There's old in them there Hills

US OpenPhilip Reid on the much-storied tract of Indian land that became a test for golf's finest talents

Inside the locker-room at Shinnecock Hills, a smaller space than you could ever imagine, there are, among other memorabilia, framed yellow pages of newspaper clippings on the wall. They detail stories of yore, relating tales of men associated with developing the mystique of this course, constantly ranked among the best in America and one of the few with genuine links characteristics, which has evolved in one of the more salubrious areas of New York's Long Island.

And, indeed, this is a course steeped in history, as the walls of the quaint locker-room, with its white, meshed lockers, remind us. There's a framed certificate from the USGA, dated 1991, detailing the club's centenary; a medal, framed, of the 1896 US Amateur played over the links, and newspaper reports of the various championships played over this most beautiful tract of land down the years.

Shinnecock Hills doesn't claim to be the oldest club in the United States, but the genesis of the club is one of the legendary tales of America golf. The story goes that the industrialist William K Vanderbilt had travelled to France in the winter of 1890, primarily to shop for wine and horses, when he found himself at a spa in Biarritz with two New York friends, Duncan Cryder and Edward Mead.

A Scottish professional, Willie Dunn, worked at the spa, and when Vanderbilt asked him to demonstrate the "new" sport of golf, he was sufficiently impressed to announce to Cryder and Mead that "this beats rifle shooting for distance and accuracy. It is a game I think would go in our country."

Little did he know that golf was already establishing a foothold in the US. The St Andrews Golf Club had been founded in Yonkers, New York, in 1888, and several others before then. But the founding members of Shinnecock thought they were the first and looked for assistance to what they thought was the only other club in North America, Royal Montreal in Canada, which had opened in 1873 and which "loaned" them their club professional, Willie Davis, to lay out the course.

That contract was a milestone, making Shinnecock the first US club to have its course designed by a professional. The original 12-hole course laid out by Davis in 1891 was called the White course, and it was increased to 18 holes in 1895 when Dunn came over from Biarritz as club professional.

In 1896, it played host to the second US Open (which was still considered a side-show to the Amateur championship). The course has since undergone much chopping and changing. In 1916, the original holes were abandoned and Charles Blair Macdonald redesigned all but five holes. Then, in 1930-31, the Philadelphia design team of Toomey & Flynn redesigned 12 holes.

The mystique of Shinnecock goes back to its very origins. This was the land of the Shinnecock Indians and, when Davis was laying out the original course he hired 150 members of the tribe to clear the land. According to Davis' written account, "the place was dotted with Indian burial mounds and we left some of these intact in front of the greens. We scraped out some of the others and made sand traps."

The club became one of the five founding members of the USGA, and was also the first to design and build a clubhouse.

When the US Open returned to its roots here at Shinnecock Hills in 1986 and again in 1995, it evoked the romance of a bygone era. The rich lore associated with a club named for the Shinnecock Indians was at the heart of the sentimental return.

But things have changed in less than a decade and, although thousands of items imprinted with the Shinnecock logo featuring an American Indian in full head-dress will be sold this week, nearly all of the century-old ties between the club and the tribe have been severed.

This time, instead of paying the Shinnecock Indians to use reservation land for parking, as it paid $50,000 in 1986 and $90,000 in 1996, the business has been taken to a farmer's field that presents fewer logistical problems.

If not for a last-minute deal forged in the past few weeks by the USGA to locate up to four hospitality tents on the reservation, a mile from the course, there would have been no tribal involvement in the business of the 104th US Open. Lance Grumbs, chairman of the board of trustees of the Shinnecock tribe, said they would like to conduct an opening ceremony but this had been rejected by the club.

"We asked the USGA if we could do an honour song and a prayer song to open the tournament, but the club didn't want it because of a land issue going on," he said, referring to the possibility of some tribe members pursuing a legal claim to land at the golf club. "We thought they would welcome the people who built the golf course and manned it for most of their 100-year history."

The issue of the club and the tribe may yet end up in courts.

For this week, though, Shinnecock Hills is set to test the best. Although measuring under 7,000 yards, short by modern standards, its high rough, hard fairways, viciously sloping greens and a constant wind will examine a player's shot-making capabilities and his patience.

The 1986 US Open was won by Raymond Floyd in one-under-par 279, and the 1995 event by Corey Pavin (left) in level-par 280.

"No doubt about it," remarked Bob Tway of the impact of the wind on the last two US Opens here, "neither Raymond nor Corey hit the ball very far . . . (but) both controlled their ball, both had great short games, and that's the key."

The ability to handle the shifting winds of Shinnecock, according to Tom Lehman, is vital.

"You have to hit the ball in the middle of the clubface. That's the only way I can describe it. If you don't hit it solid, which gives you the ability to control your distance and your trajectory, you have no chance. If the wind blows out there like it did in the last two rounds in '95 and you're not hitting it solid, you're just going to survive."

In that 1995 US Open, Tiger Woods, playing as an amateur, hooked a one-iron tee-shot on the third hole into the high fescue on the left of the fairway. Hitting a wedge to escape, he jammed his left wrist.

He played on but, after hitting his tee-shot on the sixth, he had to withdraw. "That's what happens," Woods said, "when you hit the ball in the long grass here."

Nine years on, the grass is as long as it ever was and, don't you know it, the wind is likely to play a bigger part than ever. For this championship, up to 6,000 trees, of various sizes, have been removed from the course so the wind coming in off the Atlantic will make shot-making more important than ever.

At 6,996 yards, Shinnecock Hills is only 52 yards longer than it was in 1995 and only 84 yards longer than it was in 1986, but it stands there, daring the golfers to walk out of the 19th century clubhouse to a 20th century course layout with their 21st century equipment.

Surely, that's what major golf is about; the mystique lives on.