Jack Nicklaus

His most personal interview: Jack Nicklaus on life, love, beer, business—and winning the big ones

'Just playing doesn't do it for me. What's fun is competing.'

Photo: Jim Moriarty

By Bob Verdi

Photo By Jim Moriarty

July 2000

Talk about a man who needs no introduction...but we'll give Jack Nicklaus one, anyway. As part of Golf Digest's 50th-anniversary celebration this month, we're naming the 50 greatest golfers of all time. It should come as no shock that the Golden Bear leads that gilded list, based on a career that includes a record 20 major titles and some of the most remarkable moments in the game's history.

Nicklaus has done it all in golf—except relax. In two recent sessions with Senior Writer Bob Verdi, Nicklaus sat still at his kitchen table in North Palm Beach, Fla., then later in Carefree, Ariz., to reflect on the past and to gaze into the future. Along the way, he provided intimate, previously unrevealed anecdotes that illuminate the ups and downs of his life on and off the golf course.

Golf Digest: Not long ago, we asked Arnold Palmer how it felt to turn 70. You hit 60 in January, so...

Jack Nicklaus: I never made a big deal of it. When I reached 40, now that's what I thought would be a traumatic time. But I played well, so I got over that in a hurry. In 1979, when I was 39, I had such a bad year, I thought it was all over. Thankfully it wasn't. And 50 wasn't that bad. I suppose 60 is just a number, too, except that I'm coming off a hip surgery and still in the process of learning how to play golf again.

I'm healthy, as far as I know. I'm still about 10 pounds too heavy as I eat this potato soup, which I shouldn't be doing. I'm about 200, and should be 190. But I exercise a lot and I'm still on the go, so I should be able to get this off.

Speaking of which, there's the old story about how Barbara would prepare the dough to make cookies...

And some of the dough never made it to the oven? That's true. Or was. In the last year or so, I've gotten a sweet tooth for some reason. I rarely drink alcohol. In college, I drank enough beer to sink 10 battleships, but no more. And I don't touch soft drinks. If I have a weakness, it's probably ice cream. That's where I get lax, sloppy. I'll sneak into the refrigerator at night and take two or three bites and put it back. Butter pecan. Only two or three bites, but it shows.

Part of the lore of your marriage to Barbara is how you two spent your honeymoon: Did she really sit in the car while you played golf?

Not quite. We got married on a Saturday [after their junior year at Ohio State], and spent the night in Columbus. Sunday, we drove to Hershey, Pa. Jay Weitzel, who was the assistant pro at Scioto, where I grew up, was the pro at Hershey. We just happened to wind up there, and I'd always wanted to play there. So I played that Monday—Barbara walked 18 holes with me—and then we went to New York. Barbara always wanted to go to New York City, so our plan was to spend two weeks there in the middle of the summer.

We went to the Astor Hotel, which no longer exists. Remember the film "High Society"? Part of it was filmed there. Anyway, on Tuesday, we went all around the city, and that meant five shoe stores. Barbara is a shoe freak. You should look at her closet. She didn't come from an affluent background by any means, but that didn't matter when she was younger. She still had enough shoes to start her own store.

The next day, we went to Winged Foot. That's Wednesday, and it's pouring buckets. Not a soul on the course except me playing and Barbara walking. By Thursday, after two days of pouring rain, she said, "Let's get out of here." That was our honeymoon in New York: One round of golf at Winged Foot in the rain, five shoe stores and some jazz at night.

Where did you go from there?

Well, I asked Barbara where she wanted to go from New York City, and she said she'd never been to Atlantic City. Neither had I, so we were off. Of course, Clementon, N.J., is right on the way. You pass it. Can't miss it. Pine Valley. I pulled into the club and had no idea it was a stag club. I ran into a fellow named Dave Newbold. He asked me what he could do for me, and I told him I'd just driven in with my wife and would like to play if I could.

Dave said, "I'm sorry? Your wife?" He explained the rules. He said I should go play while he took care of Barbara. He put her in a car and drove around the perimeter of Pine Valley, and whenever he could drive through a gate, he would, so Barbara could get a look at me playing.