T
his is the inside story of Ted Stuckey, president today of 
LocalEdge and head of Digital Strategy at Bridge Specialty 
Group. It is the story of a former coffee maker for the CCL 
swim ladies, Club valet, and more. 
A member of the Country Club of Lincoln for five years, Ted is 
unofficially a CCL lifer. Long before he had a membership number, 
he wore a Club name tag, went through a stack of different uniforms, 
and, on more than one occasion, had in his pocket the keys to a golf 
cart he probably wasn’t supposed to take home. This is the story of 
the kid who worked just about every job at the Club and, years later, 
found his way back as a member to pass the keys to the CCL legacy 
life to his kids.
Might as well get the elephant out of the road. 
Even though you were on Club property from 
early morning until the last set of keys were 
handed over from Valet in the evening, you must 
have garnered a lot of trust from CCL leadership 
and your supervisors to get carte blanche 
access to a golf cart?
If I remember correctly, this was more of an ask for forgiveness versus 
permission situation. I was turning 15 when I started working for the 
Club, so the golf cart was the best solution for getting around! I tried 
really hard not to get caught. My parents lived at 25th and Woodsdale, 
so I’d leave the CCL gates, turn right on High Street, and go down 25th
Street to avoid being seen by any members driving in. Then I’d try 
to hide the cart in my parents’ front yard somewhere. In hindsight, I 
could have been more covert. 
Pretty good gig.
I absolutely loved working at the Country Club of Lincoln. The people 
— members, leadership, other staff — made it such a unique place. 
And I was given amazing opportunities. CCL is where I first hired, 
fired and managed people. It’s where I built my first budget; I ordered 
way too much candy for the Snack Bar [now Cabana] one summer. 
I “learned” how to drive stick shift; the member whose Italian 
sports car I stalled will remain nameless. The chef at the time helped 
me find my way around the kitchen. I learned how pools work and 
how to test the pool chemical levels. Joe Steggall taught me what 
“unreasonable hospitality” looks like. Eric Holstein, former CCL 
clubhouse manager, was always open to letting me try other things. 
In the years from 2005 to 2010, I ran the Snack Bar, was a 
server for our nascent outdoor formal dining area and a barback, 
part of the banquet staff, served as a food expeditor with Tom 
McKitterick’s son Tim, hosted in the dining rooms, did some cold-
line food preparation, washed dishes, worked as a valet, occasionally 
answered the phones, decorated for holidays, and on a few occasions 
IF THESE 
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stayed at the Club overnight to substitute for our security 
guard. Some days I worked in as many as five different 
roles; for someone like me, it was a dream come true. 
Especially in the summers, I could be found somewhere at 
CCL from as early as 7 a.m. to as late as 2 a.m., changing uniforms 
throughout the day depending on what was going on.
All-time best CCL memory?
There was a sign over the clock in “station” that said, “anything for 
anyone at any time.” I’m told that sign no longer exists, which is a 
shame, because I’d love to have it. But that’s what made the Club 
so special. Members, generally, were incredibly gracious to staff. 
They didn’t demand over-the-top service, but it was a blast giving 
it to them. 
In the summer of 2006, hummus became popular. I can’t believe 
I just said that, but it’s true. A few members started requesting it 
with vegetables either as an appetizer or at the Snack Bar, but our 
food provider didn’t sell hummus. So Chef taught me how to make it 
from scratch. Chickpeas, garlic, tahini, lemon juice, olive oil, etcetera. 
Every day that summer, I’d start my morning making hummus and 
grilling a bunch of pita bread for those members.
Here’s another story — more of an urban legend — Tim Clare, a 
family friend, likes to tell. One day, some members playing cards 
asked for a certain type of nut mix. Instead of telling them we were 
out of it, I jumped into a golf cart, drove to the #3 tee box, hopped 
the fence at 27th & Calvert, walked to the U-Stop to buy some nuts, 
brought them back and served them like nothing happened. Side 
note: a member, who also will remain nameless, taught me that you 
could throw a few pool towels over the barbed wire and climb the 
fence with relative ease. The only thing I’ll say about this member is 
that he used this tactic on occasion to more easily get to CCL versus 
driving all the way over to the main entrance. 
On Tuesdays I’d pick up my physical paycheck from Kim. She’d 
have a stack of all our paychecks and would hand them out one by 
one. As most of you know, because she hasn’t changed a bit, she 
always treats employees just as well as she treats CCL’s members. 
She’d welcome me with a big smile, find my check, ask me what was 
going on in my life, and then get back to the critical work of keeping 
the Club running! 
Oh, and the staff meals. We’d all go upstairs to the employee 
breakroom to sit for a proper meal every night before dinner. It was 
part of getting ready for another night of service. Those meals were 
amazing. 
Now let’s talk about overnight security duty. There was one 
person then who would stay overnight most nights. These were the 
days before we had the current cart barn and it wasn’t uncommon to 
arrive in the morning to find that a rogue golf cart had torn up some 
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