A members' shooting club and lodge rising between Omaha and Lincoln — a long line to yourself, and a room worth returning to.
Crowded lines, a waiting list for the lane, a room full of strangers — that is how good clubs quietly become ordinary ones. So we fixed the number before we poured the first footing, and designed everything beneath it.
The Citadel is fixed at sixty seats — and no more. Grounds engineered for the shooter who measures in hundredths, and a lodge built for the host who measures in evenings well spent. Discretion here is not a feature. It is the foundation.
Covered and conditioned, so the season and the weather never decide whether you shoot.
A true thousand-yard standard — the kind of distance most of the region has to travel for. Here it waits at the end of the drive.
Instrumented practice and instruction, measured to the number, available the whole year through.
A range earns the drive out. The lodge is the reason you stay. Ten thousand square feet of it — a great room, a long table, and the unhurried hours that turn a place to shoot into a club worth belonging to.
It is also, plainly, a room where the principals of two cities happen to find themselves on the same quiet evening. What that is worth, you already know.
Complete on day one, and deliberately unfinished after. What follows — the quieter rooms, the cellar, the things a club earns over time — is added slowly, and only when each can be done properly.
The founding tier, and the only one with the full run of the grounds. Held permanently to sixty seats — a number chosen so it never has to be defended.
By introduction only. A seat is confirmed in conversation, never by form.
Introductions are limited and reviewed personally. Leave your details and the right person will reach you directly — discreetly, and without a queue.
Thank you. Your interest has been noted, and you will hear from us directly. Until then, our regards.