Edwin Pope remembers the barrels of whiskey that stood next to the typewriters in the old press tent.
Ron Green Sr. recalls the April morning in 1958 when he had breakfast with a young pro named Arnold Palmer.
And Dan Jenkins and Furman Bisher look back with fondness on 1954, when amateur Billy Joe Patton almost won the Masters against a couple of guys named Hogan and Snead.
Pope, Green, Jenkins and Bisher won't be found in any official statistics kept by the Augusta National Golf Club. But their words and stories, perhaps enough to fill the club's cavernous press building, will endure forever.
At a place where longevity is cherished and appreciated, this quartet of talented writers is among those who have been making an annual pilgrimage to golf's holy land longer than they care to remember.
Pope made his Masters debut in 1947, then skipped a few before settling into a routine in 1968. Bisher arrived on the scene in 1950, making this his golden anniversary. Jenkins followed in 1951, covering his idol Ben Hogan for the Fort Worth Press. And Green arrived the same year as Palmer, in 1955.
One year at the Masters
Dan Jenkins has said he hopes to cover the Masters for at least 52 years, so he can say he has spent a year of his life at the Masters.
At 69, Jenkins is one of America's most famous golf writers. Of course, it didn't hurt that he's from Fort Worth, Texas, and covered Hogan at the height of his career for the hometown paper. Or that he was the lead golf writer for Sports Illustrated from the early 1960s to 1984.
Nowadays, Jenkins spends his time as a writer at large, which means he writes a monthly column for Golf Digest and covers the four majors and the Ryder Cup. He also has a golf novel in the works, due out next year.
``Back in the '50s you could go in the locker room. Hogan would sit on one side, and Snead on the other,'' Jenkins recalled this week. ``Guys would be all over them, standing on benches, whatever. Always had a lot of writers around here. This place was always crawling. And there weren't any rally-killers (club officials who moderated interviews) back then.''
In the early 1950s, Jenkins said, there was only one place to eat -- the Town Tavern. And choices for lodging were limited to three hotels -- Richmond, Bon-Air and the Partridge Inn.
``In the old days you could play the course on the weekend before the tournament,'' he said. ``Another writer and I were teeing off on the 15th hole and I looked back and sitting in a golf cart were Clifford Roberts and Bobby Jones.''
Through his association with Hogan, Roberts knew who Jenkins was. At the suggestion of another writer, Herbert Warren Wind, Jenkins took his wife into the clubhouse for dinner one night in the late 1950s. After Roberts spotted the couple, he invited them to dine at his table.
Jenkins, who moved back to Fort Worth after a decade in Florida, developed a relationship with the reclusive Hogan. He could go out to Colonial and watch Hogan practice or play, and often would wind up playing with his idol.
``I knew what a privilege it was at that time,'' Jenkins said.
Jenkins, who once wrote that ``Sam Snead won the Masters on greens slicker than the top of his head,'' points to 1954 as his favorite tournament.
Following the action with his pal, the late Bob Drum, Jenkins recalls how the amateur Patton lost the tournament with two swings.
``Patton came to 13 with a two- or three-shot lead,'' Jenkins said. ``He told the gallery, `I didn't get where I am by playing safe.' At the same time he was hitting, Hogan was hitting it in the water at 11. After that he (Hogan) said if you ever see me on that green, you'll know I've made a mistake.''
Patton lost three strokes to par on Nos. 13 and 15 and finished one shot out of the playoff, where Snead got the better of Hogan.
Jenkins rates Hogan and Jack Nicklaus as the ``two greatest competitors and winners the game has ever seen. Nicklaus won by being long and straight. And being a great putter.''
Jenkins' novels are as profane as they are funny. Semi-Tough, Dead Solid Perfect, Fast Copy and You Gotta Play Hurt, just to name a few, center around his experiences as a sports writer whose favorite subjects were golf and football.
In his novels, the action was fast and furious, both on the playing fields and off. But Jenkins, who underwent bypass surgery in 1994 -- ``I was supposed to have four bypasses, but I birdied one and only had three'' -- has slowed down considerably.
Jenkins and his wife, June, have three children. Daughter Sally is a writer with ESPN the Magazine and is working on a biography of Dean Smith.Sons Marty and Danny are photographers.
``I'm just a typewriter junkie. I don't believe in retirement,'' Jenkins said. ``I'm going to keep doing this as long as they let me.''
Golden anniversary
``Awe'' is the word that comes into Furman Bisher's mind when the subject is Augusta National and the Masters.
``I think everybody is in awe, and if you're not, you don't have the proper attitude,'' said the longtime columnist for the Atlanta Journal-Constitution. ``The people here have a deep respect for golf and sportsmanship.''
Bisher covered his first Masters in 1950 for the old Charlotte News. He counts himself lucky, at age 80, to have covered so many of the tournaments.
