Spokane Lawn Bowling Club in the news
Special Interest Group: Lawn bowling involves strategy and camaraderie
Aug. 10, 2023
By Cindy Hval For The Spokesman-Review
Tucked behind Witter Pool in Mission Park, a small green oasis provides the setting for a pastime that’s hundreds, if not thousands of years old.
Every Tuesday and Thursday evening, from late spring through October, members of the Spokane Lawn Bowling Club gather to roll some bowls.
“When you walk in it feels like you’ve descended into 1920,” said member Sally Quirk.
Lawn bowling has a verified 700-year history, but archaeologists have uncovered biased stone bowls from 5000 B.C. The world’s oldest surviving bowling green – the Southampton Old Bowling Green – dates back to 1299.
Locally, the game’s presence is a bit more recent. The Spokane Lawn Bowling Club debuted in 1913 in Manito Park.
“Unfortunately, it flooded every year because it was near one of the park’s natural springs,” Quirk said. “It moved to Albi Stadium for a short time, and in 1981 moved to our present location.”
The clubhouse is the pool’s original bathhouse and is on the historic register. The green or “rink” is lighted, extending the hours of play. Spokane Parks and Recreation owns the property, but club members maintain it.
The game bears little resemblance to the kind of bowling with pins and wooden lanes.
“It’s like bocce ball only better,” Quirk said.
Played by teams of two to four, each team rolls a ball called a “jack” down the “rink” (green). Then it’s all down to skill and strategy.
“The object is to get the closest to the jack,” she said. “But it’s the only game where you don’t aim at the target!”
That’s because the bowls (not balls) rolled toward the jack are elliptical and the subtle slope of the bowl causes it to curve. Bowls usually weigh about 3 pounds.
The rink is bracketed by ditch boards. Bowls that fall into the ditch are disregarded, however close the jack may be to the ditch unless they happen to touch the jack before going into the ditch. In that case, they are still classified as in play.
“Our ditch boards are deteriorating,” Quirk said. “We got a grant from the Spokane Parks Foundation for new boards. We have Alaskan yellow cedar ready, but we don’t have anyone to install them. Most of our members are older, so we are looking for volunteers to help put them in.”
A point is awarded to the team whose bowl is closest to the jack at the end of a round (or “end”).
To determine those points, many players carry measuring tapes in their pockets to accurately assess which bowls are closest.
“It’s a game made of fractions and inches,” said Sam Compogno.
He and his wife, Candee, have been members of Spokane Lawn Bowling for 24 years.
“It’s something that we both can do,” he said. “And women are on equal footing with men.”
Candee Compogno smiled as she prepared to play.
“It’s easy to learn but takes a lifetime to master. There’s a lot of strategy.”
The game is suitable for all ages, and club members welcome newcomers and are happy to provide instruction.
The Spokane River is just behind the fence and Quirk enjoys playing in such a lovely place.
“The beauty of it, seeing the sunsets,” she said. “A cool breeze comes up from the river.”
But she’s also drawn by the camaraderie and sportsmanship of the group.
“There’s a certain satisfaction in a good bowl,” she said. “I don’t really care about the score, but when I have a good bowl and avoid the obstacles and everyone cheers, it’s awesome!”
For more information visit https://spokanelawnbowlingclub.weebly.com/
______________________________________________________________________________________________
May 25, 2015 from The Spokesman Review
Local lawn bowlers enjoy camaraderie, competition
by Sally Quirk, correspondent
“Boys, don’t bowl on the green. The green is for the king, the king is for the queen….”
This evening as we approach the bowling green, three peregrine falcons stop their dance on the putting green-like surface and eye us suspiciously before flying to the top rail of the enclosure’s cyclone fence. From their safe perch they offer twenty seconds of high-pitched scolds, reminding us whose neighborhood we are in, before swooping together into a tumultuous somersault that lands them atop the century-old Italian Renaissance bathhouse. They join a fourth falcon in the green cover of a horse chestnut tree, and we unlock the gate to Spokane’s only remaining lawn bowling green.
