Belated Labor Day weekend postcard:
pointed the Coupe of Justice northward to Onion Grove, Wisconsin for the annual Time Machine Nationals at Great Lakes Dragaway, a fiesta of vintage stockers, gassers and FEDs from the 60's and 70's. Joined a bunch of my secret car club cohorts (including fellow Bolusite cratedigger in his righteous '66 Stang) trackside for beers and rubbernecking, with the lovely Tammi Jo serving up some tasty brats.
That's livin' brother! Enjoy the snapshots. Headed up to Road America tomorrow for similar fun of the road-racing variety, and pictures will be coming presently.
CAS's kickass '56 customline -- with the Coupe of Justice in the reflection
Ginchy lil' A modified. Wheels from an 80's Chrysler Cordoba(!)
Ultra 60's -- Anglia gasser
Coop call your lawyer!
What Me Worry? Not with 2 drag chutes
6-second nitro FED
One of my boyhood faves: Raymond Beadle's "Blue Max" funny car. Pour leMe Rite!
Wheelie casters on a '34 Willys... yum
Crazy Nash, originally made in nearby Kenosha
I'm a sucker for '59 Pontiacs, as the power train and dash in my coupe came from one. The owner told us he's been racing this same Catalina at Da Grove for more than 40 years.
Nuff said.
Spent Saturday up at Great Lakes Dragaway in Union Grove, WI for the Time Machine Nationals where I saw my old friend and mentor Broadway Bob Metzler (pictures to come). Here's my interview with Bob that appeared in Garage Magazine #15.
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In the rolling prairies of southeast Wisconsin, just north of the Bong Recreation Area (no, I am not making that up) and the Mars Cheese Castle (no, I am not making that up either), sits a institution: Great Lakes Dragaway. For over 50 years the strip has served as permanent hot rod carnival, attracting generations of Midwest gearheads with weekly spectacles of rockets and jets and car-crushing, metal-melting Dragonators.
Ringmaster of this quarter mile circus: the legendary promoter, partier, womanizer, wild man, and all-around bon vivant “Broadway Bob” Metzler, who built the track in 1953 with a stack of poker winnings and became the only track owner ever inducted in the Drag Racing Hall of Fame. At 79, Broadway remains lord of the domain, and still holds court trackside with his two dogs Punkin and Cupid. I stopped by for a visit recently and found Broadway as crazy – and randy - as ever.
1. Where’d you grow up?
I was born in the little town of New Franken, about 10 miles out of Green Bay on Highway 54. My ma and pa grew up on separate farms about a mile apart. I had five sisters. But I really didn’t grow up there. My dad had two sisters and seven brothers, all with many kids, and there’s no way the farm could support all of them. So my folks moved to Milwaukee when I was a baby. But I went back there all the time to work on the farm, and funerals, and so on.
2. What was growing up in Milwaukee like then?
You have to remember this was in the Great Depression, and we were really, really poor. My pa had a factory job at Seiman body, which is now called AO Smith. They did big frames for cars, mainly Nash in Kenosha.
Whoa! Hi there young lady! You’re lookin’ good!
(A stacked brunette has just strolled past our picnic table. “‘Hi Bob!” she waves. “Your puppies have gotten so big!”)
Yours too!
(the brunette blushes.)
Whenever they hug me, I squeeze ‘em and say “you’ve left a lasting impression.” And they love it! Anyway, my dad was lucky if he made 25 cents an hour. It was tough to make ends meet, so he’d send me up to the farm every year. There wasn’t always enough food, so I came down with Ricketts disease. So I was behind two years in high school. So I was almost 17 by the time I finished my second year and I joined the Marine Corps in late ’44.
3. Did you see action?
I didn’t get overseas because the war was over in ’45. I was sent off to Parris Island for boot camp. Camp Le Jeune and Cherry Point in North Carolina. Terrible duty bases in small little towns like Newburn and Kingston. I had enlisted for 2 years. At the end of my first stint in ‘47 I was a corporal. I re-upped later on.
4. When’s the first time you got interest in racing?
In between my two stints in the Corps, - in ‘47-’50 - I drove modified stocks and sprint cars. Sprint cars for Andy Granatelli at 87th Street Speedway in Chicago. But mostly I drove stockers on quarter and fifth-mile dirt tracks. Cedarburg had a track, and State Fair Park in Milwaukee. Man, I was a lousy driver, I had a lousy car. Stock cars were really stock -- they'd stick a roll bar in. No fire extinguishers. It didn't have the correct steering, we couldn't afford that.
Ever hear of Dick Trickle? Dick and I were at a banquet about 5 years ago. The emcee said, 'Dick, you accomplished something no one else has ever done. You won 87 races in one year.' I said, 'I have to be honest, I bettered that record. In one year I lost 93 races!' In fact, I don't think I actually ever finished a race.
5. When did you re-enlist in the Marines?
In 1950, during Korea. I went back in the inactive reserves. They made me a sergeant and I went back to the West coast. Pendleton and Oceanside.
(“You were in the Corps, Bob?” asks a burly passer-by with a big white fu Manchu. “Me too, '64 to '67.”)
Vietnam?
“Yeah.”
I don't know what was worse, Korea or Vietnam.
“Korea!” says the fu Manchu ‘Nam vet. “Those guys froze their asses off.”
I suppose so, but I never got shipped to Korea. I was a mess sergeant. They needed someone who could get up early - not to cook - but to make sure all the food was out. It left a lot of time for gambling. When I wasn't going up to LA, watching the drag races up there, I would gamble.
6. What kind of gambling?
In Pendleton, it was all blackjack. The dealer took all pushes. One out of eight hands was a push, so I always bought the dealer. I figured this out. I had enough money to back up everything, it was a no-limit rule. There wasn't five decks and all that bullshit. The dealer always took both cards down, so whenever anybody had a 12 or 13 or 14, they'd take a hit. Half of them would bust. I ended up sending $17,000 back in the two years I was at Camp Pendleton, which is probably $200,000 or $250,000 in today's terms.