The native of Denton, N.C., graduated from the University of North Carolina but said he has a special place in his heart for Furman University, which he also attended. He will receive an honorary doctorate from the Greenville, S.C., university at spring commencement ceremonies.
Two Masters stand out for Bisher. The first was in 1954, when he was walking across the fairway when Patton made his hole-in-one on No. 6.
``The ball whizzed over my head,'' Bisher recalled with a chuckle. ``I didn't see where it landed, but it rolled into the cup. Then he knocked it in the water on 13 and 15. He laughed his way through it.''
Nicklaus' victory in 1986, when his son Jackie caddied for him, was also very special for Bisher.
``I'll never forget the scene of the two Jacks embracing on the 18th hole,'' Bisher said. ``To see him win, that was something.''
During Nicklaus' media conference Tuesday afternoon, a question was asked and Bisher got up to leave the room.
``What's the matter, you don't want to hear my answer, Furman?'' Nicklaus asked.
``At my age, a man respects his kidneys,'' Bisher replied as the crowded interview room burst into laughter.
Breakfast with Arnie
Back in the 1950s, ``things were more casual and cordial then,'' Green said.
So casual that Green was staying at the old Richmond Hotel in 1958 when he ran into Palmer and his wife, Winnie, on Saturday night. They had a drink together, then Green and a buddy ran into the Palmers on Sunday morning. The four had breakfast together.
``That afternoon he won his first Masters,'' said Green, who started with the Charlotte News and works for The Charlotte Observer. ``We did it the next year, and it didn't work. That's a fond memory for me.''
Green's 45-year love affair with the Masters as a columnist ends this year. He's retiring July 1, after he helps his newspaper cover the U.S. Open, which is being played in Pinehurst, N.C.
He is a longtime observer of Atlantic Coast Conference basketball and has covered all of the tough tickets in sports -- the Super Bowl, the Final Four and the ACC Tournament.
``This is my absolute favorite week of the year,'' Green said of Masters Week. ``It's played at the same place every year. You can relate what's happening to what has happened in the past. I can walk down any fairway here and remember some wonderful things that have happened.''
The Masters remains a special place for Green because he doesn't seek out any negatives. For instance, he's never listened to the annual state of the club address by the Augusta National chairman.
``What I've done is I've tried not to look under the covers,'' he said. ``I don't want to know about the politics. I don't care how much money they make.''
His favorite memories include Nicklaus' win in 1986 -- ``that was probably the best moment I've experienced down here'' -- and he rates the 1975 duel between Nicklaus, Tom Weiskopf and Johnny Miller as the best tournament. The best period of golf was when Palmer, Nicklaus and Gary Player kept the green jacket to themselves in the early 1960s, Green said.
A native of Greenville, the 70-year-old Green moved to Charlotte, N.C., when he was in the eighth grade. Of his three children, only Ron Jr. followed him into the profession. The two work together at the Observer and are sitting side by side this week in the press building.
A member of the U.S. Basketball Writers Association Hall of Fame, Green said he will continue to do some work for the newspaper after he retires. He also is working on a golf novel that features a John Daly-type character.
Just a piece of paper
Edwin Pope, columnist for The Miami Herald, remembers a far different Masters than what it is today.
``They were begging people to buy tickets,'' he said.
The Athens, Ga., native first came to the Masters in 1947.
``I covered it when all you had to do was show up and produce a piece of paper that said you worked for the Athens Banner-Herald,'' he said.
Pope, who also worked for the Atlanta paper and United Press, said the press facilities weren't as spacious back then.
``The press tent was literally a press tent, located over by the first fairway,'' he said. ``It had planks on the floor and 12 or 13 typewriters. Each one had a big barrel of whiskey beside it, in various stages of emptiness. Mostly empty.''
Pope, 70, counts Nicklaus' victory in 1986 as his top moment.
``Nicklaus winning at age 46 -- that was my favorite. That was just wonderful,'' he said. ``I can say that I've never been to a Masters that hasn't been wonderful.''
The thing that makes the Masters special for Pope is that there always is something happening.
``It's more interesting here,'' he said. ``I'm one of nine guys who have been to every Super Bowl. That is the worst, most boring week in sports.
``The Masters is the antithesis of the Super Bowl in terms of constant action.''
In the late 1960s, Pope became irritated when a club official became too heavy-handed during the interview sessions. So he wrote Chairman Roberts a letter, explaining the situation.
Much to his surprise, he received a reply from Roberts, indicating he would handle the situation.
``I haven't seen that guy around here since,'' Pope said.
Earlier this week, when Pope checked in, he asked the guard at the front gate whether he could walk down Magnolia Lane. It's one of the few things he hasn't experienced at the Masters. A tournament official granted him the request.
``I saw (90-year-old) Paul Runyan hitting balls next to Ernie Els,'' he said. ``That's the kind of thing you see here that's so wonderful.''
Word-masters enjoy chronicling National saga