Back in the days when air was free, TV went off at midnight with the playing of the National Anthem, car air conditioning was rolling down the windows, Chris Economaki told us the real story of what happened the week before in his column in National Speed Sport News, any driver under 25 was probably driving for himself because you needed a learning curve to drive those non-power steering cars, when drivers were big and tires small, I was able to jump in my ‘63 Chevy station wagon with around $50 or less in my pocket and head off somewhere around the country to race my midget.
Back in the days when air was free, TV went off at midnight with the playing of the National Anthem, and car air conditioning was rolling down the windows, Chris Economaki told us the real story of what happened the week before in his column in National Speed Sport News.
At that point, any driver under 25 was probably driving for himself because you needed a learning curve to drive non-power steering cars, when drivers were big and tires small, and I was able to jump in my ‘63 Chevy station wagon with around $50 or less in my pocket and head off somewhere around the country to race my midget.
Many times I would leave by myself, knowing that I better make some money or I couldn‘t get back (which was of no concern to me at all). Neither lack of money nor a job could stop me from one of my greatest pleasures in life: heading down the 300-or-more-mile trip to the St. Louis area for at least a couple nights of racing.
There was something magical about heading that way. I loved all those little bullrings there that usually had little or no fencing around them. But, most of all, I just loved the characters and racers I would come in contact with.
Today, when I think of all the great racers and friends I met in those days, I have to smile. There were so many guys and so many small tracks. I‘ll try to name just a few. I wish they were all still racing, or even with us.
The mecca of all southern Illinois and surrounding areas had to be Little Springfield. If you never got to race there, I feel bad for you, as it was quite an adventure. Guys like Dean Shirley (“Whiskers”) used to glide around that place in a midget or sprinter and won countless races.
Whenever he drove for Nick Gomeric in his legendary SOS VW, he would never take any money — win, lose, or draw — as he said it would mess us his social security. He just drove for the love of the sport.
I remember when Springfield hosted one of the first NAMARS National midget races back around 1974 when Wes Stafford won driving for Blackie Fortune. I was amazed how they flew around that quarter-mile track. I remember being at the first-ever NAMARS show at Macon, Illinois when a guy named Jerry Howe won in a Bob Higman car, and thinking how lucky I was to make the show for that 100-lapper.
There were so many fast guys there that night; guys like Roger Branson (son of one of racing‘s all-time greats, Don Branson) driving for Howard Lehman. Duke DeRosa, Chuck Kunz, Stoogie Weyant, Ronnie Taylor in Art Range‘s B-1 Lake of the Ozarks bomb car, and so many others really stood on the gas.
If you headed south about another 100 miles, there were a lot of tracks close to the same size as Springfield. The St. Louis Auto Racing Club ran most of them. I got to run at Centralia, Illinois (where I launched Jr. Braga‘s neat little Edmunds out of the park in hot laps), Granite City, Pevely, St. Charles, Lake Hill, Farmer City, and a ton more.
Whenever USAC had a race in the St. Louis area, Danny Frye Sr. would make his home party central after the races. What a thrill it was for me to sit on the couch, wide-eyed and starstruck, listening to drivers like Bob Wente, Jimmy Caruthers, Pancho Carter, Bob Tattersall, and Mike McGreevy talking about racing, as well as mechanics and car owners like Larry Griffith, Jack Fitzpatrick, George Middleton, and all the big guns of those days.
A track in the St. Louis area that I always loved was St. Charles, Missouri, and I wish it was still around today. The first time I went there I saw a pretty little black car that was owned by Barney Flynn from Chillicothe, Illinois, who owned the Flynn Craft race shop. Flynn had the closest USAC-approved Magnaflux station, where I got my hubs, spindles, and axles Magnafluxed each year in order to run with USAC, which was mandatory to get your car registered.
That might not be a bad idea today, with all the lightweight stuff out there.
Flynn had the first Ford head on a Chevy block in his midget, which I believe Joe Dooling Sr. still owns. He had a lot of his own drives and parts on his car, and when it finished it was fast. It was always a black No. 9 with a silver starburst around the number and was so cool. I remember when Billy Engelhardt won his first USAC race in that car. Guys like Leo Dugo and Danny Frye Jr. also won races in it.
Danny Sr. and Jr. helped me a lot back then. Danny Jr. told me the story about his mom telling his dad to “go down there and feed that kid” when we were staying at the Safari Beach Motel in Daytona and I was hanging around the car. I guess she thought I was a homeless racer who looked like I needed a meal, which was probably right. I always loved that family.
