The King is dead. Long live the memories.
Arnold Palmer, arguably the most popular and most charismatic golfer in history, is gone, but he never will be forgotten. A trendy debate among golf cognoscenti in recent years has centered on whether Jack Nicklaus or Tiger Woods is the greatest golfer in history, but that minimizes what Palmer meant to the game before the Golden Bear and Tiger became stars.
What knowledgeable golf historians will never argue is that it was Palmer, more than anyone, who popularized golf during the 1960s, when his magnetic personality helped turn the gentleman’s game into a major television and participatory sport.
In short, Palmer thrilled the large galleries that followed his every swing – they collectively became known as “Arnie’s Army” as they lined every tee and fairway and yelled “Charge!” when he hit a great shot – because they could relate to him.
He was a chain-smoker with a herky-jerky, homemade swing; he was good-looking and personable; he wore his exhilaration, anger and frustration on his sleeve; and he took chances when it probably would have been more prudent to exercise conservative course management.
Most important, Palmer interacted with spectators in the gallery as he played, establishing eye contact, smiling and waving when they applauded, always staying long after a round to sign autographs.
It could be said that he brought street credibility to the game. It didn’t matter that his clothes didn’t always match or that his hair got messed up. He was, simply, Arnie. He was one of them. And Palmer remained the clear No. 1 fan favorite as his rivals sprang up in the 1960s – Nicklaus and Gary Player, foremost among them – and together they built the sport’s popularity worldwide.
Palmer was brash, too. Shortly after graduating from Wake Forest, he won the U.S. Amateur in 1954 and turned pro the next year, declaring, “I want to win more tournaments than anyone, ever.”
Well, he didn’t quite do that, but he came close. He won 62 PGA Tour events, 18 events overseas and 12 more after joining the Senior PGA Tour (now the PGA Tour Champions) in 1980. That’s a total of 92 tour titles, including seven majors.
His first major victory was the 1958 Masters, but he established himself in the early ’60s, demonstrating an ability to charge from behind to win, as he did by making birdie on the final two holes to win the 1960 Masters. He also won the Masters in 1962 and 1964 and won back-to-back British Opens in 1961 and 1962.
When Nicklaus came along to challenge his supremacy, the fans stuck with their favorite, much to Nicklaus’ chagrin. Nicklaus was more talented, but Palmer was more charismatic. The rivalry was respectful, but a lot of people thought Nicklaus was envious of Palmer’s popularity. Whatever the case, it was the rivalry that brought golf to the masses.
Appropriately, Palmer was the first player in PGA Tour history to reach $1 million in earnings, in 1961. He was the tour’s leading money-winner in 1958, 1960, 1962 and 1963 – an award and distinction that is now named after him.
Perhaps the greatest testament to his popularity was that The Associated Press named him Athlete of the Decade for the 1960s, ahead of such major team-sport luminaries as Jim Brown, Wilt Chamberlain, Bill Russell and Sandy Koufax.
Some believe that Palmer’s burgeoning business interests prevented him from reaching his full potential in his prime, when he spent considerable time flying in his private plane to make public appearances and attend to business, but how can you argue with the business empire he built?
As late as 1985, Sport magazine ranked him as the world’s highest-paid athlete because of commercial endorsements.
Palmer’s staying power was tied directly to his popularity, which never waned despite the erosion of his golf skills over his final years. In 1996, he had surgery for prostate cancer and became a spokesman for early detection and prevention of the disease.
In 1998, he underwent a seven-week round of daily radiation therapy, and the world mourned with him when he lost his beloved wife, Winnie, to abdominal cancer in 1999. It wasn’t surprising when Palmer spearheaded a national fund-raising campaign for cancer research
“Cancer has had an impact on my life,” he said a few years ago. “My wife had cancer, I’ve had cancer, and now my daughter has cancer. I’m fortunate to even be here talking with you today.”
And we were all fortunate to be able to watch Arnold Palmer in our lifetime. No matter how poorly he played in his later years of competition, the gallery never seemed to mind.
That was never more apparent than the one day I got to spend with The King during the 2000 Toshiba Classic at Newport Beach Country Club. I joined Orange County’s version of Arnie’s Army for a day, following Palmer for all 18 holes of his first round, when he battled and grinded his way to a 3-over 74.
As usual, thunderous applause greeted Palmer on every tee and green, and as usual he smiled and waved and chatted with the gallery. When he drained a putt on the 18th green for his only birdie of the round, the spectators surrounding the green and in the luxury boxes overhead erupted as if Tiger Woods had just aced a par-4. The ovation was deafening.
Palmer smiled, tipped his cap to the crowd and headed to the scorer’s tent. After he had finished adding up his scorecard, I stopped him outside the tent and asked if I could chat with him for a few minutes.
“You want me to go over all my birdies?” he wisecracked, flashing his famous grin.
Yes, Palmer answered every one of my questions, then signed autographs until everyone had been satisfied
The King is dead, but the memories will last until we join him.
