AT one time, he was as familiar a figure around the upper room of the old colonial clubhouse, as the game's leading competitors. But Jack Whitaker is not planning on a return to Augusta National this week. He no longer qualifies for a clubhouse pass and in his view, "it's a lot different going to the Masters if you can't get beyond the ropes."

On meeting him, the first thing one noticed were the two, obtrusive hearing aids which encouraged a greater clarity of speech, when engaging him in conversation. For his part, the famous voice retained the authoritative vigour, which held such appeal for NBC and ABC network audiences over a period of 40 years.

In a collar and tie, sports jacket and twill slacks, the only concession he made to informality was with a somewhat incongruous baseball cap. Otherwise, this legend of American broadcasting was very much a product of the old school.

This is the Jack Whitaker who incurred the wrath of golf's most notorious autocrat, with consequent banishment from the CBS booth at the Masters. He had done the unthinkable by describing Augusta National fans as "a mob", long before a CBS successor, Gary McCord, had been shown the door for references to body-bags and bikini wax.

"Oh, you mean 1966," he said, as if surprised by my question. "Yes. I was with CBS at the time and I said there was a mob scene at the 18th when they all broke ....." He paused to gather his thoughts.

"It was a very long day, a Monday play-off and if you go over 6.0 on American television with a sporting event you're into the local news which is a no-no. An absolute no-no. This was going over 7.0 o'clock, which was the network news with Walter Cronkite and that was absolutely anathema."

As it happened, there were a good number of first-time spectators there that day, using passes they had got from regular ticket holders who couldn't wait for the play-off. And as the three contestants, Jack Nicklaus, Gay Brewer and Tommy Jacobs approached the final green, Whitaker was fearful the crowd's unruly behaviour could cause a further delay.

"I was rushing to get off the air as Nicklaus sank the winning putt and I said "Here comes the mob," he recalled. Augusta's chairman, Clifford Roberts, was so incensed by the remark that he instructed CBS to remove Whitaker from future Masters telecasts.

"When they told me six or seven months later that I wasn't going to be back at the Masters, the reason they gave me was that I called the gallery a mob," he went on. "I was also told that I had failed to inform the viewers that there would be a green-jacket ceremony on the putting green.

"It really stung. But I was more angry with CBS than I was with the Masters for not notifying me earlier about my so-called fall from grace. I never quite believed the reasons they gave me. When it came down to it, I think it must have been that they just didn't like me."

Adopting a philosophical tone, he continued: "But it turned out to be a good thing for me in that I got a lot of sympathy afterwards. And it was clear that CBS felt bad about it because six years later, they invited me back to Augusta as their guest. I said okay.

"So I went back and I'm up on the second floor of the clubhouse having breakfast with Claude Harmon and Cary Middlecoff. And Claude's telling us some of those marvellous stories of his.

"Suddenly, there's was a tap on my shoulder and Frank Chirkinian (the long-time CBS golf producer, now retired) says: `Henry Longhurst has just gone to the hospital and you're going to do 16. So we'd better go down and talk to the old man (Roberts)."'

Whittaker was understandably apprehensive. "Down we went to the man, the ogre who had banned me and who used to critique every telecast," he recalled. "As I walked in, Chirkinian said `Mr Roberts, this is Jack Whitaker.' And he got up and said: `Young man. We're very fortunate that you're here. Welcome.' And that was it. I was back. And I remember thinking that maybe he wasn't such a bad guy after all."

But there was still a price to be paid. Longhurst returned to broadcasting action the following day and though Whittaker was retained for the 14th hole that year, he had lost the anchor position to Pat Summerall. And he would never return to that seat of broadcasting authority.

Later on, however, he was assigned to cover the spectacular, long 13th, which he loved. "In the tower there, you're back away from the people," he explained. "It's a lovely site and so many dramatic things tend to happen there. So I stayed there until I left for ABC in 1982."

When I was indelicate enough to ask his age, the reply came in horseracing parlance. "I'm rising to my 74th fence," he said, proudly. "And I've been in the broadcasting business since I got out of college in 1937 and went into radio. In 1950, I joined television where I've been ever since."

