By most accounts, Andrew Carnegie was a nasty piece of work.
Cold and driven, the little Scots émigré was the epitome of bald cupidity. During the gilded age of unfettered capitalism (1890s), he was the richest of the rich.

Carnegie Steel (later U.S. Steel) piggybacked on a new process designed by Henry Bessemer which helped hyperextend its profits and vaporize its competitors.

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Carnegie became a poster boy for the American Dream.

That all ended in 1892 during a strike at his steel plant in Pennsylvania. Nine strikers were killed. The press vilified Carnegie, and Carnegie vilified himself. He quickly renounced his former life by saying: “The [steel] works are not worth one drop of human blood.”

Like Dickens’ Scrooge, he became a friend to humanity – the world’s greatest philanthropist.

Carnegie would spend the rest of his days unpacking his fortune. He set up foundations, endowment funds, and built thousands of libraries, educational facilities and medical labs. Carnegie Hall in New York is still home to some of the greatest artists of our time.

In today’s shrinking corporate world with money at a premium, you might think the golf industry has a built-in excuse for having short pockets.

But the recently released NAGA (National Alliance of Golf Associations) Economic Impact Study reported some startling figures: 25,000 charitable events were hosted by golf courses last year, and its stakeholders raised about $439 million – a conservative estimate.

Yes, golf has been Carnegie-like in its commitment to giving.

Consider:
more than 2,000 charities benefit from PGA Tour events each year, and since 1938, when $10,000 was doled out at the Palm Beach Invitational, the tour(s) have contributed about $1.2 billion – more than most of the major sports combined;
despite a lousy week of weather, and a lower turnout of spectators, the 2009 RBC Canadian Open raised a record $1.1 million for two children’s charities; the CN Miracle Match program has risen close to $2 million for local children’s hospitals over the past three years leading up to and during the weeks of the CN Canadian Open; the Canadian Tour, the poor brother of the other tours, raised six figures for charity this year, and its player-run birdie for bucks program contributes even more money to the kitty; and manufacturers (Callaway Golf Canada) and retailers teamed up for Golf Town’s annual Invitational charity event in Toronto that benefits the McEwen Centre for Regenerative Medicine.

I’m obviously leaving out hundreds of other golf givers, but you get my drift – our sport is an extreme do-gooder. Carnegie, however, was no fool, and neither is golf.

Both believe in ‘smart philanthropy,’ based on solid business principles.

It’s all about creating a self-perpetuating model – a guarantee that what’s created from the money will continue to do good deeds long after those who founded the programs are gone.
Two examples immediately spring to mind: the Pat Fletcher Scholarship Fund, based in Montreal, and the Scholarship Program at Beacon Hall Golf Club, located just north of Toronto.
Phil Hardy, head professional at Beacon Hall, an exclusive privately owned facility, started the scholarship program three years ago. Each summer, 12 teenagers are plucked from the communities surrounding the club and invited in to caddy and do odd jobs around the pro shop. They accept responsibilities in a grown-up environment and the pay-off is unlimited access to the course to hone their playing skills.

The program is embraced by the membership and is already paying off hugely by producing superb players, good corporate citizens, and excellent recruits for post-secondary institutions.
Remember: these kids are not chosen from the privileged sons and daughters of members. They live outside the front gates, and come from a different social stratum. They qualify because of need.

“There are a lot of great golf courses in Canada,” says Hardy, who then asks: “But are they great clubs?”

Beacon Hall is a great club.

Ted Fletcher is trustee of the Pat Fletcher Foundation, established to honour his father, the last homebrew to win the Canadian Open (1954).

Son Ted is a huge player in the Canadian golf industry as president of Puma Canada and Mint Green Group.
The foundation began in 1988 and has given away $275,000 in scholarships since then. Last year, $30,000 was granted to 24 student athletes.

Again, no sons or daughters of bank presidents need apply.
“We are making the best investment we can in the future – helping to develop the leaders of tomorrow,” says Ted Fletcher.
The Fund is redoubling its efforts to market itself across Canada in 2010 and hopes to soon build out its principal to $1 million. Like all smart foundations, it gives from the principal’s investments – a conservative portfolio handled by TD Waterhouse (Montreal).

In both the Beacon Hall and Fletcher Foundation models, there are tight criteria for applicants.

It’s a hand up, not a handout.

Moving beyond simple chequebook philanthropy is the Carnegie way. No doubt, these programs are templates, and need to be celebrated – and copied.

Hardy says if every private club in Canada had its own scholarship program for a dozen teenagers, the world – especially the golf world – would be in better shape.
There are other examples of golf’s good side, but here’s one that really sticks out.

It’s been a decade now for the National Junior Golf Academy founded by Kingsley Rowe. This learn-to-golf program was introduced to kids living in the notorious crime-ridden Jane-Finch corridor of Toronto. It caters to kids who would otherwise not have the opportunity to take part in the sport.

Many of the major club and ball manufacturers lend their support, and Capital One offers a $4000 scholarship each year to high school seniors in the Greater Toronto Area.

While other corporate stakeholders blow off their societal responsibilities, leaning on a shaky economy as a reason to cut back on giving, golf continues to grip it and rip it.

Carnegie had an epiphany in mid-life and changed his selfish ways. Golf never had to – it had it right from the beginning.
The Fletcher Fund, the Beacon Hall program, and the National Junior Golf Academy, are only three examples of golf’s good side, its soft underbelly.

Once viewed as a game of manicured privilege, the NAGA numbers prove that the game is more everyman than first suspected, and its charitable component is simply an indelible part of its DNA.

Carnegie said it is more difficult to give money away intelligently than it is to earn it in the first place.

Golf in Canada continues to prove his point.

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