Since Tower Tee opened on Heege Road in Affton, in 1963, my family’s driving range and par-3 golf course has seen comedian Bob Hope, coach Bobby Knight, and Lee Elder, the first black man to compete at the Masters, play golf here. My dad, owner/operator Steve Lotz, remembers when actor John Goodman showed up to hit a bucket of balls the morning after Hurricane Katrina sank his adopted home of New Orleans.
Sure, my dad can rattle off the names of stars who’ve passed through, but more than any celebrity, locals have made Tower Tee a St. Louis institution: line cooks who finished their shifts to hit buckets on summer nights; the “Turfers,” a group of ladies who played 7 a.m. rounds; teens who kissed on a first date at the mini-golf course; a dad who rolled in on Thanksgiving morning to hit a jumbo bucket—and to escape the in-laws; a kid who made her first par while shouldering a bag of clubs as big as her; a retiree who spent every spring morning on the putting green; families who listened to Cardinals games at the batting area run by the friendly ball of energy Dave Swatek, whose dad opened the cages here in 1967… Then there were the high school seniors who sneaked onto the field to swipe hundreds of balls to roll through the school’s hallways. (That summer, they helped fix divots on the par-3 as penance.)
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And it’s the regulars we’ll miss when we turn out the lights this July.
My great-grandfather Roy Lotz, a German carpenter who helped build Busch Memorial Stadium downtown, constructed the range in 1963. Roy’s son, Dick Lotz, was the visionary who ran the Tee and added the 18-hole par-3 course, miniature-golf course, and batting cages (always run by the Swatek family). In 2002, my dad and business partner Mark Lincoln bought the company from my grandpa, who would still hang around the range and chat with longtime customers. I was in middle school when my dad took over, and my first job was selling candy bars on the 11th hole of the par-3, later becoming, like many other local teenagers, a summer cashier at the driving range and mini-golf hut, taking breaks to buy “tiger’s blood” shaved ices at the batting cages.
Through it all, our family remained tenants to a rotating cast of landlords. We owned the business itself but not the property it sat on. Then, last year, the landlord listed the grounds for sale, and a developer put in the highest offer, with plans for a subdivision to fill the greenspace, pending zoning approval.
Since then, I’ve watched my dad go through the emotional gymnastics of figuring out what to do after the range and course shut down. He wasn’t quite ready to retire—and really, what does retirement look like for a golf pro? More golf? He’s landed on this: Honor the regulars at Tower Tee. Thank them for years of loyalty. He’s organizing a free concert on July 8, and the next day he’ll auction off equipment, mini-golf fixtures, lights, and other pieces of nostalgia. And then he will figure out what to do next.
My dad recently estimated that 2,000 people have worked for Tower Tee, filling buckets of balls, maintaining the greens, and driving the ball picker at night. For all the balls we lose every year, he guesses, there are probably more than a million buried on the property. When future workers dig new roads or trench out drainage ditches, balls will surely spring from the ground. Long after the last drive, people will still find mementos of Tower Tee and tell stories of a St. Louis tradition.
Saying Goodbye
On July 8, Joe Dirt & the Dirty Boys will help send off Tower Tee. The next day, the Tee will auction off equipment and mini-golf fixtures. (Fiberglass gorilla, anyone?)