7. Was LA the first time you saw drag racing?
Oh, no. In the interim between my stints in the Corps, drag racing was already big around Chicago and Milwaukee. There was a strip at Half Day, Illinois, north of Chicago. It was and old WWII airstrip and we raced on that. In Milwaukee, at Curtiss-Wright Airport -- which was Timmerman Field at the time. A couple of times, and they barred the place. There were no guardrails, insurance no nothing.
“Who we got here? Broadway Bob! I used to watch you on the TV.” A lanky older black man stops to shake Broadway’s hand.
Well hi there!
“Mississippi Otis. I do a little corn, now you go out and eat some of my corn, Broadway. I got a little machine I do it on. You ain’t eat no corn till you eat some Mississippi Otis corn.”
I promise you, I’ll be over there, Mr. Otis.
“I sure will appreciate it,” says Mississippi Otis. “I’m gonna try to get just like Mr. Broadway Bob. I’m doin’ some things to move through the world. ”
True to his word, Broadway Bob and I stop and head for the concession area for some of Mississippi Otis corn. And true to Mississippi Otis’ word, it’s some damn good corn.
8. So how did you start Great Lakes?
I got home to Milwaukee in ’52. There were a lot of clubs at the time – in Chicago, Waukegan, Kenosha, Racine and Milwaukee. They had about 35 or 40 clubs, basically, and they formed the Great Lakes Timing Association. They had all kind of names like the Schlitzers, the Eager Eaters, the Torque Twisters.
My brother-in-law was president of one of the clubs, Milwaukee Motoring Association, or MMA. I hung around with these guys. He told them that I had the money, all that poker profit. They wanted a place to race after Half Day and Curtiss-Wright were closed. I told them that 'I'll build the track, if you guys find the right place to build it.' They found this place, which was a farm at the time. The owner's name was Paul James. I bought the land in '53. I told the clubs that if I was going to do this I would need their help, so I gave them each a couple of shares of stock in the track, and 4 or 6 season passes to each club. That's how Great Lakes Dragaway got built.
There was a lot of work involved, digging and excavation going on. All the clubs helped out. Twice, when I was down in the backhoe ditches, the walls caved in and I almost got buried. They reached down to pull me out, and my pants came clean off.
My first set of bleachers here came from Andy Granatelli. He had closed 87th Street Speedway out, and Andy said I could have all the seats for free if I took them all out of there. It took three semi loads, but we erected them all again up here.
9. When did you start hosting big events?
In ‘57 I went down to Florida, to see Big Daddy Don Garlits, at the Golden Triangle in Seffner where he lived. He was really getting a big name. I made a deal with him to come up here and race against Chris “the Golden Greek” Karamesines from Chicago in a match race and they tied. ET wasn't important then, it was all top speed. They tied at 187.50 mph, which is faster than any drag cars had ever gone.
To capitalize on it I promoted them as the world's fastest two dragsters, in a match race for the Labor Day weekend. They were already going to be in the midwest for the World Series of Drag Racing anyway. I had a huge crowd, then Prudhomme heard about it, McEwen heard about it, Shirley Muldowney, Kalitta -- you name it, every big name in drag racing wanted to come. That became the Olympics of Drag Racing, which we still do today.
10. Where did the name “Broadway Bob” come from?
In the 60’s I used to go to California in the off-season to the Winternationals in Pomona. I would also do walk-on parts for TV shows; 20 or 30 of them, JAG, Murder She Wrote, can’t remember all of them. Somebody told me I was like PT Barnum, and even then I was wearing wild clothes, jewelry, colorful stuff. The track announcer at Pomona saw me and said “wow, look at the way that guy’s dressed.” He invited me up to the booth, and said ‘folks, who we have here is Broadway Bob, looks like he came straight from Broadway.” Doris Herbert at Drag News printed the story, with the headline “Broadway Bob Goes to Hollywood.” and the name stuck. Now most people don’t even know my last name. All my mail comes addressed as ‘Broadway Bob.’
11. When did you first start jumping on top of the jet cars?
We first started exhibitions in the 60’s with Walt Arfons and Art Arfons, with the Green Monster, then Doug Rose with the Green Mamba. Those were really popular, so we brought in more jets. Later on we got the rocket cars, like Tony Fox’s Pollution Packer and Ky Michaelson. He was without a doubt, the best man at building and driving rocket cars. He raced here many many times in the two year period when rocket cars were allowed. He had rocket motorcycles, and rocket snowmobiles that he would jump over things. Fantastic talent. The rocket cars were very dangerous because they were light. Whenever they got airborne, it was all over. There were only about 12 cars and in two years, six of the drivers got killed.
The first time I actually jumped on a jet car was in '70, Frank Sibley's car. His son was sponsored by Hooters. He smoked a cigar when he drove, similar to Grumpy Jenkins and Dick Landy and One Armed Willy Borsch. It was the USA-1. I’m standing there drinking a beer, and he motions me over. I said 'what?' and he yells, 'sit down!' and I got up on the nose of that thing, and started rolling down the track. Man, the people start roaring and cheering, I'll tell you what. And that became my trademark, riding the nose and swinging that beer around.
12. Always with a beer?
All the time. Of course you have to be half in the bag to try that, or half the stuff I do. You're not gonna try that sober. It's like smoking pot, which I never... well I guess I can't say I never took drugs, if somebody offered me a hit here and there, hey. And a couple of times I got in with a band called the Booze Brothers and they did one hitters, enough to get a buzz on. Never got a habit for any of it, never carried, never dealt. Just all fun.
I have a picture of me at the strip when we had four cars, two jets and two funny cars, running side by side down the track, not real fast, but with the afterburners on. I was on top of the ‘Chicago Rush’ jet car, when a big gust of wind came in from the east. On top of that, they weren’t supposed to polish the car, and I was slipping all over it. Man, I thought I’d blown into that afterburner wash.
13. Was that your hairiest moment?
Truthfully, the cars never went that fast while I was on them, it was for the spectacle. I did have a couple of scary moments sitting on a car during a car burning, when the chains broke. The most dangerous thing I think ever did was raft down the Colorado River outside Vegas. Bouncing around on that thing, you're hot and cold and wet, and bugs and critters are everywhere. And I paid 2000 bucks to do it! Never again. I'd rather ride on the jet cars.
