Juan Manuel Fangio At Indy, 1958

The following article was published in the May 30, 1958 “Race Edition” of the Indianapolis Star.

The story has no byline, but I’m fairly certain my father, Rick Johnson, wrote it due to phrasing and word usage, which seem to reflect his style. I can almost hear him speak the story….

The story is a good one, and very interesting, so I figured I’d post it here.

Seeing as I’m not 100% sure Dad wrote it, I figure if I give a nice, warm and fuzzy blanket credit, I won’t get my ass sued off!

Therefore, I will credit this story to the Indianapolis Star and their Sports Department as a whole, as oftentimes more than one writer would contribute to a piece…Jep Cadou. Jr., (Star Sports Editor), Bob Collins, Al Roche, Bill Eggert (father of a guy I went to High School with), William H. Keenan, Fred D. Cavinder, and one of my dad’s bestest pals at the Indianapolis Star, Carolyn Pickering.


Sincerely,

Paul A. Johnson

________________________

Road Racing Champ Wouldn’t Try The ‘500’ Spin

Juan Said ‘Adios’ To Indianapolis

(Indianapolis Star Photo)

Maybe a prize from a millionaire sportsman will overcome the jinx that has dogged the glamour racers from other lands at the Indianapolis merry-go-round.

This year it was Juan Fangio. Last year it was Nino Farina.

Both men are veterans of the muscle-gripping, nerve-rending grinds of road racing. They have mastered courses that might have twisted seasoned 500-milers like ribbons…the rugged mountain roads of South America and the tricky, gyrating trails of Italy, France, and Germany.

Monte Nero, Masarjk of Czechoslovakia, Modena, Grand Prix de Tunisia, Monaco, Anversa, Rouen, d’Eifel and Buenos Aires and Mille Miglia are tough test of man and machine.

Drivers who have weathered them deserve the royal speed title.

But Indianapolis has been the Waterloo of more than one of the mighty Latin aces.

The 46-year old Fangio had long before this year expressed ambitions to try his luck in the Indianapolis “500.” A year ago they were saying he had probably given it up.

Indianapolis stands out as a final goal to conquer after the road racers have marked up their scores of greatness.

One American racing tycoon, Floyd Clymer of California, decided to lure Juan Manuel Fangio to Indianapolis with a dare and a money challenge. That was almost a year ago.

Clymer put up $6,500…$500 to be paid the day Fangio’s entry for the 1958 race was accepted by the Indianapolis Motor Speedway, $1,000 on the day he qualified. Clymer put it crustily, saying, “I’m not convinced you can even qualify.”

He offered the Argentine ace $2,500 if he finished better than fifth in a United States-built car, or $5,000 if Fangio finished better than fifth in any foreign-built car.

Fangio, possibly feeling his oats because he whipped his Maserati around the Reims course for a new lap average of 145 miles during a trial for the Grand Prix there, said he would study the American offer with “greatest sympathy.”

Clymer’s dare stemmed from the refusal of Fangio and other top European drivers to compete against U.S. drivers in the June, 1957 race at Monza, Italy.

The Europeans explained their move by saying they felt Monza was better suited to American closed-circuit racing cars than to European sports cars, which are built for road racing.

Jimmy Bryan, of Phoenix, who placed second in the 1957 “500,” won on the high-banked track at Monza with an average speed of nearly 160 miles an hour.

Fangio said, “My desire to participate at Indianapolis is an aspiration which I have had for a long time.”

A month later, he was saying he was most anxious to race in the “500” if he was offered a suitable car. Some Yankees were questioning Fangio’s title to the “world championship,” in view of the fact that he’d never made it at Indy.

Then the jinx showed. Late in September, Juan’s car tangled with a heavy truck in Italy on the road to Modena. His wrist went into a cast and he had to stay on the bench and miss the Grand Prix di Modena.

In March, he came to the U.S.A. for the 12-hour endurance spin at Sebring, Fla., but decided not to run. Perhaps the jinx had given him another turn when he was kidnapped in February by Cuban rebels. But he didn’t seem the worse for wear.

Meanwhile, he seemed to have changed his mind about Indianapolis, saying definitely, “No.”

By April he had changed his mind and was saying he wanted to get the “feel” of the Indy-style cars. He tried a “500” machine for size.

Juan Manuel Fangio arrived in Indianapolis May 1 and sailed through his Speedway physical. He seemed fairly confident and vowed he would give Clymer’s dare-money to charity.

Photo from my private collection (UPI Photo, Photographer unknown)

He almost copped it on the track May 4 in a spin and a tangle with Ray Crawford’s car, but it was one of those lucky moments and no one was hurt.

(Indianapolis Star Photo)

(Indianapolis Star Photo)

On May 8 he passed his driver’s test. There was talk he would pilot the Novi, and then the Dayton Steel Foundry Car.

