Long before social media made stars out of athletes with a camera and a clever caption, Jan Stephenson was already mastering the art of influence. Think of her as the original Paige Spiranac—but with a trophy case that would make any Hall of Famer jealous.

"If I'd had Instagram and Facebook back then, I probably would've been an even bigger star—and made a lot of money from it," Stephenson says with a knowing smile.

But here's what sets her apart from today's digital icons: Stephenson had the game to back up the glamour. With 27 professional wins under her belt—including 16 on the LPGA Tour and three major championships, most notably the 1983 U.S. Women's Open—she earned her spot in the World Golf Hall of Fame in 2019. That's not just a pretty face; that's a legacy.

In an era when the LPGA Tour was fighting for relevance, Stephenson's bold approach helped breathe new life into women's golf. While Nancy Lopez was electrifying fans with her competitive fire, Stephenson brought a different kind of sparkle—one that caught the attention of mainstream media and casual sports fans alike.

"I did it to help the Tour because it was struggling," she explains. And she had the full backing of LPGA Commissioner Ray Volpe, who understood that a little star power could go a long way.

Now 74, Stephenson recently returned to the spotlight at LPGA International, joining 17 other former LPGA legends for a charity scramble that raised nearly $100,000 for the Air Warrior Courage Foundation. It's just the latest chapter in a life dedicated to giving back.

The Australian-born golfer has called Florida home for decades, and for the past 10 years, she's been based in Tampa. Through her Jan Stephenson Crossroads Foundation, she uses golf as a tool to support military veterans—a cause that keeps her as busy and passionate as ever.

And those iconic images from her prime—the Sport Magazine cover, the famous calendar shoot where she posed in a bathtub full of golf balls? They still find their way into her mailbox, attached to autograph requests. It seems some legacies never fade—they just get better with age.