A cute Goth girl hugs Bob from behind. “Hi Bob! How you doing?” she say in cheerfully punk singsong. “I just came by to say hi. Aww, your doggies are so cute.”
It’s a pleasure! Come back later and I’ll escort you around the track on my golf cart.
Broadway Bob’s golf cart is equipped with array of strategically-placed mirrors to afford special vistas of his female passengers. Goth girl beams and continues petting the dogs. Bob leers happily.
Yes sir, that’s really pretty nice.
14. Your car burnings are legendary. Do you have any favorite stunts?
Oh yeah! We never did just one car. We’d either stack the cars three high, or burn a school bus, or combines. Kenosha has a demolition derby with great big farm combines! Really, every year they have it. The ones that are too much to fix, they bring them here for us to burn with the jet cars. I got a lot of people come in for that.
Before import racing caught on, everybody hated Japanese cars and motorcycles. We had the Honda Drops. We drop them from cranes and helicopters, drop motorcycles into cars. Then we’d take the cars and bikes and stack them up. Then Doug Rose would back up to them and chain it up and burn them.
Oh man, they’d get mad at me with the school bus burns! Once I had a bunch of child mannequins and put them aboard, hanging out the windows, then we flared it up. People started screaming thinking they were real kids!
Now I have my Dragon, Draco the Dragonator. It breathes fire and crushes cars. I ride on it along with my Dragonmistress, who is very very pretty. I was on the Discovery Channel a couple of years ago with it.
15. How did you get together with Evel Kneivel?
I first contacted him in ’72. He had crashed in ’71 at Caesar’s Palace, and was taking the year off to recuperate. That crash really was horrible, but it really made him a household name. He said “I’ll come, but it’ll cost you a lot of money.” $25,000 – a lot of money at the time – but it covered his hotel and airfare. I spent probably $50,000 on advertising. He sent me tapes of the crash. TV stations then liked that kind of thing, for the sports. I took these clips to Chicago, Milwaukee, all over, and people just went crazy for tickets.
I charged $10 per ticket, and the place was packed, 15,000 people a night for two nights. Evel showed up at the track in a limousine, and when he got out he had a cape on and handed a bouquet of flowers to a beautiful girl, a complete production. I forget how many buses and trucks we had lined up, but he jumped ‘em.
16. Did you ever have any fatalities out here?
Oh yeah. In the first 30 years of the track there were over 30 killed. The cars were not safe for the speeds they were going. John Krannenberg, he took one ride in the Greek’s car –one ride- and the transmission broke and split the car in half and messed him up really bad. Took his balls out and everything. In ’78 Clayton Harris got about 300 feet out in front of the main grandstand and the clutch and flywheel let loose. All those pieces of metal flew up in the stands. There were about a half dozen spectators injured, and three dead. Customers. One was a racer named Bad Bob Voskul, was sitting with his wife in the stands and got hit in the chest by a big piece of flywheel metal and died on the operating table, Another guy had his lungs severed and died before they could get him to the hospital. The worst was a young girl, pretty girl, around 20. The flywheel caught her right here [motions to forehead] and split it wide open. We had a photographer decapitated once.
In the last 20 years, there have only been two deaths. The cars are a lot safer now, drivers have helmets and there are Kevlar shields and blankets. The last death here was about two years ago. A guy flipped over the guardrail and hit a light pole at the end of the track.
17. Do you think Drag Racing has evolved in the right direction?
I go to the national meets, and I enjoy it, but after you see in one day for qualifying every car looks alike every car goes the same speed within a fraction of a second. To me, I like the wheelstanders, I like the jets, I like all those things they don’t have any longer at the national meets because the car companies don’t want them.
It’s also very business-oriented. When I owned the track I used to hang out there by the gate and shake everybody’s hands who came in. Let’s say my price was 20 bucks for a big national meet, and a guy would come in with his wife and a couple of kids, and they’d tell me, we have to leave because we only have $40. I’d say, ‘I’ll tell you what – give me 20, and use the other 20 for food and what not.
18. What’s the best party you’ve been to?
Remember when the rocket cars raced at Bonneville? I went out with Tony Fox who had the Pollution Packer car. He flew about 50 of his friends out there, TV stars like James Brolin and Dale Robertson. Tony paid for all the expenses. Every day – every day – he would bring in a new busload of honeys from California. We’d start drinking martinis at the hotel, all the way out to the Flats. I lost a pair of glasses there, my virginity… can’t remember it all, only that I had a really good time!
I used to do coed jello and mud wrestling, which was fun. There was time when I jello wrestled four women. Let me tell you, when you wrestle four women you reall got your hands full. At my 75th they had a shindig for me at the bowling alley in Union Grove. It started at 8 o’clock in the morning and went till 4 o’clock the next morning. Three thousand people.
Frankly though I think my parties are the best. I usually have three or four bands – country bands, polka bands, heavy metal. I have this saying: "you ain't having fun till you call 911." So I bought a house in Union Grove on 11th Ave., 911. So I changed it to 'you ain't having fun till you get to 911.'
19. Women still seem to be the center of your life. What’s the secret to your horniness?
I’m more of lover than a fighter I guess. Truthfully I never really cared for the Marine Corps because I don't like brutality and fighting and all that. But I always liked girls, and I have two young girlfriends. They’re both pretty blondes, one is 42 and the other is 28. I’ve got a healthy libido, but not like it used to be. I’m in pretty good shape for once a week, maybe even twice a week. Not bad for 80! Like I say, “I love silver, I love gold, but I really love pussy if it’s not too old. I love dancing I love fun. I really love pussy if it’s not too young!”
20. Is there anything you still want to accomplish?
I’d really like to hit 90. They're making a documentary on me, a couple hour thing that ought to be fun, and a book. People kid me I’m getting mellow. I looked it up in the dictionary and it says ‘excessively ripe or half-rotten.’
As far as life is concerned, I’m content. I had a good life. I took the biggest gambles that anybody ever did, and had the biggest promotions. I never hurt anybody, and I never stole from anybody. I get money from three or four tracks, but I’m not really interested in money that much. It lets me take care of my family and my girlfriends. I was a high school dropout and if anyone told me I’d be in a Hall of Fame, and had a million friends, I wouldn’t have believed them.