Photo from my private collection (Photographer unknown)

Then on May 15 he begged out, explaining through a spokesman that “the car is not in the optimum condition to permit Mr. Fangio to uphold his reputation as a world champion race driver.” There were also “unexpected complications” involving his fuel contract.

The winner of five world’s Grand Prix titles had done well at Indy, grinding up to the 142-miles-an-hour mark in trials, but he explained there were things about the closed circuit he didn’t exactly dig. For instance, when a car spun it stayed on the track in front of you. In a road race, it would slide off the course.

Fangio had proved he could drive a car on the world’s toughest track.

There were few snarls. He had cozied with death often.

You can be a brave bullfighter without being a channel swimmer, great lover, or polo star. It would be nice to live many lives, but no one will strip you of your medals if you do a first-rate job of living one.

Thus, Juan Fangio said “Adios,” and the “500” kept its all-USA makeup.

It was not always so. Some of the fieriest hours of the “500” owe to foreign cars and drivers.

French Peugeots won in 1913, 1916, and 1919, and came in second in 1914 and 1915. An Italian Fiat made second place in 1911 and third in 1914.

Foreign cars ranked among the top ten in may races.

Before the first World War and during the years between the wars, the brickyard was known around the world as the world’s ultimate challenge of men and machines.

It still is.

Duane Carter and Fangio (IMS Photo)

IMS Photo

Offies Suffer At Indy

A fragged Offy piston, autographed by Parnelli Jones

Offies Suffer Expensive Toll In Trials

Magnaflux Tells All

By Rick Johnson, Indianapolis Star, May 27, 1964

The huffing and puffing that the old reliable Meyer-Drake engine did this month, while trying to catch those flying Fords at the Indianapolis Motor Speedway, has taken an expensive toll.

A Meyer-Drake Offenhauser Indy Racing Engine (Paul Johnson Photo)

According to the Magnaflux Corp., a division of Champion Spark Plug Co., stationed at the track, five crankshafts from the old Offy, along with a bushel basket of pistons and connecting rods, several main bearing webs, valves, valve springs and clutch springs have failed to pass due to cracks and flaws detected under Magnaflux scrutiny.

No total cost was available on the parts, but crankshafts cost $1,000 each, pistons sell for $50 apiece, connecting rods cost a minimum of $183, while the crankcase bearing support webs range in cost from $45 to $75.

(Rick Johnson Photo)

United States Auto Club rules stipulate that before a race car is allowed to go on the track to practice, it must first be submitted for Magnaflux inspection of vital engine parts, steering assembly and torsion bar apparatus, as well as the front hubs and wing nuts.

Magnaflux inspection also covers the differential, hubs, torsion bars, and adjustment arms. And only after the car has passed inspection by replacing defective parts, is it allowed on the track.

To prevent a part with a flaw in it from being installed in a racecar, the part is red-tagged by car number and kept in the Magnaflux office until after the race, when it is returned to the owner.

But this first inspection is not the last by a long shot. According to the test station manager Ed Oclon, each time a car spins, come in contact with the wall or anything else while running at high speeds, the wheels and steering apparatus are checked again to determine if cracks developed in the slide or accident.

And again, all defective parts are kept and red-tagged to prevent them from being used.

To further insure the safety of the 500-Mile Race, USAC also insists that the cars qualified for the race undergo a second Magnaflux inspection that is as intensive as the first.

If the car does not submit to the second inspection, it will not receive permission to run in the race from USAC.

Oclon explained that, while all vital parts must be inspected, not all are inspected by Magnaflux at the Speedway. A few car owners want their equipment examined elsewhere, which is within the rules as long as the owners are able to produce proof to USAC that the parts have been examined.

For example, the steering apparatus and some pieces of the steering assembly from the Lotus-Ford machines, to be driven by Jim Clark and Dan Gurney, have been examined by Magnaflux at the track. But the engines and their parts are examined at the Ford factory after teardown and measurement at the track by USAC technical committee members.

In commenting on the unusually high number of defective engine parts found this year, Oclon said, “This year has been the worst I can remember for several years for finding bad crankshafts and connection rods. But we have found several bad steering parts and gears that have failed to pass inspection, too.”

“And to go along with this pile, we have more than a dozen racing wheels in here that didn’t make the grade,” he added.

The wheels are worth an average of $90 each.

In the Magnaflux process, an engine part is magnetized, and a solution containing iron filings is poured over the part. Under black light, the filings concentrate around a crack or flaw and bring the area out more clearly to the human eye.

(Photo Courtesy Thurston Engineering)

Another process called Zyglow is used to detect flaws in magnesium parts and other non-magnetic pieces.

In this process, the part is first degreased and then dipped into a chemical solution that penetrates the metal entirely. When the solution is rinsed off with water, it comes off completely except in an area that is cracked or has a flaw. This area is discolored by the chemical and clearly shows the flaw.

As Oclon and his assistant looked over the vast table of bad parts, they shook their heads. Oclon said, “And this isn’t all of them,” as he surveyed the rash of red tags.

