In october 1998, the late Lloyd Mangrum was inducted into the World Golf Hall of Fame along with Seve Ballesteros and Amy Alcott. While certainly an honor, some observers contend that the distinction occurred years too late.

Mangrum's 36 wins on the PGA Tour place him 10th on the all-time list, ahead of such greats as Tom Watson, Horton Smith, Jimmy Demaret, Paul Runyan, Gary Player, Lee Trevino, and Johnny Miller. Only nine others -- including Ben Hogan and Jack Nicklaus -- won more tournaments, yet 73 others walked into golf's Hall of Fame before Mangrum.

"He was a great golfer who was somewhat forgotten," explained longtime friend and adversary Byron Nelson to a magazine reporter. "He was a tough competitor and an excellent putter. Any time you beat him, you could know you were playing well."

Though posting enviable numbers, Mangrum labored in the shadows of golf's legendary figures of the 1940s and 1950s. Sam Snead, Hogan, Demaret, and Nelson dominated the headlines, while Mangrum steadily pocketed tournament wins with little notice.

The Dallas, Texas, native was born on August 1, 1914. He picked up the basics of golf by studying golfers at the El Tivoli Country Club, where he caddied, and by hitting balls with his brother Ray, who would also become a winner on the PGA Tour.

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In 1937, Mangrum joined the Tour. Three years later he won the Thomasville Open. The next year he added the Atlantic City Open and was named to the 1942 Ryder Cup team.

Mangrum appeared destined for greatness, but World War II interrupted. He could have avoided combat, but Mangrum felt an obligation to his nation. While training for the 1944 D-day landings, Mangrum was offered the professional's job at the army's Fort Meade golf course. This would have kept him out of combat, but Mangrum declined. He replied that he was in the army to fight for his country, not to play golf.

A startling string of events then unfolded. Mangrum entered combat at Omaha Beach, where his jeep overturned, breaking his arm in two places.

A few months later Mangrum and his unit fought the retreating German army near Frankfurt, Germany. A buddy yelled to Mangrum, and when the golfer turned his head, a bullet zipped through the back of his helmet, precisely where his face had been an instant earlier. Within moments two more bullets hit his shoulder and lower leg. He said later, "I don't remember how long I laid there, but I sure figured it was the finish."

By war's end, Mangrum and one other soldier were the sole surviving members of their original unit. Though Mangrum received two Purple Hearts and four battle stars, he downplayed his role, joking that he received his injuries "tripping over a whiskey bottle while running out of a whorehouse in Paris."

He returned home with a fresh perspective on life. "I don't suppose that any of the pro or amateur golfers who were combat soldiers, marines, or sailors will soon be able to think of a three-putt green as one of the really bad troubles in life," he said.

When he returned to golf, Mangrum wasted little time making an impact. At the 1946 U.S. Open at Cleveland's Canterbury Country Club, he battled Vic Ghezzi and Nelson for the lead. The players finished in a three-way tie and prepared for a playoff.

Erratic play put Mangrum three shots back with six holes to go. Then, he birdied three out of four holes to grab a two-stroke lead at the 16th. However, bogeys at 17 and 18 in a furious thunderstorm nearly cost him the title. Nelson fell out of contention with another bogey, while Ghezzi pulled within one stroke on 17. On the final hole, Ghezzi missed a five-foot putt that would have brought him even with his opponent. Mangrum calmly sank a two-footer to win the Open title.

The five-foot-10, 150-pound Mangrum earned his contemporaries' respect with his calm and quiet demeanor. Strikingly handsome with dark wavy hair and a thin mustache, he resembled Hollywood actor Douglas Fairbanks. Noted sportswriter Grantland Rice claimed, "No one in golf has more friends."

The modest athlete frequently hit shots in tournaments with a cigarette dangling from his mouth, yet he played with an intensity that bordered on the driven. "He was a real cool cat on the golf course," explained Nelson. Another Mangrum contemporary, Jack Burke Jr., said, "He was tough, unrelenting -- exactly like Hogan."

There also was a dark side to Mangrum. A handful of pros worried that the war might have affected his personality. He seemed obsessed with violence and guns and engaged in some fights after high-stakes card games. He once needed six months to recover from injuries suffered in a barroom brawl.

Mangrum compiled a steady string of victories. In 1948, he won six times and had 21 top-10 finishes. He was named to six Ryder Cup teams, and served as captain in 1953. Twice he won the Vardon trophy for lowest stroke average -- in 1951 with 70.05 and in 1953 with 70.22 -- and he took five playoff victories.

Mangrum also was involved in one of golf's greatest stories when he battled with Hogan at the U.S. Open at Merion Golf Club in 1950. It took an unfortunate blunder and Hogan's courageous play just after his near-fatal automobile accident to defeat Mangrum.

One stroke behind Hogan coming down the stretch in a playoff, Mangrum knocked himself out of the tournament after an insect landed on his golf ball on the 16th green. He marked his ball, picked it up, blew off the offending bug, replaced the golf ball, and drained an 18-foot putt for an apparent par.

When Mangrum stepped to the 17th tee, however, an official informed him he had incurred a two-stroke penalty. The Rules of Golf did not then permit lifting and cleaning a ball on the green. Mangrum lost the playoff by four strokes.

Mangrum retired from tournament play in 1962. Eleven years later, at age 59, he died following his 12th heart attack.

The Hall of Famer's tenacity and stellar play deserve acclaim, but few books have been written to herald his deeds. Hogan, Snead, and Nelson continue to overshadow the man, just as they did 50 years ago.

At the 1996 Masters, Nelson conducted a test. "I asked three young pros if they ever heard of Lloyd Mangrum, and they never had." It is an oversight that Nelson would love to correct: "Lloyd's the best player who's been forgotten since I've been playing golf."