On weekends, a family will walk in -- a kid, his father, his grandfather, and his great grandfather -- and they talk about what happened here in the 50s, the 70s, the 90s and today. I can't tell you how great that makes me feel.
“Ohhh, are these your watchdogs?”
Another woman, a leggy blonde with a big rack, kneels down to pet Punkin and Cupid. I’m beginning to understand why he loves those dogs. Bob’s eyes latch on to the blonde’s cleavage, and a giant grin takes over his face.
But you know, there’s something new worth accomplishing every day.
I scanned a huge chunk of my Ed "Big Daddy" Roth collection, and uploaded the whole sweet mess to my Flickr account. Here's a few choice gems:
The indispensable HAMB message board (operated by our buddy Ryan Cochran) is a treasure trove of cool hot rod lore, and it doesn't get any cooler than this: the 60 year saga of a Memphis area Deuce roadster hot rod, from 7 B.E. (before Elvis) to its recent resurrection. When we saw the story on the HAMB we tracked down owner Tim P (a/k/a 3dnsouth) and asked permission to post his amazing pictures and narration. Thanks Tim, and please enjoy.
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Just thought I might try to post some pictures of the ‘32 roadster that’s been in the family since 1960. The ‘32 originally came from California, purchased in Memphis by Marshall Robillio sometime in the 50's. The story from Marshall on the ‘32:
A sailor had driven it from California to Memphis in 1948. At the time, there was (according to the big sign in our hometown) ’The Nation’s Largest Inland Naval Training Base’ the ‘Memphis Naval Air Station’ in Millington, where I grew up, just north of Memphis. Marshall saw the car and kept after the sailor to sell it to him, but the guy didn’t want to let it go. Then, lo and behold, the sailor gets his papers to ship out. The car was down at White’s garage in Memphis, with the engine and transmission out of it. The sailor and the garage were at a standoff about the money on the repairs. They had it apart and were kind of holding it hostage. The sailor called Marshall and told him he would sell him the car, but Marshall had to go pick it up at the garage. Well, not his first time ‘round the block, Marshall says he’ll take it, but the sailor had to go with him to the garage to get everything ironed out. They had the pow wow at the garage, with money getting split between the garage folks and the sailor, with Marshall coming away with the car. He and his buddies had to put all the parts in baskets and haul the whole shootin’ match home. Marshall got it back together and got this shot of it. It was black metallic with red leather interior, Kelsey Hayes wire wheels, Harley fenders on the front, channeled, radiator set forward and the hood lengthened 3 inches. If you notice, there was a stud put in the center of the spindles for the fender supports, mounting them just like a motorcycle. This was about 1948, Marshall in his finest Sunday-go-ta-meetin’ outfit.
Another picture of it in front of the Robilio’s produce store.
Here’s some pictures from 1952 (on the license plates), outside a service station in Memphis. That’s Marshall and a kid that hung around the station.
As hot rodder’s will do, off with the fenders, hood, side panels, and top. On with some cool decals like the ‘Wynn’s Friction Proofing’. I still have the Stewart Warner gauge panel. As you can see, the eye brows around the rear wheels have been removed and it’s running split bones, which are still on it today. It has aluminum finned heads on a ‘48 Merc’ motor. The ol’ sailor had come to town with a pretty nicely modified roadster. I can see why he hated to sell it. This was in the early ‘50s.
He briefly sold the car to a Mr E.J.(or BJ, Budgey) Haley, in Memphis, with the stipulation that if the car was ever up for sale, Marshall would get first shot at it. Mr. Haley decided to sell and Marshall promptly bought it back. Mr. Haley still lives in Memphis also. Marshall talked to him while I was there.
Here’s some pictures from the mid ‘50s at a car show in the Merchant’s
Building in downtown Memphis. (pre-convention center days...) It was
painted a 1946 Frazer color. A kind of a sky blue, cerulean blue as
Marshall remembers. The placard on the cowl says:
At another show, it has a Chrysler hemi in it. Roland Raffanti had built the motor and wanted it to be in the show, in the roadster. Nothing doing but pull the flathead and in with a decked out hemi. It would have been hard to let that thing come back outta there. But, it could have been part of ol’ Roland’s sales plan. You know, like the ol’ ‘Take the puppy home and play with him and pet on him. If you don’t like him, bring him back......" Yeah, right! The info on the sign with the car reads: (trophy is 4th from rt.)
1954 Chrysler
Built by Roland Raffanti
Bore: 3 15/16
Stroke: 3.678
Disp: 354 Cu.Ins.
Comp: 12 to 1
Max RPM: 7000
ISKY CAM
Now this racing thing starts to get a little more serious, in goes a small block chevy. He made his own adapter to hook it up to the Ford transmission. I believe it still has the banjo rearend at this time, but I’m not sure. Here it is at Halls Drag Strip gettin’ a check out run. Nothin’ like ‘the boys’ hangin’ at the drag strip. Halls was north of Memphis, actually a spare runway at The Dyersburg Air Base. Note the nice concrete everywhere. Gotta love them tax dollars at work. He had the original louvered hood back it, but not painted yet. I still have the hood.
Got the car lookin’ nice by now and turning some pretty good times. There is also a shot of the roadster at the starting line in the March 1959 Hot Rod magazine, an article on drag racing.
Notice the number on the car, B/R 43. That came from when it ran at the NHRA Nationals in 1957 and/or ‘58. If you look at the post that Hemi32 put up about his 5-window, the entry number went on as the car number. On the first page of entries, in the program, entry number 43 is Harass (the roadster’s name), with Bill Williams (friend of Marshall’s) driving, from Memphis. In the film clip that Norm Jones shot at the 1957 Nationals, that Ryan posted on the JJ, you can see the car in living color at the 2:24 time mark on the film. It is coming back on the return road with the old Dodge panel push truck right behind it. You can see the ol’ Dodge in some of the other shots at Halls. Do some stop action on the film and check it out.
Marshall sold the car, sometime about 1959, to Howard Hughes of Memphis. He changed the color to a metallic copper. I talked to Howard about the car, but he couldn’t remember a whole lot about it. Come to find out we had some really good friends in common(good ol’ team ropers!) Here’s a couple of shots during Howard’s time with the car.
