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Chuck Hulse 1927–2020

 

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Image via Indianapolis Motor Speedway

 

By Robin Miller | 4 hours ago

 

 

Chuck Hulse, a four-time Indy 500 starter whose sprint-car injury in 1964 opened the door for Mario Andretti to step into one of the premier rides of the day, has died at age 93.

 

Known as “The Pepsi Kid” for his love of the soft drink, Hulse had been the oldest living driver to have run a roadster and rear-engine car at Indianapolis. He finished 21st in 1962 and eighth in ’63, both in front-engine roadsters; and 20th in ’66 in and seventh in ’67 wheeling rear-engine cars.

 

“He was a great guy, a good racer, and also a helluva midget and sprint racer,” recalled veteran crew chief Phil Casey. “I remember when he crashed on the last lap at Indy in 1967. He walked past me on the way to the garage and said, ‘This is it,’ and was going to retire…”

 

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Hulse suffered a severe eye injury in this sprint car crash, and missed much of the next two season. Image via Robin Miller Archives
 

Hulse made 60 starts in Champ Cars, twice finishing second at Phoenix and Sacramento; but his best chance for success was derailed by a violent flip at New Bremen during a 1964 USAC sprint show. The Californian suffered severe eye trauma and missed the ’64 and ’65 seasons while he was recovering.

 

Prior to his accident, Hulse was set to drive the Dean Van Lines Special with master mechanic Clint Brawner. His replacement was an aggressive rookie from Nazareth, Pa., named ‘Andretti’ who began running the famous Champ Car in the summer of ’64 and then went on to capture the 1965 USAC title on his way to a Hall of Fame career.

 

 

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Brabham co-founder Ron Tauranac dies at age 95

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Dave Friedman/Motorsport Images

 

By Andrew Crask | 6 hours ago

 

 

Former Brabham Formula 1 team owner Ron Tauranac, who won world championships with cars he designed and and engineered, has died at the age of 95, his family has announced.

 

“The Tauranac family regretfully announces the loss of Ron Tauranac at the age of 95,” the family said in a statement. “Ron passed away peacefully in his sleep during the early hours of Friday morning at his home on the Sunshine Coast in Queensland, Australia.

 

“Active, healthy, and independent until the end, he felt the need to constantly achieve something and always had the next goal in mind. He was never one to rest on his laurels, with his sharp engineering mind always engaged. When asked recently what the best car he designed was, he responded simply ‘the next one.'”

 

British-born Tauranac co-founded Brabham with racer Jack Brabham in the early 1960s and the team won F1 world championships with Brabham in 1966 and again the following season with Denny Hulme. He also worked with Brabham at the Indianapolis 500 (pictured above in 1969).

 

Following Brabham’s retirement in 1970, Tauranac took over the team and ran it until selling the operation in 1972 to Bernie Ecclestone. He subsequently worked with several F1 teams as a designer before founding the Ralt marque, which built championship-winning customer chassis in a variety of open-wheel classes in the 1970s and ’80s, including Formula Atlantic and Super Vee. Tauranac also fielded works Ralt teams in Formula 2 and Formula 3000, dominating the last few seasons of the original F2 category in a factory partnership with Honda.

 

After selling the Ralt company to rival custom chassis builder March in 1988, Tauranac worked as a consultant to a number of racing programs, including the Arrows F1 team. He also served as the design judge at the Formula SAE Australasia competition.

 

“He led an extraordinary life,” the family’s announcement of his passing concluded. “We are both incredibly proud of what he achieved and deeply saddened by his loss.”

 

 

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Oval ace Ralph Liguori dies at 93

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By Robin Miller | 5 hours ago

 

 

He held the track record at Langhorne, got one of the loudest ovations ever at the Hoosier Hundred, survived spectacular flips on ABC’s Wide World of Sports, raced 44 years over five decades and was one of the most-beloved drivers ever with open wheel fans.

 

But, sadly, Ralph Liguori will most likely be remembered for never making the Indianapolis 500.

 

Ralphie The Racer, who died Wednesday at age 93, came to the Indianapolis Motor Speedway with a ride 10 times and never made the big show. He didn’t drive the best cars — not even close — and got bumped in 1959 and 1963.

