Ran's correct, it was Peter Allen in his great book "Famous Fairways".
Here's the whole review:
The National Golf Links of America is a spendid course, and I say so advisedly; it was the brainchild of the late Charles Blair Macdonald, who was determined – and he was a very determined and opinionated man, highly articulate and partisan-to build a great golf links to stand comparison with the championship links of Scotland, where he had been educated. This then was the first great course of the United States and in the words of Herbert Warren Wind he “revolutionised golf architecture in America…In building the National, old Charlie Macdonald was out to show what a first rate British course looked like.” This he did, in the dunes and scrub land near Southampton at the far end of Long Island over 100 miles from New York. His statue stands in the Big Room at the club to testify. Links, it just isn’t quite. The rough is too pronounced, the fairways a shade too lush. But seaside golf at its best it is with pure white sand in the bunkers and scrapes and when in the mood it can savage you with a terrible north-west off Long Island Sound.
Bernard Darwin gave this description of his first sight of the course in 1913 when it was just completed:
“I shall never forget the moment of my first arriving at the National. It was well timed, for the sun was just setting; we drove along a lonely sandy road amid huckleberry bushes. Everything was seen in a half-light, fading and fantastic, and on the horizon was broad strip of flame, while between it and the waters of Peconic Bay there ran a narrow strip of jet black that marked the curves beyond the Bay. Here, after stifling New York, was peace coolness and seaside golf, and, indeed further experience has convinced me that, taking all things into consideration-the golf, the company,the view and the cooking-there is in the world no more delightful place in which to play than the National Links of America.”
Characteristic of The National are big plateau greens and big deep bunkers. Many of these-too many some think-are invisible and are only shown by marker flags. But Macdonald believed in giving everybody a chance to enjoy the course, so there is nearly always a diagonal carry to help the shorter players and sometimes an easy though longer way round to the green. The diagonal carries off the tee are a constant nagging source of worry to the ageing golfer like myself who has to pick his spot to cross or lose a shot in the sand.
As a club it is small and extremely comfortable, the service is impeccable and in my view its plain delicious food is the best in America.
The National has never sought championships or publicity of any kind and its remoteness and exclusivity keep it relatively unknown. The Walker Cup was played here in 1922 and that is about the only famous event. What is known about it is generally inaccurate, such as the myth that all the holes are copies of famous holes in Britain. Certain holes are supposed to resemble famous holes in Britain, but on the whole they bear so little resemblance that you wouldn’t recognise them unless you were told. What’s more, these holes in my opinion and the opinions of many are not the strongest in the layout.
The first hole is a drive and a pitch of 310 yds or so to a plateau green, small and folded; the drive is not too tough though over bunkers, and the bunkers beset the left side of the green. In all there are twenty-three on this hole!
The second is the “Sahara”, and even shorter par 4 of 252 yards, driving over a big bunker in a hill. It is longer that the “Sahara” at Sandwich and really resembles it very little. The next is the “Alps”, possibly a better hole than the seventeenth at Prestwick, rather longer with more bunkers, and a bigger green for the blind shot. The fourth at 172 yds is the “Redan” and a much better hole than the “Redan” at North Berwick, for here you can see the whole hole, as it is not blanketed by that unecessary hill.
Five, the “Hog’s Back”, a shortish par five and once again the carry from the tee causes anxieties for those whose length is waning. Then number six is a very short par 3, but the green runs across the line so the shot is very tight and the bunkers grasping.
The seventh, called “St Andrews”, is supposed to resemble the “Road Hole” and while the green is a fairly faithful model, the rest of the hole is totally different and much inferior. No Stationmaster’s Garden, only wild rough and bunkers and no road, only a deep trap.
The eighth, the 368-yard “Bottle” is a beauty, a real fine hole with a stiff shot to hit home to a high plateau green which slopes away from you. So with a par 5 of 527 yards with a tough diagonal carry off the tee and water to catch a slice, and a second shot over a big bunker in the middle of yje fariway rather like “Hell”, you are at the end of the course.
Turning now for home the golf stiffens perceptibly. As my friend Ike Grainger said, “From now on in you’ve got a real golf course.” The tenth “Shinnecock”, is a 412-yard two-shotter with bunkers up by the green perceived only from their marker flags-as I have said these hidden bunkers abound at the National, rather too many I think. Then towards the bay is another two-shotter of 405 yards with half the green in a shallow natural saucer and the left hand side on a little plateau-a very pretty green. Then the 374 yard twelfth gives us a stiff shot to a domed plateau green; as one of my partners said, it’s like pitching onto a bald man’s head.
The short thirteenth of 162 yards over water is supposed to be like the “High Hole In” at St Andrews. It resembles it in difficulty in no way, and is a very colourless attempt.
But the next, the 337 yard “Cape” hole, makes up for it, a real splendid hole-a drive over water, a bumpy fairway, more water in front of and to the right of the green, and a plateau to pitch to. The next too, “The Narrows”, is another fine two-shotter, 370 yards to a green set up to take the shot. Sixteen is another great hole, the drive over water and a real good hit needed to clear the steep confronting hill, then a resolute shot over the guarding cross bunkers, again just a little too invisible, into the shadow of the great windmill and on to a green that for once gathers the ball.
The seventeeth, “Peconic”, 338 yards downhill doesn’t sound too formidable but you have a diagonal carry off the tee over a huge bunker which makes you scratch your head to judge how much to bite off, and a range of low sandhills in front of the green. After a mishit drive a five wood off the hard sand in the big bunker which bored home straight over the protective range right to the stick , perfectly exemplified the extreme of pleasure which only golf can afford. The last hole is a long uphill slog past the clubhouse, with cross bunkers to carry with your second; it is the only par 5 in the second nine, and is not a great favourite of mine though Bernard Darwin gave it high praise. It passes near enough to the clubhouse for a member to have hit it on the roof twice-and played of it once-in a tournament in two successive years. The second year the ball lodged in the lead flashing of the roof and can be seen still stuck there to this day