Dad traded his ‘55 T-bird for it in 1960. The car finally got into drag race trim in the late 60's. Stan Summerfield, a guy who worked with dad, talked him into racing it. Stan kinda took the lead on the deal, since we were getting into race horses at the time, just not enough hours or money to go around. Mom and Dad both worked at Kimberly-Clark, Dad a mechanic and Mom in the payroll department, just a working class family.(the ‘play when your hurt, work when your tired’ living ethic) Having a drag car around was really something special. The earliest picture I have of it is Dad (in the hat) and Stan standing beside it at Stan’s mom or grandmother’s house in Memphis, 1968 or ‘69.
These pictures are just inside the staging lanes at Lakeland Dragstrip, out east of Memphis. A short story on the name the car got (a name we’ve called it forever), Zot. It came from the B.C. comic strip. It was the sound the anteater made when attacking its prey. It was such a popular thing in the 60's that the University of California Irvine named the anteater as its mascot.
So ‘Zot’ just seemed to stick. The car was pretty quick in the 1/4mi., so the name was also appropriate. The best time that I remember written in shoe polish on the cowl of the car was a 9.27. The last time written on the car, still legible before I got it dipped, was a 10.60. I talked to Stan not too long ago and he said that it had ran better than the 9.27. From what Stan could remember on the motor: It was 427 chevy, .015 over, open chamber chevy race heads, LS-7 factory cam(about a .610 lift or so), and about 13.5 compression. Pete Jackson fuel injection, 4-speed at first, then a turbo 400 from TCI, dual point Mallory, roller rockers, 4.56 Pontiac big car rear. He says the best speed in the quarter, that he could remember, was 134.86mph (this was in the late 60's). These are out behind the house. August 1969 Me (on the driver’s side) and brother Dave. I was 9 at the time.
Dad gettin’ home from work
A little track tunin’.
Then it got a new paint job and new name, ‘Outtasight’. You can still see the name Outtasight on the doors today. That’s one of the reasons I haven’t put any paint on it. It just brings back good memories to actually see it there, it makes the memories real. It was painted silver to match Stan’s ‘68 corvette (w/427) tow vehicle. Can you just see if that pulled up today: 427 ‘68 vette towing an A/SR hot rod on a two wheeled trailer??!! What a pair! It even had the lace paint job on the doors. The trim and pinstriping were metallic blue. The blue that’s on the grill shell today is the blue from the Zot days. The silver just faded and peeled away over the years. The car ran at the tracks in the Midsouth, around Memphis; Lakeland, Halls, Carlisle, and more I don’t remember. You might remember Lakeland from the movie ‘Two-lane Blacktop’. It was the dragstrp they stopped at on their cross-country ride. I remember seeing some of the cars that showed up in those scenes at the track. Notice the wing at the starting line in the movie. It’s right beside Zot leaving the line in the black and white photo here(pullin’ the front wheels no less!!).
A few years ago I decided to put it back on the road. I found evidence of the light blue in the door jams when I was cleaning it before getting it dipped. Another remnant from California was found when I was cleaning the insides of the doors out (leaves and the old tar paper material). In the bottom of the driver’s door, I found the remnants of a Los Angeles Times newspaper. It was badly deteriorated, but I could read enough of it to find that it was from January 6, 1948. I couldn’t believe it lasted that long, after all of the years of being in the weather, two or three paint jobs, and wet leaves laying on it. Dad said that people used to roll newspaper up and put them in the doors to keep the windows and stuff from rattling.
Here it is going back together with the flathead, kinda back to it’s roots. Some may disagree with this direction, but I’m having a blast being able to drive it around more. It may change again, some day in the future, who knows. One thing is for certain, it’s part of the family. There are memories of it just like any other person in the family. It’s the part of the HAMB that I enjoy, the people that have a history and fond memories to share about their cars they still have today. How the cars kind of aimed their life in different directions at different times, like the people we meet because of them. I’m definitely not a’buy and sell’ kinda guy. It’s a comfortable feeling riding around with an old friend.
First trip out, and we rode in the rain for about 3hrs
At the Round Up last year, next to Jack Marinelli’s roadster. Thanks Jack, for lettin’ the Georgia boy hang out with y’all! Nice folks, Jack and the Steves (Zaring and Dale) I’m headin’ to the Round Up again this year, can’t wait!
A shot of ‘er doin’ some dirt draggin’ last year. What a blast!!!
A couple of weeks ago, I took the car up to Memphis to have Marshall check it out and take it for a spin. Here’s a few shots at Marshall’s house. He said he had often wondered what had ever happened to it. He was happy to see it and really had the smiles goin’ when he took it for a drive. Note the grins all around.
Marshall actually gave me one of the trophies from his collection. It is the Regional Champion trophy, 1955, NHRA sanctioned. You can see it beside the car in some of the show pictures. Unbelievable. Super nice guy.
He even still had, and gave me, a car show display arrow (see above) pointing out the features of the car.
Marshall had just had his 80th birthday a week or two before this. Weather permitting, he rides one of his motorcycles (8 or 10 BMWs, all different vintages) to work everyday. (that’s right, he still works). He makes it to bike night every week and works on motorcycles in the shop behind his house. He is definitely an inspiration and an example to us younger folks. The hot rod world could use more ‘Marshalls’.
Well, that’s the story on my ol’ ‘32 (including the other post). I feel like I’m not doing it justice not having paint and an interior in it now. I do like being able to look at it see something from all of the different stages of its life. It’s hard to have it both ways, I don’t know. Thanks for reading and thanks to the HAMB. I hope you enjoyed the old pictures, I never get tired of any of them. Sorry if I got long winded, you know how it is when you get to talkin’ ‘bout these ol’ rides! TP
Wheelie Time!!
We've featured pics from our buddy "bmacsac1" here before, and he's got another killer Flickr set that deserves your attention. Return with us now to those thrilling days of yesteryear when men were men, nitro was 6 cents a gallon, and front wheels didn't matter.
King of the wheelstanders: Bill "Maverick" Golden and the "Little Red Wagon" Dodge A-100 pickup.
Bill Riggle's "Hemi Under Glass" Cuda.
