The $50,000 Answer

After only eight months on the pro tour, 22-year-old Jack Nicklaus has long since discarded his freshman beanie. In 23 tournaments, he has officially won $53,5!8, never finishing out of the money and dwarfing all earning records for a rookie. To cap it off last June, he won the U.S. Open (TIME cover, June 29), decisively beating Arnie Palmer, himself only 33 and golf's grand master, whose well-deserved popularity should have been enough to freeze any first-year man. But then in the British Open, next month, Nicklaus shot a disastrous, not-to-be-recovered first-round 80 while Palmer was burning up the course, and golf's wise heads wondered how good the youngster really was.

Last week Nicklaus gave a pretty good indication. Playing in the three-man World Series of Golf at Akron's Firestone Country Club, he took on both Palmer and South Africa's Gary Player, winner of this year's P.G.A. title. Nicklaus beat them both--by an overwhelming four strokes, touring the course in two days with a 36-hole score of 135, five under par. For his efforts, he won another $50,000, the richest purse in golf, while Palmer and Player, tied at 139, split a soothing $25,000 in second-and third-place money.

A Big One. Televised by NBC to 9.000,000 golf fans across the U.S., the World Series was not a true tournament at all. Only the winners of the U.S. Open, British Open, Masters and the P.G.A. championship were invited. The P.G.A. put it in the same category as an exhibition, refused even to count the prize money in its "unofficial winnings" list.

And there were times when it did indeed seem like more of a spectacular than a golf match. The cameras picked up the golfers at the 13th tee in each of the two rounds, at one point kept the trio waiting for ten minutes while the sponsors (Zenith, Amana home freezers) got in their plugs. Technicians drummed distractions on the TV towers, and former P.G.A. Champ Bob Rosburg, who was announcing the show, often told the players what club to use on a shot. Said Nicklaus: "I heard Rosburg say I'd probably use a five iron on the 16th, so to spite him I used a four."

But the money was there, and so was the competition. Grim and intent, Arnie Palmer complained before the match: "It doesn't seem fair that a single missed putt should cost you $35,000." Nicklaus did nothing to ease the tension; he insisted on calling it "a tournament," and a big one at that. "The way I see it," said he, "this tournament ranks right behind the U.S. Open now. The one who wins it has a real claim to being the best."

Putts & Pains. First day, all eyes were on Palmer. To the cheers of some 6,000 members of "Arnie's Army," Palmer started off with three straight birdies, and then, using only 25 putts for the round, went on to score a course-record-tying 65 for the 18 holes. Ordinarily, that would have been enough to win a 36-hole match. But at the end of the day, Palmer was only a single stroke ahead. Playing near-flawless golf, Nicklaus himself had shot a quite remarkable 66. Muttered Palmer: "I wasn't playing very well today. But I sure was lucky."

Next day, Palmer's red-hot putter turned cold. The birdies started coming up bogeys, and Nicklaus, taking off from his first-round 66, pulled irresistibly ahead. Every pro studies his course, but Nicklaus charts it like a geophysical survey, marking down every hazard, distance to the green, and what club to use on the cards he carries in his pocket. Ben Hogan was the same meticulous kind of golfer. But unlike the dour Hogan, who rarely uttered a word to his partner, Nicklaus is a more relaxed competitor, unfazed by gallery distractions or a golfer's small talk. And when he steps up to the tee, he belts a ball farther than Bantam Ben, or even muscular Arnie Palmer, ever dreamed of hitting it. Very few pros hit a longer ball than Nicklaus; no one gets it out so far so accurately. Pivoting his Teddy-bear shape back and around, frowning in total concentration, he manages to put all 202 Ibs. behind the shot at the moment of impact, and when his game is at its peak, he unleashes so much energy in his drive that his back starts to pain slightly. "It's just an ache," he says, "but I love it."

The brutish, 7,165-yd. Firestone course, one of the longest championship courses in the world, clearly favored the big hitter, and Nicklaus made the most of it. On the second day, letting out his drive on the 460-yd. par-four 13th hole, he outdrove Palmer by 55 yds.. Player by 80. By the time the play reached the 12th hole, it was virtually over. Matching his drives with brilliant approaches and a delicate putter, Nicklaus had two birdies and two bogeys on his card for an unbeatable three-stroke lead. A final birdie on the 18th was just frosting on the cake and the finishing touch on a 32-stroke back nine.

Pocketing his $50.000 winner's check, Nicklaus grandly tipped his caddie $1,000 and headed west to Seattle for the $30,000 ($4,300 for first place) Seattle Open. After that, he goes back to Ohio State to complete a quarter of his senior year, and, as he says, "get a little rest."

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