 

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“I’ve got admit that it does bother me that I’m known as the guy who never made Indianapolis,” said Liguori during an interview back in 1977. “I wanted to make that race so bad but it never happened so I kinda got stuck with the label as a loser.

 

“But I had some pretty good runs in my career.”

 

The most memorable came in 1970 at the Hoosier Hundred (pictured, top), which back then was the second highest-paying race in USAC and televised by ABC’s Wide World of Sports. “Lagooch” qualified 10th and steadily worked his way forward until he got right behind second-place A.J. Foyt.

 

Driving the old Walt Flynn dirt car, the 43-year-old veteran passed Super Tex with a few laps to go as the packed grandstand erupted in cheers. When he pulled in, the runner-up got a bigger ovation than winner Al Unser.

 

“Probably my most satisfying moment in racing,” he recalled.

 

Starting in NASCAR stocks in 1951, the New York City native quickly adapted to Langhorne’s tricky and lethal D-shaped oil dirt oval that killed so many drivers. He set the track record of 104.107mph in scoring his first USAC sprint win at the Horne in 1957 and suddenly was on car owner’s radar.

 

His first visit to Indy was in 1959 and he was assigned to the Eldorado Maserati, a car that had been built for Stirling Moss. He qualified but got bumped. In 1961, he was taking his refresher test in Andy Granatelli’s Novi when the engine exploded and the car slid in its own oil, pounded the wall and caught fire. Ralph got burned but returned to the Speedway a couple days later only to find his ride had been turned over to Russ Congdon. Dick Rathmann and Paul Russo also practiced in the cantankerous car but nobody could go fast enough to qualify.

From 1962-68 Liguori showed up at Indy and drove 13 different cars but never made the show. He got bumped at 5 p.m. on the final day of time trials in 1959 and at 5:40 on Bump Day in 1963.

 

And the fitting swansong to his star-crossed Indy career came in 1976 when his loyal fans donated $11,000 to the cause but the 50-year-old veteran couldn’t find any takers for his services.

 

He tried making the Hoosier Hundred in 1983 and won a regional midget race at age 70 before finally hanging up his helmet in 2008.

 

Yet despite all his heartbreak at 16th & Georgetown, “Lagooch” always maintained a pleasant personality. Sure, not making Indy hurt, but he made a lot of fans with his plucky spirit.

 

“I’m very lucky,” he said back in 2002. “I’ve got a nice trailer park in Tampa that’s paid the bills and I was able to race in the golden era of sprints and Indy cars against some of the best guys. I had some good days and some bad ones, but no regrets. You know, except not making Indianapolis.”

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RETRO: A heroic near-miss

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By Robin Miller | 10 hours ago

 

 

Before he was a three-time Indy winner and pole-sitter, national champion and one of the faces of USAC racing, Johnny Rutherford was an asterisk at the Indianapolis Motor Speedway.

Fifty years ago he lost the pole position by three-and-a-half feet in a four-year-old car.

 

“Man that was such a thrill and also a disappointment all at the same time,” said Rutherford, recalling his run in the Patrick Petroleum Eagle/Offy. “We came out of nowhere because nobody was paying any attention to us, and we almost stole the pole from Big Al (Unser). So we were thrilled to be in the middle of Row 1, but we came so close so that hurt a little bit, too.”

 

Pat Patrick’s new team was lean and mean, led by chief mechanic Mike Devin, the many talents of Danny Jones and jack-of-all-trades John ‘Sarge’ Anderson. In seven previous starts, Rutherford had never started better than 11th, and had never finished the race he would go on to win three times. The car was a 1966 Dan Gurney Eagle, but it had a totally different look by the time May of 1970 rolled around.

 

“John was a pretty good artist so he sketched out a basic design on a bar napkin,” recalled Devin, a crew chief at Indy for 25 years who also served as tech director for USAC and the Indy Racing League. “The nose we used had been made the year before when I worked for Lindsey Hopkins with Jack Beckley.

 

“So Jones, myself and Eldon Rasmussen did all the sidepod and bodywork. We didn’t have a wind tunnel or anything – just a good eye, I guess.”

 

During practice nobody noticed the Patrick team because they were seven-eight mph off the pace of the fast guys.

