(Gathered through tales and rememberences from accumulated stories.)

It was quite a facinating idea that was born in East Lothian (south of The Firth of Forth)
just a few miles east of Edinburgh, Scottland.
One couldn't even start to think about the chances of a healthy sprout growing from a
single seed, not to mention that it might even have been intended to awake something that
would be concidered quite natural and almost crutially essential to life.
Nowadays one would think it would be an inevitable conclusion, with a few coincidences
here and there, and could be concidered as most probable and maybe even having already
been existing.

But one thing after another. It was and is completely different, as most things in life are.

There was a guy - say around nineteen eighty or earlier - that had a house in Longniddry.
It was his home away from home. A vacation house, like many others have theirs located
in the sunny south. It was meant for the family, kids and friends. Only this house was in
Scottland, in the village of Longniddry.

And while one is there, you invite the friends of the kids, the kids of the friends,
friends with kids and friends with friends to come and spend their vacation with you in
an area that was then less known, but in a very traditional region, where we were to later
learn to not only spend a vacation, but to live it. To meet other people and to have fun
discovering new things or just to find harmony with yourself and the world.

The name of this home owner in Longniddry is Klemens Luekewille. This person was,
and stull is, a person of and for the community, communicative and integral. One who loves
to be amoung others, to intervene and to share. One that has the knack to inspire others
and win their confidence and to give newcomers the feeling of companionship. A true sports-
man. Chearful, persuasive, and to put it bluntly - he's a special character. This all also
helped him to be accepted in his new surroundings, to establish himself and feel comfortable.

Somehow and somewhere Klemens found a heart for golf. It could also have been, that he
was hit by this "blow if fate" earlier and somewhere else. Of importance, though, is that
here in Longniddry two significant factors met together: desire and opportunity.

One may not forget, that surrounding Longniddry are the birthplaces of the world of golf.
On the other side of The Firth of Forth (one says you can see it on a cloudless day standing
on a high sand dune, looking across) is the old honourable course of "Saint Andrews".
On this side on the banks, there are rows of names like pearls out of the Golf-Goethe:
Royal Musselborough, The Honorable Society of Edinburgh Golfers, Luffness, Gullane,
Muirfield, North Berwick, etc. etc. And just a stone trow away from Klemens' house is
the Golf Club of Longniddry, where he became a "country member" and this was to
have its' consequences.

To start with he had to become familiar with the local customs, understand the organization
of a british golf club, the ranking of the positions of "captain" and "secretary", learning
the dress and parking order, the function of a "dirty bar", that drinks have to be paid for
in cash, to enter the locker room with cleaned shoes, and that the caddymaster is also
concidered an official. Klemens found all this and much more, which has become tradition
over the many years of british golf culture, most interesting and facinating.

And then came the time to golf. On links courses. With bunkers as deep as cellars.
With the wind, against the wind. In sand dunes. Over the sand dunes. Rough was
everything that wasn't fairway. True matchplay. Learning why the course was built
as it is and not differently. Strategy, technique, history, trophys in the wallcases,
roll of honours and portraits of honourable members hanging on the walls, flags
waving in front of the club house. The round after the round. Very british.

All of this couldn't help but to leave an impression on Klemens - how could it not?
Besides that, Klemens seems to have a natural anglophile "touch", which inspires
him to be taught about the "Lammermuirs", "Maria Stuart", "high tea",
"Arthus's Seat" and about Edinburgh so well that he knows the area well,
if not even better than the Senne (Germany), where he was born and raised.

Home again - in Guetersloh - amoung friends, and speaking of his experiences, arousing
interest and curiosity of the true game of golf in a corner of Europe that one has been
wanting to get to know better anyway - because of the history, clean air, the language
and, because of a certain beverage, that ends only with a "y".

Everyone was interested. Family excursions with bag and baggage, with dog and camper -
all combined with an overnight ferry to Hull upon Tweed, crossing the Limes and the last
pub in England and the first one in Scottland - in the dunes of Lothian. This alone (along
with visiting friends and neighbors) would have been enough to justify a vacation house,
with all of its' accompanying phenomenon. Wrong - this was just the beginning of a
movement for a strictly men only crew with nothing but golf on their minds and to
compete in a tournament stretched over several days, playing different courses.

But it didn't work out quite that easily. The mens crew started to crumble. The bus was
only half full, the cabines on board the ferry were booked as well as the hotel and
greenfees. And all that just a week before departure. So the gaps had to filled up with
ladies. And that's how - the name Green Jackets had neither been made up nor had
another name ever been considered - the first mixed golf trip to Scottland got started.
Off to the links courses - Gents 'n Ladies.

Nevertheless, with this trip a certain sign was set in case it would and should occur again.
This was crystal clear that it would, after getting to know and respect the links courses of
East-Lothian.

