FLAT CREEK CLUB - A sort of history

Talk about déjà vu all over again.

For the first time in many, many years we had dinner at Flat Creek Club in Peachtree City. We were there twice in the past month, actually.

The first time doesn’t count. It was an awards dinner for Fayette Woman magazine, beautifully done, but I have to confess, we were deep in conversation at a round table for 10 and I didn’t look much at our ballroom surroundings.

Our meal in the dining room last week, however, took us back through the years.

Stop the time machine at 1971. There were about 680 residents in Peachtree City when we arrived with our brood of little girls, and almost everyone knew everyone else.

We plunged into all the activities that school and church offer – nay, mandate – of parents and children. It was a time that most of us look back on nostalgically.

Those were the days many of us regard as Peachtree City’s best. Traffic was moderate, and our highways still had only two lanes. Soon after we arrived, the pedestrian bridge over Ga. Highway 54 was put in place. Twice, actually, since the original was knocked off its pilings by an unruly backhoe.

The downside to this bucolic scene? The only source of groceries was what we’d now call a convenience store. Buying food to last a week required a trip to Fairburn or Fayetteville. There was one school in town, Peachtree City Elementary on Wisdom Rd., and no library.

The Presbyterian Church was built before we got here and there was a bank, but no traffic light. A shopping center promising a grocery store and a drugstore somehow required years to complete.

And there was one source of prepared food. Paul Sipes’ Pak-a-chic was literally a hole-in-the-wall in Willow Bend Shopping Center, the little complex on Ga. Highway 54 with a launderette and, later, the post office. Paul’s only competition was Flat Creek Club. The golf course, club house, and Lake Peachtree were the most extravagant ventures in town, deliberately built to attract residents and businesses.

We were among those who took the bait and have never been sorry. The Club played an important role in our lives. Neither of us plays golf, and we certainly were not what we thought of as “the country club set.” Where we came from, in southern New Jersey, it cost $300 or $400 to join a club and that was just not us.

Here, however, a “social” membership was $50, and the Club became very important to us. For one thing, it had a swimming pool. Our kids loved the water and had never had unlimited opportunities to swim. So for $50, our girls could swim all day long.

They also discovered that candy bars and hamburgers were free. All they had to do was sign their name on Daddy’s tab. Is that cool or what?

The Club had the only tennis courts in town. Dave celebrated his 40th birthday by discovering he had a pretty good stroke.

Apart from church, the Club provided a place to gather, to celebrate, relax, and meet friends for lunch. Between the two – church and club – we saw just about everyone else in town every week.

Today’s renovated building is spectacular, and we were very pleased with the meal we had last week. Dave and I were by far the seniors at our table, but as we looked around the dining room, we saw people we’ve known since 1971. It was as close to time travel as we’ve experienced in ages.

We took advantage of our seniority by telling a story not many people here today have heard.

It was a dark and stormy night in the mid-1970s when tornadoes and straight-line winds hurtled through Peachtree City. Flat Creek Club was in their path.

Because it was still dark when the storm blew through, no one was in the building and no one called the fire department. At dawn, however, when the restaurant staff arrived to start cooking breakfast for optimistic golfers, their jaws must have dropped.

First, the broken glass. Plate glass walls around the building were smashed. In the dining room, foot-long shards of glass were hurled into chairs and table tops; when we arrived, they were still standing straight up. I pictured that room full of golfers stoking up on grits on their way to the greens, and my blood ran cold.

Secondly, the drapes. All the way around the building, they were hanging on the outside of the windows. The only way this could have happened was that the wind lifted the roof and an updraft sucked the fabric up and out. The roof dropped back on its supports, pinning them there.

Later investigation revealed that the giant nuts meant to secure the roof to its support columns were missing.

I’m glad the building has been renovated again. It’s a nice place to go – for breakfast and lunch every day, and dinner on Friday. Membership is no longer required of diners and the daytime view is spectacular.

But I think I’d check the weather forecast before I go.