Washington Road could be just about anywhere in small-town America. It is a bustling eyesore-lined thoroughfare with cheap chain restaurants and bargain retail stores. And while this gaudy strip shouts with a working-class accent, whispering in more genteel tones, behind the sign off Washington Road that reads “Augusta National Golf Club Members Only,” is a peaceful enclave for powerful men. And behind the mystique spawned by the secrecy that surrounds the club is a place of surprising simplicity. It is a haven where important men go to be regular guys and escape in the joys of golf and companionship.
“We don’t have anything in here you can’t put your feet up on,” says an Augusta National member, skirting the club’s no-talk policy by speaking under the condition of anonymity.