“A lot of the boys lost complete engines out here this month. They didn’t even bother to bring in the pieces.”

Most of the mechanics in the garage area agreed that the old Offy has had its tail twisted just about as tight as it ever can be without coming apart…at least in one of the conventional speedway roadsters.

(Rick Johnson Photo)

Memory Of Tony Is Heavy At The Speedway

Bettenhausen's garage is padlocked. (Indianapolis Times Photo)

Memory Of Tony Is Heavy At Speedway

By Rick Johnson-Indianapolis Times, May 14, 1961

Perhaps you don’t believe in ghosts.

But the memory of Tony Bettenhausen hangs heavy over the Indianapolis Motor Speedway.

And the 150-mile-an-hour lap at the Speedway is unlikely.

Tony was the guy who many thought would break that barrier. The day was perfect. The crowd enormous. And the speeds good.

But something was missing.

The crowd lacked the bubbling enthusiasm so characteristic of the racing set.

They had come to see records shattered. And yet, they knew this was not the day.

Drivers normally described as hard-chargers were almost lackadaisical in the performance of their task.

The voluble Eddie Sachs, who generally takes a firm grip on a microphone and settles down for a long chat with fans, said little, even after he recorded a 10-mile run at a speed of 147.491 to win the pole position for the second year in a row.

Eddie Sachs chats with a masked Tony Bettenhausen at Indy, 1960. (Rick Johnson Photo)

Rookie Norm Hall, who posted a disappointing 141.861, admitted he was “tense and a little nervous.”

Veteran Don Branson, whose 146.843 was the day’s second fastest time, said, “if that’s not good enough to make the field, then I don’t want to be in the race.”

And gutty Shorty Templeman said if his 144.341 didn’t put him in the field of 33, “I’d rather be home in my rocker.”

“Bettenhausen gone? It’s hard to believe.” Those words were spoken hundreds of times by fans…and refrained thousands of times in the minds of others.

Bettenhausen is gone.

His body has been taken to Tinley Park, Ill., for burial.

And with him, most likely, went the 1961 assault on the 150 mile-an-hour lap.

Lloyd Ruby sits in the car of Tony Bettenhausen after the fatal accident. (Rick Johnson Photo)

Fans Cheer Hurtubise Return

Fans Cheer, Old Cronies Greet ‘Herc’--Back At Racing Scene

It Was A Big Day

By Rick Johnson-Indianapolis Star, September 20, 1964

One of the few things racing fans had to cheer about yesterday at the Fairgrounds track was the first appearance of one of their favorite drivers, Jim Hurtubise.

Hurtubise is recovering from serious burns he suffered when he crashed in the National Championship 100-Miler at Milwaukee in June.

His appearance brought a great cheer from the fans who could see him being interviewed on the stage in the track infield, but to the racing fraternity, his appearance was met with big grins, fond hellos, and then a quick retreat, for many of them showed on their faces what few could say openly, “He’ll never race again.”

The visit to the track was a series of experiences for Hurtubise. As soon as he entered the pit gate he was recognized. Many of his old racing cronies went up to him, their hands outstretched for a clasp, saying, “Herc…old boy…gooda seeya!”

For an instant, Herc reached out too, but then he remembered his hands still were too sore to be clasped, even in friendship, and then drew the hand back.

There were several of these awkward moments for Jim as the racing fraternity welcomed him back. But soon the word got around, “Herc’s hands are in bad shape,” and the greetings took on a more pleasant note.

Herb Porter, a veteran mechanic, slapped Jim on the shoulder and said, “Hey you loafer. Come on over here and set this chassis up for me so we’ll run fast today.”

A circle of people soon built up around Jim that included A.J. Foyt, mechanic Joe Langely, drivers Jud Larson, Parnelli Jones, Jim MacElreath, Johnny Rutherford, and one of Jim’s favorite mechanics, Danny Oakes.

Everyone asked him how he liked lying in the hospital. “Oh, it was a lot of fun…I didn’t have any choice about being there, so I decided to have fun. I was glad to get out of there though…But I have to go back every day for therapy on these,” Hurtubise said as he displayed his burn-scarred hands. “And even that isn’t too bad…the nurses are pretty.”

While Jim spoke to various people in the gathering, his brother Pete said, “He’s really working hard…He wants to be ready for the next 500-Mile Race.”

“If work and guts can get the job done,” Pete said, “he’ll be there.”

Jim never stopped smiling. He joked about his condition. Holding his hands up so the gang could see them he said, “I’ve got to get these things worked on…Plastic surgery, they tell me, will fix ‘em up good as new.”

“Why, I’d do the job myself,” Herc jibed, “but they won’t let me get into the shop so I can work on them.”

“I can still do a lot of things,” Hurtubise said. “I get more than 30 letters a day from my friends yet…I open them myself with a pocket knife…I can still drive a car, if it has power steering, and I can hold a can of beer and mix a martini…What else can you ask?”

