Frontier Club: Gil Hanse and the 17 Holes 'Waiting to be Discovered' in Michigan Farmland

In the middle of a 350-acre farm in Lodi Township, on the outskirts of Ann Arbor, Gil Hanse stood on a naturally undulating hill and declared a sentence that reminded me of many other projects: "Seventeen of the 18 holes are lying there, waiting to be discovered." Not "designed," not "created" – but "discovered." For an architect who has built his reputation on minimalism, that statement is not just a promotional line; it is a philosophical manifesto: the natural terrain will be the lead architect, and he is merely the listener. In my 17 years following the world of golf, I rarely see a new project dare to claim, even before construction, that almost the entire routing has been determined by the land itself, rather than by human hands. That is either a sign of a truly special property, or a marketing gimmick from the architect. With Hanse, I lean toward the former. Frontier Club is the latest destination golf club in the United States, developed by James Housler and Scott Kovanda – two childhood friends, both Michigan natives. They saw a "void" in the private club scene in southern Michigan: no true destination club existed in the region. Traditional private clubs like Crystal Downs, Oakland Hills, and Barton Hills are renowned, but they all follow a local membership model, tied to a community within a few dozen miles. None of them offers the "destination" model – where members from across the country come to enjoy a concentrated golf experience for a few weeks. Kovanda and Housler wanted to fill that void. To realize their ambition, they enlisted Gil Hanse – the architect behind the 2026 Olympic course in Rio, as well as two of the most celebrated destination clubs, Ohoopee Match Club and The Fall Line. Hanse's involvement is the project's greatest asset, especially given his declaration that Frontier Club will be one of the "most special" places he and his partner Jim Wagner have ever built. Adding to this, Fred Perpall, a former USGA President, through his Beck Group, will design the clubhouse and resort cottages – a signal of institutional credibility and international standards. The combination of a top-tier architect, a powerful former golf official, and two local developers creates a promising yet uncertain picture. The most striking detail is the number "17/18." If 17 holes already exist on the terrain, it means there is almost no need for major earthmoving, construction costs will be significantly lower than for flat courses that require sculpting, and more importantly, the flow of the holes will follow the natural rhythm of the land. Hanse revealed that the property features two prominent ridges, a valley in between, and "ripples and folds" that create variety for each shot. The water feature – whether a natural stream or an artificial pond – plays a role in shaping the hole corridors, a valuable technical detail. This is why Hanse compared the project to Crystal Downs, the #1 course in Michigan and a top-15 course in America, but on a "smaller scale." He also mentioned Old Elm Club, a classic, understated private club in Illinois where rolling terrain dictates the entire layout. These two references show that Hanse intends to build a "quiet," land-driven course, not a flashy resort-style layout. But that comparison is a double-edged sword. Crystal Downs is a legacy of legends Alister MacKenzie and Perry Maxwell. Calling Frontier Club its "smaller-scale sibling" is a bold branding move, but it also sets itself up against one of the most revered courses in the Midwest. If Frontier Club fails to meet that standard, critics will not be forgiving. Also noteworthy is that "17/18" implies one hole required significant alteration – perhaps the 18th hole, or a hole crossing the valley or water system. That is a humble but honest detail, showing Hanse does not claim everything is perfect. Another technical detail worth noting is the involvement of agronomy director Russ Myers from the layout stage. This suggests Frontier Club may pursue the "firm and fast" philosophy – hard, quick turf with reduced water usage – a modern, sustainable trend that contrasts with the lush, green conditioning traditionally seen in the Midwest. If successful, this will be a major differentiator, not just aesthetically but also in operating costs and environmental impact. In terms of business model, Frontier Club follows the Ohoopee Match Club model – an ultra-exclusive private club with initiation fees potentially reaching millions of dollars, where members travel from everywhere to play golf in concentrated trips. Proximity to the University of Michigan – just 10 minutes from the Big House stadium – is a strategic advantage no southern destination club can replicate. On football weekends, Frontier Club could become a magnet for donors, wealthy alumni, and celebrities. This might compensate for Michigan's long, cold winters. But the question remains: can this model sustain year-round operations, or is it just a temporary autumn boost? However, looking at the bigger picture, I believe Frontier Club's greatest risk is not its design or Hanse's reputation. It lies in two first-time golf developers. Kovanda and Housler may have a love for golf and local knowledge, but developing a destination club requires long-term capital, construction management, club operations, and membership sales – none of which are mentioned in their background. The article describes the founding member list as "impressive," but reveals no details. That could be a good sign, or it could be a scarcity tactic. I have seen too many beautiful-on-paper golf projects fail due to a lack of real-world operational capability. Farmland also presents a major regulatory risk. Michigan has some of the strongest agricultural preservation policies and wetland protection laws in the nation. Converting 350 acres of farmland into a private golf club will involve zoning approvals, environmental permits, and water rights, potentially delaying the "construction slated to begin later this year" mentioned in the article. Specifically, if the water feature that shapes the routing is connected to wetlands, the project will face state and federal permitting processes that can drag on for years. Furthermore, Michigan's golf season lasts only 5-6 months, while Ohoopee and The Fall Line are in Georgia, where play is possible year-round. This directly affects the "destination" value proposition for out-of-state members. A member from California will think twice before paying millions in initiation fees to play only a few months a year. Finally, the Crystal Downs comparison might be a psychological trap: instead of appreciating what the land offers, connoisseurs will constantly measure it against a legend. Hanse himself admitted it is a "smaller scale" – a clever hedge, but also a way to lower expectations before anyone can form a real judgment. Another blind spot is the impact of climate change on the Midwest. Michigan may become warmer, extending the golf season, but it will also face more extreme rainfall, affecting drainage and turf conditions. Hanse is renowned for designing well-drained courses, but that is a technical challenge only fully revealed after construction and several rainy seasons. Based on my experience following golf course construction projects in Asia, I know that the "grow-in" period – when turf establishes and the surface stabilizes – is when hidden design flaws emerge, from drainage layers to green slopes. It will take at least 2-3 years before Frontier Club can confidently assert its position. Frontier Club will be a test of the destination club model in a cold climate. If it succeeds, it could open the door for similar projects in Wisconsin, Minnesota, or New England. If it fails, it will become a cautionary tale about excessive optimism. I will track the groundbreaking milestone, the founding member list (described as "impressive"), and the reaction of critics as the course begins to "breathe." Because, as I have said many times, a team does not die because it loses a match; it dies when it loses the shared heartbeat of a region. And a golf course is the same. The fall in Indonesia did not cost me my career; it taught me how to rise in silence – that is how I will wait for Frontier Club to grow. 2026 taught me that an empty stadium means the leader must speak more, but with a project that has not yet broken ground, sometimes listening in silence is the most appropriate action.