When Walter Hagen came to Clontarf GC for an exhibition match on Saturday, May 26th, 1928, he was already a legendary figure. Indeed the legend had been embellished only two weeks previously, when he captured the British Open for a third time at Royal St George's, Sandwich, beating compatriot Gene Sarazen by two strokes.

The visit to Clontarf, where he played a fourball with the resident professional, Jack Quinn, against Willie Holley and Willie Nolan, was to mark the official opening of the new 18-hole course. It was a miserable, wet day, which kept the attendance down to "no more than a few stragglers", according to The Irish Times.

We are told that Hagen was less than pleased with the turnout, having contracted for the gate receipts rather than a specific fee. In the event, he received a decidedly modest sum for his trouble and his mood was hardly brightened by the fact that the opposition combined to whip himself and Quinn by 4 and 3.

During the course of the match, observers saw little evidence of the gregarious personality which had endeared Hagen to enthusiasts on both sides of the Atlantic. According to The Irish Times, "An awfully serious look never left his plump, round face . . . occasionally, when Nolan hit one with the wood well outside him (Hagen), he would watch the ball soar and drop and, looking down on the tee-box would utter the one word, `S-H-O-T', taking longer over it than others would over `Oh! A grand shot'."

Hagen was then aged 35 and at the stage of an illustrious career where he had already gained a unique place in golfing history. Through his USPGA Championship triumph in 1927, he had become the only player to win four successive major titles.

So, during that extended tour of Britain and Ireland in 1928, he could afford to take a philosophical view of a 72-hole exhibition match against Archie Compston at Moor Park. It took place on Friday and Saturday, April 27th and 28th, and the pair were playing for £750, or $3,750 - a then record stake for a golf match on this side of the Atlantic.

The strain of high living on board the Aquitania from New York clearly took its toll on the American, insofar as he was hammered by 18 and 17. He recalled: "At the 18th green (of the third round), I was faced with a putt of 20 feet or the match was over, for I was then 18 down. It was high noon . . . a balmy day.

"The drive up to the clubhouse, passing the 18th green, was bordered with colourful rhododendrons and busy with cars bringing more fans to see the afternoon. If I don't make the putt, I thought, I'm beaten 19 and 18 to go. And all those beautiful shillings must be paid back to customers at the gate.

"As luck would have it, I made the putt and guaranteed at least a start of the afternoon round. The last round of our match consisted of a single hole. We fought to the end, however. I had to putt from a foot, and I made Archie putt from six inches. We halved the hole for him to take the match, 18 and 17 to play."

By his admission, Hagen needed a bicarbonate to help him digest the British newspaper headlines the following morning. "Hagen Submerged", "Conquering Compston", "The Rout of Walter Hagen", "American Gets His Own Medicine", "Hagen's Ghost is Laid", "The Eclipse of Hagen", "Hagen Takes His Physic".

To appreciate such ecstatic journalistic outpouring, one must be aware that where matchplay was concerned, Hagen was considered to be unbeatable at that time. And with good reason. But it is not without significance that Compston had shot approximate figures of 66, 67 and 70 for the decisive rounds.

In his book Power Golf, published in 1948, Ben Hogan wrote: "Walter Hagen had the greatest mental approach to golf of any player I ever knew. That is probably why he won the PGA Championship, which is decided by matchplay, five times.

"Walter always thought he was going to miss a certain number of shots a round. Take the attitude that you are going to miss so many shots anyhow and then go ahead and play each hole for all that it is worth."

As a rather useful asset, however, he happened to be a master of recovery shots. Always liable to hit the occasional wild effort with a wooden club or long iron, he was equally likely to disappear into the woods, bushes or deep rough, put his ball on the green and then hole the putt. Which generally left his opponent feeling justifiably aggrieved after hitting fairway and green before two-putting for an orthodox par.

IN ALMOST every respect he was a self-made golfer with a far from orthodox swing. In fact, US observers claimed that he swayed like a rocking-chair, using an outlandish amount of body movement, including a violent right-side thrust through the shot, culminating in a strange finish which saw his right shoulder pointed out at the target. It was said that Hagen finished the swing as if he were about to sprint after the ball.

Still, he coped admirably, not least because of a fiercely competitive nature, which was in evidence from the start of his tournament career. The Canadian Open of 1912 was the first event he entered and on being asked afterwards how he had fared, Hagen replied: "I lost."

