You might think that the heart of a golf club is found out on the course, perhaps at the signature hole, or in a feature such as fast greens or brilliant vistas.
But Steve Skillman back in 1999 discovered the pulse of Eastward Ho! perhaps 30 feet up a pole at the rear of the clubhouse. Damndest thing he ever saw, too.
“I had just joined as a junior member and I watched this kid start scaling the awning that was up for summer occasions,” said Skillman. “He moved from the awning onto the pole and climbed like he was a monkey.”
Then about 15 years old, Brendan Pickett came down from the pole, explained that he worked maintenance for his uncle, Dick Pickett, and introduced himself to Skillman.
The young man’s smile was wider than Pleasant Bay, which surrounds the course in Chatham, Mass., and warmer than the summer sun that danced off its water. “Crazy, but he was one of the first people I met after joining,” laughed Skillman.
You know what’s not crazy? That the smile never left Pickett’s face, not for the next 23 years as he went from being just a young teen doing odd jobs for his uncle to an indispensable commodity beloved by both club officials and members.
“He was the heartbeat of this club,” said Jason Winslow, Eastward Ho! head golf professional. “He did everything. He kept it running.”
Until, that is, Brendan Pickett was unable to keep it running. His stunning death May 29 at the age of 38 shocked the Eastward Ho! family and Winslow conceded that “it’s still kind of raw, like you still expect to see his car in the parking lot when you come to work.”
For a variety of reasons, the death of this fun-loving kid who loved snowboarding, fishing, practical jokes, and most of all, Eastward Ho! hits hard.
A Pickett – be it Brendan, his father, Dave, or uncle, Dick – had worked at Eastward Ho! for 75 or the club’s 100 years. Enamored with all things Eastward Ho!, Brendan Pickett had worked there for 24 years, or since the summer he turned 14. But it would be incorrect to say he never had another job, Hancock noted, “because when you needed someone to help you (off the course), he was the first one to show up.”
Those tornadoes that impacted Harwich three summers ago? “A bunch of shingles blew off my house,” said Hancock, “and the first one to help out was Brendan Pickett. He had the tarp, the shingles, the nails all in – and pretty quickly, too.
“He always cared for others before himself.”
Brendan had also become a first-time father a few weeks before his death. He leaves his partner, Kelly, and one-month-old son, Lucas, as well as a loving family that is well known in the Cape area.
“He loved his family and friends,” said Hancock. “He loved his Eastward Ho! family and friends.”
Difficult as it is to explain to those who have their preconceived notion about what golf clubs are all about, there is a camaraderie and a familial atmosphere at the very best ones – and Eastward Ho! is surely one to be admired.
“There is a vibe here and members have a tremendous pride in the staff,” said Winslow. “The members treated Brendan with great respect. To them, Brendan was more than the Director of Building and Grounds. He was the guy.”
It is a lost art, this innate ability that our fathers and grandfathers had to fix anything and to be willing to do any job needed to keep the house in order. It is also a fading character strength, this genuine work ethic so tied into the love of a job.
But Brendan Pickett was an old soul in a young man’s body – he would tackle any job, work for anyone who asked, and he’d maintain that harmonious demeanor from start to finish.
“He carried the best attitude I have ever observed,” said Hancock. “Always smiling, eager to help you with any issue. His work ethic was unmatched. Brendan had a relentless sense of urgency.”
Skillman watched that teen who scaled awning and clambered a pole morph into a take-charge young man who opened the clubhouse, put on the coffee, and shut the place up at night. At the same time, Skillman marveled at the dynamics of a human who was totally happy in his own skin.
“Brendan was just one of these guys who did the work of two people,” said Skillman. “He literally and figuratively was the glue of the place. He was a craftsman and he was in the ‘Yes’ business, always saying, ‘Yeah, I can do that.’ ”
Against the backdrop of a look-at-me world where work ethics are shrinking and the sense of entitlement is growing, Brendan Pickett was cut from a different cloth. “He never wanted any credit,” said Skillman.
He was a Prince in workman’s clothing, if you will, and the line of folks at Eastward Ho! who will miss him is long and their sense of loss is profound.
“He impacted all of us in the most positive way by making us better,” said Hancock. “Brendan did everything he possibly could do to make certain everyone was taken care of and happy.”