 

“We were really struggling, so we changed everything but the paint job,” said Rutherford. “We went back to the basics, and that started turning things around. I ran real good on Friday, and then backed it up in practice on Pole Day morning, and I thought we might have something. Some of us were always able to find a little extra in qualifying, and I was pumped.”

 

Devin did what was necessary back then – he cranked in more boost, and prayed the engine held together for four laps.

 

After Unser’s four-lap average of 170.221 mph was posted and he was being interviewed on the IMS public address system, J.R.’s first lap was announced. Big Al quit talking and the 175,000 people in attendance started screaming. At the end of 10 miles, the difference was only 0.008s.

 

“I figured that had to get Al’s attention when they announced my first couple laps, but then I made a very slight bottle on lap 3 and that’s what cost us,” said Rutherford, who would come back to win the pole in 1973, 1976 and 1980.

 

Jerry Hoyt stole the pole in 1955 when he went out in the closing minutes in very windy conditions after most of the frontrunners had parked their cars for the day. But 50 years ago, J.R., Devin and the car called Geraldine (comedian Flip Wilson’s character) gave the Speedway faithful a big thrill and an example of what homemade creativity, taking a chance and a brave racer could accomplish back then.

 

 

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Don Edmunds 1930-2020

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By Robin Miller | 2 hours ago

 

 

He was a hell on wheels in jalopies, modifieds and midgets, rookie-of-the-year at Indianapolis, a builder, a fabricator, a designer, a thinker, a dreamer, a teacher, an innovator and a huge part of the fabric of American racing for five decades. He was also “Rotten Red.”

 

Don Edmunds, who passed away Wednesday at the age of 89, should be remembered as one of the most interesting and influential racers of the ’50s, ’60s. ’70s and ’80s, and is probably known more for his creative genius than his turn behind the wheel.

 

“He could it all, and he could do better than most,” said Jim Luebbert, longtime IndyCar mechanic and former sprint driver who worked for Edmunds and raced against him back when Los Angeles was the hotbed of motorsports. “He came from California Metal Shapers and learned from Eddie Kuzma, and gave so many of us a home and an education in race cars.

“It’s hard to imagine all the things he accomplished.”

 

Growing up in Anaheim, Ca., Edmunds became enamored with cars, then the Bonneville Salt Flats, the California Roadster Association and United Racing Association. His ascension was quick – from jalopies to midgets to changing the right-front tire for Billy Garrett in the 1956 Indianapolis 500, to joining the starting field a year later.

 

“Indy was all we thought about back in L.A.,” said Edmunds during an interview with RACER back in 2013. “But you also knew there were a lot of good guys who never got a chance, so it was more of a dream than anything else.”

 

But Doug Caruthers, whose sons would team with Edmunds to win USAC midget championships, liked what he saw when Edmunds was wheeling a midget so he brought him to Indianapolis in 1957.

 

“We just didn’t have enough speed, so on the last day of qualifying at 3 o’clock I went looking for a ride,” recalled Edmunds, who hopped into a Kurtis/Offy owned by Roy McKay and made a few practice laps. “I think we ran 138 or 139, and that wasn’t fast enough, and other drivers were standing around waiting to grab the ride when I pulled in. So I came in and told them to give me two turns in the left rear, and I’ll put it in the show.

 

“I wasn’t sure what to do on an Indy car, but that’s why I always did in a midget to get better traction – and it worked.”

 

Edmunds qualified 27th and ran a steady pace until spinning out of lap 171, but was still awarded Rookie of the Year. In 1958, he returned to IMS and suffered a nasty crash in practice and missed the show. In 1959, his pal Bob Cortner was killed while practicing, and then Jerry Unser died from burns suffered in an earlier May crash.

 

“I decided if somebody as good as Jerry Unser could get killed, I didn’t need to be out there,” was Edmunds’ retirement speech.

 

What happened over the next 20 years was that Edmunds changed the face of midget racing with his sleek, lightweight and innovative creations. “Midgets were tubby-looking back then and kind of homely,” said Jerry Weeks, one of the last great metal men for the ages who worked with Edmunds in the ’60s before launching his own successful USAC career as a driver. “Don had a sense of design and good instincts about a lot of things, and his midgets were a product of that. They were fast cars, and I don’t think he ever made a homely car.”