It has been a sweaty afternoon; the temperature still hangs in the high 90s. We have learned to anticipate the calm coolness offered by the reclusive grassy rectangle tucked into this tree-shaded section behind Mission Park’s Witter Aquatic Center. Railroad tracks border on the west side, and the Spokane River angles on the east. We breathe in freshly-mown grass vapors and a cool dampness rising from the tender, short-cropped turf.
In 10 minutes, tonight’s bowlers will drive down the path leading from the west end of the swimming pool’s parking lot, uncurl from their air-conditioned cars, and approach the clubhouse to gather their equipment. The night’s conversation will include asking Julenne about her family reunion, guessing from Rich Gaffey’s stride how many soccer games he refereed today, and gauging how Candee’s orthopedic recovery is proceeding.
We unlock the old bathhouse door and descend into the Spokane Lawn Bowling Association’s (SLBA) clubhouse. Having a few minutes to spare, we choose a new wall to scan, feeling, as always, like time travelers in the trophy room of an ancient sports team. This wall is filled with photos of SLBA’s presidents since the club’s 1976 founding (the atmosphere belies the club’s mere 38 years), though I recall a photo on the back wall includes nine men in bowler hats and white shirts on Manito Park’s former bowling green, dated 1913. There are several old trophies won at tournaments in Canadian bowling strongholds like Vernon, Kelowna and Penticton.
Along the lower counters are piles of mini-booklets, one with the typeset green title The “HOW” of Lawn Bowling and Terms Thereof. Eleven small pages end with the reminder that “all bowlers are to shake hands with each member of the opposing team. Winners should always be gracious to the losers—and the losers should be sports and just as gracious to the winners.”
During our three years of seasonal evening bowling here, my husband and I have found the competition instructive, friendly and encouraging, with each bowler intent on his own best shots. The club is open to anyone in Spokane; members manage “our green and clubhouse” personally: two members alternate mowing duties before our twice-a-week bowling days (spending our modest dues on gas and blade sharpening), ensuring a well-striped green for the evening’s match. Rich Gaffey, a local teacher and soccer referee who has been a member for more than 20 years, dedicates his nightly Centennial Trail bike ride to clicking on the sprinklers.
Back inside, we move to the cubbyholes and each gather our box of four bowls for the evening’s game. My husband chooses the mid-size black bowls adorned on either side with Scottish thistles, an historical bow to the game’s regal roots. I “borrow” Loretta’s bowls, identified with differing-sized family crests on either side. Many cubbies contain dusty bowl cases, untouched in our three years of association with the club, and a few even hold shoes and straw hats awaiting their owners, not unlike Puff the Magic Dragon awaits his boy.
When Sam pops into the clubhouse, we move towards the green where we choose a “rink” or lane that runs the 120 regulation feet to the other end. Steve’s team wins the roll, so he uses an underhand toss of the small white jack ball towards the opposite end. All bowlers in our rink now know their target. The game commences with alternating bowlers using this same underhanded release, trying to place their lop-sided, softball-sized bowls closest to the jack while avoiding (or blasting) the other resting bowls. Sam is especially smooth in his genuflecting delivery, and is able to finesse his one-side-less-rounded (biased) bowl around two others protecting the jack ball, smacking the jack three feet deeper in the rink. All the earlier near bowls are now obsolete. The “end” finishes with a “3” chalked on the pocked scoreboard for Sam’s team, and his opponents hoping for more luck during the ensuing 13 ends.
Right around the time we are bowling from the seventh end, on schedule, the Burlington Northern & Santa Fe engine chugs along the green-side tracks. The engineer, needing to blow the horn as he approaches the nearby Mission Avenue railroad crossing in front of Avista’s headquarters, checks to see if any of us is in a mid-bowl stance. Only after the bowl is released, the engineer toots his horn, and we turn to meet his wave. Fifty or more empty lumber flatbeds, followed by graffiti-adorned boxcars, break the calm. This pause is our reminder to appreciate tonight’s western sunset: vivid pink horizontal stripes alternating with azure-blue sky. I breathe in deeply and appreciate my fortune—what a relaxing way to pass two hours outdoors on a perfect summer’s eve.
