The world’s craziest golf museum ignores beliefs

“I’m crazy. I know I’m crazy,” Bob Zokoe pointed out the proof of his insanity.

It was a breeze in Brooksville, Florida, and in Brooksville an hour north of Tampa, Zokoe stood on a gravel road and he named the driveway, although there was no golf course anywhere.

Behind him is a warehouse, several airplane hangar values, with concrete enclosed storage, and each of its little hotpots is packed with a man’s by-product (choose your hobby), which is a business, decades of obsession.

At 75, with a sunny face and white hair vibration, Zokoe (rhyme locomotive) Roll open the metal security door and pass through the doorway. Inside, the air is cool and dry, still, and the climate controls to preserve the contents of the building: a game spanning a century, with golf-themed miscellaneous. These items are arranged in the aisle of glass cabinets and are divided into more than 250 categories, named, numbered and digitized archives.

They included belts, bird houses and rocker dolls, coffee cups and candlesticks, lamps and lawn decorations, training aids, towels, towels, tees, cocktail trays and items on it, rather than counting the number of golf clubs, balls and tees in his lost time so outstanding, which was in the time of 1910, and that was so much. In Zokoe’s view, it represents a century of American dominance in the game, starting with the rise of Walter Hagen and ending with the twilight of Tiger Woods.

If the product is made in that window and brought to market, and is associated with golf (alien wedges, artisan head covers), it is very likely that Zokoe has obtained it online, but is more likely in flea markets, yard sales or salvage stores, rarely paying over $10 for any purchase.

“I don’t go out and buy expensive things,” he said. “I basically collect things that end when people’s parents die.”

The result is Zokoe believes it is the largest collection of golf souvenirs on Earth, and he hopes the claim is Guinness World Records If one day it can verify whether it can investigate his transportation.

Regardless of its position, the series has its name. Zokoe calls it the American Golf Museum. What forced him to plan it was another matter.

“I’ve been asking myself for years – why am I passionate about it? The answer is, I don’t have earthly ideas.”

There is no doubt about other aspects of his story.

***

Robert Thomas Zokoe Born on August 20, 1949 in Grand Rapids, Michigan, for golf-loving parents, they are young enough to play with rattles. As a kid, Zokoe spent a long time hitting the ball into the cornfield and honing his swing, which put him in unit numbers but never made him wish he could make a living in the game. After high school, he competed on the golf team, and Zokoe recruited Michigan Technology University to study mechanical engineering, which is his trade. Zokoe said he paid the bills for his work in the oil industry but did not provide a deeper sense of purpose.

Over time, he prayed that he enjoyed participating with golf, a low-cost pursuit that would allow him to occupy all year round.

“I know as I get older, I need to stay busy or go crazy.”

In 1999, Zokoe was stationed in a series of overseas missions in Glasgow and obtained a putter-shaped paperweight in a series of overseas missions for his 50th birthday. It comes from his wife, Susan Marie, but for Zokoe it’s almost heaven. Until that moment of his life, he collected gadgets here and there. Clown statue. Disney utensils. But he never found that this approach was omnipotent. Now he embraced it with the enthusiasm of a convert, looking for golf curiosity anywhere he worked or traveled: silverware and gadgets from England and Scotland; postcards and figurines from Spain and France; handmade beer cans golfers in South Africa.

Back in the United States, Zokoe discovered a richer hunting ground. The Salvation Army and the Goodwill Store rank among his favorite attractions, but few outposts are restricted in search of odds and destinations. Browsing online brings him into contact with other golf merchandise collectors. The world is full of them, although most are concentrated in a niche market – ball markers, bag tags, scorecards, etc. Zokoe’s interests are all of the above. If his budget is modest, it helps his tastes to be frugal too. He did a lot of shopping on his high-end days, and there was no pain. There are only a few things – as done by the exquisite artwork of tangled golf clubs, he spent him more than a happy meal.

At first glance, it looks like he is hoarding. But Zokoe is more specific than that. Each purchase is photographed, marked, classified and boxed for storage, and the system works well until that storage starts to run out.

By 2008, Zokoe’s basement in Michigan had already overflowed. He and Susan Marie also turned into snowbirds and gradually arrived in Florida in the winter. One night, Zokoe was shocked by a Florida dream, and the details he was narrating were hard to narrate, except that it sparked a series of thoughts, he painted many posts in the darkness and pasted them on the head of the bed. Within a few days, he managed to decode his notes and determined what the dream wanted to tell him: he should find a property and build a golf museum. A mission has begun.