While Hurtubise laughed and joked with his old buddies, a youngster from the crowd in back of the pits jumped over the fence and ran up to Jim with a pencil and a program in his hand.

The boy slipped through the tight circle and thrust the program at Jim and said, “Can I have your autograph Herc?” At the same time he noticed Jim’s hands.

Hurtubise’s clear blue eyes blinked, but he smiled and said, “I don’t think it would look too good now…I’ll call Pete…He signs all the papers for me now…”

Jim yelled for his brother, but the autograph seeker had melted back into the crowd.

(All Photos by Rick Johnson)

Liquid Suspension: Joe Huffaker’s 2 Cars Intrigue Speedway Fans

(Paul Johnson Photo)

Liquid Suspension

Joe Huffaker’s 2 Cars Intrigue Speedway Fans

By Rick Johnson-Indianapolis Star, May 26, 1964

Car builder Joe Huffaker of San Francisco, Calif., looks more like a clerk in a drugstore than he does a red hot racing car builder and mechanic.

In the words of one veteran speedway mechanic, “that Huffaker is really something. He came here with two cars and a has-been and a never-was for drivers and really stood this place on its ear.”

It is questionable if drivers Bob Veith and Walter Hansgen will ever fit the has-been and never-was category, but Joe has given the Speedway something to talk about with his two MG Liquid Suspension Specials.

Bob Veith (Photo Courtesy SalmonRestoration.com)

Walt Hansgen (Photo Courtesy VirHistory.com)

Huffaker has been building and racing sports cars since 1946, and is now working in connection with the British motor car company as a car builder in San Francisco.

Last year was Joe’s first trip to the Indianapolis track, and in his words, “we came here with an old box that didn’t have what it took and missed the race.”

Joe brought Pedro Rodriguez to the Speedway in 1963, along with a Cooper chassis with a six-cylinder Aston-Martin engine mounted in the rear. Pedro passed his drivers test in the machine, but could not get the car up to qualifying speeds.

Pedro Rodriguez at Indy, 1963 (Rick Johnson Photo)

Huffaker quickly saw what had to be done, and with the backing of the British company and Kjell Qvale, he went to work. Within seven months, Joe had created a prototype car which employed liquid suspension, and then built two more when tests by national driving champion A.J. Foyt at Phoenix and here at Indianapolis proved the car would go.

Joe built a new car for Foyt, and took the other two to run under the MG colors. But Pedro Rodriguez crashed in one of them, demolishing the machine, and then Foyt decided he would rather drive his old reliable Watson-built roadster, and Huffaker took the rear engine machine back.

Rodriguez Indy practice crash, 1964 (Rick Johnson Photo)


Rodriguez Indy practice crash, 1964 (Rick Johnson Photo)

It looked like Joe had all the trouble he could handle for a day or two until he teamed up with Veith and got him in the seat of car No. 54.

Bob Veith, 1964 (IMS Photo)

“I gave Bob his first ride in a race car,” Joe said. “And that was way back in 1946. We weren’t strangers, and he got the car going real well.”

Huffaker’s other driver is also no stranger to racing. He is Hansgen, a veteran sportscar driver who has piloted cars for Briggs Cunningham and Alfred Momo. Hansgen is a native of Bedminster, Md.

Walt Hansgen, 1964 (IMS Photo)

When Huffaker was asked how he happened to learn about Hansgen, he said, “That was easy…Hansgen was beating the hell out of our cars and I wanted to give him a try.”

“This place is really something,” Huffaker said, “but I really hate to stay away from home a whole month. I wish we could just stay home and get ready, and then come here and run.”

And if things go right race day, there’ll be a whole lot of people in the garage area that will just plainly wish Joe would stay home period.

Eddie Sachs Reached For The Big Prize

‘Clown Prince’ Is Dead

Eddie Reached For The Big Prize

By Rick Johnson-Indianapolis Star, May 31, 1964

(Rick Johnson Photo)

They called him the “clown prince of racing” and now he is dead.

Eddie Sachs, always ready to play the buffoon for friends and the crowd but always intense behind the wheel, lost his last chance to win the biggest prize of all in a fiery crash on the second lap.

And so his followers came in a steady stream yesterday to Garage No. 53 in Gasoline Alley to look at the last spot that held a memory for them.

Where Eddie’s car had sat a few hours before, there was only a red carpet. Mechanics and Speedway officials walked around it and were silent.

Across 16th Street in the Holiday Inn Motel, his wife, Nancy, was closeted in a room with friends…unwilling for a time to share her grief. Some of her friends had gone to the motel after learning of his death to remove the race decorations.

A maid outside the room said in broken English, “I cry. They were awfully nice to each other.”

Later, after the crowds at the Speedway had vanished, they wheeled Eddie’s car into Garage No. 53.

The car…bent, burned and twisted out of any resemblance to an automobile and covered by a tarpaulin…rolled in on squeaky tires. The red carpet had been rolled back. Then the doors closed and the Venetian blinds were pulled.

