He’s “80 years young,’’ which probably is why everyone still refers to him as “Billy.’’ It’s not only a sign of respect, but a tribute to the easygoing nature associated with Billy Johnston.

Even though he was one of the true pioneers of golf in Arizona, I would bet most who follow the game are unaware of just how much impact the soft-spoken Johnston had on the Southwest. Or, for that matter, still has.

Born in Pennsylvania but raised in Ogden, Utah, Billy served in the Navy during World War II then attended the University of Utah, where he played on the golf team. Upon gradutation, he began a dual career as a professional golfer and golf course architect, a theme to which he still adheres.

“I remember how excited I was to get my first job right out of college,’’ recalled Johnston, a long-time Scottsdale resident.

“I was hired to be the club pro at a course in Vernal, Utah, and when I got there they took me out on this farm, pointed to some land, and said, ‘Here’s the course, now build it.’ ’’

And so Johnston built the first of his 10 golf courses in 1950, and it was called Dinaland. It would take another 28 years before he would build his second, the Arizona Biltmore Links, as his other career in professional golf seemed to keep getting in the way.

“I won the Texas Open in 1958 and the Utah Open in 1960,’’ he said of the 15 years he spent playing on what would become the PGA Tour. “But it was different back then, because along with playing the tour I also was a club pro.’’

His second job along those lines brought him to Arizona, and more specifically to Arizona Country Club, where he ran the operation from 1961-66, when the club hosted three Phoenix Opens (1961, ’63 and ’65). In 1967, Johnston moved to Flagstaff and oversaw the construction of Continental Golf Course, a little layout in the mountains he would eventually redesign in 1979 under the name Elden Hills.

There also were stints at Paradise Valley Country Club, the Arizona Biltmore and Orange Tree. In all, Johnston was a club pro for 45 consecutive years. He also also was a co-founder of the Southwest Senior Golf Association, which came into play in 1976.

“Sometimes I was the guy in charge, and sometimes I was just the playing pro, and sometimes I was a golf course architect,’’ Johnston explained about the many hats he wore. “Eventually, I started playing golf again when the Senior PGA Tour came along.’’

That was 1980, and Johnston was one of the original members who played in that inaugural event in Atlantic City.

“As it worked out, I didn’t win any (Senior PGA tournaments), but I still made pretty good money,’’ he said. “That was a busy time in my life, because I played the senior tour for 11 years, and built five golf courses while I did it.’’

Those courses included Eagle Creek in Cave Creek, which now called Rancho Manana; the Pointe at Lookout Mountain, which hosted the first senior tour event in Arizona back in 1998; and three courses in Texas. And, if the truth be known, Johnston never has stopped long enough to savor the other three courses he has built in the past 20 years, including his most recent effort -- Legacy Ridge in the Dallas suburb of Bonham, Texas.

“Well, I am pretty proud of the last one,’’ Johnston said of Legacy Ridge, which was voted the best new course in the Dallas metroplex in 2004.

If you guessed that Johnston remains quite active for an octagenarian, that would be a gimme.

“Yeah, I (ital)only(nonital) played five times this past week,’’ he said recently of his almost daily ritual.

“I still can shoot between 70 and 79, so most of the time I can beat my age, which is pretty good for an old boy.’’

That he still can refer to himself as a “boy’’ is living proof why Johnston remains in the “go’’ mode. And he gives a lot of the credit to his wife of 52 years, JoAnne.

“It’s been a good life and I’ve enjoyed it, although if I could change anything, I wish I would have won more tournaments through the years,’’ he said. “But I’m not finished yet, because there’s no such word as ‘retirement’ in my vocabularly.’’

Even though many of his friends have come and gone, Johnston remains full of life.