August 01/07
You know folks, we recently celebrated the 50th anniversary of our local dragstrip. The organizing committee rented the nearest community centre and sent out invitations. One large room was dedicated to pictures which were professionaly displayed. In the main hall, on stage, a master of ceremonies paid a tribute to and introduced special guests, dignitaries and shared an array of special memories. There was also a display with some really neat nostalgia cars. Personally, I have always had a soft spot in my heart for the supercharged altereds and gassers. Even Linda Vaughn (Miss Hurst) was there and geez was she ever looking good. As always she was overflowing with compliments and good wishes to anyone who came within range.

The event was successful because of a tremendous effort by many volunteers. Without the dedication of these people to document, support and perpetuate our sport, archives would be empty and great memories lost forever. To all of you…a tip of the hat!

Anyhow, I was standing in the picture room with a friend of mine looking at some stuff from the ‘60s when I commented on how awesome it was to remember these times. She looked at me and said, “You know Bob, my nostalgia is different than yours because I only came into this sport ten years ago.” Well folks, I’m a baby boomer and like most of my generation figure the world revolves around us but my friend tuned me up a little bit. And I like being tuned up once in a while. I have often though about her statement and the need for us to respect and appreciate each others interests. However, since this is my column I’m going to share an overview of my memories.

You see, I remember those Sunday!...Sunday!...Sunday! promotions on the radio. And if you happened to be going to that track while one was on the air, well, it just made you tingle. These were the developing years of drag racing and the sanctioning bodies were scrambling to keep up to the innovations and engineering of the racers. At this time there were 5 associations trying to organize and market our sport. In fact NASCAR had many race tracks across the country and at that time they were the only organization that allowed jet cars, the two most noteable being Fred Sibley and Art Arfons. The factories were getting involved when they realized that you raced on Sunday…and sold cars on Monday. As a result, super-stock was evolving into pro stock which was evolving into factory-experimental which was evolving into nitro funny car. It was an exciting time of change. Classes were being created and restructured monthly to accommodate the growth.

The stars of the sport were traveling the circuit from coast to coast like a country and western band. Most every fan got to see their hero at the local dragstrip at one time or another. Promoters capitalized on the rivalries whether it was east coast vs. west coast, north vs. south, Chev vs. Ford, Dodge vs. Pontiac or Shirley Muldowney vs. the world. Don Garlits was called the “Swamp Rat” by a California dude who did not like him beating up on the west coast boys. These rivalries were real and personal and did not come with todays scripted, politically correct rhetoric that makes me nauseous.

The pioneers were becoming legends. “Jungle” Jim Liberman and “Jungle Pam” could draw a crowd at a local motel that would make Paris Hilton envious. Of course Jim did it following a day at the race track by rebuilding his funny car in the motel parking lot and firing it up at midnight. If there were enough fans hanging around he could be encouraged to do a small burnout. Connie Kalitta would fly his own plane to and from the races using the dragstrip as a runway. This was neat stuff. Many stars had teams and cars on both coasts and flew back and forth. Some tried to use “clone” drivers when they were double booked but that did not go over too good with the fans and promoters.

The bravest of the old pros had to be the fuel dragster guys. Sitting in the open behind those engines, wearing aluminized masks and fighter pilot goggles with their “equipment” resting on the differential was not for the faint of heart. And while these guys were perhaps the toughest, the craziest had to be those who drover the short wheelbase, high center of gravity, fuel altereds. I loved them all. And there were exhibition vehicles like A.J. Potter’s V-8 powered motorcycle. He was known as the “Michigan Madman” and legend has it that when he was needing some extra money he would go up into the tower and suggest to the promoter that he could “lay her down goin thru the lites” at 150 mph for an extra 100 bucks.

And there was great pageantry by the drivers. These guys understood show business. They were making a living doing what they loved. The funny car guys could do quarter mile burnouts. The would back up and do a hard hit across the starting line. They would back up again and maybe do half a dozen “burps” before staging. The spectator quickly calculated his hero’s chance of winning based on how the car looked and sounded during the pre-race procedure. But the kings of pageantry were the pro stockers. These guys used every type of adhesive to try and glue the rear tires to the track. The drivers would fire their engines and bring the cars within 10 feet of the starting line. Each driver would the shake some yellow powdered resin from a can on to the starting line area. They would then broom this powder into the surface of the track. Seeing Bill “Grumpy” Jenkins puffing on his cigar and Ronnie Sox in his designer clothes performing this ritual was worth the price of admission. The drivers would then go back to their cars and strap in. They might make three launches through the “gold dust” laying down blacker tire marks with each successive launch creating better traction and higher wheelstands. Then they would back into some liquid resin, give the tires a spin and pull to the line. The race itself was almost anticlimactic after this build up.

Sadly, showmanship doesn’t exist anymore. John Force was the last of the modern day showmen but now Austin Coil has stopped that in the need for consistency. The professional racer today has a personal handler to guide them in what they say and do because of all the media scrutiny. Its kind of refreshing to watch the roundy-round racers go at each other before their handlers get them calmed down. Kurt Busch, Tony Stewart, Paul Tracy and now Danica Patrick have all shown their competitive spirits. We could use some more of this in our sport.

Drag racing is a business. Im glad it is. Without the corporate world being involved, few could afford to do it. We have come of age ladies and gentlemen. But us old baby boomers remember where and how it started and the growing pains to get it to where it is today. And that is my nostalgia.

To conclude, lets remember the inspirational words of the late and great “Jungle” Jim who said, “DRAG RACING IS FAR OUT!” I agree.

You folks look after each other.

Bogus