Inside, only the mechanics, the car builder and some Speedway workers were there. One by one they added remarks:

“He had a chest injury…the fire didn’t kill him…just look at that roll bar. It’s still intact…the only way we’ll ever know what happened is to study the pictures.”

And so the end to a big dream came in half sentences from men who didn’t want to look each other in the eye.

The dream was to win the 500-Mile Race.

With that victory, 37-year-old Eddie Sachs planned to retire from racing.

Edward Julius Sachs had been on Broadway for years, "without really seeing the lights," as he put it.

Eddie's one great desire was to win at Indianapolis. If he had won he would have put racing, something he loved, far behind him.

Sachs had raced on practically everything resembling an oval since he began racing in the early 1950's. And as he put it himself, "NO GUY, and I mean NO GUY, ever went further on less ability than I."

"I am probably the world's worst race driver...but I've been lucky," Sachs has said.

And when Eddie first showed up at the Speedway he wasn't far wrong. He just refused to get serious about racing. It was too much fun to him.

Sachs spun out while trying to pass his driver's test in 1953 and was advised to get more experience before trying to take the test again. Sachs accepted the official decision but he wouldn't leave the racetrack. He stuck around, working as a stooge for several mechanics in the daytime and earned his meals by washing dishes at the restaurant in the evenings.

"I really learned a lot," Sachs said. "For instance, did you know that 90 percent of the time that hot (motor) oil and the gravy we had at the track was just as sticky?"

And Sachs would say with a flourish of his hands, "Every part I washed for any mechanic had to be rewashed, so you can guess what the dishes looked like."

After flunking his first attempt at the driver's test Sachs began to rip the sprint car circuit apart, running and beating such greats as Pat 0'Connor, Bob Sweikert and several others.

He was runner up for the Midwest sprint title three straight years and was also a red-hot midget driver.

After he had gotten his seasoning he came back to the Speedway in 1957 and qualified the Peter Schmidt Special for a spot in the front row. But Eddie couldn't finish. A broken piston knocked him out of contention after 105 laps.

Mechanical trouble KO'd Sachs in 1958 and in 1959 after he had qualified well for the race.

Then Eddie really got serious about racing and made up his mind to win at Indianapolis.

(Rick Johnson Photo)

He won the pole position for the 1960 and 1961 races.

In 1960 he dropped out after 132 laps with magneto failure and placed second in 1961 to A.J. Foyt when he completed the 500 miles of the race for the first time.

"This was my greatest disappointment," Sachs said. "I wanted to win that race so bad I could taste it, but I wanted to live even more. That's why I stopped for that tire."

Sachs actually had Foyt beaten in the 1961 race but stopped for a right rear tire on the 197th lap and thereby forfeited the race to Foyt.

In his own explanation of the incident Sachs said, "I looked down at that tire and saw fabric and kept on going. Then I looked down and it looked whiter and I slowed down. Then I looked at it and it looked like a white sidewall and I knew the next thing I would see would be air. So I didn't need to do anymore thinking. I stopped for a tire and lost the race, but I'm still here."

(Rick Johnson Photo)

Besides auto racing Sachs had two other loves: His striking blonde wife Nancy and their small son Eddie Jr.

"When I think of them," Sachs said, "it makes all the shit I've gone through worth it. Someday my kid will be able to tell those other kids on the playground that 'My daddy won the 500 Mile Race at Indianapolis.'"

(Rick Johnson Photo)

On the evening that Sachs made that statement he was standing, still dressed in his driver's uniform, at a friend's house in the Georgetown Apartments just north of the track.

He had just qualified his car for the race and was celebrating the fact with his wife.

He paused for a long time and wiped the side of his beer can off several times on his uniform and turned to one of his old mechanics Frank Glidden and said, "Frank, I've got a feeling that this is my year. I'm going to win it."

It wasn't your year Eddie. It never will be your year and we are all sorry.

After the race, the Gasoline Alley Highland Pipers, a group of bagpipers that play at various functions, paraded before the Tower Terrace and played “The Rowan Tree,” a mournful Scottish dirge reserved for those who are loved and will be greatly missed.

###

In the past, I have posted portions of this story on the intardnets from my dad's type-written rough-draft.

I recently found the Indianapolis Star issue which had the full story with some additions.

The above is an amalgamation of the original rough-draft and the actual published story.

-Paul A. Johnson

Jubilation In Victory Lane: Foyt 1964

Jubilation In Victory Lane

Mellowed A.J. Thanks Everybody, Displays A True Champions Smile

By Rick Johnson-Indianapolis Star, May 31, 1964

(Frank Fisse Photo)

In the past, they called A.J. Foyt “Terrible Tex, The Kid,” and many have called him Cassius, but not to his face, because all of the catcallers know there is one thing Foyt will do and that is fight, whether it be on the race track or anywhere.

But his critics saw a different man yesterday, a gentleman who expressed sincere thanks to his crew and his mechanics and his car owners, Shirley Murphy and William Ansted, both of Indianapolis.