The "Paddy Wagon" Vega, with its center-stationed blown big block, which I've often enjoyed performing at Great Lakes Dragaway. I'm guessing it gets a little toasty in the driver's seat.
Gary Kleckner's "Chevado," probably my favorite '55 Nomad of all time.
Here's one to anger you numbers-matching Bloomington Gold Corvette purists: Tommy McNeely's "Fugitive II."
And dig this 1969 group shot from the parking lot of the Forum in Englewood: the All Stars of the Wheelie World -- Little Red Wagon, the L.A. Dart, Hemi Under Glass, and an unidentified Dodge A-100.
[ed. note - this article was originally posted here, and my much expanded version appears in Garage Magazine #14.]
Update: Welcome visitors from FARK. Feel free to peruse the archives for more crazy junk.
Once upon a time in the postwar, before the advent of EPA and OSHA and the Consumer Products Safety Commission and weenies in bike helmets and multilingual warning stickers on stepladders, crazy people walked this earth. Good, fun-loving Americans who knew that "instructions" were something you threw in the trash along with the empty Falstaff bottles. A halcyon era filled with manly men who savored the wholesome virtues of a rugged game of un-seatbelted automotive chicken.
Where did they all go? Perhaps it was the feminization of culture, or the rise of litigation, or the cumulative toll of various maimings. All I know is that entire industries were once devoted to sating their demand: tether lawn mowers. Home blowtorches and 110 electric welders. Oly party balls. And for the kids, Jarts and clackers and Thing Makers and M-80s. But there is one name that stands alone at the apex of the daredevilry supply industry: the Turbonique Company of Orlando, Florida.
Though the company no longer exists, mere mention of the name "Turbonique" still inspires a shudder of awe among drag racing enthusiast, the company's principle target market. Even in the Wild West atmosphere of 1960s drag racing, Its products represented the zenith of no-compromise, crazyass crazy. Recall Acme, that enigmatic mail order purveyor of catapults and jet skates to cartoon coyotes? Pikers, compared to Turbonique.
As best as I can determine, Turbonique Inc. was established in Orlando in 1962, reportedly an offshoot of a NASA space program subcontractor who was determined to establish a consumer market for rocket technology. Its founder was a Mr. Gene Middlebrooks, about whom I can find little information except a 1969 book reference. Turbonique's product line consisted of three items: "AP superchargers," "rocket drag axles," and the legendary "microturbo thrust engines." All employed the same basic rocket technology, albeit in stepped grades of insanity.
At the mild end of the Turbonique product line were its AP (for "Auxiliary Power") superchargers, so named because they had their own power supply. Unlike regular superchargers (driven by a crank pulley belt) or turbos (driven by exhaust pressure), Turbonique AP superchargers operated independently of the engine and scavenged no power from it. They appeared to be a spiral turbo with a spark plug, and were engaged with a dash-mounted switch - a sort of prehistoric Nitrous setup. When the driver threw the switch, the supercharger unit would receive liquid oxygen for ignition, and then it was fed a rocket fuel named Thermolene -Turbonique's trade name for N-propyl nitrate. The exhaust thrust from combustion would spin a turbine impeller up to 100,000 RPM, ramming the engine with such intense boost that it essentially turned it into a giant two-stroke. Turbonique dyno-tested an AP unit on new Chevy 409 in 1963, increasing horsepower from a stock 405 to 835 -- backing up their advertised guarantee to "double your horsepower" -- although it came with a recommendation not to run the unit for more than 5 minutes and only with forged cranks, pistons and connecting rods.
Here are a few photos of Turbonique AP blowers from the company's 1966 catalog. (note "safety" cord. Heh.)
"He's scorching Western dragstrips with his turbonique AP supercharger installations. He's Dr. Gerald R. Guest of Phoenix, Arizona, who turned 146 mph in 10.21 E.T. in his turbonique blown '63 Plymouth"
So whatever became of this enigmatic drag racing physician? I really would like to know, but I have absolutely no idea. But more about him soon.
For those interested in upgraded insanity there was the Turbonique Drag Axle, which appeared to be a center section for a quick change differential - but with a mutant spaceship tumor growing from its hinder. That tumor was, in fact, a rocket engine providing direct drive to the rear axle. When not in use, the car would drive under conventional power through the front drive shaft. When the driver hit the "panic button," the rear mounted rocket would immediately engage and begin channeling One Thousand Three Hundred Thermolene-addled rocket horsepower to the rear skins. All this despite weighing a scant 100 pounds. It was advised that the driver keep his thumb on the switch during operation since, having no clutch or fuel metering, the only way to control acceleration was by shutting off the fuel supply.
What kind of nutjob would put one on his car? Quite a few as it turns out. I previously mentioned Roy Drew, the African American racer who defeated Tommy Ivo's "Showboat" with his Turbonique-sponsored Black Widow drag axle Volkswagen. Here's the catalog shot of the showdown, with the Bug clocking 9.36 ET at 168 mph.
Another: the "Tobacco King" Ford Galaxie of North Carolina. Smoke 'em if you've got 'em. 
Okay, so rocket superchargers and drag axles are all well and good, but what if you really needed undiluted, industrial-grade insane? You'd be in luck, because also Turbonique provided microturbo thrust engines. Not rocket powered superchargers, or rocket powered axles, but rocket-powered rockets - pure thrust engines for horizontal speed.
Here's one application: a '64 GTO powered by "twin T-22-A Thrust engines."
Note the page caption, "AUTO JATO,'" and the following:
"The same type JATO (Jet Assisted Takeoff) kits that give aircraft short term, super performance is also applicable to automotive use."
Most of us have, at one time or another, heard the urban legend about the friend of a friend of a friend who stole a JATO motor from an Air Force base, strapped it on an Impala and ran it into a cliff side at 300 mph. If you've ever wondered where that story originally came from, here you go.
Still, even with a rocket there's a lot of weight and inertia involved in moving a large hunk of Detroit steel down a race track. That's why many discerning folks opted for the ne plus ultra of Turbonique insanity: ROCKET THRUST GO KARTS.
