While members of Oakmont Country Club were asleep, a small
squadron of workers regularly convened at the course before daybreak, armed with
high-beamed floodlights and a brigade of 20-inch chainsaws. Starting in the
months prior to Oakmont’s last U.S. Open in 1994, former superintendent Mark
Kuhns led a clandestine tree-removal operation, hauling along chippers and stump
grinders to carefully discard evidence of their work. His crew laid topsoil and
fresh sod over the leftover hole, while high-powered vacuums and large tarps hid
any traces of sawdust or debris.
Between 1993 and 1995, Oakmont’s moonlight operation thrived under
the darkness of secrecy. In the morning, members would not notice that a handful
of trees had disappeared. But as his crew sliced deeper through the overgrown
vegetation, Kuhns gradually exposed distant sight lines and hidden ground
features of Henry (H.C.) Fownes’ masterpiece long before the membership detected
any changes.
“It was our tree work between holes 12 and 13 that gave us away,” recalls Kuhns. “As we reduced a single-file row of pin oaks from
10 down to about three, members started asking questions.”
The program, authorized by ex-golf chairman Mark Studer and his
green committee, caused an uproar at the club. Some senior members signed
petitions and wrote letters of protest. Tree preservers took inventory of all
remaining trees with panoramic photography. There were threats of lawsuits,
alleging that tree removal would jeopardize Oakmont’s status as a National
Historic Landmark. Members held town hall meetings and even prayers for the
trees at local churches.
After a while, popular opinion started to turn and the cutting
continued. “Members gradually stopped grumbling and learned to appreciate our
original look,” Studer says. “Some even started taking credit for it.”
