Fore!

"Nowadays, no human being can build a good wood by hand," Puglielli says. "It's got to be totally calculated: mass properties, different weights of metals that you use."

Though he had endorsement agreements with other manufacturers, local golfing legend Tom Watson knew Kenneth Smith.

Watson, a competitor in the Greater Kansas City Golf Classic, tells the Pitch that he stopped by the Shawnee factory in the '70s to have a putter refinished. Eva Smith, Watson recalls, was at the shop on the day he arrived.

"I was treated very, very nicely," Watson says. "They had a full operation going on there, making clubs. It was always fun to be in a place where they were making clubs professionally, not just kind of gluing them together. They were out there, grinding on them and doing what they used to do with golf clubs. Now they just cast them, buff them up a little bit, stick a shaft and a grip, and, voilà, golf club."

At first, Kenneth Smith thought golf was dumb.

One day, when he was 13 or 14, he tagged along with an older brother who borrowed a set of clubs from the YMCA and set out for the golf course at Swope Park. Kenneth struggled to hit the ball in the air, and he thought the course was better suited for grazing.

A few years later, a sister suggested that Smith could supplement his newspaper-delivery income by working as a caddie at Mission Hills Country Club. He made 60 cents on his first day. "Big money compared to what I had been making," Smith later told Kansas! magazine.

Smith learned about making clubs from James Watson, the assistant pro at Mission Hills. Later, he became an assistant to a pro at a golf course outside Detroit. When he wasn't building clubs for members, Smith earned a degree from the University of Michigan.

He returned to Kansas City and started a club-making business in a shack behind his family's Westport home. In 1928, he opened a shop at East 30th Street and McGee. By this time, he had married Eva. (The couple met while he was working a summer job at a golf course in Duluth, Minnesota.)

He built his business on the idea that golf clubs, like suits, should be tailored to the player using them: longer clubs for taller golfers, more lofted clubs for players who tended to hit low shots, and so on. Smith believed that golfers who bought off the rack wasted their money on "misfit clubs."

Customization came at a price. A set of Kenneth Smith irons sold for $115 in 1940 — about $1,660 today.

The 1940 sales catalog includes pictures of Smith handcrafting clubs. A handsome man, Smith bore a passing resemblance to Bobby Jones, the great amateur golfer who founded the Masters Tournament in Augusta, Georgia. The winner of the first Masters, Missourian Horton Smith (no relation), used Kenneth Smith clubs.

A man who liked to tinker, Kenneth Smith held several patents and is credited with inventing the mitten-style head cover for woods. His catalogs bulged with testimonials from physicians, military officers and international businessmen.

When orders backed up, customers had to wait. Smith limited his output to maintain quality. The factory turned out just 100 clubs a day in the '50s.

Smith employed a grateful workforce. Many of his employees were farmers who had known hard times. B.J. Klein's father, John, worked for Smith during the Depression. Klein says his mother's banker used to marvel at the size of the paychecks she deposited.

"He was a fine fellow to work for," says John Kimpel, a 30-year employee. "He wanted a good day's work, but he wasn't hard to work for."

Eva Smith was also well-liked. A few times a year, she took the women in the office to lunch at Indian Hills Country Club, where the Smiths belonged. "It was like a big family," says Mary Hanks, a 20-year employee.

Working for Smith meant being able to enjoy his property, which was ideal for picnics and pond fishing.

Taking notice of how his employees hit golf balls during lunch breaks, Smith suggested building some tees and greens. Working nights, they built a nine-hole course. A woman in the office won a contest to call it the Happy Hunting Golf Course, a name that still shows up on maps. Only Smith's employees and their families were allowed to play.

Smith appreciated the effort his workers gave. He frequently applauded their craftsmanship and willingness to participate in charity drives.

In 1965, Kimpel left the wood department to work on Smith's larger ambition: building an 18-hole golf course suitable for tournaments. Kimpel and a crew of students moved the earth, though they didn't have a lot of confidence. "I was an old farm boy," Kimpel says. "I didn't have much of any idea about building golf courses."