If you read closely in the left image you'll see quarter mile time slips in the mid-8.8s with speeds up to 160 mph. You will also see a small photo of our friend Dr. Gerald R. Guest piloting his Turbonique rocket kart, apparently to shake the empty ennui of too many 146 mph passes in a boring Plymouth. On the right, nota bene:
"TOO MUCH: The above cart, which is equipped with T-21-A engines, is considered unsafe for 1/4 mile competition as pictured. The thrust/weight ratio is such that speeds over 160 mph are reached within 4 seconds."
Turbonique, the company where safety comes first!. Such pleas for moderation fell on the deaf ears of "Captain Jack" McClurg, who eventually coaxed his Turbonique kart to over 240 mph in the early 1970s.
But hey, why stop at the drag strip? The fine folks at Turbonique provide all kinds of helpful application suggestions -- rocket propelled boats, snowmobiles, motorcycles, hovermobiles, and my favorite, the unshielded rocket turbine prop go kart:
Good for going fast, and for chopping that unsightly underbrush! Speaking of motorcycles, the '66 Turbonique catalog features this product endorsement story from an up-and-coming Montana daredevil:
"Motorcycle Daredevil Evel Knievel plans to soon jump the Grand Canyon with his Turbonique equipped, "Norton Atlas Scrambler." Many of you may have heard Evel outline his plans for the Canyon jump on the Joe Pine Radio/TV show. Evel is dead serious in his plans for the Canyon jump. He is sponsored by Goodyear Rubber Company and several other large firms. Arrangements must be made for the Canyon jump with the Bureau of Indian Affairs, Navajo Chief Raymond Hokai, and the U.S. Forestry Service. Knievel plans to make the jump next summer, and has both Montana's Senators Mike Mansfield and Lee Metcalf trying to clear the way for him. He's also contacting Arizona's Senators and Representatives."
Chew on that last piece and contrast with our current state of Federal Nannydom. Not only did people do crazy shit back then; actual U.S. Senators cheerfully pitched in to help them do crazy shit.
Those days are long gone. Turbonique seems to have ceased operation around 1969. Original Turbonique equipment is extremely difficult to find, in part due to their extreme heavy duty use, and possibly because of deliberate destruction to avoid liability judgments. Details are sketchy, but I've heard various stories that the company folded after a series of customer explosions/accidents/deaths and the subsequent lawsuits. Even more depressing: Turbonique's "Thermolene" trademark lapsed, and is now a brand of weight loss pill.
Evel Knievel never got permission to do the Grand Canyon jump; eight years and a hundred broken bones later, Evel Knievel made a disastrous jump attempt at the Snake River Canyon. Would he have made it on the Turbonique Norton Atlas Scrambler? We will never know. His ride that day was the "X-2 Skycycle" designed by NASA engineer Bob Truax, whom Knievel would later call "an egotistical little bastard who burned up Gus Grissom on the launch pad." But that's another story.
That 1974 failure at Snake River Canyon seemed to presage a new era in the American psychological zeitgeist; the rise of safety fetishism, that patronizing nerf-ication of anything sharp or dangerous or cool. Crazy guys eventually discovered an even more destructive device than rocket powered go karts: class action attorneys. In my mind, it was the single event that ushered in the long cold Carter winter.
Will it ever get back to the way it was? I don't know, but I'm an optimistic sort. A few weeks ago I stumbled upon this:
That there is a complete vintage Turbonique C-2-A rocket supercharger. It's out in my shop now, where I am beginning a careful restoration, and keeping my eye open for a worthy car project to use it on.
Does anybody know where I can get a canister of N-propyl nitrate?
February, as we know, is Black History Month. February is also the official start of the drag racing season, beginning with the annual NHRA Winternationals at Pomona. Coincidence? Maybe. I can't claim any expert knowledge about Nat Turner, Harriet Tubman, W.E.B. DuBois or other textbook notables, but I do know a bit about drag racing; and I know that African American gearheads have been trailblazing the quarter mile for some 50 years. They might not be Dr. King, but I think their stories deserve a retelling, too.
Some background: American car racing has three major branches -- road racing, oval, and drag/lakes racing -- and each has its own distinct socioeconomic history and heritage. Road racing first developed as the leisure pursuit of coastal bluebloods, who had the cash to afford pricey European sports cars and the winding country lanes on which to play with them. Oval track racing -- including open wheel, sprints, and stock cars -- has always been a more blue collar phenomenon, evolving out of the county fairground horse tracks of the Midwest and South. Nascar shares this heritage, along with an additional link to moonshine runners in the segregated South. For obvious economic and social reasons, neither of these racing forums were conducive to Black participation.
By contrast, drag racing evolved with fewer cultural barriers. Like oval track racing it was a blue collar phenomenon, a natural extension of straight-line street racing by young guys in cheap homebuilt hot rods. Unlike oval racing, it developed largely on the postwar West Coast, a society less encumbered by the legacy of segregation. As a result drag racing was more or less born 'multicultural' and egalitarian; the roll call of hod rodding greats -- Xydias, Iskenderian, Hirohata, Pedregon, Karamesines -- reads like a passenger list from Ellis Island. And African Americans were there from its inception.
One early example is the legendary Bean Bandits hot rod club of San Diego, whose trademark yellow cars struck fear through SoCal dragstrips and dry lakes throughout the 50s and 60s, and is still going strong today. Though primarily Mexican-American, the club included several Black members like Harold Miller who earned their share of wins during the dawn of hot rodding. During the 1950s African-Americans were represented pitside as well, by top mechanics such as Eddie Flournoy who wrenched for Jim "Jazzy" Nelson's fuel coupe. Flournoy's son Rodney went on to become a competitive NHRA funny car pilot in the 1980s, and Rodney's daughters Thais and Naasira are now quarter mile up-and-comers.
The hot rod phenomenon spread eastward throughout the Fifties, hooking thousands of grassroots competitors. One was a young farm kid from the heart of Nascar county, Malcom Durham. He began his career in 1957, racing a '56 Chevy at Newton Grove, NC. After landing a gig as a mechanic at Hicks Chevy in Washington DC, Durham successfully campaigned his Z-11 427 '63 Impala in A/Stock, frequently defeating legends like Bill "Grumpy" Jenkins and "Dyno" Don Nicholson. He eventually moved up to the new A/FX Factory Experimental (a.k.a. "Funny Car") class, where his "Strip Blazer II" broke the 200 mph barrier in 1969. During NHRA's golden anniversary in 2001, Durham was named as one of its 50 greatest drivers, and his dragstrip legacy lives on through his engine building sons Raynard and Byron.
