Apr 18, 2006 4 min read

Last week’s announced demise of the 84 Lumber Classic golf tournament, for three years ballyhooed as a PGA Tour event that would put Fayette County on the map, proves with searing accuracy that what multimillionaire Joe Hardy giveth, he can also taketh away. The unexpected U-turn left many members of the community, who’d been widely encouraged for three years to pull out all stops to support the event, rightfully saddened and stunned. Just last fall, Jeff Nobers, 84 Lumber’s vice president of communications, was noting that many locals didn’t realize how lucky the county was to be hosting such a prestigious event: “It’s like having a Super Bowl in your back yard. People here should be embracing the tournament, not shying away from it. How often is it that Fayette County has 100,000 or more visitors coming here? People here need to take advantage of that.”

Eight months later, as Nemacolin Woodlands Resort & Spa prepares to host the fourth and final 84 Lumber Classic in June, Nobers is singing a different tune, one whose melody is laced with the theme of cold, hard business decisions. 84 Lumber is closing 67 stores in 19 states, including 12 in Pennsylvania, and the company has a new plan to boost annual revenue to $10 billion by 2009. Hosting a ritzy golf tournament apparently doesn’t fit into the new strategy, which includes opening 125 new stores in high-growth geographic areas.

“We’re not a consumer-driven business. We’re in a competitive market for professional home builders,” says Nobers these days. “Are we going to be better off by continuing our sponsorship? It doesn’t appear that we are.”

Wait a second here: 84 Lumber wasn’t a “consumer-driven business” back in 2002, when Hardy signed a four-year contract to bring the top-flight golf tournament to his ritzy resort. So why’s what being trotted out as part of a viable explanation for the sudden ringing of the death knell for the 84 Lumber Classic?

Further, in a larger sense, what are the implications for Hardy’s ambitious plan to revitalize downtown Uniontown, which is generally acknowledged to have a direct linkage to his resort’s big yearly golf tournament? Is that ongoing makeover also going to be a casualty of his lumber empire’s change in priorities?

Absent any direct and thorough explanation from Hardy, a Fayette County commissioner who’s milked plenty of positive publicity from both endeavors, the public should be leery at this point. Hardy, one of the nation’s wealthiest men, clearly has an obligation to move front and center to explain this retrenchment, given the high hopes for economic turnaround pinned on his candidacy by much of the electorate.

But if his first two years in office are any indication, don’t look for Hardy to be very visible or vocal, on this or any other issue. Although his stature as a major force in business and politics is universally recognized, the truth is he’s easily the most inaccessible county commissioner of the modern era. Any reporter wishing to talk to him must try to grab him for a minute or two after a public meeting, where he’s usually eager to be the first one out the door, or must try to run a conversational phalanx with this staff. Quite honestly, he seldom returns those calls, and he certainly doesn’t do so in anything resembling a timely manner. Before he leaves office, Hardy may set the record for number of “he was out of town and couldn’t be reached for comment” news story references.

Hardy raised everyone’s hopes and expectations by trumpeting the arrival of, and his commitment to build, the 84 Lumber Classic. We were led to believe it was going to become a fixture on the county scene for years to come, and businesses and residents alike were universally encouraged to support the event, as were charitable organizations enlisted to sell tickets as a fundraising mechanism.

Instead, the carpet was yanked out from under everyone, and the vaunted 84 Lumber Classic became the latest “Streets of Gold,” the play about immigrant life in Fayette County commissioned by the late philanthropist Robert E. Eberly. It, too, sputtered into oblivion, swallowed up by a black hole from which projects are never heard from again.

In the aftermath of criticism of his costly plan to renovate the Fayette County courthouse and his support for building a costly new prison, Hardy pledged to have town meetings in order to better inform the public of his desires as an elected official. Years have now passed and none of those ever took place.

It’s time for Hardy to talk about his changed outlook on the 84 Lumber Classic. After all, it was he who sold us on the idea in the first place.