Edition: U.S. / Global

GOLF; At the Bottom of Golf Ponds, A Big Business Is Lurking

Published: July 4, 2002
(Page 2 of 2)

The balls are cleaned of dirt and grime with a liquid formula that Lantz and Siwek keep secret, a common practice since everyone in the recycled golf ball business believes he has a breakthrough method. Cleaning the balls usually involves a combination of skilled scrubbing and chemicals like chlorine.

The balls are then sorted into 12 grades based on original retail price and how discolored or blemished they remain. If the balls have been underwater only a week or two -- and Lantz and Siwek return to the most heavily played courses every 10 days -- they will most likely be perfectly white and might fetch in the range of $2 or more per ball. If they are graying or permanently scuffed, they might go to a golf course as a practice-range ball for a dime or less per ball.

Most professional golf ball divers can make in the range of $50,000 annually if they work at it year round, five days a week. If they can pull in a million balls a year, they are in the elite category, earning perhaps $70,000.

By starting their own company and trying to eliminate the middleman, Lantz and Siwek hope to clear $100,000 each by next year. So far, they say they have poured most of their profits back into the business.

Lantz, Siwek and other divers generally have contracts with golf courses that give them exclusive authority to raise golf balls from all water hazards. In return, the courses and private country clubs are paid a flat fee, a per-ball fee or given a percentage of the found balls to be resold in the pro shop. Like much in the world of golf ball diving, the details are kept clandestine.

The art of lost golf ball discovery begins before Lantz and Siwek get to the course. Like mining prospectors, they will examine a course map and immediately identify where they should stake their first claims.

''Most golfers stink at golf, and almost all slice,'' Siwek said. ''Golf course designers almost always put the water where a sliced ball will go. That's where we go.''

Divers will be submerged for an hour at a time. The next skill is finding the underwater trove, a common settling point that can produce row after row of golf balls. A good diver keeps his hands and feet moving.

''The first time I did it, I couldn't believe how many golf balls were just sitting there all lined up,'' Lantz said. ''It was like playing Pac-Man, you suck up all those little white dots.''

They also pick up hundreds of golf clubs, entire bags of clubs and watches that have flown off players' wrists in midswing. In some places, abandoned cars are common, too. ''Down in Miami,'' Lantz said, ''the water is like a parking lot down there.''

Frequently, the divers will be called by club pros or people who live on golf courses asking if they could look for something specific.

''A guy called me and said his golf bag was in the pond behind his house,'' Lantz said. ''I asked him how a whole bag got in there and he said, 'Well, me and the wife were arguing.'

''Then there's always the guys who want us to look for their watches. They always say they lost a Rolex, but we've never found one. What we find is a Timex or a Seiko.''

While searching the ponds along the 11th and 12th holes of the Boca Raton Municipal Golf Course one day recently, Lantz and Siwek came upon a four-foot alligator. The alligator surfaced, seeming to play at the water's edge with the bubbles the divers' air tanks had produced. But when Lantz and Siwek -- heads down as they scooped up balls -- got closer to the alligator, the animal swam in the other direction.

''He's a little guy and a little afraid,'' Siwek said, laughing. ''They get a lot more frisky in mating season.''

Lantz and Siwek continued diving, unperturbed. For an hour, the shots of passing golfers strafed the pond where they were working. Later, taking a break near the 11th tee, Lantz and Siwek struck up a conversation with a passing foursome. When it came time to dive back into the pond, Siwek handed the golfers eight ultrawhite balls from his satchel.

When one of the group remarked that giving away the harvest was no way to run a business, Lantz asked: ''Well, what are you going to do with those balls, fellas?''

''We'll start hitting them,'' the golfer said.

Lantz answered: ''Then they'll be back. We'll get them next week.''

Photos: Greg Siwek, a golf ball diver, displaying part of his haul for the day. (Gary I. Rothstein for The New York Times)(pg. A1); Jimmy Lantz looking on as Mike Moraitis, a golfer from Boca Raton, retrieved his own ball. (Gary I. Rothstein for The New York Times); A sackful of golf balls and a couple of clubs were part of Jimmy Lantz's take in Boca Raton. (Gary I. Rothstein for The New York Times)(pg. D5)