Candee Compogno, club president, and husband Sam, a Spokane School District P.E. Specialist, have been bowling most Tuesday and Friday evenings, from mid-May through September, for 14 years. Sam explains lawn bowling as “a game of fractions, or inches. You never know who will win until the last bowl stops.” Candee likes that this is “something we can play together as a couple,” with a woman equally capable of having a perfect night as any man. Gaffey offers one word: “Relaxing.”
Fourteen ends take almost two hours tonight; the scoreboard shows Steve’s (and Sam’s) team: 16, Tim’s team 12. We shake hands all around.
Each of us gathers a piece of equipment and our bowls, stopping to swipe a cookie from Julenne’s generous plate, and in five minutes the green is darkened, the goodbyes are quieting, and the sprinklers are whispering. Likely the falcons are breathing a sigh of relief.
________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________
WE LOVE KIDS
published in NW Bowls
By Sally Quirk
2018
How did five retired/still-working teachers and a current, fully uniformed Washington State Patrol trooper choose to spend a sunny July morning?
Sam and Rich arrived early and chalked lines across our rectangular green, creating five short rinks just long enough to allow 20 rising 5th graders a shot at feeling successful on their first day of lawn bowling. We others sorted out our collection of bowls for smaller hands: 00s, 0s and a few size 1s. We had four sets of two bowls lined up near the mats on our rinks, lawn rakes behind them on each fringe and we were ready.
They arrived in a polite mass of Irish green shirts, bearing their proud logo of Spokane School District’s Summer Express program from Lincoln Heights Elementary. With four kids and one teacher to a rink, the kids’ anticipation was evident as they fingered the penguins, roosters, thistles and pink flamingos on the bowl sides.
Sam, a fine bowler and a 32-year-veteran physical education specialist, addressed our charges. Looking classy in his finest whites, topped with a jaunty Italian tri-colored cap, Sam offered a short history and demonstration of technique. Then the kids were off! The short distances to the carefully set short jacks insured relative success, and a few of the smaller kids adapted their techniques as needed, even using two hands between their legs to cup the bowl and push it forward a greater distance than one hand allowed. The jack was set ever longer as their technique improved, and the kids grew more accurate.
One surprise attraction was our homemade PVC bowls rakes. With the wide jaw and a diagonal handle, the kids managed to sweep all bowls to the end without even one mar to our green.
The kids were a bit shy when approaching fellow lawn bowler and State Patrol trooper Jon, but they did venture a few questions about his equipment belt, including—handcuffs! No, they couldn’t try them on. Yes, Jon and his 16-year-old son Paxton are regular club members. So, lawn bowlers come in all ages and sizes, even 10-year-olds in Spokane, Washington.
Did the rising 5th graders love bowling? Did they feel success? Did they love the gummy-bear prizes? Did the one odd-duck who came in sulking and left feeling triumphant have fun? (Thanks, Teacher Rich.) The kids soon-arriving thank-you notes included these remarks:
“Thank you for inviting us to your club! We all had such a great time. Thank you for your enthusiastic cheering.” Marrin
“Thank you for helping me find a sport that I like and am good at.” Nathan
“You guys are awesome, what a great sport. I am going to tell everyone I know about how fun lawn bowling is.” Maya
“You guys are the best!” Isabelle
“Please write back.” A young bowler
Of course, when 10-year-olds write notes, they include drawings:
Elijah’s stick figure body, with but one cupped hand, is bending down and releasing a bowl along a path towards a small, distant jack.
Aspyn’s bowl is accurately dimpled, depicting a long-eared donkey, despite her label of “pink flamingos.”
Kasey depicted four rinks with accurate mats at alternating ends, balanced with four jacks opposite them.
Our favorite drawing was of Sam’s red, green and white Italian paneled cap, with button on top, next to an accurately detailed bowl, and a stylized “Spokane Lawn Bowling Club” logo.
As our 20 summer visitors departed with calls of “thank you” filling our ears, five teachers and one WSP trooper could be seen with smiles as wide as the kids’. Will we again invite a new generation of lawn bowlers to grace our green? You betcha! All are welcome here.
