ON AUTOGRAPHS AND PERSPECTIVE

10/8/04

"For 40 years of friendship" - John "Tarzan" Austin

The headline sounds kinda serious for a mindless hedonist, and it is to some degree. But what the hell … enough silliness, these are tough times.

The above was the first autograph I got at the 13th annual California Hot Rod Reunion at Bakersfield. It was one of three; three from what I thought would be dozens at the sport's most respected and revered gathering of racing veterans. Three? That's it? What happened? A public drunk arrest? What? What? What?

As I've said many, many times before in this space, I've been to an awful lot of drag races in the past 41 years. And it's been my extreme pleasure to have wined and dined with some of the sport's really good people. I'm not trying to one-up anybody, but over the seasons, I've been fortunate to call a lot of these racers my friends, at least as friendly as one can get in a relationship between reporter/writer and subject.

In all those years, I never really even thought about getting autographs. Why? Well, mainly because I've gotten to know so many of them in a genuinely informal basis. I mean, you're in a topless joint with some pals, and suddenly you lean over to one and say, "Look, I know this is awkward, but can I have your … uh … how can I say this … your autograph?" It just seems weird to me, and because of that, I've never even broached the subject with most of these guys.

I do have a few. I got Eddie Hill's signature when he ran the 4.99 at the Texas Motorplex, and I got Chuck Etchells and Jim Epler's "john henrys" after they ran the first four (Etchells) and the first 300 (Epler) in Funny Car history. I also have a few non-drag racing autographs. I have a "To Chris Martin from Joe Louis," a John Coltrane, a Gary Snyder (poet), and one from the incomparable Cecil Taylor (brilliant pianist), but that's it.

I just can't bring myself to do it. But this weekend, I had a change of heart. In the past few years, I lost a few dear friends, and for some reason, I decided that I wanted something permanent, something tangible and personal, other than a picture. So, at Famoso, I would have a few belts with the Vipers at the first turnoff road, and then I would saunter into the pit area, book and pen in claw.

That was the plan, but after Friday night, it went into the crapper. On Friday night, they had the ever-popular fire-ups and party at the Red Lion. You have the entire drag racing hall of fame there, and autographs would be like taking birdseed from a cuckoo clock. As per usual, I was with Terry Lee Minks, who along with Mike Demarest is the new owner of the Hawkins-Webster-McLeod "Fifteen Ounce Coupe" Fuel Altered.

For some reason, I was getting a case of the nerves with this. I started to choke thinking about asking someone to sign my book. It was similar to getting enough nerve up to hit on some seemingly unapproachable hottie: dry mouth and a constant mental review of how I was going to form the question. Well, after a few hours at the Red Lion cash bar in the hotel lobby, the liquid courage began to take hold. To hell with it, let's see who will be first.

And there he was … the first subject … "Tarzan." I had a bit of a head start with this guy. Back in 1964, I was one of hundreds of kids who hung out at the famed Toluca Lake Bob's Big Boy drive-in. This classic drive-thru was the home of racers ranging from Don "the Snake" Prudhomme and Tommy Ivo to John "Tarzan" Austin. In 1964, I was a junior in high school and a tad wet behind the ears. I was a beer drinker then, and I was developing my party skills, but like any guy that age I was trying too hard to make my bones. Still, I respected the guys who had made theirs and that was personified by Austin.

Fear and respect prevent me from writing why I made this judgment, but suffice to say, he was not a dull man. In his prime, Austin was one of the very best fuel crew chiefs in the years bracketed roughly from 1971-1975. He wrenched Ivo's fuel dragster when he ran the reported first five-second run at Keystone Raceway in New Alexandria, Pa., in 1972, and at the same time, socially he was the equivalent of a Mike Tyson at a Miss Black America debutante ball … in ALL situations.