Of course the men told their stories at home so enthusiastically as Klemens had done.
In fact, they weren't talking about anything else, but of the next trip and who all would,
could, must, wanted to or may or may not be able to go.

Klemens was thinking of a yearly tournament on links courses for those who had a fable
for taking part in classic golf. Of course, it was clear that such a tournament was to take
place on links courses, possibly several that were close by and solely in Scottland.

And so was the first trip in 1989 and, of course, in Scottland. It was more or less an
invitational tournament under the motto "Klemens & friends". Hotel reservations were
made, tee-off times reserved, bus and ferry organized. All participants highly motivated.
All you had to do was to take your seat. Everything else was taken care of.
The first golf course between ferry and hotel was Dunbar-Winterfield. From there we
headed for Edinburgh - hotel in the city - Royal British, Princess Street.

And then the tournament took place in and around Edinburgh with everything you could
think of and the men around Klemens mastered their first "Scottland trip"

Amoung the Edinborgh troop was one gent, that, before his pregolfer life, had seen and
experienced a lot in Ireland. His name is Erhard Schroeder. In the meantime he had made
his first excursions as a golfer on the "green island" and knew his way around well on the
west coast. Mornings fishing, afternoons golfing, evenings in the pubs and Irish music.
He got to know many people, who knew how and what, where and when things worked.

This had also been discussed in the Royal British Hotel in Edinburgh and before one knew
it, the next destination was to be Ireland. We had someone, who knew his way around.

Erhard accepted the challenge. He began immediately with the planning and preparation
of the trip "Eire 90". Being a pragmaticer he packed his suitcase, grabbed his golfclubs
and headed for his second homeland, where he coordinated everything that was needed,
played selected courses and tested the routes. The trip stood and was booked.

"Eire 90" was the first trip per plane. We arrived in Shannon at noon and
were on the 1. tee in Dromoland Castle around 2 o'clock. The trip was packed full of
sightseeing, Folklore, Nightlife in Killarny, superlative golf and a winding up ceremonial-
dinner, that will always be remembered.

And then came the time to talk about the next trip. Someone mentioned England, but
nobody had been there yet nor did anyone know their way around.

In the late summer of 1990, three lonely golfers were sitting at the clubhouse bar and felt
an urge to travel. One of them mentioned that it is nice in Essex or Cornwall, another meant
that on this side of the channel are great courses in France. The third agreed to both and said
that was exactly in his taste. So the three Golf-Gourmets took off in the direction of France.
After playing a few courses there they took the Hoovercraft from Boulogne sur Mer to
Dover, stayed in Sandwich, England and explored the region golfwise and tested the cuisine.
After coming back they announced that the trip in 1991 was going to be in Kent, England.

Delightfully Klemens took this into concideration and after making a list of all potential
participants, courses and clubs to play, he thought this would be an excellent opportunity
to give the group a certain identifying appearance. Maybe it was also because of a remark
made by the secretary of Royal Ashdown, where he said: "We don't take groups from
the continent, Sir, sorry". In any case it was clear that Klemens wanted an outfit for his
group that would differentiate them from other golf tourists.

Klemens mentioned casualy that in the meantime green and plaid fabrics were being tailored
into jackets and trousers. He suggested a unique apparel for us all of a green jacket with
plaid trousers. Suddenly the group had a new face. They discovered a new type of self
confidence and didn't see themselves any longer as typical Avangarde tourists. A kind of
"Club in Club" feeling arose. And then came the preparations for Kent-91.

"Kent - 91" - the name alone stands for immense enjoyment. We were even being
refered to as the "society from the continent" and lived between historical
town walls and the Cathedral in Canterbury. We did kind of feel a little noble.

The concluding game was played at Broome's Park with a commencing fairwell dinner.
Then came the presentation of the prizes, polished and engraved. And then the speeches
The newcomers gave their manerly devotions, the winners spoke of tactics and the seniors
relativity of the things. And then everybody was chattering back and forth.

Until Klemens raised his glass and voice: "Fore!"

"Dear friends", he uprighted himself, apparently moved and tilted his head
to the side, "I'm delighted that we are here and have mastered the last round of our
three country trip. Not only have we gathered impressions on traveling or have won
a tournament here and there. We have not only won the hearts of strangers and
perhaps made friendships with one or another - no, dear friends, we have won
something for each other; in thinking, in feelings, in trading, in understanding,
in tolerance and acceptance, in format, style and with one another. And that's
a hell of a lot."

Throughout his speech he addressed the group for the first time with "gentlemen",
praised the "sportsmanship" and carried on that he could imagine our mens movement
being an established association or society. With name, emblem and internal regulations,
which would, of course, never be put into writing.
The congregation applauded and sang "for he's a jolly good fellow".

To end his speech he then announced: "And now I envite you Gentlemen of the
Green Jacket Society to join me for our next games in 1992 to Scottland."

That was the word. That was the name. There was the idea. That was the goal.