Jack Nicklaus with Latrobe's Arnold Palmer at Oakmont in 1962 after Nicklaus won a playoff for his first U.S. Open. Oakmont has hosted the game's top event seven previous times -- no other venue has hosted the Open more often.

By Robert Dvorchak, Pittsburgh Post-Gazette

The day after he played a practice round with Phil Mickelson at Oakmont Country Club over Memorial Day weekend, Mickey Pohl noticed the soreness in his wrists and forearms caused by hitting out of the gnarly rough.

	H.C. Fownes at Oakmont Country Club, June 21, 1933. More on the story Your Guide to the U.S. Open Video clips, audio comments from players and more

"I feel like I've been in a fist fight," said Mr. Pohl, an Oakmont member and general chairman of the U.S. Open championship that begins this week.

Mr. Mickelson didn't fare too well either. He damaged his wrist chipping balls out of the rough and withdrew from two tournaments to heal for the Open.

Welcome to the heavyweight of championship golf courses, a layout of legend and lore, which the U.S. Golf Association has selected as a tough but fair test to identify its 107th champion from a field of 156 elite golfers.

The Open has been likened to the Super Bowl of golf. The tournament is returning to Oakmont for the eighth time; no other venue has served as host more often, a source of pride for the members and golf fans throughout southwestern Pennsylvania.

"There's a reason we're coming back to Oakmont. This really is the gold standard for championship golf. It doesn't get any better than Oakmont," said Mike Davis, the USGA's senior director of rules and competitions.

But why? What makes this patch of rolling countryside so tough? Why do competitors call it an ogre, brute, beast or bogeyman in one breath and a masterpiece in the next? How can a course built in the era of mashies, niblicks and hickory shafts still befuddle competitors in the age of graphite, titanium and high-tech balls that defy gravity?

Not all the answers are obvious.

Any course that features a 667-yard par 5 or a 288-yard par 3 has its share of length, but it is not as long as Torrey Pines in San Diego or as short as Merion in Philadelphia, sites of upcoming Opens. It doesn't have a single island green and is practically devoid of water hazards.

Oakmont does, however, demand that those who challenge it walk the straight and narrow. Venture off the fairways and there are any number of punishing hazards where birdies, pars and swagger go to die.

Its 210 or so bunkers have names like Church Pews, Big Mouth and Sahara. Drainage ditches that come into play on 12 holes look as ominous as mass graves. The back-wrenching, wrist-twisting rough is thicker than a spinach field. (The primary cut of rough is 3 inches high and twice as high in the secondary cut. The farther one strays, the more one pays.)

But the real terror awaits on the shortest grass -- diabolically fast greens that undulate, twist and slope. Oakmont greens have waylaid kings -- Arnold Palmer, this tournament's honorary chairman, three-putted 11 times before he lost to Jack Nicklaus in a 1962 playoff -- but they're made of Poa annua, or annual bluegrass, the most ubiquitous and most widely dispersed grassy weed in the world. Yes, the game's most prestigious title will be won on surfaces covered by the most common of weeds.

All in all, the challenges stem from the fundamental principle upon which Oakmont was founded 104 years ago. It was conceived, built and nurtured by competitive golfers for competitive golfers. It is a living, breathing testament to the vision of founder Henry C. Fownes (pronounced phones) and his son, William C. Fownes Jr., named after an uncle.

"The interesting thing to me is that the legacy of the course was set in the first 45 years that Mr. Fownes and his son ran the place," John Fitzgerald, the course historian, said with the zeal of a caretaker describing a national treasure. "They firmly believed in what they wanted -- a championship test of golf. Their philosophy seeped into the woodwork."

The founders started with this bedrock philosophy: "A shot poorly played should be a shot irrevocably lost."

And in response to critics who said the course was too tough for the 1935 Open, the younger Mr. Fownes once wrote, "Let the clumsy, the spineless, the alibi artist stand aside! When you are selecting the open champion of the United States, the most prized golfing title in the world, why not put the highest premium on this title?"

To this day, it is often said that Oakmont punishes its members and destroys its guests. The members value it because it is difficult, which is another standard written down by the younger Mr. Fownes.

"In my opinion, the virility and charm of the game lies in its difficulties. Keep it rugged, baffling, hard to conquer; otherwise, we shall soon tire of it and cast it aside," he said.

One tribute to Oakmont came from Walter Hagen following the 1935 Open. "Well, it's a duffer's course. It makes duffers of us all," he said.

This layout of legend and lore can still humble the game's greats.

