CHERRY HILLS VILLAGE, COLORADO | On the first tee at Cherry Hills Country Club, there is a plaque dedicated to what many call the most famous drive in golf history.
It was here 63 years ago that Arnold Palmer stood, seven strokes back of 54-hole leader Mike Souchak as the final round of the 1960 U.S. Open was about to develop. After the third round was played that morning, Palmer had lunch with writers Bob Drum and Dan Jenkins, two friends who egged him on by suggesting that he could not win his national open.
“Doesn’t 280 always win the Open?” Palmer asked, referring to the final total that a 65 would net him.
“Yeah, when Hogan shoots it,” Jenkins replied.
“It won’t do you a damn bit of good,” Drum added.
Palmer was so upset that he couldn’t finish his hamburger. Shortly afterward, he was standing on the 346-yard first hole, a downhill par-4 that looks west toward the Rocky Mountains. He had gone for the green in the first three rounds, failing each time. On one occasion he drove it into Little Dry Creek – it was and still is not dry whatsoever – and took an ugly double-bogey 6.
But here, using a persimmon driver and a balata ball, Palmer took a mighty chop, sending his pellet through the thin air and onto the green. He two-putted for birdie and went ballistic from there, shooting his miraculous 65 to chase down a 47-year-old Ben Hogan and hold off a 20-year-old amateur from Ohio named Jack Nicklaus.
It was Palmer’s only U.S. Open victory, a legendary moment that built his mythological status. There is no video or photography of that iconic shot; the redefining of golf’s four majors was born, at least in part, because of that victory; and Palmer flung his red visor into the crowd on the 18th hole well before the tournament was settled, adding to his heroic, swashbuckling image.
That tee shot and subsequent victory was Arnie.
That first hole since has been lengthened to 395 yards, the tee now well left of the original spot where Palmer hit the shot. During last week’s U.S. Amateur, players almost exclusively laid up with long irons to set up a delicate wedge approach. Driver wasn’t on the menu – not until they pushed the tee up to the Arnie box during match play. From there, every player in the field could reach, as did Bryson DeChambeau, the former U.S. Amateur winner who unexpectedly stepped onto the first tee Thursday evening with a blonde persimmon driver and started launching drives toward the green.
The game clearly has changed, but if you stood near Arnie’s plaque as the tournament unfolded, you would see a steady trickle of patrons wanting to take a picture. It’s a moment that has only grown over time – maybe even more so after “The King” died seven years ago.
For all its evolving, golf never will move on from Arnie.
Sean Fairholm
E-MAIL SEAN
Arnold Palmer's visor
JOHN MUMMERT, USGA