Recalling the triumph which still separates him from other great figures of the game, he remarked, with typical mischief: "I know full well that a great many of my sports writer friends, and my golfing pals as well, expected to see me knocked off my perch as PGA champion when I showed up at the Cedar Crest Country Club in Dallas for the 1927 matches.

"I hadn't planned on being there at all, for I'd decided not to compete that year. I was up at my camp in Watersmeet, Michigan, enjoying the fishing and the cool lake breezes. Only two days before the championship, I decided I owed it to my fellow pros to give them a chance to beat me - if they could.

"I rushed down to my golf factory, picked up a new set of clubs and hopped a train for Dallas. I arrived at four o'clock on the afternoon prior to the start of the matches. I went out immediately to try the clubs and get in a few practice shots. I probably owe my win to that new set of clubs . . . the only thing rusty was my swing.

"Having held the title for three consecutive years, I felt the mathematical odds were against my winning again. But once the matches started, I had other ideas in mind."

As it happened, Tommy Armour, Johnny Farrell, Tommy Harmon and Bobby Cruickshank were in his half of the draw and, ever the showman, Hagen believed it was important to involve the gallery. Which would explain why, after hitting a particularly brilliant recovery from rough onto the heart of the green, he turned to a young admirer and remarked: "Did I make it look hard enough, son?"

His opponent in the 36-hole final was Joe Turnesa, one of seven golfing brothers from New York. And according to reports, Hagen had to work hard for his one-hole victory. In fact, he was behind for most of the way before squaring at the 29th. Typically, he went ahead at the 31st and then maintained control of the match until the finish.

Writing in The American Golfer, William D Richardson reported: "Having watched Walter Hagen snap his fingers in the face of fate and make new golf history by winning the PGA title for the fourth successive time, one cannot help but feel that absolutely nothing remains to be seen."

Three years later, however, Bobby Jones was to change such thinking by capturing the so-called Impregnable Quadrilateral, which remains the ultimate golfing achievement.

Given that he won his opening two matches in the 1928 Championship before losing in the quarter-finals, Hagen had gone 22 consecutive matches without defeat. In six USPGA Championships, from 1921 up to and including 1927, he lost only one match out of 30. He didn't compete in 1922, and in the following year he was runner-up to Sarazen at Pelham.

As a fascinating aside, the first time he lost in the opening round of the USPGA was against an Irishman, in September 1932. That was when Greenore's Peter O'Hare (known in the US as O'Hara) defeated the great one at the Wannamoisett CC in Providence, Rhode Island.

FLAMBOYANT both of dress and nature, Hagen let it be known from the outset that he was not prepared to be treated as a secondclass citizen in a notoriously elitist sport. And he considered it outrageous that he should be refused permission to eat or change in the Royal St George's clubhouse on his way to a breakthrough British Open triumph in 1922.

So it was that he hired an Austro-Daimler limousine for changing his shoes and eating in. And by way of emphasising the point to the powers-that-be, he parked it directly in front of the clubhouse. As a further act of bravado, he handed the winner's cheque for £75 to his caddie.

A year later, Hagen was runnerup to Arthur Havers at Troon, where he declined an invitation into the clubhouse to attend the presentation. Instead, he invited anyone who was interested along to the local pub for a drink, leaving the presentation somewhat sparsely attended.

Hagen won five USPGA Championships, four British Opens and two US Opens for a total of 11 "major" triumphs. The Masters came too late for him, though he competed at Augusta National on four occasions, with a highest-placed finish of 11th in 1936.

Given the rich praise accorded him by no less a figure than Hogan, it seemed richly ironic that the Hawk should have been held responsible for the ultimate demise of the PGA Championship as a matchplay event. Charles Price, a leading American golf writer, claimed the event was irreparably damaged by Hogan's decision to opt instead for the conflicting British Open in 1953.

It is even more ironic that the phone call which ultimately convinced Hogan to travel to Carnoustie came from Hagen, who had effectively placed the USPGA Championship in the public consciousness through his exploits of the 1920. As things turned out, television dictated the change from match to strokeplay in 1958, and with it went any realistic chance that Hagen's achievement might be equalled.

Given his contribution to their flagship event, it was only proper that he should have had the gratitude of the PGA of America, who named him captain of every US Ryder Cup team from 1927 to 1941. But it was an honour they would never have accorded him unless his peers regarded him as someone very special.

Walter Charles Hagen died in Traverse City, Michigan, on May 10th, 1969. And at 76, not even he could have argued that he had led anything other than a full life.