 

Edmunds had early success with Parnelli Jones driving one of his midgets, and then the Caruthers’ boys and finally Steve Lewis, Stan Fox and the No. 9 armada of victories. He also found time to build sports cars, sprint cars, Super Fees, speedway bikes and add his touch to various Indy cars in the ’70s and ’80s.

 

He made friends all across the world of open wheel, short track and even helped Even Knievel with his sky cycle.

 

So why was he called “Rotten Red?”

 

“I think Slugger (Doug Caruthers) gave him that nickname because he had red hair and an unbelievable temper,” replied Luebbert. “When he threw a wobbly we all hid under our work benches because hammers would be flying across the shop and he would go berserk. Then, three or four minutes later, he was fine and we all went back to work. But he was a great guy and I’m glad we were friends.”

 

 

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INTERVIEW: A.J. Foyt at his 65th Indy 500

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Scott LePage/Motorsport Images

 

By Robin Miller | 1 hour ago

 

 

Sunday will be A.J. Foyt’s 65th consecutive Indianapolis 500 – three as a spectator, 35 in a row as a driver and the last 27 as a car owner. It will be the only IndyCar race he attends during 2020 and, as most of us already know, it’s the only race he cares about.

 

At 85, he looks damn good considering he’s been through a triple bypass, a staph infection that brought on sepsis, rotator cuff surgery, back surgery and had his right knee and left hip replaced. That doesn’t count two bouts with killer bees, evading a poisonous snake and dumping a bulldozer into a lake.

 

The good news is that he’s as feisty and outspoken as ever and walking a little wobbly (he will not use a cane or walker) but getting around OK nonetheless. He likes Tony Kanaan, he might know Charlie Kimball’s name but likely has no clue that Dalton Kellett is from Canada or driving one of his cars.

 

He would never admit it but he misses the fans at IMS, because he still gets a louder cheer than anyone when he’s spotted.

 

A.J. agreed to sit down for NBC at the Foyt Wine Vault on Main Street in Speedway and reflect on his amazing life and love for 16th & Georgetown.

 

ROBIN MILLER: You came to the Speedway in 1955 when you were 20 years old and sat in the Turn 2 grandstands. What do you remember about that race?

 

AJ: I grew up listening to the race on the radio with my father on Memorial Day and that first year there weren’t nearly as many grandstands as there are today, no crash-proof walls and the front straightaway was still bricks.

 

RM: Did you ever imagine being in the starting line-up three years later?

 

AJ: I never dreamed I’d be good enough to ever qualify at Indianapolis and that first year was a dream come true. You never expect it.

 

RM: Back in the 1950s, car owners didn’t trust anyone under 30 to drive their cars so how did a 23-year-old land one of the best rides with Dean Van Lines?

 

AJ: I think I got that ride because I won an IMCA race at Salem and they figure if you’re crazy enough to run the high banks you’d be pretty good at Indy. Al Dean was a great owner and gave me my chance.

 

RM: Were you humbled or cocky?

 

AJ: I guess I got a little cocky.

 

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A “cocky” rookie in 1958, Foyt learned some hard lessons in the race. IMS archive

 

RM: And your debut starting 12th and finishing 16th after a water hose blew and you spun out. Intimidating?

 

AJ: Not really but Pat O’Connor’s accident really bothered me. He’d helped me at a USAC race with my steering gear and then gave me advice before Indianapolis what to do and not to do, he was so helpful and such a good guy. Going around under yellow after that first-lap wreck and seeing him still in his car was hard to take and I thought maybe this is a little too tough for ‘ol A.J.

 

RM: Considering you broke your back, shattered your feet, damn near lost an arm and got badly burned a couple times, it’s hard to imagine how you made it to 55 let alone 85.

 

AJ: We’re all just passing through so you never know when your time is going to be up and I know mine should have three of four times but they weren’t ready for an SOB like me. I knew the odds when I hooked that seat belt and I was just hoping I’d be the one to unhook it at the end of the day. The only thing that really bothered me was fire, because back then when you crashed you usually caught fire and there were no fuel cells for a long time in the ’60s.

 

RM: And of course you insisted on wearing golf gloves instead of the fireproof ones that came along in the ’70s.

 

AJ: I had to because I couldn’t feel the car with those thick gloves. You gotta feel the race car with your rear end and your hands – that’s the way you learn to drive.

