"Man needs beauty as well as bread,
places to play in and pray in
where nature can heal and cheer
and give strength to body and soul alike.
- John Muir, American naturalist

By Rand Jerris, USGA

Hutchinson, Kan. - This week at Prairie Dunes, more than 100,000 fans will gather to watch 156 of the world's most talented senior golfers test their skills at one of the game's premier venues. The course crafted more than 70 years ago by Perry Maxwell, one of the most revered architects in the history of the game, will test every aspect of their game from tee to green. Each day, the galleries will swell under the morning sun, and by mid afternoon fans will stand on tiptoe and crane their necks for the best views of the action. But another ritual will commence toward the end of each day, as the sun begins to set in the western sky.

I have been coming to USGA championships for more than two decades. In my teenage years, I was a spectator, drawn by some of my earliest heroes with names like Irwin, Kite, Norman, and Strange. More recently, I have been privileged to play a small role in an organization that dedicates so much of its talent and energy to conducting our nation's championships. I have been fortunate to witness some unforgettable events in the game's history. But the memories that I treasure most deeply are the ones that have often come in the quietest moments.

Late Wednesday afternoon, as I walked the length the 17^th hole from tee to green, the familiar and always distinctive call of an American bobwhite sang out with remarkable clarity from the dense plum thicket off to my left. The call was repeated every 30 seconds or so, and I paused to wonder how many of the hundreds of fans nearby had heard it too. Many of those around me fixed their gaze 300 hundred yards back toward the tee, where a group of players prepared to hit their drives. Others focused instead on the group ahead, playing delicate pitch shots to the small but severely undulating green that lends so much challenge and character to this short par 5. Naturally, I recognize that the action inside the ropes rightfully deserves the greatest attention this week. But I wondered how many of those who had come to Prairie Dunes had also noticed the rich ecosystem that exists outside the ropes and beyond the field of play.

A Gem

For many years, I had heard the rave reviews about Prairie Dunes, about the challenge it can present to the most skilled golfers, but also about its natural beauty. As I arrived in Hutchinson last weekend for the first time, I was struck by the simplicity of the landscape. This is the classic American Midwest with farmland stretching to the distance, dotted here and there with low-slung farmhouses, barns sheathed with corrugated metal roofs, and massive grain elevators storing countless tons of wheat recently harvested from the Kansas prairie. How extraordinary, then, my introduction to Prairie Dunes the next morning – a landscape of rolling, lofty sand dunes sheathed in a dense cloak of plum thicket, prairie grass, and cottonwood trees. I had hardly imagined that such a landscape could exist just five miles from my hotel at the edge of town.

Prairie Dunes has long been counted among the treasures of American golf. It is a course that embodies many of the most outstanding characteristics of the time in which is was created, perhaps none more significant than the minimalist approach that Maxwell adopted in creating his masterpiece.

Upon walking the property in 1935, he recognized that nature had created 118 outstanding golf holes on these 420 acres. His job, as the architect, was simply to select the 18 options that would provide the greatest challenge while respecting most fully the hand of nature.

Throughout the 1920s, many golf course architects had become increasingly reliant on machinery and artifice to create their designs. Charles "Steamshovel" Banks was indeed celebrated for his ingenious use of steam-powered leviathans that pushed and pulled thousands of cubic yards of earth into dramatic green complexes surrounded by the deepest of bunkers. But not Maxwell. Here was a man who revered the artistry of the natural world, and who strove to honor and celebrate the landscape. "The golf course should be there," Maxwell explained in an interview in 1935, "not be brought there."

Winding Down

My favorite time of day at a USGA championship comes at dusk, as the sun settles low on the horizon and the air grows still. The players in their courtesy cars and shuttles have trundled back to the hotels where they will spend the night. The grandstands have emptied. The concessions stands have closed up tight. But for a few stragglers who might share my fondness for an empty golf course, the galleries, too, have headed home to rest their tired feet and wash away the dust and dirt that inevitably permeates both shoes and socks.

I suppose I am no different from many who cherish this game for its inherent beauty. Be it the graceful arc of a well-tutored swing, or the soaring flight of a crisply struck ball as it hangs suspended against the sky, there are many moments where the aesthetic pleasures of golf are readily appreciated. Moreover, there is pleasure often found in the opportunity to commune so directly with landscape and environment. Ours is not a sport of urban stadiums and city arenas. It is not a world of concrete floors, plastic and metal chairs, and towering banks of artificial lights. Rather, this game embraces and celebrates the diversity and richness of landscape and nature.

Have you ever walked a golf course at dusk, when the sun sits low on the horizon and the air becomes still as a whisper? If you have, you will understand the ability of the landscape to restore an exhausted body and energize a tired mind. No where in golf have I experienced the restorative capacity of the American landscape as much as I have felt it this week at Prairie Dunes. To those who will come to U.S. Senior Open in the days that follow, I hope that you will find the time to cherish the landscape of Prairie Dunes as much as you enjoy the outstanding golf that will be played.

Dr. Rand Jerris is the Director of the USGA Museum and Archives. E-mail him with questions or comments at rjerris@usga.org.