His critics also saw a man who fears the Almighty.

Foyt has mellowed and wisened considerably since his last victory here in 1961 and since he won the first of his three national driving championships starting with 1960.

Yesterday, when Foyt wheeled the Sheraton-Thompson Special into victory lane, he was acting like a champion.

He kissed his wife, Lucy, enthusiastically, shook hands with his crewmen, who were beside themselves with happiness, and then he gulped milk.

He turned his head left and right as photographers yelled, “Hey A.J., over here…over here, A.J….Now one more.”

The smile never ceased. And periodically he would reach for his wife and give her a squeeze. Then the photographers yelled for Foyt to give the “500” Festival Queen Donna McKinley a kiss, and he did…twice. But then he kissed Lucy again.

The small group sat smiling in the midst of the pop of flash bulbs and the yells of, “Over here, A.J.”

And then the expression on Foyt’s face changed to a frown. It wasn’t an angry frown. It was sorrow showing. Someone handed Foyt a newspaper on which the blaring headline proclaimed, “Foyt Wins 500…Sachs, MacDonald Killed.”

A.J. turned to Lucy, “Are they dead?”

Lucy, a stunning blond, looked directly into her husband’s eyes and said nothing. Then she squeezed her husband’s arms for a moment and stepped back.

Foyt swallowed deeply and hung his head for an instant as he read the headlines again and then once again posed for a few pictures.

But this was a chore he did not like, and after a few shots he hopped out of his car and led Lucy to the pace car for a triumphant tour around the track he had just conquered for the second time.

As he drove off someone yelled, “Hey A.J., how about those funny cars” (meaning the rear-engine cars)?

A.J. grinned sincerely again and shouted, “They might be alright, but I’ll take Old Betsy and show them the fast way around.”

(Rick Johnson Photo)

A short time later Foyt and his crew stopped for an interview at the starting line.

His crew consisted of Frank Catania, refueling; Foyt’s father, Tony, who was to change the right rear tire; Leroy Neumeyer, right front, and Bud Moyer, in charge of the left rear.

But the only man in the pit crew who really worked yesterday was Catania, who handled the fuel on Foyt’s two speedy pit stops.

“We didn’t need to change a tire,” Foyt said. “And that is just the way we planned it. We didn’t even put on the air jacks.”

William McCrary, sales manager of the Firestone Racing Division, said, “The tire wear was phenomenal…Foyt could go another 500 miles on those tires.”

With his crew perched on the back of the pace car and his wife by his side, Foyt said that the accident had really shaken him up.

“I hate to see anyone hurt on the race track…it takes the thrill out of it…but it can happen to anyone, even while driving down the highway,” he said.

“But I hate to lose two buddies like Eddie Sachs and Dave MacDonald…I knew them both…Eddie was probably one of the most colorful drivers in the world and Dave was a fine guy.”

(Rick Johnson Photo)

“I always pray,” Foyt added, “before every race that the Good Lord will take care of us all. I really regret that two of them had to lose their lives.”

The announcer then asked Foyt if he thought the Meyer-Drake engine was finished.

Foyt said, “A lot of guys made fun of me for driving an antique car with an antique engine…Well, all I’ve got to say is these antiques have made me an awful lot of money around here.”

When Foyt was asked about his future plans, he said, “Well, first I’m going to pay Uncle Sam some money and after that I don’t know what I’ll do.”

Foyt, winning the race at an average speed of 147.350 miles an hour piled up $21,900 in lap prize money and will get the biggest share of a purse that is believed will top $500,000 at the victory banquet tonight at the Murat Temple.

Ed Elisian: 'I Thought There Was Enough Room'

John Zink and Ed Elisian (Rick Johnson Photo)

Elisian: ‘I Thought There Was Enough Room’

May 31, 1958-Indianapolis Times

By Rick Johnson

Two figures in T-shirts walked into the north end of the pit area after the tragic 11-car smashup in the northeast turn.

In front was the pole winner, Dick Rathmann. Following him was Ed Elisian, whose careening car touched off the crackup.

It was evident that both were angry. When Rathmann was asked to give his account of the crackup he calmly said, “Please, not now. I feel awful.”

Elisian stamped into the John Zink pit area with a frown on his face. When he was asked to give his account, he said angrily, “Get out. Get out and leave me alone. Where’s my sunglasses?”

A few moments later Rathmann had recuperated enough to give a short account of the accident over the Speedway loudspeaker.

But Elisian was still smoldering with anger. No one in the Zink crew went near Elisian after his first few minutes in the pits.

At approximately the midway point in the race, Elisian inquired, “Where can I find a phone? I gotta let my folks know I’m all right.”

After he made his call, he came back to the Zink pits, climbed on the Zink fuel tank, and watched the remainder of the race from there.

The race had been over only a few minutes for winner Jimmy Bryan when Elisian began to shake off his anger.

