The Day Jack Nicklaus Answered the Phone

How a routine business call turned into one of the most unforgettable moments of my life in golf.

The Nostalgia Files: This article is part of The Nostalgia Files, a collection of memories, personal stories, and forgotten moments from a very different America.

There are moments in life so unexpected that even years later you can still remember exactly where you were standing when they happened.

For me, one of those moments came in the spring of 1999.

At the time, I was working as a Personal Vacation Planner (PVP) for Resort Suites of Scottsdale in Arizona. We specialized in golf vacations, and in those days Scottsdale was one of the premier golf destinations in America. Our resort featured condominium-style accommodations with living rooms, kitchens, and multiple bedrooms, making it especially popular with golf groups.

Our most requested accommodations were our four-bedroom suites. For groups of eight golfers traveling together, our four-bedroom doubles were ideal. Two foursomes could share a single suite, with two double beds in each bedroom and a private bathroom for every room. It was comfortable, practical, and kept costs down for everyone.

Like most jobs in the golf travel business, mine involved a lot more than booking rooms. We coordinated tee times, arranged transportation, worked with golf courses, and tried to make sure our guests’ vacations went smoothly.

One of my more interesting responsibilities was arranging accommodations for the instructors of the Nicklaus/Flick Golf Schools, which were held at the prestigious Desert Mountain Golf Club in Scottsdale. Desert Mountain was already legendary, featuring multiple Jack Nicklaus-designed courses and attracting golfers from all over the world.

Because the golf schools were held during March—the peak of the Arizona golf season—our ownership naturally wanted to charge peak-season rates. I worked closely with the woman who coordinated these arrangements from the Nicklaus Companies headquarters in Palm Beach Gardens, Florida, and we eventually settled on rates that worked for everyone.

Over time, we developed a good working relationship.

Then one day, after we had finished discussing room assignments and instructor schedules, I asked a simple question.

“How’s Jack doing after his hip surgery?”

For golf fans, this was a major story at the time. Jack Nicklaus had undergone hip replacement surgery earlier that year and had been forced to miss the Masters Tournament for the first time in four decades.

There was a brief pause.

Then she said something that nearly stopped my heart.

“Well,” she replied casually, “he’s standing right here. You can ask him yourself.”

I don’t remember breathing.

The next voice I heard was the voice of my golfing hero.

“Hello, Dick.”

For a moment, I was completely speechless.

This was Jack Nicklaus.

The Golden Bear.

The man whose career I had followed for years.

The golfer whose photographs and accomplishments had filled magazines, television broadcasts, and golf conversations for most of my adult life.

Eventually, I managed to stammer something out.

“Jaaaack… oh my God… sir… I’ve followed your career for years. How are you doing?”

To his credit, Jack couldn’t have been nicer.

He thanked me for asking about his health, asked me a few questions about myself, and spent a few minutes chatting with a golf fan who was still trying to process the fact that he was actually speaking to Jack Nicklaus on the telephone.

When the call ended, I just sat there for a while.

My golfing buddies were never going to believe this.

As if that wasn’t enough, a couple of weeks later I received a package in the mail.

Inside was a framed photograph of Jack at the Masters, personally inscribed:

“To Dick, Good Luck — Jack Nicklaus.”

More than twenty-five years later, that photograph still hangs on the wall of my bedroom.

But perhaps the best part of the story is that my encounter with Jack didn’t end there.

Later, while working as a spotter for various networks covering golf tournaments such as the inaugural Tradition at Desert Mountain and the Desert Scramble, I would again cross paths with Jack. Each time, I was reminded of something many people eventually discover about their heroes:

It was at The Tradition at Desert Mountain when I met my other golf hero, Arnold Palmer

Here is a video compilation on my Boomerblogger YouTube channel of the images I shot way back in 1988 at the Desert Scramble, Nicklaus & Trevino playing against Norman & Woosnam. Spoiler alert: Norman & Woosnam won.

Sometimes your hero’s turn out to be they’re exactly who you hoped they would be.

Jack Nicklaus was not only the greatest golfer of his generation.

He was also one of the nicest men I ever met.

And every time I look at that framed photograph hanging on my wall, I’m reminded that occasionally, if you’re lucky, life gives you a story that sounds too good to be true.

And it’s true anyway.