Only on Hilton Head: The ghosts of Heritage past

As another Heritage comes to a close, you may be wondering what else there is to say after a whole week of press coverage.

Well, plenty, if you’re into mind-numbing trivia, simple numbers, unsubstantiated claims and the ghosts of Heritage past and present - as I am.

For example, according to Janet Mitchell, chairman of the tournament support volunteers, there are 95 Porto-johns surrounding the course and environs, along with 12 bathroom trailers.

Then there’s the number 16 - the number of homes designated as Safe Havens for the pros and staffers if it suddenly rains buckets.

Here’s another stat: 21 - the collective number of years Sonny Huntley and Alan Perry have been introducing players coming on to the ninth green by shouting their names in their best elocution without the aid of a microphone. Or, to put it another way, that’s twenty-one years of fighting the overwhelming urge to bellow, “Heeeere’s Johnny!” and laugh uproariously at your own joke.

Of course, Alan wasn’t laughing when I asked him if he ever fought the Tonight Show urge. His response was that he had never thought about it… until now. “Thanks, Carmen,” he said. (sarcasm implied).

Any time I can be of service, Alan. Now don’t slip up today. Probably best not to have a beer and get punchy until after the very last players come through, and you’re overheated, hoarse, tired, and burned out from the week of NOT shouting out, “Heeeeere’s Johnny!” Just don’t even think about it. Forget you read this column today and DON’T SHOUT IT OUT, even if the player’s name happens to be, John or Johnny. That goes for you, too, Sonny. If you think about it, remember the immortal words of Nancy Reagan and say to yourself, “Self, just say no.”

Since the sixth grade, Alan has not fully appreciated my admittedly sophomoric sense of humor. I don’t know why.

Here’s another Heritage stat: 1 - the number of CBS golf carts found submerged in the lagoon by Twin Oaks Villas on the tenth fairway one fine Heritage Sunday morning in the late ‘70’s.

And 1 again - the number of residents who swears up and down to this day, he didn’t do it. “It” being stealing the cart to work on a little-known science project whose goal was to answer this question: Can golf carts float?

Some unusual circumstances occurred in short order around the drowned cart incident, circumstances that led to allegations that have all since been ruled officially as “coinky-dinks.” For example, the same morning the golf cart was found trying desperately to float, it was also discovered that the food and beverage trailer had been left unlocked the night before, and, apparently, the inventory was “off” by a few sleeves.

“Sleeves” refer to the cardboard holders of airline mini-bottles that typically held twelve to sixteen bottles.

So what, pray-tell, does the sunken golf cart have to do with missing sleeves of liquor? Nothing, of course. That’s why it was ruled a coinky-dinks. The last unusual event of that same morning was the rumor that more than a few high school students slept through church services.

All allegations and hearsay.

Unfortunately, such allegations and hearsay ultimately resulted in stricter and stricter rules for the up-and-coming adolescents, who rightly, were not a little bit infuriated with their elder peers for ruining all the fun.

In closing, I have a suggestion for today - a fine leveled against anyone who yells, “GET IN THE HOLE!” while a ball is on its way to the hole. All monies collected from today’s get-in-the-hole fines would go to a literacy cause.

And one more thing.

Remember, if you’re near the clubhouse, do your part for Heritage decorum and remind the guys on the ninth green, NOT to shout out, “Heeeere’s Johnny!”

This story was originally published April 13, 2016 at 1:23 PM with the headline "Only on Hilton Head: The ghosts of Heritage past."