Seated on a weighing scale in a remote corner of the Zink garage, Elisian shook his head in bewilderment. The words wouldn’t come easily…”I saw Rathmann (Dick in car 97) shoot across at the crossover. And I knew if he got in front there he’d be the devil to catch. So I stayed right on it thinking there was enough room to make it…then the car started going every which way and I knew I’d lost it”

Elisian stopped and ran his grease-smeared hand through his hair. He seemed to shrink as he said, “I feel so darned bad about that mess…It sure was a lousy, stinking way to start a race.”

One of his crewmembers walked over to him and said, “Cheer up, Eddie. They can’t hang you.”

Elisian said nothing, and sat with a stolid stare, looking across the dimly lit garage at the wall.

Ed Elisian, 1958 (IMS Photo)

Dick Rathmann’s Attitude Toward Ed Elisian Softens

By Rick Johnson

Dick Rathmann (Rick Johnson Photo)

Dick Rathmann, with some time to think about the confused, deadly first lap of Friday’s 500-Mile Race, last night softened the bitterness of his earlier charge that Ed Elisian was to blame for the 13-car crash.

From his Methodist Hospital bed, Rathmann said:

“Now that I’ve had some time to cool off, I realize every race driver who was on that track, including myself, has done just what Ed did yesterday.”

Rathmann paused a moment and shifted his right leg.

“He just didn’t use his head and got carried away…I don’t have any hard feelings toward him today. I told Ed a day or two before the race that we had the best cars and chances we’d ever had and we could both make a lot of money if he’d use his head.”

“Sometimes I think the guy’s really using his head and then…” He gestured hopelessly.

The tragic melee on the northeast turn killed Pat O’Connor when his car flipped over, dislocated the shoulder of Jerry Unser when his racer went over the wall, hospitalized Rathmann, and caused the damage to Elisian’s suspension which prevented him from racing.

Rathmann, who appeared to be unhurt after the crash, went to the hospital today for examination of a possibly chipped right knee.

When Rathmann was asked last night if he thought he went into the turn too fast he said, “No, I had my car in the groove and it was working fine. Ed cut under me and when he got in front he started to drift with that heavy load of fuel. Then he lost it.”

“I don’t think he got used to the way that car handled with a fuel load when we practiced Wednesday.”

Once more Rathmann hesitated. “I know Ed feels bad about Pat. I sure do. He was one of the most likeable little guys in racing.”

Pat O'Connor, 1958 (Rick Johnson Photo)

Rathmann will be in the hospital for at least two more days or until the swelling recedes in his knee.

“I don’t know how much racing I’ll do the rest of this year, but I hope I get back here next year in as good a car as I had for this ‘500’,” Rathmann concluded.

Pat O'Connor (Rick Johnson Photo)

Bobby Grim 1957

(Jim Adams Photo)

The following was written by my father, Rick Johnson, and originally appeared in the Indianapolis Times newspaper and the October 9, 1957 edition of National Speed Sport News.

Bob Grim Cleans Up On Dirt

Earnings Top $25,000 For 1957

(Indianapolis Times Photo)

by Rick Johnson

Race fans generally look to Hollywood for their concepts of race driver’s lives.

Hollywood versions depict an exuberant, fun-loving chap that lives every moment as if it were his last and rides every race dodging old Father Time’s cruel scythe.

In reality there are only a few of that type. The rest are mostly a mild, gentlemanly bunch who drive race cars for a living. It is their job and not looked on by them as a hazardous profession.

Indianapolis can lay claim to one of these, namely Bob Grim. Bob has been racing, for a living, over ten years. Nine of these he has driven for one man, Hector Honore of Pana, Ill. Bob will tell you, if you ask about racing hazards, that the worst part of racing is driving to the track.

“For instance,” he said, “this year my boss and I have driven over 12,000 miles just getting to races. And the closest calls we had came on the road. I only had one spin on the track.”

Bob drives in the oldest racing association in America, the International Motor Contest Association, which has Joe Monsour, of Shreveport, La., as its president.

Bob says, “our organization is a no-limit one as far as engine displacement goes, but we have physical examinations, racing stewards, magnaflux rules and mandatory safety inspections at every race much like USAC.”

Grim got his start in Coal City right after the war when he and a few other boys got together and built up an old Studebaker to race at some of the tracks around the area.

“We didn’t win anything but a few thirds and fourths, but I got enough driving in to know that I wanted to do it for a living,” Grim said.

And so it started. Bob drove a few races and did very well. Then Honore spotted him and offered him a chance to drive regularly for him. Bob has been with him ever since with one exception.

Bob thought he would do better if he jumped IMCA and came to USAC. After three or four races he went back to IMCA.

“I just never felt right running up there,” Grim declared. “I’m used to running on a half-mile track and using knobby tires. I might give it another whirl some of these days though,” he added.

“I have driven on some of the best tracks in the U.S. and some of the worst,” Grim said, describing his working area. “I always drive according to the track…if it is rough you can only go so fast safely…the guys who get in trouble are the showoffs. You know a guy can drive too fast on a good track,” he said reflectively.