In the late 1950s the NHRA's new ban on nitromethane fuel begat the "Gasser Wars" era -- the wildly popular competition for the crown of the barnstorming Gas Coupe classes. Fred Stone and Tim Woods, two African-American building contractors from L.A., teamed up to campaign "The Swindler," a gorgeous candy blue '41 Willys coupe powered by a blown Olds, and quickly established themselves as kings of the division. Woods piloted the Swindler to the first 9-second time in A/GS at San Gabriel in '62, but later ceded driving duties to Doug "Cookie" Cook to concentrate on his real talent -- race promotion. Woods became drag racing's good natured Muhammad Ali, relentlessly promoting grudge matches between his Stone Woods & Cook team and archrival "Big John" Mazmanian. Without Tim Woods, there would be no "SUNDAY! SUNDAY! SUNDAY!"
But when it came to showmanship, I'm not sure even the talented Tim Woods could hold a candle to Kansas City's Roy "Mr. Pitiful" Drew. Foresaking the more traditional drag classes, Drew delighted thousands in the Sixties with his exhibition rocket powered (!) VW Beetle. Using a thermolene-fueled Turbonique thrust turbine rocket engine (I'll have much much more about Turbonique in a later post), Drew's Black Magic Bug was a major spectator draw, and consistently stomped some of the top fuel dragsters of the day. In one memorable match race he shut down Tommy Ivo's 4-engine Showboat, turning a mind-boggling 9.36 ET at 168 MPH.
As the Sixties drew to a close, the social upheaval seen in other spheres of society influenced drag racing as well. In the wake of the 1968 Watts riots, legendary street racer Big Willie Robinson figured out a way to use drag racing to change society. An imposing, muscular 6'6" Vietnam vet with a badass Hemi Daytona Charger and trademark bowler hat, Big Willie was the undisputed king of the late '60s- '70s East L.A. street racing scene. In response to the growing influence of drugs and street gangs, Big Willie and his wife Tomiko organized the 'Brotherhood of Street Racers' as a way to channel the energy of South Central youth away from crime and violence -- "peace through racing," as he put it. Working with local officials and police, Big Willie was the driving force behind the building of Brotherhood Raceway Park on L.A. harbor's Terminal Island. Before it closed in 1995, BRP was a popular destination for young South Cental racers and is widely regarded as the birthplace of import drag racing -- the 'Fast and Furious' scene. Efforts are now underway to reopen BRP, hopefully extending Big Willie's legacy to another generation of L.A. gearheads of every ethnicity.
Black participation in drag racing continued to grow in the 1970s, with a heavy dash of Black Pride seen on their paint jobs. In the Hunter's Point section of San Francisco, brothers Jim and David Savoy ran a speed shop and on weekends campaigned at Famosa and Half Moon Bay in a wicked little straight axle Henry J gasser named "Soul to the Bone" (see top of post) festooned with a wildly un-PC native caricature and the Black Power salute logo of their Unity Racing Team. The Funny Car ranks were populated with a number of African-American racers sporting similar tongue-in-cheek blaxploitation car names - like the "Soul Shaker" Camaro of Georgia's R.S. Thomas, Dee Simmons' "Big Black Go-Rilla," the "Mandingo" Vega of brothers Tyrone and Ron Jackson, the "Super Fly" Mustang of Indianapolis' Stacy Shields, and the "King Boogaloo" Duster of Clarence Bailey. For a man/machine name combination, though, it's hard to top Western Bunns and his "Soul Twister" Funny Car.
The '70s saw the emergence of one drag racing's most successful Black shoes, Pro Stocker Ronald Lyles. In one of the most competitive class/eras in drag history, Lyles more than held his own against legends like Sox & Martin, Grumpy Jenkins, and Gapp & Roush (yes, Jack Roush did real racing before he got involved with Nascar). In 1973 Lyles piloted his Hemi Cuda to a 8.89 ET, becoming the second Pro Stocker into the eights.
Other barriers would fall in the '80s and '90s; L.A. truck company owner John Kimble became the first Black Top Fuel pilot, and the Funny car ranks were joined Rodney Flournoy, Eric Reed, and Tony McCallum, who notched a win at the '89 IHRA Spring Nationals. The IHRA Pro Mod class saw Lorenzo "Killer" Brooks, while former NBA stars Larry Nance and Tom Hammonds each began fielding NHRA Pro Stock teams in the late '90s. African Americans have excelled in in Pro Stock Bike, with veterans like current #2-ranked Antron Brown and Reggie Showers (a top-level class competitor despite having two prosthetic legs), and newcomers like Redell Harris and Michael Phillips.
I could go on; if you're interest in additional information I recommend this article at DRO, the BlackDragRacers.com website, and Leah Kerr's excellent book "Driving Me Wild." Keep in mind that this doesn't even touch the major influence that African Americans have had in the history and culture of Lowriders / Imports / street customs, a topic I'll cover later.
So next time you read some furrowed-brow media coverage bemoaning Nascar's "lack of diversity," remember: country music is fine, but it doesn't appeal to everybody. And if you go to the local dragstrip, you'll often find that the header pipes are playing some sweet soul music.
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Update
Since I first wrote this bit in 2006, a good bit more history has happened: At July's 2006 Mile High Nationals in Denver, 25-year old J.R. Todd of Lawrenceburg, Indiana became the first African-American to win an NHRA Top Fuel event, en route to three tour victories and NHRA Rookie of the Year honors. Keep your eye peeled for more black drag racing trailblazers this year with the return of Todd, Texas Pro Stock motorcycle racer Peggy Llewellyn, and the anticipated Pro Stock debut of SoCal musclecar builder Nicole Lyons (whom I recently interviewed for Garage Magazine), who becomes the first African-American woman to compete in one of the NHRA's "big three" classes. Remember not to blink -- they'll be traveling very, very fast.
