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In many, if not most ways, Palmer is the father of modern golf
His charisma, aggressive style of play and high level of skill merged perfectly with the dawn of his sport on TV
Sunday, June 17, 2007

Arnold Palmer needs another tribute like Oakmont needs another bunker.

But for final validation that this grandfatherly figure transcends golf and the universe of sports, consider how he simplified Father's Day for spouses and offspring when it comes to shopping for something other than neckties or socks.

Gift wrap a golf shirt with a sleeve of golf balls, grant permission for a Sunday morning round or set up the La-Z-Boy recliner with a cold one and a clicker for watching the final round of the U.S. Open, and an army of dads would consider themselves kings for a day. That's just part of the legacy left in the spike marks of Arnold Palmer, the sire of modern golf, the game that awards its most coveted crown on Father's Day.

"The game we are today, the scope of the U.S. Open, the way he popularized golf doesn't just happen on its own," said Marty Parkes, senior director of communications for the United States Golf Association.

"I don't know if he is the father of modern golf, but the modern Open began in 1960 when he won it," Parkes added. "He burst onto the scene in the TV age, and TV needs a star. It was the perfect merger of man and moment. If you think about it, he won his last major in 1964, but ask anyone today to name three golfers, and they'll likely include Arnold Palmer. It just shows his enduring connection with people."

Golf isn't for everyone. Mark Twain once described the exasperating, humbling game as a good walk spoiled, which these days has been updated to a good cart ride spoiled. But how many golfers are being investigated for staging dogfights or are chasing records under a cloud of steroid suspicion?

Golf was created by Scottish shepherds passing time by hitting rocks with wooden sticks. British royalty cornered the game because no one else had the leisure time to play. In America, it was a game for the wealthy and Republican presidents before it was given to the masses by Palmer, the son of a groundskeeper from Latrobe who had linebacker-like forearms and a go-for-broke swagger. Decades before Tigermania energized a new generation, Palmer's rabid followers were mobilized into Arnie's Army, and it was never an army of one.

It takes 11 pages to print out Arnold Palmer's bio and accomplishments on the Web site of the USGA, the bureau of standards for golf in America. Suffice it to say he was the first golfer to win USGA championships on three different levels -- the U.S. Amateur, the U.S. Open and the U.S. Senior Open. He is also the first person to have his name affixed to an entire USGA building. The Arnold Palmer Center for Golf History in Far Hills, N.J., is expected to open next June.

Palmer remains active in the USGA. As the head of the USGA Members Committee, his first act was to sign up the late Gerald Ford in a 1975 Oval Office ceremony. The USGA has three quarters of a million golfers paying annual dues.

Palmer stopped playing competitive golf long ago, and he bade farewell to the U.S. Open as a player in 1994 at Oakmont. He is back this year as honorary chairman of this Open, 66 years after he played his first round at Oakmont as a 12-year-old. Although he won a West Penn Amateur title here in 1949, Palmer experienced bitter disappointments at Opens in '62 and '73 at Oakmont. Golf is a game that can break your heart, but he did not give it a second thought about returning.

As honorary chairman, he just doesn't have a ceremonial news conference or sit in a rocking chair on a veranda. Whenever organizers had a question about policy or procedure, they called Palmer. And he did whatever was asked of him.

"Who else but Arnie?" said Mickey Pohl, the Oakmont member who is general chairman of this event. "If he hadn't accepted, maybe we wouldn't have had an honorary chairman. Golf exploded as a sport for everybody, and it was because of Arnold Palmer. Arnie was everything good about the game and everything good about the people who come from western Pennsylvania. He took the sport to a new level."

One gauge of Palmer's charisma was a secret known only in the Oakmont locker room. As an Oakmont member, he had his own locker for years. The club quit counting how many times it had to replace the brass plate bearing his name. Guests would lift it as a souvenir.

Palmer was a pioneer in a number of ways. He was one of the first athletes to sign marketing and endorsement deals, and he still pitches products today.

For an idea of his social circle, he was seated at the main table last month at a formal White House dinner. The man who was once known as The King, just like Elvis, swapped golf stories with Queen Elizabeth II and gave putting tips to members of the U.S. Supreme Court.

But what's a bigger compliment, rubbing shoulders with the high and mighty or serving as the face of everyday golf? Those of a certain age can recall shagging balls on unused baseball diamonds, holes worn through golf gloves, being heckled by non-golfers who would laugh and say, "Who does this guy think he is? Arnold Palmer?"

The man who changed the demographics of golf started out by mowing grass, driving the tractor and caddying for members at Latrobe Country Club, where his father was the groundskeeper. That club is now owned and presided over by Palmer, who also owns the Bay Hill Club and Lodge in Orlando, Fla., and who put together the group of investors who purchased Pebble Beach in 1999.

Milfred (Deacon) Palmer, who died in 1976, will be in his son's thoughts this day. He called his old man Pap, a word that doesn't appear very often on Hallmark Cards but is a colloquial name for dad in western Pennsylvania.

"Father's Day hits me pretty heavy because my father taught me everything I know," said Palmer. "He was tough, he was forgiving, but not so forgiving that he let you do whatever you wanted to do. It was one thing to play the game, and it was another to play it with integrity and honesty, and he let me know that. My father taught me that golf is a game, so play it like a game. It's an honest game. We don't have games very often that we call penalties on ourselves. It's a gentleman's game. That doesn't mean you can't fight and play as hard as you can and hit the shots you need to win golf tournaments. But don't think it's just going to happen. You have to make it happen."

First published on June 16, 2007 at 9:58 pm
Robert Dvorchak can be reached at bdvorchak@post-gazette.com or at 412-263-1959.