Aug. 10, 2023
By Cindy Hval For The Spokesman-Review
Tucked behind Witter Pool in Mission Park, a small green oasis provides the setting for a pastime that’s hundreds, if not thousands of years old.
Every Tuesday and Thursday evening, from late spring through October, members of the Spokane Lawn Bowling Club gather to roll some bowls.
“When you walk in it feels like you’ve descended into 1920,” said member Sally Quirk.
Lawn bowling has a verified 700-year history, but archaeologists have uncovered biased stone bowls from 5000 B.C. The world’s oldest surviving bowling green – the Southampton Old Bowling Green – dates back to 1299.
Locally, the game’s presence is a bit more recent. The Spokane Lawn Bowling Club debuted in 1913 in Manito Park.
“Unfortunately, it flooded every year because it was near one of the park’s natural springs,” Quirk said. “It moved to Albi Stadium for a short time, and in 1981 moved to our present location.”
The clubhouse is the pool’s original bathhouse and is on the historic register. The green or “rink” is lighted, extending the hours of play. Spokane Parks and Recreation owns the property, but club members maintain it.
The game bears little resemblance to the kind of bowling with pins and wooden lanes.
“It’s like bocce ball only better,” Quirk said.
Played by teams of two to four, each team rolls a ball called a “jack” down the “rink” (green). Then it’s all down to skill and strategy.
“The object is to get the closest to the jack,” she said. “But it’s the only game where you don’t aim at the target!”
That’s because the bowls (not balls) rolled toward the jack are elliptical and the subtle slope of the bowl causes it to curve. Bowls usually weigh about 3 pounds.
The rink is bracketed by ditch boards. Bowls that fall into the ditch are disregarded, however close the jack may be to the ditch unless they happen to touch the jack before going into the ditch. In that case, they are still classified as in play.
“Our ditch boards are deteriorating,” Quirk said. “We got a grant from the Spokane Parks Foundation for new boards. We have Alaskan yellow cedar ready, but we don’t have anyone to install them. Most of our members are older, so we are looking for volunteers to help put them in.”
A point is awarded to the team whose bowl is closest to the jack at the end of a round (or “end”).
To determine those points, many players carry measuring tapes in their pockets to accurately assess which bowls are closest.
“It’s a game made of fractions and inches,” said Sam Compogno.
He and his wife, Candee, have been members of Spokane Lawn Bowling for 24 years.
“It’s something that we both can do,” he said. “And women are on equal footing with men.”
Candee Compogno smiled as she prepared to play.
“It’s easy to learn but takes a lifetime to master. There’s a lot of strategy.”
The game is suitable for all ages, and club members welcome newcomers and are happy to provide instruction.
The Spokane River is just behind the fence and Quirk enjoys playing in such a lovely place.
“The beauty of it, seeing the sunsets,” she said. “A cool breeze comes up from the river.”
But she’s also drawn by the camaraderie and sportsmanship of the group.
“There’s a certain satisfaction in a good bowl,” she said. “I don’t really care about the score, but when I have a good bowl and avoid the obstacles and everyone cheers, it’s awesome!”
For more information visit https://spokanelawnbowlingclub.weebly.com/
______________________________________________________________________________________________
May 25, 2015 from The Spokesman Review
Local lawn bowlers enjoy camaraderie, competition
by Sally Quirk, correspondent
“Boys, don’t bowl on the green. The green is for the king, the king is for the queen….”
This evening as we approach the bowling green, three peregrine falcons stop their dance on the putting green-like surface and eye us suspiciously before flying to the top rail of the enclosure’s cyclone fence. From their safe perch they offer twenty seconds of high-pitched scolds, reminding us whose neighborhood we are in, before swooping together into a tumultuous somersault that lands them atop the century-old Italian Renaissance bathhouse. They join a fourth falcon in the green cover of a horse chestnut tree, and we unlock the gate to Spokane’s only remaining lawn bowling green.