Bob has had only one serious accident in ten years of driving. That one came in 1954 at the Belleville, Kas., Fairgrounds. Grim was riding high, having control difficulties, when Bob Slater brushed him coming out of a turn. Grim’s car catapulted end over end and came to rest upside down and caught fire. Bob suffered some severe burns and bruises but recuperated fully.

This year in IMCA competition Grim has 22 wins, six seconds, three thirds and two fourths in 39 races. This has given him gross purses of over $25,000. He says that while this is one of his better seasons win wise, he did better money wise in 1948 and 1953, but that was because he raced more.

Grim has six more races schedules for the season, two in Nashville, Tenn., at the Fairgrounds, two at Birmingham, and another pair at Shreveport.

Grim’s competition sprinter is powered by a 250 cu. inch Offy.

When asked if he ever had any ambition to race in the “500” he said, “Do you remember what Jud Larson said when someone asked him how he liked the track? He said, ‘If they put about three inches of dirt on that thing I’ll feel right at home.’ That’s the way I feel,” he said.

Bob lives with his wife, Betty, and two children, little Bob, 8 years old, and Sue, 7, at 2214 Centennial.

###

“Oddly enough, the foregoing portion of this week’s column had already been written when a letter from out Kansas way came from Velma J. Reaser, in which some very complimentary remarks on the driving abilities of Jud Larson and Bobby Grim were expressed.

Velma’s question as to why Bobby has never driven the 500-mile race is answered in the foregoing article and oddly enough, is the same as another of auto racing’s driving greats on the dirt tracks who also has expressed the opinion that when they put dirt on the 500-mile course he would really give the rest of the drivers fits…we’re referring of course to the unexcelled Tommy Hinnershitz.”

-Gene Powlen, October 9, 1957, National Speed Sport News

Bobby apparently changed his mind. Indy...1959 Rookie of the Year. (Rick Johnson Photo)

'Rudder' Could Add 15 mph To 500-Mile Race Speed

The following was written by my father, Rick Johnson, for the Indianapolis Times newspaper, in the Fall of 1957.

‘Rudder’ Could Add 15 mph To 500-Mile Race Speed

by Rick Johnson



Does it seem possible the Indianapolis “500” Mile Race could be run 15 mph faster next year?

It’s not only possible, it’s probable. A young mechanic has worked on and theoretically perfected an invention that could speed up the Indianapolis race, or any other race for that matter, that is run on a similar track.

John Totton is the man. His idea consists of a rudder mounted on the right side of the car that will hold the racer down in the grooves when extended at high speeds.

Sound simple?

It is a known fact that speeds have soared the last five years on the Indianapolis track. But, just how much more speed can mechanics and drivers urge out of their cars? It has reached the point where added speed is almost uncontrollable.

Here is where Totton’s idea comes in. His rudder, which will be placed at the center of the car or on the tail, will be pushed into the violent slipstream rushing alongside the car. Not only will this slow the car, much the same as a dive brake on jet fighters and bombers, but it will give the driver a controlled drift in the curves.

Totton contends, that with the rudder extended no more than 35 degrees to 45 degrees, the curve speeds at Indianapolis would soar as much as 15 mph.

The idea is not new. A.J. Watson, chief mechanic on the John Zink cars, experimented with a “rudder” on Troy Ruttman’s car prior to the last “500.” However, it apparently had no effect on the car’s maneuverability.

Totton said, “A.J. had his rudder placed directly behind the front wheel. It was in a vacuum. No wonder it didn’t work. Mine is placed further inboard. Watson knows it will work and he told me he’d be back next year with one that would work.”

The rudder, in Totton’s estimation, would do these things:

“Without a doubt, the driver would be able to corner faster with a curb put on the tremendous centrifugal force and drift. Also, all-important tire wear would be reduced. There would be less tendency for the tires to roll over and scuff in the curves.

“With a rudder, there would be less deaccelleration and acceleration and a great saving on the car brakes and fuel consumption. As a result of these things, a great deal of time could be saved from pit stops.”

Inventor Totton is no stranger to racing. He took up the sport in 1948 and voluntarily retired in 1955. He now lives with his wife and four children at Route 1 in Solsberry. Totton is well acquainted with some of the best wrench twisters at the track, and mechanics some himself.

He said, “Roy Sherman, the DA Lubricants mechanic, wanted to try my idea last year. But he didn’t have time to get it ready for the race. But if I get this patent I’ve applied for, then some of them will try it,” Totten said confidently.

###

Thanks to the intardnets and folks who are a helluva lot smarter than me, I have learned that the inventor's full name is John Mosley Totton, Jr. He patented his device in March of 1961.

Here is a full accounting of that patent. Click on the images for clarity and jaw-dropping detail!

Thanks to the U.S. Patent Office and FreePatentsOnline for the images and documents.