“In our conversation, my wife equates it with Noah talking to her about the Ark,” Zokoe said. “She would say, ‘Noah, you’re crazy. Why are you doing this?'”

***

Just like his collection Zokoe is strategic in his real estate search. He believed that the land had to run along the I-75 corridor along Marco Island in a golf-rich location (this bill in Florida), where he and Marco Island owned an apartment that wasn’t enough to dissatisfie him and enough to think of enough display cabinets.

After five years and 400 visits, Zokoe hit a salary on the five-half grass in Brooksville, in the highlands near the interstate, about 30 minutes from the then World World Woods, now Cabot Citrus Farms. In 2014, Zokoe began building a 2500-square-foot concrete warehouse that, after completion, had little trouble. In 2019, he proposed an increase in the original size of the structure. Enter the property via gravel road. At the entrance, Zokoe posted a road sign – Lane Lane – and registered the address in the city.

No reservation his wife might have prevented her from helping him. In the expanded space, she and Zokoe set out to unbox boxes and organize items. It’s hard work. Zokoe keeps a close attitude towards their progress. On February 22, 2022, at 2:22 pm, he noted in the record that the couple celebrated the installation of 222 display cabinets.

Zokoe’s vision is in a circle. But when fate breaks, it still doesn’t finish. Susan Marie died suddenly in the summer of 2023. Zokoe is separated.

In grief, he put the project in trouble. By the time he returned to it, he was about a year behind.

Now, he said, the museum is “ready” despite how and when it’s TBD. For now, he believes he will only welcome tourists through invitations and dates, while next February’s move will be targeted next February. At least at the beginning, Zokoe estimates that the trip will take one or two hours.

“Or maybe less,” he said. “But you have to move quickly.”

The space for stroll is to stroll through the American wonderland. Apart from categories, the exhibition starts in rough years, and then goes further toward the present. After 1950, a clear dividing line is a watershed in the game, which comes from the convergence of the troops. One is Arnold Palmer’s Ascension. The other is the rise of color TV.

“And don’t forget about plastic,” Zokoe said.

The specialization of the game is consistent with its commercialization. The material has changed. The leather in the golf bag is replaced by nylon and polyester plants. Handmade swing aids are shaped by the factory. The trolley converts from steel to aluminum. As means of production transformed from small shops to assembly lines, so did marketing around them.

“I remember watching TV at that time and I was just bombarded by it,” Zokoe said.

Zokoe’s entire eyes through nostalgic lenses. He spoke romantically about the glorious era of amateur golf courses, which also dominated supreme. Although he was unable to pinpoint his favorite items in his collection, he preferred craftsmanship and traits. A series of golf balls with hand-carved carvings took a warm place in his heart. Same as various insect caddies, as well as statues of three golf ceramic snowmen.

Changes are not always synonymous with progress. This is everywhere in the United States golf museums. But lamenting that what is lost is not Zokoe’s main intention. He said his goal is to articulate a crowd whose role in the game is not given the credit they deserve.

“Golf has a lot of museums and a lot of halls of fame,” Joko said. “If you go to them, you learn a lot about certain players or certain country clubs. It’s different. Every day golfers make us people as people in our industry. I’m celebrating men and women who buy all of this stuff.”

Assume they don’t sell it. Or leave it behind.

***

The last part will not be lost On Zokoe. The clock of mortality is lowered for everyone. Zokoe wants to leave a legacy. He hopes to be remembered. He also wants to keep his memory. His preference for meticulous records remains beyond golf souvenirs and reaches ordinary events in everyday life. Every day for the past 25 years, Zokoe has documented what he does, no matter how insignificant it may seem, by recording index cards and taking photos. He stored the records in hard line rolls, which were stacked on shelves near the museum entrance. Select a date. Any date. On some pages, Zokoe can tell you what happened. On February 22, 2006, “Bob’s Folding Clothes” and “Attend the Detroit Boat Show” were examples. All of this is written down, images as supporting evidence.

“Otherwise,” Joko said, “I’ll forget.”

Remind him. In recent years, Zokoe has considered his collection fate. What might happen after he leaves? He has three adult children, but he won’t dream of using all his possessions to Sadid. In his ideal world, a golf association or organization will work with him to help manage a museum, or replicate the concept in other cities. Perhaps wealthy patrons might appear on the boat.

Although Zokoe swears that he isn’t for money, he admits he might entertain buyers. “Everyone has a price,” he said. However, he will only sell his own trip all and promise to remain intact.

How many would he ask? This is hard to say. What’s even more difficult is because the value of his assets is constantly changing.

“Of course, I’m still collecting it,” Zokoe said. “I just picked up something else earlier today.”