Danny Jr. was an accomplished racer, like his dad, and I remember Jr. running Paul Tobias‘ sprint car before I did. Danny once ran Lakewood Park in Atlanta in Paul‘s car, which was a one-mile dirt open show. He qualified seventh before dropping out of the race. Danny held a real job over the years; it would have been interesting to see him run fulltime as he was always fast.
Going to Granite City was always a riot, too. So many guys there were fun to race with. I remember Chuck Taylor was so fast, as was Jon Backlund in Bill Darnell‘s car (he also ran Joe Walters, and both won a lot of races).
Ronnie Taylor was another guy who was so smooth running the cushion in Art Range‘s car, but his career ended when he was in a highway accident in a motorhome. Bud Hoppe was always fast in his midget, and when he later became a car owner he gave Kenny Schrader one of his first rides. They were tough to beat.
Wib Spaulding was another who was so tough in a midget and sprint car. He later promoted races at Godfrey.
I remember the first year I went south to run. Mike Hill was a 21-year-old racer who was destined for the big time. Mike‘s dad, Jack Hill, owned the Star Trophy Co. that supplied all the trophies for the St. Louis club. He also owned race cars that Mike drove. Mike won the 1971 St. Louis midget championship and signed up with Jack Fitzpatrick to run the whole 1972 USAC midget season. He was off to a great start in Jack‘s car before tragically losing his life at Charleston, Ill., in July.
I always loved the names of the regulars down that way. There was a father/son team of Harold Pope Sr. and Jr., who were always fun to be around. Harold had a bar called Harold‘s Tavern in not one of the best areas in St. Louis and I went there one night after a race. Bert Wilson, the 1970 St. Louis midget champ had been there the night before. He had a beautiful candy apple red truck with him and when he came out the wheels had been stolen.
Harold told him not to worry about it, to take his car home and come back the next day. When Bert came back, Harold – who was pretty well-known and respected in that area – had figured out who stole them and they were back on his truck.
There was another racer that raced with the Popes named Bishop, and it was common to hear about the Pope and the Bishop at Granite City. Another guy with a great name was Louge Yount, better known as the Deputy Dog. Dog was an ironworker by trade and I believe drove for John Singhurst and Ed Moore. I think John Singhurst‘s fast little Falcon-powered car was one of the first that my old friend Mickey Stroud drove, and they even won at St. Charles.
The roll cage on the car had rubber padding and it made the cage look so thick. That was when roll cages had just been mandated and you saw all sorts of different designs. I even saw a lot of chrome cages before they were made illegal, and a lot of the cages would fold over pretty easily in a crash.
I bent a few myself, but we would slug them and run them again due to economics of the day.
Joe and Shannon Finley were another father-and-son combination, and Joe had a lot of big name drivers win in his cars. Shannon started driving for his dad when he came back from his service in the Army. Shannon had one leg that was cut off at the knee, but still ran his dad‘s midget for years.
Sadly, Shannon lost his life in his dad‘s car in a wicked crash at Granite City.
The names go on and on and the memories come with them. I remember Wayne Lee, who owned a body shop and always had sharp-looking cars. I remember Ronnie Franklin and Ralph Parkinson Jr. running with us occasionally, and they were so fast. At Riverside, near Kansas City, one night Ralph Jr. flipped his midget and got out of it and flipped it back over by himself to restart the race.
Ralph‘s dad was one of the sprint greats back then, and I only remember him running a midget one time at Oklahoma City. Howard House would run his super-quick Falcon with us once in a while and also Mike Smith from Kansas City. Mike‘s dad, George, was an old midget racer and usually warmed the car up slowly with a cigarette in his mouth and no helmet.
Curly Rahn was another car owner who would show up with USAC drivers. And, of course, I can‘t forget to mention the guy who saved me so many times by making axles and parts for me when I tore them up running down there, Joe Dooling Sr.
Joe still has his shop by Wood River. His cars were always first class and even ran the Astrodome with Lloyd Ruby. Joe Jr. followed in his dad‘s footsteps, winning almost every major midget and sprint race in the country. Two guys who I owe so much to.
I know I have forgotten a lot of names and characters from that golden era. I wouldn‘t trade those memories for a trailer load of three-quarter-inch plywood. Those guys were all hard driving, hard partying, good and tough racers who treated me so well as an outsider. I can‘t think of a better time in my life than racing in those decades.
Today I pay for air in my tires, water to drink, midget engines that cost more than what it paid to win the Indy 500 in the ‘50s, and drivers are small and tires are wide.
Who knows, maybe these are the good old days. Or, maybe not. – KO