantics. The kind of people who saw ghosts in the grain of persimmon wood. Who heard echoes of long-forgotten rounds in the weight of an old iron.

That first meeting in Louisville had no fanfare, no grand ballroom, no keynote speakers. Just a handful of believers in a room, sharing their treasures and their dreams. But sometimes that’s all you need, a spark, a room, and people who care enough to show up. What grew from that modest gathering would become something none of them could have imagined.

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