 

RM: Langhorne was one of the most challenging and dangerous tracks in the world — badasses like Rodger Ward wouldn’t run there so why were you so good there?

 

AJ: It was very fast and a tiring, treacherous track with no power steering and you were always sideways but I liked it.

 

RM: When USAC took the dirt races off the championship schedule it was the beginning of the end for that organization and cut the lifeline for midget and sprint drivers from that day forward. Agree?

 

AJ: I think so, because back then you had to run dirt, pavement, road courses, short ovals and superspeedways, so it shows the true champion. I’d still like to see dirt racing return as part of the championship but it will never happen.

 

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The front row of the 1991 Indianapolis 500 was arguably the greatest in the race’s long history. From left: Mario Andretti, third; A.J. Foyt, second; Rick Mears, pole. IMS archive

 

RM: You began your Indy career in a front-engine roadster with eight-inch tires at 143mph and ended it going 223mph in a rear-engine rocket with wings and super sticky, ultra-wide tires. Which was tougher?

 

AJ: It was a helluva lot harder those first years because the tires were as hard as concrete — if you let the back end out you took a ride. You had to be more careful with roadsters, whereas the rear-engine cars you could feel more and they were easier to drive. Roadsters wouldn’t let you make a mistake.

 

RM: So what was your favorite car?

 

AJ: A sprinter on a tacky half-mile dirt track, because you had a lot of horsepower and you had to control it with your right foot.

 

RM: You were a good mechanic who could also build engines, so what was your greatest attribute? The fact you were brave, talented, mechanically savvy or smart?

 

AJ: I think all four, because you had to know a little bit about everything on the cars. I use to run my right-rear tires backwards to get more sidebite but you’re not allowed to have any ideas today and I think there are too many rules. I think my mechanical knowledge was a big asset and helped my driving. Today, a computer tells these kids what the car is doing and if not a lot of them are lost.

 

RM: You became the face of the Indy 500 with your four victories, great comebacks and ornery disposition. You always say Indy made A.J. Foyt and I always counter and say, no you and Mario, Parnelli, Herk and Gurney made Indy, at least for me.

 

AJ: The Speedway made me because when I won the race the whole world knew it. It’s the greatest race there is and I don’t think it’s any better today than it was in the ’60s and ’70s, it’s just different. And I also made big news at Indy by being an ass every now and then.

 

RM: Why is Indianapolis still so important to you?

 

AJ: I don’t care how many years you’ve been here but come race day you tighten up a little bit because it’s the race every driver wants to win. It’s like the Kentucky Derby. I’m gonna come back as long as I can because I still enjoy it. I’ve lived my whole life to come to this race.

 

 

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MILLER: The 'Andretti Curse'

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Motorsport Images

 

By Robin Miller | 19 hours ago

 

 

The Andretti Curse has its own page on Wikipedia, but nobody can say exactly when it became part of IndyCar’s lexicon or who started it or if it’s got some black magic attached to it.

 

“I always thought Tom Carnegie started it,” said Mario Andretti, asked about it a couple of days after grandson Marco captured the pole position for the 104th Indianapolis 500.

 

Broadcaster Carnegie did perfect the phrase, “Mario is slowing down!” heard through all the decades of disappointment for the ’69 winner; but the original story is that it was a product of an angry woman.

 

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A special team – for a time: Granatelli, Mario and Brawner. Image via Robin Miller

 

Clint Brawner was Mario’s chief mechanic and guiding light from 1964-1969, and his Hawk chassis carried the legend to his lone Indy 500 win in 1969. Al Dean, the owner of the fabled Dean Van Lines Specials (who gave A.J. Foyt and Mario their big car starts) passed away in 1967, but the team stayed on track thanks to Firestone and then sponsorship from STP and Andy Granatelli.

 

Following Andretti’s Indy triumph (pictured, top), the team – technically owned by Mario – was sold to Granatelli. And the first thing he did was get rid of Brawner.

 

“I didn’t want to own a team and have that responsibility, but I didn’t want any changes either; I wanted to keep our team (Jim McGee, Brawner) together,” said Andretti. “But Andy wanted to do something different and get some fresh air. We’d all been together for so long.”

