You’re driving down West River Parkway, the Mississippi River is shimmering to your right, and you think you know every inch of the Minneapolis park system. But then you hit that stretch near 50th Street. Most people just see trees and walking paths. Some people, though, they're looking for the ghost of a fairway. Honestly, the story of Minnehaha Golf Course Minneapolis is one of those weird, overlapping layers of city history that explains why our parks look the way they do now. It isn't just about a game; it's about how the city breathes.
Minneapolis has a lot of "lost" history, but the golfing community here is particularly vocal about what we’ve kept and what we’ve let go. If you go looking for a tee time at Minnehaha today, you’re going to be disappointed. Or maybe you'll just end up at Hiawatha or Meadowbrook. But understanding what happened there tells you everything you need to know about the Minneapolis Park and Recreation Board (MPRB) and their century-long balancing act between recreation and conservation.
The Rise of the Public Game
Back in the early 20th century, golf wasn't just for the folks at the private country clubs. Not in Minneapolis. The city was obsessed with making "the gentleman's game" accessible to the working class. Theodore Wirth, the legendary park superintendent who basically built the Minneapolis park system, was a massive proponent of this. He didn't want golf to be an elitist bubble. He wanted kids from the neighborhoods to be able to carry their bags to a local patch of green and swing away for a few cents.
That’s where the land around Minnehaha Creek came into play. The Minnehaha Golf Course Minneapolis area was part of a larger vision to connect the Chain of Lakes with the river. It was about flow. Water flow, traffic flow, and the flow of people enjoying their weekends. The terrain was perfect—rolling, natural, and just challenging enough to keep people coming back.
But nature has a funny way of reclaiming its own.
What Actually Happened to Minnehaha Golf Course Minneapolis?
If you talk to the old-timers, they’ll tell you the course was a gem. It wasn't some manicured, PGA-level monster. It was scrappy. It was local. However, as the city grew, the environmental impact of maintaining turf grass right next to sensitive waterways started to become a real headache for the engineers. You can't just dump fertilizers and pesticides next to a creek that feeds into the Mississippi without someone noticing eventually.
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The transition from a dedicated golf space to what we now recognize as the Minnehaha Parkway and its surrounding trails didn't happen overnight. It was a slow pivot. The MPRB eventually shifted its focus toward more "passive" recreation. That's bureaucratic speak for walking, biking, and birdwatching. Basically, anything that doesn't involve hitting a hard white ball at 100 miles per hour while someone's trying to have a picnic fifty yards away.
The Environmental Pivot
By the time the mid-century rolled around, the priorities of Minneapolis residents were shifting. We started caring a lot more about water quality. The Minnehaha Creek Watershed District, which was established later in 1967, really changed the game for how land near the water was managed. They realized that having a high-maintenance golf course right in the floodplain was, frankly, a recipe for disaster. Flooding has always been an issue in that part of town. Every time the creek jumped its banks, the "course" became a swamp.
Managing a swamp is expensive.
Instead of fighting the water, the city decided to let the water win. That’s why when you visit the site of the old Minnehaha Golf Course Minneapolis today, you see a lot of rain gardens and restored prairie. It’s better for the creek, better for the pollinators, and way better for the city's budget. But for the golfers? It was the end of an era.
Comparing the "Lost" Course to Modern Minneapolis Golf
If you're looking for that same vibe today, you have to look at the remaining municipal courses. They are the direct descendants of the Minnehaha philosophy.
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- Hiawatha Golf Club: This is the big one. It's just a stone's throw away and has faced many of the same "water vs. golf" battles that eventually claimed Minnehaha. The debate over Hiawatha’s future—whether to keep all 18 holes or restore the wetlands—is basically the modern version of the conversation that ended golf at Minnehaha.
- Columbia Golf Club: Over in Northeast, this one gives you that hilly, old-school feel. It’s got the history, but it's far enough from major water bodies to avoid the constant flooding drama.
- Gross National: No, not "gross" as in icky. It's named after Francis A. Gross. It’s another example of a course built on that "golf for everyone" ethos that Minnehaha helped pioneer.
The Legacy of the Greens
Why does anyone still care about a defunct golf course? Honestly, because it represents a choice. Minneapolis is one of the few cities in America that has consistently ranked #1 for its park system. That doesn't happen by accident. It happens because the city isn't afraid to decommission things that aren't working anymore.
Losing the Minnehaha Golf Course Minneapolis was a sacrifice for the sake of the Parkway. The Parkway is now the crown jewel of the Grand Rounds Scenic Byway. If we still had golfers slicing balls across the trails, you wouldn't have the peaceful, uninterrupted bike ride from Lake Harriet to the falls. You trade a niche sport for a universal amenity.
Why the Memory Persists
There's a specific kind of nostalgia in South Minneapolis. People remember their grandfathers talking about playing there. There’s a sense of "lost space." But if you look at the bird population in the restored areas or the way the creek is being allowed to meander naturally again, it's hard to argue that we made the wrong call. The complexity of urban planning is finding that middle ground.
We see this same tension playing out right now with the Hiawatha Golf Course master plan. The ghosts of Minnehaha are all over that discussion. Proponents of the Hiawatha 18-hole layout point to the history of Black golfers at that course—a history that is incredibly vital and needs protection. Environmentalists point to the millions of gallons of water pumped every year. It’s the same old story, just a different decade.
Actionable Ways to Experience the History
If you want to actually see where this history happened, don't just look for a sign that says "Golf Course." It isn't there. You have to be a bit of a detective.
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1. Walk the "Secret" Fairways
Start at the Minnehaha Falls parking lot and head west along the creek. As you pass the Longfellow Gardens, look at the elevation changes. You can see where the land was graded and shaped. The flat, open areas that seem a bit "too" perfect for a random park? Those are your clues.
2. Visit the MPRB Archives
If you’re a real nerd for this stuff, the Minneapolis Park and Recreation Board has incredible historical records. You can find old maps that show exactly where the pins used to be. Seeing the 1920s layouts compared to a 2026 Google Map is a trip.
3. Support the "Grand Rounds"
The best way to honor the legacy of the Minnehaha Golf Course Minneapolis is to actually use the land. The city turned a golf course into a public thoroughfare for everyone. Go bike it. Go run it. The fact that you don't need a club membership to enjoy that green space is exactly what Theodore Wirth wanted, even if the sport itself disappeared from the site.
4. Engage with the Hiawatha Debate
If you care about golf in Minneapolis, get involved in the current discussions. The fate of Hiawatha is being decided now, and it’s the direct sequel to what happened at Minnehaha. Whether you want to see the course preserved or the wetlands restored, your voice as a resident actually matters in these board meetings.
The "lost" course isn't really lost. It's just evolved. It’s under your tires when you bike to the falls and under your boots when you hike the creek in the winter. It's a reminder that a city is a living thing, always changing its mind about what it needs to be.