It has been a sweaty afternoon; the temperature still hangs in the high 90s. We have learned to anticipate the calm coolness offered by the reclusive grassy rectangle tucked into this tree-shaded section behind Mission Park’s Witter Aquatic Center. Railroad tracks border on the west side, and the Spokane River angles on the east. We breathe in freshly-mown grass vapors and a cool dampness rising from the tender, short-cropped turf.
In 10 minutes, tonight’s bowlers will drive down the path leading from the west end of the swimming pool’s parking lot, uncurl from their air-conditioned cars, and approach the clubhouse to gather their equipment. The night’s conversation will include asking Julenne about her family reunion, guessing from Rich Gaffey’s stride how many soccer games he refereed today, and gauging how Candee’s orthopedic recovery is proceeding.
We unlock the old bathhouse door and descend into the Spokane Lawn Bowling Association’s (SLBA) clubhouse. Having a few minutes to spare, we choose a new wall to scan, feeling, as always, like time travelers in the trophy room of an ancient sports team. This wall is filled with photos of SLBA’s presidents since the club’s 1976 founding (the atmosphere belies the club’s mere 38 years), though I recall a photo on the back wall includes nine men in bowler hats and white shirts on Manito Park’s former bowling green, dated 1913. There are several old trophies won at tournaments in Canadian bowling strongholds like Vernon, Kelowna and Penticton.
Along the lower counters are piles of mini-booklets, one with the typeset green title The “HOW” of Lawn Bowling and Terms Thereof. Eleven small pages end with the reminder that “all bowlers are to shake hands with each member of the opposing team. Winners should always be gracious to the losers—and the losers should be sports and just as gracious to the winners.”
During our three years of seasonal evening bowling here, my husband and I have found the competition instructive, friendly and encouraging, with each bowler intent on his own best shots. The club is open to anyone in Spokane; members manage “our green and clubhouse” personally: two members alternate mowing duties before our twice-a-week bowling days (spending our modest dues on gas and blade sharpening), ensuring a well-striped green for the evening’s match. Rich Gaffey, a local teacher and soccer referee who has been a member for more than 20 years, dedicates his nightly Centennial Trail bike ride to clicking on the sprinklers.
Back inside, we move to the cubbyholes and each gather our box of four bowls for the evening’s game. My husband chooses the mid-size black bowls adorned on either side with Scottish thistles, an historical bow to the game’s regal roots. I “borrow” Loretta’s bowls, identified with differing-sized family crests on either side. Many cubbies contain dusty bowl cases, untouched in our three years of association with the club, and a few even hold shoes and straw hats awaiting their owners, not unlike Puff the Magic Dragon awaits his boy.
When Sam pops into the clubhouse, we move towards the green where we choose a “rink” or lane that runs the 120 regulation feet to the other end. Steve’s team wins the roll, so he uses an underhand toss of the small white jack ball towards the opposite end. All bowlers in our rink now know their target. The game commences with alternating bowlers using this same underhanded release, trying to place their lop-sided, softball-sized bowls closest to the jack while avoiding (or blasting) the other resting bowls. Sam is especially smooth in his genuflecting delivery, and is able to finesse his one-side-less-rounded (biased) bowl around two others protecting the jack ball, smacking the jack three feet deeper in the rink. All the earlier near bowls are now obsolete. The “end” finishes with a “3” chalked on the pocked scoreboard for Sam’s team, and his opponents hoping for more luck during the ensuing 13 ends.
Right around the time we are bowling from the seventh end, on schedule, the Burlington Northern & Santa Fe engine chugs along the green-side tracks. The engineer, needing to blow the horn as he approaches the nearby Mission Avenue railroad crossing in front of Avista’s headquarters, checks to see if any of us is in a mid-bowl stance. Only after the bowl is released, the engineer toots his horn, and we turn to meet his wave. Fifty or more empty lumber flatbeds, followed by graffiti-adorned boxcars, break the calm. This pause is our reminder to appreciate tonight’s western sunset: vivid pink horizontal stripes alternating with azure-blue sky. I breathe in deeply and appreciate my fortune—what a relaxing way to pass two hours outdoors on a perfect summer’s eve.