 

When the 1970 season dawned, Brawner was no longer with Andretti. McGee, Granatelli and, as the story goes, Brawner’s wife Kay, took it personally. Supposedly, she visited some kind of voodoo princess/soothsayer/fortune teller in the Arizona desert and requested a curse that nobody named Andretti would ever win the Indy 500 again.

 

“I’ve heard that story but I didn’t try to ace Brawner out of anything,” states the 1978 Formula 1 champion. “I’m not sure but Andy might have had an issue with Clint.”

 

Adds McGee: “I heard about a curse years later but I never paid much attention to it. Mario and Clint never got along that well but they certainly respected each other.”

 

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The ‘Curse’ at its peak? In 1982, Mario qualified on the second row for the 500, but was taken out on the pace lap by a spinning Kevin Cogan. Motorsport Images

 

Whether you believe in curses or voodoo is irrelevant but it does give you pause when you look at the stats: Mario led 555 laps and scored one win; son Michael led 441 laps yet never made it to Victory Lane; and grandson Marco has been in front for 141 laps and is 0-for-14.

 

“I don’t think it (the curse) exists in August, so we are good,” said Marco with a chuckle earlier this week. “Results-wise, yeah, maybe there is something to it because, man, the three of us have been so dominant here.

 

“We don’t believe in it as a family,” Marco added. “This is a dangerous place and we are all healthy, so it’s hard to say we’re cursed.”

 

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Michael’s Newman/Haas Lola led 160 laps in 1992 and had a huge lead when it broke just seven laps from the finish. Motorsport Images

 

The proud patriarch scoffs at the notion of the Andretti Curse: “Indy has always been a blessing for me and my family. I mean it. It’s a tough place and, sure, it’s been disappointing many times, but we love it.

 

“And I’ll never endorse that bulls–t about a curse.”

 

 

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It's the Roast of Bobby Unser, as the three-time winner of the Indianapolis 500 is hammered for almost an hour by IndyCar reporter and host Robin Miller, 1963 Indy 500 winner Parnelli Jones, four-time Indy 500 winner Rick Mears, the Indy 500's most successful team owner,, Roger Penske, and Johnny Rutherford, the three-time Indy 500 winner. Captured in May of 2018, the panel of Indy legends and icons coming together to humble 'Uncle Bobby' in front of an audience of friends and debt collectors made for a magical night near the Speedway.

 

Captured in May of 2018, the panel of Indy legends and icons coming together to humble 'Uncle Bobby' in front of an audience of friends and debt collectors made for a magical night near the Speedway.

 

 

 

 

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Two Iconic Names Teamed Up To Win Indy 500 in 1920

August 27, 2020

By Zach Horrall, Indianapolis Motor Speedway

 

In 1920, one of the most iconic names in American automotive history found its way into Victory Lane at the Indianapolis Motor Speedway: Chevrolet.

 

Gaston Chevrolet, the younger brother of engineers Arthur and Louis, the namesake of the Chevrolet automobile line, won the Eighth Running of the Indianapolis 500.

 

In the early days of the Indianapolis 500, then known as the International 500-Mile Sweepstakes, the race was used as a proving ground for automotive innovation.

 

Each year, those in the automotive industry showed up in Indianapolis and tested what they were working on all year: engines, chassis and even rear-view mirrors. It is believed that the first-known use of a rear-view mirror was in 1911 by Indianapolis 500 winner Ray Harroun.

 

In 1920, Firestone Tire & Rubber Company used the 500-mile test to see how strong of a tire it could produce for its consumers. Durability on the tough, brick surface was key.

 

“To begin with, the Indianapolis 500 was not a sport of drivers, it was automobile companies,” Indianapolis Motor Speedway Historian Donald Davidson said. “The idea was that the track was built as a proving ground for private testing, but when they had automobile races, it was an extension of testing. In the very early days, the credit went to the company, not the drivers. The drivers were an afterthought.”

 

The thought was that if a product or innovation worked in the grueling 500-mile race, then it would work on everyday roads. That was something companies or manufacturers could sell to consumers.

 

Back then, roads were tough on tires, and the Speedway was no exception. The 2.5-mile course did not have the smooth asphalt surface race fans see today. It was paved entirely with brick and mortar and was not a place for unreliable tires.

