Peconic Bay lies quiet along the edge of Southampton, and above it the ground rolls in long, gentle swells. Here Charles Blair Macdonald set out to build the greatest golf course in the United States. He had gone to school in St. Andrews, he apparently coined the phrase "golf architect," and he seems to have believed that a course could be made great hole by hole, if only someone studied hard enough. National Golf Links of America is the result of that study, and it is a complete masterpiece. The study came first. Beginning in 1902, Macdonald crossed to Britain for five summers running, gathering the important features of golf holes and asking a question few Americans had thought to ask. Why were weak holes so often dull, and what really made good holes good? He came home with a list of favorites and a conviction that links golf was not a simple test of true or false. Its best holes offered options. They asked a player to weigh risk against reward. American courses of the day, built on the penal habits of the Victorian era, mostly asked for long, straight shots over lateral hazards. Macdonald wanted something that made a golfer think. He found his canvas on Long Island near Shinnecock Hills, more than 250 acres of seaside land. Building it was not easy. When it was done, it was immediately regarded as one of the finest courses in the country and the world. Bernard Darwin, the era's preeminent critic, wrote, "The National Links is a truly great course; even as I write I feel my allegiance to Westward Ho!, to Hoylake, to St. Andrews tottering to its fall." Of that same delightful spot he also wrote that it was "one of the best and most enchanting of courses." Every hole has a name, and many carry a memory of somewhere else. The 2nd, Sahara, draws on the 3rd at Royal St George's. The 3rd, Alps, replicates Prestwick's 17th, with a blind approach over a confrontational hill and a huge bunker guarding the front of an undulating green. The 4th, Redan, copies North Berwick's 15th and its long green set at an angle. The 7th, St Andrews, works in features of the Road hole, and the 13th owes its debt to the Eden. Macdonald's inspirations are often called his templates today. The routing is ostensibly nine out and nine back, but somehow the holes zigzag up and down the gently rolling land, so the wind is an ever-present obstacle. The varied ground is beautiful and dramatic too, holding a golfer captivated from the opening tee shot to the last putt. Then come the greens, theatrical and endlessly varied. Some undulate wildly, and others lie as flat as pancakes. All of them are huge, and putting on them can be the ultimate challenge. Something else happened here, away from the shot-making. To do some surveying, Macdonald hired a local Southampton engineer named Seth Raynor, who had never heard of golf. That first connection grew into one of the great partnerships in golf architecture. Raynor's engineering skill helped turn Macdonald's lofty notions into real ground. The two went on to work together at The Lido and Piping Rock, among others, and Raynor became a prolific architect in his own right, spreading Macdonald's template concepts across the country. So the National is more than a great course. It became a showcase for what world-class golf architecture looked like in America, an aspirational example for a country still young in the game, and it helped usher in a golden age that still seems to sound over the bay.