Horses, mules and men
A Welshman who forged his family fortune in steel, coal and banking, Henry C. Fownes was already an avid and established golfer when he got the idea of building a premier golf course from scratch.

According to the yellowed, crumbling clippings in the Post-Gazette library, he converted his dream into a reality after purchasing 221 acres of rural land that was split in two parts by tracks of the Pennsylvania Railroad, a right-of-way that is now the Pennsylvania Turnpike.

With about 6 inches of clay-based soil atop a shelf of shale containing natural gas deposits, it was hardly the richest farmland this side of the Appalachian Mountains. In fact, the soil had not been plowed or seeded until Sept. 15, 1903, two weeks prior to Boston and Pittsburgh playing in the first World Series, when an army of immigrant laborers wielding picks and shovels began work on what would become one of the great golf challenges in the world.

Toiling from dawn to dusk, the workers used 25 teams of horses and mules to move wagonloads of sand and soil from the Allegheny River.

Mr. Fownes supervised the operation as the course came alive according to the specifications of his handmade sketches. He was the first person to tee it up when the course officially opened. His original design of an inland, links-type layout has been restored with the recent removal of 5,000 trees.

His son, also a millionaire industrialist, cemented the bonds between Oakmont and golf history.

Winner of the U.S. Amateur in 1910, William C. Fownes was a driving force in the creation of the Walker Cup competition between American and British amateurs. In the inaugural event, Mr. Fownes teamed with the legendary Bobby Jones and others to claim the prize. That scorecard is just one of the treasures preserved inside the clubhouse.

A four-time state amateur champion, Mr. Fownes won the West Penn Amateur eight times and was runner-up five times. The trophy awarded to the winner of the West Penn Amateur still bears his name.

The younger Mr. Fownes also served as president of the U.S. Golf Association in 1926-27, the year the first Open was played at Oakmont.

A love of pure golf
When Oakmont opens its gates Monday to the public, it wants to acknowledge the popularity golf enjoys in Western Pennsylvania and beyond, much like Major League Baseball recognized its history when the All-Star game was held last summer at PNC Park.

"It's a celebration of a game that is part of the local culture," said Mr. Pohl. "We want this not only to be the best test of golf in the world, but the best experience possible for the fans, the volunteers and all those around the world following this championship."

By their nature, country clubs are private entities and often conjure up images of fox hunting, polo chukkers and high society functions. While Oakmont offers its share of social events, golf is its bedrock.

A recent internal survey of its members showed that 82 percent joined primarily for the golf experience, and more than 90 percent want the course managed in such a way that it will continue to be a championship venue.

For the record, the USGA contractually requires sites for its 13 annual championships to demonstrate open membership. At Oakmont, there are records of women members having tee times in 1905 -- 15 years before women had the right to vote in America. Also among its current members is Pittsburgh attorney Eric Springer, the first African-American elected president of the Allegheny County Bar Association and a former director of compliance with the U.S. Equal Employment Opportunity Commission.

"Our bylaws are absolutely color blind," Mr. Pohl said. "It's open to anybody who loves the game, has a good reputation, has enough friends to be invited and can afford it. Yes, it is a select, private club. But we stopped counting the number of Catholics, Jews and Italians. If you want social status, there are fancier clubs. The common denominator for our members is that they fell in love with serious golf and are hooked on this wonderful game."

You'd have to be a serious golfer to pay $75,000 in annual dues, although that's hardly on the high end of top country clubs. Some 200 golfers at Oakmont, roughly half of the active membership, have handicaps in single digits.

One former busboy at the club, where his mother was on the wait staff for 35 years, is now a member. That would be Bill Fralic, who played football for Penn Hills, Pitt and the Atlanta Falcons. But he's not the only former or current professional athlete who thrives on the competition at Oakmont.

Ernie Els qualified for membership by winning the 1994 Open here. Mario Lemieux, Marc Bulger and Matt Bahr are on the membership rolls, along with financiers, construction magnates and restaurateurs. Also a member is Bob Friend, the former Pirates pitcher whose son was a club champion at Oakmont and played 17 years of professional golf on various tours.

"We take a lot of pride in the course," said Mr. Friend. "We like playing the same course as some of the greatest names in golf. Maybe it sounds crazy to the people who don't play here, but we like the challenge."

Mr. Friend was a 21-year-old pitcher when he first visited Oakmont to watch Ben Hogan practice en route to his Open title in 1953.

"There is something magic about that piece of ground," Mr. Friend said. "It's pure golf at its finest."

Just the way the Fownes family intended.