Byron Nelson, who died yesterday at 94, had the greatest year in the history of professional golf when he won 18 tournaments in 1945.

Then in perhaps the most elegant example ever of a champion leaving at the top, he folded his umbrella and went back to the Texas ranch he bought with his golf winnings for his wife.

Known as Lord Byron for his elegant swing and gentle manner, Nelson won 31 of 54 tournaments in 1944—45, including a record 11 in a row.

When I was playing regularly, I had a goal,” Nelson recalled years later. “I could see the prize money going into the ranch, buying a tractor, or a cow. It gave me incentive.”

Among the majors, he won the Masters in 1937 and ’42, the U.S. Open in 1939 and the PGA Championship in 1940 and ’45.

Nelson’s long, fluid swing became the modern way to strike a golf ball and his kind, caring style with fans and competitors made him one of the most well-liked people in sports. “You can always argue about who was the greatest player,” Ken Venturi, one of Nelson’s disciples, told the World Golf Hall of Fame. “But Byron is the finest gentleman the game has ever known.”

Nelson was born February 4, 1912, on the family farm and started in golf in 1922 as a caddie at Glen Garden Country Club in Fort Worth. One year, he won the caddies’ championship, defeating Ben Hogan in a playoff.

It could have been the start of a beautiful rivalry. Though they were born six months apart, Nelson won all five of his major championships before he was 34 and Hogan won all nine of his after he was 34.

After graduating from high school, Nelson got a job as a file clerk and played golf in his spare time. He lost his job during the In 1931, he entered his first tournament, the National Amateur in Chicago, where he missed qualifying by one stroke. With jobs hard to find, he turned professional in 1932.

Nelson started out competing against Gene Sarazen and lived to see Tiger Woods, an era that spanned the technological chasm between hickory shafts and titanium heads.

He made an appearance each year at the Masters, joining Sam Snead and Gene Sarazen in hitting the ceremonial first balls, and hosted the Byron Nelson Classic, begun in 1968, each May.

“I only won $182,000 in my whole life,” he told the AP in 1987.

As a hemophiliac, Nelson was excused from military service during World War II. But despite the weak fields, his accomplishments in the war years were astounding.

In 1945, as he gathered a head of steam towards his streak of 11 straight victories, Nelson was never out of the top 10 and at one point played 19 consecutive rounds under 70. His stroke average of 68.33 for the season is still the record.

Asked in 1997 how the winning streak affected him financially, Nelson said: “Well, I got some Wheaties, but not until after I had won seven or eight in a row did I get them. And I got 200 bucks.” (He was a long-term spokesman for Wheaties.)

The attention on Nelson as the streak lengthened grew quicker than the money.

“There wasn’t any pressure at first, but it pyramided as the string grew,” Nelson remembered. “It got to be like an auction. The headlines would say, ‘Nelson wins no. 5, can he make it 6?’ or ‘Who can stop Nelson?'”

He was voted AP Male Athlete of the Year in 1944 and 1945. Nelson’s 52 PGA Tour victories — a mark tied by Woods this year — was fifth on the career list behind Sam Snead, Jack Nicklaus, Hogan, and Arnold Palmer. He was elected to the PGA Hall of Fame in 1953 and to the World Golf Hall of Fame in 1974.

In the 1960s he became one of golf’s early TV announcers.

Nelson developed a widely imitated “Texas style” swing that was upright and compact, unlike some of the unwieldy swings of early players.

“The mechanics of my swing were such that it required no thought,” Nelson said. “It’s like eating. You don’t think to feed yourself. If you have to think about your swing it takes that much away from your scoring concentration.”

“I once watched him hit 20 drivers off a fairway in practice, and the trajectory never varied,” recalled Bob Toski, who toured with Nelson and became a famous teacher.

“And he could hit a 1-iron or a 2-iron that carried over 200 yards no more than 15 feet in the air,” Mr. Toski said. “I’ve never seen anybody else hit the ball quite the way he did.”

Asked in 1997 what made Mr. Woods special as a golfer, Nelson sounded as if he were describing his own swing.

“He has perfect balance,” Nelson said. “His coordination from the feet up is all synchronized. And you’ve got to feel through your sight. He does that great.”