His thrill came at Blue Hill

After playing 155 holes over five days to beat seven opponents and prevail over a field of 127 at the 38th PGA Championship, Jack Burke Jr. got a check that was worthless.

``Imagine that? The check was hot, no good," said Burke. ``I don't know who was responsible for backing up the purse, but the PGA had to make it good."

It was 50 years ago that the PGA Championship rolled into Blue Hill Country Club in Canton -- ``Porky's club," said Burke, a reference to legendary head pro Ed ``Porky" Oliver. It remains the only time the PGA Championship has been staged in Massachusetts and while Burke doesn't spend his days reminiscing about it, without question it's a happy memory. Since he had won the Masters in April, Burke had become just the seventh player to take two majors in a season, but in truth, the Texan remains a golfing institution as much for his wit, insight, and straight talk as for his playing record.

``That tournament was the biggest of my career," said Burke. ``It gave me a lifetime exemption. That's why winning was important. Hell, they could have had the money."

The 1956 PGA Championship (then a match-play event) had a handful of local subplots -- Bill Ezinicki lost in Round 1 to Mike Turnesa; Hap Malia won his first-round match, then was ousted by Jack Fleck; Jim Browning and Johnny Thorne also won opening matches, only to lose their next ones -- but it was the presence of the game's giants that made it the show it was.

Sam Snead had won three PGA Championships and was still a force when he rolled to three straight wins to set up a match with Gene Sarazen, then 54. The Squire was no match for the 44-year-old Snead, who cruised, 5 and 4, but it would be as far as he'd go. Ted Kroll ousted Snead in the quarterfinals.

Snead wasn't the first big name to be beaten. Jimmy Demaret was bounced in the second round, as was Doug Ford, the defending champion. Tommy Bolt was beaten in the first round, while Claude Harmon fell in Round 3.

The PGA Championship would use the match-play format one more time, then in 1958 it switched to stroke play, but to the men who experienced it, it's a badge of honor to have maintained the stamina that match play required.

No one can attest to that more than Burke, who in 1955 had been on the losing end of a nine-hour, 40-hole epic match in the quarterfinals of the PGA Championship to Cary Middlecoff.

For a while, it appeared as if 1956 would bring a repeat, because in his semifinal struggle with Ed Furgol, Burke went 37 holes -- only this time he won. He had been 5 down through 14 holes in the morning 18, then 2 down at the break, only to win five straight holes midway through the afternoon portion to regain the momentum.

``That's what I'm most proud of," said Burke. ``Coming back from being 5 down to Furgol."

He was also down by two holes in his final match against Kroll when the morning 18 ended and it was time for lunch. ``I stayed on the putting green. My caddie [Newton firefighter Italo Amicangioli] got me a milk shake and cookies, but I just stayed there putting. I had putted so badly in the morning."

The diligence paid off. After losing the first hole of the afternoon round to go 3 down, Burke won five of the next seven and went on to win, 3 and 2. It earned him the Wanamaker Trophy and he eventually got paid, too. The lasting respect from his colleagues? Well, Burke had probably secured that years earlier, and he has never lost it, not even after retiring from fulltime competition at the age of 34 to build Champions Golf Club in Houston with Demaret.

``My old man had a philosophy," said Burke, from his office at Champions. ``Look, when you get to the top of the tree, you've got to climb down. Now, you can fall down and break a lot of limbs, or you can come down without breaking them."

Burke chose the latter, but he isn't afraid of bruising egos with his blunt talk. He has been around the game for nearly all 83 years of his life, which is why when he speaks, people listen. Burke has a passion for the game, particularly for great amateur play, but he cares little for some aspects that shape the landscape. He's fearful that a player on a practice range somewhere is going to get seriously hurt by a teaching device what with all the ropes and metal, and he feels pity for what they've done to the club professional's job description.

``He's got to worry about carts and shirts and the hypotenuse of a triangle," said Burke.

As for the phenomenon called Tiger Woods, Burke said it isn't a mystery.

``He's the only one who understands how to play the game, how to make shots," said Burke. ``The other guys? They're all out there plumb-bobbing the world, worrying about their launch angle and their ball speed. But Woods is like the great pool player -- he doesn't see the cue, doesn't see the ball, he just sees the whole game."

Though he pretty much left the weekly grind of the PGA Tour the year after his conquest at Blue Hill CC, Burke remained a fixture at the PGA Championship through 1973. He ran with Ben Hogan and Lloyd Mangrum, competed against Snead, and was a friend and business partner of Demaret.

He has had a Hall of Fame life through and through, and if you want to suggest that the highlight was his five days at Blue Hill CC 50 years ago, Burke would not argue with you.