Lowering his voice as if in wistful memory of happy, bygone days, he went on: "My first TV job was in Philadelphia at the local CBS station and I moved from there to the CBS network in New York, 12 years later. I was there until 1982 when I moved over to ABC. Six years ago, I retired from ABC and I'm now on my own, I suppose you could say freelancing."

He then described the varied nature of his work. "From an early stage, it became apparent to me that television had a great appetite for sport," he said. "And sure enough, I found myself doing everything from ice skating to American football, baseball, track and field - athletics as you call them - and soccer.

"When the first great experience with soccer in the United States was led by the New York Cosmos, I had the enormous pleasure of seeing Pele play. Even though he was nearing the end of his career you could see that he was something special.

"In later years, from about '77 on, I concentrated mainly on golf and horse-racing. Along with baseball, they became my three great loves. Nowadays I don't do the horses any more but I do five Shell Wonderful World of Golf programmes every year.

"My heroes? Joe DiMaggio and a great football player from Notre Dame by the name of Charlie Lujack. Charlie and me are now good friends and I see him in the desert every winter, in the Palm Springs area.

"In fact all those heroes of my college football days, Glenn Davis and Lujack, they're all kind of pals now. And it all happened because of somebody asking me when a certain sportscaster quit, if I knew anything about sport. I didn't know half as much as I pretended, but of course I said yes.

"I often wonder what would have happened had I stayed in news. I wouldn't have had as much fun, but it might have been more interesting. But no. I've no regrets."

Over the years, he established first-name relationships with some of golf's greatest names. During last year's Masters, when he was passing the ninth green at Augusta, this voice with a familiar, colonial twang rang out: "Jack, who's going to win the (Kentucky) Derby?"

Whitaker replied that he liked a horse called Indian Charlie. And then he and Gary Player continued to talk about horse-racing on the walk to the 10th tee. He considers himself similarly fortunate in becoming acquainted with Ben Hogan, Gene Sarazen and Byron Nelson and, of course, Nicklaus and Arnold Palmer.

"I never got to know Hogan well, but I was in his company about four or five times," he recalled. "One such occasion was a dinner in Fort Worth at the Colonial and I sat between him and Valerie and had a great evening.

"Ben was funny and marvellous company. I would love to have got to know him but I never really got the chance. Either way, I found him to be completely different from his popular image.

"Nicklaus I was fortunate enough to cover in his hey-day. ABC hired him as an analyst and we worked the major championships together. I remember the 1982 US Open (at Pebble Beach) when I did an interview with him on the edge of the bay while Watson was walking to his ball on 17.

"Jack had had five birdies on the front nine and having finished his round, he was now tied with (Tom) Watson. And when Watson hit it in the heavy rough at 17, it looked as if Nicklaus was certain of at least a tie. I know that was the way Nicklaus was thinking.

"From the tower, we watched as Watson sank that famous chip on 17 and Jack just sagged beside me. Finally he said `that's the second time the sonofabitch has done that to me.' Which, of course, was a reference to the 1977 British Open at Turnberry. It was quite a moment and I was amazed at the way he carried it off.

"There was no way of knowing how much it hurt him. Shortly afterwards he was congratulating Tom and being his usual, charming self. It must have hurt him desperately to see the record fifth US Open being torn from his grasp but you would never have known.

"But I think most golfers do that very well - the good ones certainly. It's part of the game. To be a good golfer, the first thing you've got to learn is patience and not to get mad at yourself like I do. Cover your emotions. I think it's remarkable and I wish we all had their level of self-control."

Then his thoughts drifted back to Augusta National and a special golfing week which has had such a profound impact on his career. "Golf is a lot like horse-racing," he mused. "You lose more often than you win. Golf teaches you to take the knocks and move on to the next shot."

There was no hint of rancour as he concluded: "I've done enough Masters. Even with all that's happened there, I've enough nice memories from the place to see me out. It's been a great experience."