John Fitzgerald, the club historian at the Oakmont Country Club, sits on the back veranda of… John Fitzgerald, the club historian at the Oakmont Country Club, sits on the back veranda of the clubhouse on a warm afternoon Saturday and looks out on the vast stretch of land beyond the shadowing canopy above him.

Club members scatter about the long fairways and greens as they enjoy one last round of golf before the course closes down in preparation for this week’s events.

Inside, people rush through the lobbies and hallways of the clubhouse as they anxiously assure that everything is in order for the U.S. Open only five days away.

Outside, Fitzgerald leans back in his metallic chair, interlocks his hands at his waist and slowly begins talking about the long and illustrious history of the club.

Founded in 1903 by Henry C. Fownes, the club has hosted several major tournaments, including seven U.S. Opens, as well as welcoming some of the game’s most legendary names such as Bobby Jones, Sam Snead and Ben Hogan.

As Fitzgerald rattles through his vast knowledge of the club’s historical attributes, his eyes fixate on the course around him.

The sun beats down on the rolling hills, reflecting different shades of green covering the acres and acres of what was merely farmland a century ago.

Looking out on the course, the natural beauty awes most visitors. But in truth, very little of the scenery is accidental. Nearly every element of the landscape has been carefully groomed and maintained. Each tree, hill or bunker has been grown, built or dug out to form this elegant view.

But apart from the superficial splendor of the course, each tweak in the course’s land has been made to assure that it remains as one of the most difficult courses in America.

Fitzgerald, while talking about the tradition of change to the course, lets out a small chuckle and begins to tell a story about Sam Snead as though he had seen it himself.

During a practice round before the 1951 PGA Championship, Fitzgerald begins, Snead drove the seventh hole and cleared a right-side bunker that most players found hard to navigate past. That evening, when William C. Fownes, the son of H.C. Fownes and the club president at the time, heard that Snead had found an easy way of clearing the number seven bunker, he instructed the grounds crew to build a new bunker just beyond the one he had cleared. The next day, when Snead was playing, he drove the hole the same way only to find that his ball had found its way into a brand new bunker.

Bunkers have been an integral design of the course since its original design.

“Bunkers have always been a very big symbol [of the course],” Fitzgerald confirms as he mentions that the 17th hole has 23 bunkers itself.

Once totaling more than 300, the bunker tally now stands at a hefty 210.

But despite the large number of hazards, Fitzgerald denies that the bunkers are what make the course so difficult.

As a club member for nearly four decades, Fitzgerald is no stranger to the course’s numerous hardships and tough spots, and his personal belief is that the greens are what make the course so hard to conquer.

The cover of the greens, made of a weed special to this area instead of grass, provides an abnormally smooth and surprisingly fast surface for putting.

As he talks, his eyes graze over the various greens of differing shapes and sizes, each one slightly sloped or curved in a multitude of directions.

One look at the course and it’s apparent that something special is headed its way.

Large tents have been put up all over the massive valley that connects each of the holes. United States Golf Association flags flap furiously in the wind as the gateways, bleachers and parking lots await crowds of spectators.

Down the road from the club, at the foot of the hill just along the Allegheny River, banners and signs sit scattered along the small street of shops and restaurants. The signs, each one pointing out directions for traffic, boldly boast the arrival of the U.S. Open.

Further up the hill, just before the club, the residential area that neighbors the country club is huge and unlike any other community for miles around.

Each lawn and driveway expensively groomed and maintained, the area itself seems to be a part of the nearby elegance of the Oakmont Country Club.

Among the adjacent towns, the area of Oakmont certainly stands out. Its tradition of monetary wealth and prestige contrasts the working-class industrial ruins of the once booming metropolis of the Pittsburgh area.

But the traditions of the club and its members are very similar to those of its middle-class neighbors, even though they sometimes seem to be two very different worlds. They are traditions embedded in pride and honor as the people of each stand thankful and proud of where they are because of what they have accomplished and overcome.

As Fitzgerald continues his history lesson, his voice and disposition convey a similar sense of pride and accomplishment.

Throughout his stories, one word stands out in his description of the club. He only says it a few times, but each time his eyes open slightly larger and his hands come unbound from one another for a moment.

Still looking around at the surrounding beauty and splendor of the club and speaking of the great stories that collectively make up the history of this place, he says it again.

And, with that one word, that is how Fitzgerald would describe Oakmont Country Club – integrity.