Scott Griffith is a man seemingly from a different era. In a time when protesting college students seek safe spaces from diversity of thought, and political correctness has run amok, Griffith stands as a testament to what one can become with hard work, dedication and a desire to overcome seemingly unbeatable odds.
The superintendent at the University of Georgia Golf Course for the past nine years, Griffith, 40, lived on his own during some of the most formative years of his youth while growing up in the rural South, and despite a childhood that redefines the word modest, he managed to put himself through college twice.
Griffith prefers to play his background close to the vest, so much so that he almost refused to sit for this story until wife Kim convinced him to embrace his past rather than run from it; so much so that some of his friends in the industry and superintendents he has worked for in the past are unaware of the road he's traveled to get to where he is today. They know of the square-jawed Griffith's exploits on the football fields of southeastern Alabama, they know of his time in the U.S. Marine Corps and they know of his service to the industry where he currently serves as vice president of the Georgia GCSA. But not all of them know that he lived by himself in government-subsidized housing while completing his last two years of high school, or that if not for the benevolence of a local farmer who often shared his good fortune with disadvantaged youths, things might have turned out very differently for Griffith.
"All of these experiences gave me self-reliance. I had some help along the way by people who cared, but I didn't expect that. I knew it was all on my shoulders to make it," Griffith said. "I knew if I wanted to be successful, I would have to do this on my own, I couldn't wait for someone to do it for me.
"The most important thing this has shown me is you can do anything if you have enough discipline and mental fortitude to do what you want to do."
One of those former bosses previously unaware of Griffith's life experiences is Fred Gehrisch, CGCS at Highlands Falls Country Club in Highlands, North Carolina. Griffith worked for Gehrisch years ago when both were employed at Newnan Country Club near Atlanta.
"To come from a background like that and be that successful is pretty impressive if you ask me," Gehrisch said. "He doesn't use it as a crutch, or to gain any kind of attention."
If he did, no one could blame him.
Life was tough for Griffith almost from the start.
I learned to be independent very early. I would jump on my bike, and I was gone from dawn until dusk."
His parents divorced when he was just 6 years old. Soon after, he and his mother left their home in Midland City, Alabama, for a new start in North Carolina. But that new start often meant the same old problems for Griffith. His mom remarried, to what Griffith soon learned was a verbally abusive alcoholic. With both adults working, Griffith often was left on his own.
"I learned to be independent very early," he said. "I would jump on my bike, and I was gone from dawn until dusk to some sort of practice, or just hanging out with friends."
By the time Griffith reached junior high, the culture at home was beginning to take a toll, and he chose to return to Alabama to live with his father.
Back in Alabama, Griffith blossomed into a promising running back on the football field, and by the time he reached high school private Abbeville Christian Academy came calling looking for a running back. His 4.5 speed (in the 40-yard dash), while not fast enough to catch the eye of many college scouts, was more than enough to make plenty of defensive players in the area whiff when trying to make a tackle. He also figured it was why there was never any mention of money from school administrators, which was a good thing, because the Griffiths had none to spare. Griffith's dad drifted from job to job and the two lived in a low-income development.
"I always thought I was on a scholarship," Griffith said. "But I later found out someone was paying for me to go to school there."
That someone was local farm Jack Jones, who raised cattle and grew cotton and peanuts on 2,000 acres across the state line in nearby Fort Gaines, Georgia. Jones, who also was an assistant coach on the school's baseball team, made a habit of sharing his wealth with kids who came from less-than-perfect backgrounds and in whom he saw promise, and Griffith showed plenty of that.
By his junior year in high school, his dad was getting remarried and planned to move from the area. But Griffith didn't want to move. He had friends in school and was the local football hero. He talked his father into letting him stay behind alone where his landlord moved him into a smaller low-rent unit under his father's name.
"He was getting remarried and moving, and I didn't want to go," he said. "He knew he couldn't fight me, and reluctantly allowed me to stay where I was. He wasn't a bad guy; he just couldn't keep a job.
"There was a bottom, and I didn't want to be there. You know what you need to do to get out of there. There are kids today who can barely tie their own shoes. I never was like that. I knew I had to do it myself."
And do it, he did.
Griffith went to school during the day and worked at night tagging lumber for Great Southern Wood to pay his rent of $24 per month. In between he managed time for sports, especially football. Later, he took a job on Jones' farm, still not knowing that his employer also was his benefactor.
"I learned not to ask a lot of questions," Griffith said. "I knew something was up every time there was a class trip to pay for, and someone would come to me and say Don't worry about this, Scott. It's taken care of.' "
Eventually, he did begin asking questions and Barbara Lindsey, Abbeville Christian's headmaster, finally told him Jones had been footing his bills, but wanted to remain anonymous.
"He is in that small percent of heartfelt people who you have all the faith and trust in the world in. There are only two people who fit that for me," Griffith said, noting that his wife of 17 years is the other. "He had a heart the size of a mansion. And it wasn't just me; he helped many more before and after me. I thought he might have been doing it because I was good at sports, but he did it for people who weren't into sports too. He was just a genuine person. I think he felt like he was giving back to society that way."
Indeed.
Griffith and a group of his classmates went on from Abbeville Christian to Troy State University, now Troy University, where he contemplated pursuing a career in football until he saw the size of defensive players at the college level. Without Jones in his life, Griffith doubts he would have ever made it out of the fields of southern Alabama, much less to college.
"Living in a rough rural area and you don't know anything other than poor, you don't see a path to take to get to a higher level," he said. "Because I went to private school, I was surrounded by people who were successful, and that showed me the path and a different way to do things. It showed me there were possibilities out there."
Griffith worked his way through school taking jobs at restaurants like Kentucky Fried Chicken and Country's Barbecue because he could eat for free. And while a student at Troy, Griffith joined the U.S. Marine Corps Reserves to help him regain his focus. Despite a commitment of six years to the Marines, he missed just one semester of school.
"You don't know what you can do until you are pushed to your limits, and the Marines does that for you," he said. "Every Marine believes he can take out an entire army."
After graduating from Troy with a degree in business management, Griffith and his new wife moved to the Atlanta area to be closer to members of her family. It was that move that finally pointed him to his life's calling. Desperately in need of a job any job he answered an advertisement for part-time help at Newnan Country Club."I needed a job just to get my feet on the ground," he said. "It didn't take me long to fall in love with it."
A co-worker told him he could study turfgrass management at nearby Gwinnett Technical College and advance his career.
"I was that person who didn't know you could get a degree in turf," he said.
He quickly worked his way up through the ranks thanks to superintendents like Jim Miller and Gehrisch.
"He's one of those guys I have a great deal of respect for. He's a class act and one of the hardest-working guys in the business," Gehrisch said. "I always told him to work for successful people, because they will teach you the best habits. He was smart enough to make the right decisions in his career."
One decision Griffith regrets is falling out of touch with Jones when his professional career took off.
"One of my teachers tracked me down years ago to tell me he had died," Griffith said. "I carried some guilt for that."
Despite that guilt, the lessons learned through his hardscrabble life and the kindness Jones bestowed upon him have, coupled with his wife's own modest upbringing have provided the Griffiths with much fodder for raising their own children.
"I can tell you one thing; our kids know the value you of a dollar," Griffith said. "There is always the danger that if you never had it growing up, there is a desire to give your kids more than what you had, to overcompensate and go overboard. Knowing where the bottom is helps us raise our kids. Someone who has never been at the bottom might not understand that. You have to steer your kids away from that kind of life.
"If I'd had some parental guidance, I probably would have been a better person, but I don't regret it. I'm happy where I'm at."