A version of the following article appeared in the May 4, 2026, edition of The Charlotte Ledger, an e-newsletter with local business-y news and insights for Charlotte, N.C.
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A charter member from 1960, David Barnhardt, reminisces about the club when it was just Jeep trails and dreams
Charter Quail Hollow Club member David Barnhardt and Arnold Palmer at Quail Hollow in May 1998. (Photo courtesy of David Barnhardt)
by Maggie Fipps
You may not recognize David Barnhardt at first glance — realtor, investor, son of William Barnhardt, a prominent Charlotte textile executive. But one thing is clear: He loves golf.
If you see him around The Sharon at SouthPark, where he lives, you might find him walking with an old chipper instead of a cane, with a sweater and polo to match. His hat reads “Quail Hollow, 1960.”
For Barnhardt, the hat is not just a souvenir. That year, he signed on as a charter member of the club. It cost him only $1,500, still a good bit of cash for a 24-year-old freshly out of N.C. State. Today, a membership to Quail Hollow would cost 100 times that much.
This week at the Truist Championship, the storied course will be teeming with carts and caddies, spectators and story lines. The national golf spotlight will be on Charlotte, with some of the best golfers in the world competing for a piece of $20M in prize money.
But it wasn’t always that way.
Barnhardt remembers riding a Jeep around the yet-undeveloped land, pointing out the spot where the famous lake would be — the one that is now a fixture on the course’s final holes, which have come to be known as the “Green Mile.”
Almost 70 years ago, Quail Hollow was not the elite, upper echelon club that people think of today, he says. It was more of the upstart in town — born out of frustration with tight tee times at Charlotte Country Club, where members had to call days in advance just to get on the course on a Saturday. When founder James J. Harris — a business and civic leader whose family owned land in the SouthPark area — initially reached out to them to ask if they wanted to merge memberships, they declined.
“They were kind of snobby,” Barnhardt said. “I can say that because I was a member out there, too. That was an old-time club, and they didn’t want anything to do with Mr. Harris and Quail Hollow and anything new.”
Harris, whose wife’s father was N.C. Gov. Cameron Morrison, convened Charlotte business leaders in 1959 to start the new club. It opened in 1961. Harris’ son, developer Johnny Harris, is now the club’s longtime president. [This story was corrected on May 4 to accurately reflect James J. Harris’ relationship to former Gov. Cameron Morrison.]
Although today’s Quail Hollow Club is surrounded by some of Charlotte’s priciest homes and is regarded as an elite place, Barnhardt remembers it as a “family club.”
A copy of the charter member certificate David Barnhardt (inset) received upon joining the club in July 1960. (Courtesy of David Barnhardt)
“There were really special people, but we really didn’t go for that fame and stuff,” Barnhardt said. “You could be sitting next to a guy who owned a thousand homes or acres, didn’t matter.”
Quail Hollow was much more relaxed, so much so that Barnhardt and his buddies played a game called “cross-country” on Saturday afternoons.
“They’d get on the first tee, and then somebody would call hole number five, so you would have to go through the woods,” Barnhardt said. “When you get to number five, then somebody would say ’18,’ and it might take you eight or 10 strokes to get there.”
For him, entering the Barnhardt business didn’t just mean textiles. It also meant golf. His father, William, was the second president of Quail Hollow and helped raise the money for the clubhouse, and in David’s new sales job, he needed to connect with customers.
“I wanted to be able to play golf with somebody that shot in the 70s, a good golfer, and I wanted to be able to play golf with somebody that played 100,” Barnhardt said. “And I shot 85 for 25 years.”
Over his 37-year membership, he played with customers and coworkers, walking the course with other Quail Hollow members like Bill Williamson, the only other charter member still living. Another Bill he remembers playing with was a fellow Charlottean, the Rev. Billy Graham. In addition to being one of the world’s most famous preachers, Graham was also an avid golfer who played with U.S. presidents and appreciated the sport for the quiet reflection it offered.
On one hole, Barnhardt recalls, Graham had gotten himself stuck in a small patch of grass between the lake and a stand of trees — what looked to be an impossible upward shot. But the talented preacher was also a talented golfer, and he landed the ball right on the green.
“My dad said, ‘I believe Billy called in a little extra help on that shot,’” Barnhardt said, a twinkle in his eyes.
What started as 90 charter members became 330, and Quail Hollow boomed into a massive success, in part because the club kept investing in updates. Golf legend Arnold Palmer redesigned greens and bunkers in the 1980s to make the course more demanding. The course was redesigned again in 1997, and club leaders sought to land national tournaments. It hosted the PGA Tour’s Kemper Open from 1969 to 1979, then the Wachovia Championship in 2003 and has since hosted some of golf’s most prestigious events, including two PGA Championships. [This story was corrected on May 4 to accurately identify the first PGA tournament played at Quail Hollow, the Kemper Open in the 1960s and 1970s.]
Of course, the upgrades that made those successes possible came with their own challenges for members like Barnhardt. He remembers receiving an assessment in the mail requesting a $10,000 check for improvements to the club.
Conveniently, Barndardt retired soon after and ended his membership to travel. “I didn’t have to tell [Johnny] I didn’t like his damn assessments.”
Much of the course Barnhardt tooled around on with his buddies is gone, renovated and resculpted. The change mirrors the ever-evolving growth in the city of Charlotte, which Barnhardt, 89, has called home for his whole life. Today, fitness studios replace farm land, and apartments replace acres of countryside.
But as Barnhardt looks back, he says change is a good thing.
“A lot of people complain about it, but I think it’s wonderful,” Barnhardt said. “It’s very dynamic.”
And as for what his dad would think?
“He would love it,” Barnhardt said. “He would be real proud of what Johnny Harris is doing out there [with] the tournament. He would be real proud of Charlotte.”
Maggie Fipps is a freelance writer. Reach her at [email protected].
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