Candee Compogno, club president, and husband Sam, a Spokane School District P.E. Specialist, have been bowling most Tuesday and Friday evenings, from mid-May through September, for 14 years. Sam explains lawn bowling as “a game of fractions, or inches. You never know who will win until the last bowl stops.” Candee likes that this is “something we can play together as a couple,” with a woman equally capable of having a perfect night as any man. Gaffey offers one word: “Relaxing.”
Fourteen ends take almost two hours tonight; the scoreboard shows Steve’s (and Sam’s) team: 16, Tim’s team 12. We shake hands all around.
Each of us gathers a piece of equipment and our bowls, stopping to swipe a cookie from Julenne’s generous plate, and in five minutes the green is darkened, the goodbyes are quieting, and the sprinklers are whispering. Likely the falcons are breathing a sigh of relief.
________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________
WE LOVE KIDS
published in NW Bowls
By Sally Quirk
2018
How did five retired/still-working teachers and a current, fully uniformed Washington State Patrol trooper choose to spend a sunny July morning?
Sam and Rich arrived early and chalked lines across our rectangular green, creating five short rinks just long enough to allow 20 rising 5th graders a shot at feeling successful on their first day of lawn bowling. We others sorted out our collection of bowls for smaller hands: 00s, 0s and a few size 1s. We had four sets of two bowls lined up near the mats on our rinks, lawn rakes behind them on each fringe and we were ready.
They arrived in a polite mass of Irish green shirts, bearing their proud logo of Spokane School District’s Summer Express program from Lincoln Heights Elementary. With four kids and one teacher to a rink, the kids’ anticipation was evident as they fingered the penguins, roosters, thistles and pink flamingos on the bowl sides.
Sam, a fine bowler and a 32-year-veteran physical education specialist, addressed our charges. Looking classy in his finest whites, topped with a jaunty Italian tri-colored cap, Sam offered a short history and demonstration of technique. Then the kids were off! The short distances to the carefully set short jacks insured relative success, and a few of the smaller kids adapted their techniques as needed, even using two hands between their legs to cup the bowl and push it forward a greater distance than one hand allowed. The jack was set ever longer as their technique improved, and the kids grew more accurate.
One surprise attraction was our homemade PVC bowls rakes. With the wide jaw and a diagonal handle, the kids managed to sweep all bowls to the end without even one mar to our green.
The kids were a bit shy when approaching fellow lawn bowler and State Patrol trooper Jon, but they did venture a few questions about his equipment belt, including—handcuffs! No, they couldn’t try them on. Yes, Jon and his 16-year-old son Paxton are regular club members. So, lawn bowlers come in all ages and sizes, even 10-year-olds in Spokane, Washington.
Did the rising 5th graders love bowling? Did they feel success? Did they love the gummy-bear prizes? Did the one odd-duck who came in sulking and left feeling triumphant have fun? (Thanks, Teacher Rich.) The kids soon-arriving thank-you notes included these remarks:
“Thank you for inviting us to your club! We all had such a great time. Thank you for your enthusiastic cheering.” Marrin
“Thank you for helping me find a sport that I like and am good at.” Nathan
“You guys are awesome, what a great sport. I am going to tell everyone I know about how fun lawn bowling is.” Maya
“You guys are the best!” Isabelle
“Please write back.” A young bowler
Of course, when 10-year-olds write notes, they include drawings:
Elijah’s stick figure body, with but one cupped hand, is bending down and releasing a bowl along a path towards a small, distant jack.
Aspyn’s bowl is accurately dimpled, depicting a long-eared donkey, despite her label of “pink flamingos.”
Kasey depicted four rinks with accurate mats at alternating ends, balanced with four jacks opposite them.
Our favorite drawing was of Sam’s red, green and white Italian paneled cap, with button on top, next to an accurately detailed bowl, and a stylized “Spokane Lawn Bowling Club” logo.
As our 20 summer visitors departed with calls of “thank you” filling our ears, five teachers and one WSP trooper could be seen with smiles as wide as the kids’. Will we again invite a new generation of lawn bowlers to grace our green? You betcha! All are welcome here.