Marshals aim for order

“Hold it there, guys,” Joe Fehrenbeck says softly. “All right, hold it now.”

It is the gravelly voice of a grandfather, but along with a thin strand of taut rope, it holds the Congressional crowds at bay.

Fehrenbeck, an 88-year-old World War II veteran with white hair, bushy eyebrows and thick glasses, is one of nearly 200 men and women who comprise the AT&T National corps of marshals.

To the average fan, marshals are the guys who stand behind the tee with their arms raised, signaling the gallery to keep quiet. But they also can be found in the rough and on the green, in the stands and holding the ropes.

Fehrenbeck, who has been a marshal for 18 years, mans the crossway on hole No. 5, making sure the golfers have a clear path and the fans stay off the fairway.

“Today the crowd is maintaining a good demeanor,” says Fehrenbeck, adding that autograph hounds are a marshal’s worst nightmare.

Eight to 10 marshals patrol each hole, beginning at the first tee time and often staying until the last golfer finishes his round. On some holes, marshals rotate positions during their shift, but some stay in the same spot for hours, often standing for all of the action.

Anyone can be a marshal, provided he or she is a member of an area golf club, fills out an application and pays a $50 fee. They range in age from seniors like Fehrenbeck to Matthew Bimms, a 27-year-old member at International who took a day off from his job as a special education teacher in Great Falls to calm the masses on the 13th green.

“You get to see the players, get free food and an extra pass for a friend,” Bimms says, raising an arm to still shuffling spectators as K.J. Choi sinks a putt. “But I do it for the fans.”

According to Frank Della Pena, a 21-year veteran, there is a defined hierarchy among the holes. He claims No. 18 to be the most coveted, which is usually claimed by members of the host club. Thus Della Pena and buddy Peter Zandutke, both members of Bethesda, are relegated to the boondocks of the 11th fairway.

They pass the time trying their best to spot balls off the tee and hoping they don’t lose sight of the ones that land in the thick rough next to their post.

“The hardest part is tracking the ball when it goes awry,” Della Pena says. “We have to find it in this mess.”

Sometimes the biggest challenge lies not in the souvenir-seeking fan or the hidden Titleist but with the players themselves.

Fehrenbeck remembers how Greg Norman got cross with him on the crossways during a particularly frustrating round at Avenel.

“He said, ‘Why are you standing there?’ ” Fehrenbeck recalls. “I said, ‘I’m just trying to protect you,’ and then he screamed, ‘Well get out of the way!’ ”

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