 

One hundred years ago, Firestone produced an extremely durable tire under one of its brands, called Oldfields, that lasted from start to finish for race winner Chevrolet. Nobody in the previous seven editions of the race had won without changing tires.

 

“It was very notable that the car could go 500 miles and average around 88 mph,” Davidson said. “But certainly, the fact that they never changed tires, that was bragging rights for the tire company.”

 

Chevrolet’s 1920 victory was not one of domination. Instead, he was consistent and capitalized on the misfortune of others.

 

Ralph DePalma, the 1915 winner, looked poised to capture his second win in what was then known as the International 500-Mile Sweepstakes. However, the inevitable “DePalma Luck” struck the Italian-American driver when one of the engine’s two magnetos failed, meaning only four of the eight cylinders were firing.

 

Chevrolet passed DePalma and led the final 14 laps, cruising to his first Indy 500 win in just his second start. He finished the grueling 500 miles in five hours, 38 minutes with an average speed of 88.618 mph.

 

Chevrolet’s race winning car was not a Chevrolet, but it was built by his older brothers. Entered in the race as a “Monroe Special,” the car was a Frontenac, the line of cars Arthur and Louis built specifically to compete at the Speedway.

 

Chevrolet’s two brothers were engineers that poured their hearts into the innovative nature of the Speedway, just as their younger brother poured his heart into the on-track product.

 

Just months after his win, on Nov. 25, 1920, Chevrolet died in a racing accident at the steeply banked wooden board track in Beverly Hills, California. Having had such a successful season, Chevrolet accumulated enough points from other races and was posthumously declared the American Automobile Association (AAA) champion.

 

 

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RETRO: The day Milwaukee took some scalps

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Foyt, Ward and George Bignotti. Robin Miller Collection

 

By Robin Miller | 16 hours ago

 

 

Considering the economy, purses and affect the pandemic has had on spectator sports, the fact 22-24 cars have started every IndyCar race outside of Indianapolis is pretty damn impressive.

 

But there was an anomaly 60 years ago at Milwaukee that left Indy 500 winners on the sidelines, and more cars on the trailer than in the Rex Mays Classic.

 

A week after the great duel between Jim Rathmann and Rodger Ward at Indianapolis, the USAC championship trail pitched its tent at State Fair Park for the first of two annual 100-mile shows with an entry list that was hard to comprehend.

 

Forty-seven cars showed up to compete for 22 spots, and the drivers that wound up missing the show were almost as accomplished as the starting lineup.

 

While Lloyd Ruby nipped Johnny Thomson for the pole position, A.J. Foyt qualified fourth-fastest, Jim Hurtubise was seventh, Tony Bettenhausen eighth, Ward 11th and a new kid named Parnelli Jones was 13th. But Jimmy Bryan, Troy Ruttman and Rathmann weren’t fast enough, and neither were Eddie Sachs, Dick Rathmann, Roger McCluskey, Duane Carter, Bud Tinglestad, Jimmy Davies and Jim Packard. Yet stock car veteran Nelson Stacy somehow managed to secure the last automatic berth (20th).

 

Promoter Tom Marchese added a 20-lap consolation race so two of the 27 would transfer into the main event, and Milwaukee historian Steve Zautke documents what happened in the ‘Hooligan’:

 

“Packard was on the pole in Lindsey Hopkins’ dirt car and midget champ Davies was outside of Row 1 in Harry Turner’s roadster. Sachs started sixth in the Dean Van Lines Special but was in the lead by lap 14, and Dick Rathmann slotted into second at the same time. That’s how they finished with Ruttman fifth, Bryan sixth and Rathmann seventh in the Ken-Paul Special that was a week removed from Victory Lane.

 

“Sachs earned $200 for his efforts while the younger Rathmann, who earned $110,000 at Indy for his team, pocketed a $20 bill.”

 

In the race, Ward took the lead from Foyt held off the soon-to-be national champion for the final 19 laps.

 

“Making the show back then was a bear, especially at a dirt track where there might be 30-35 cars going for 18 spots and if you drew a bad number forget it,” recalled Super Tex, who joins Jones as the only surviving participants in that 1960 Milwaukee race. “But I remember Milwaukee and all those great drivers that missed the race. They talk about the competition today; well I got news for you, it was damn tough back then too, and a lot of guys got sent home.”

 

 

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