Indy memories '74
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Words and photos by Steve McDonald
6/18/04
Looking through some old stuff I have accumulated I came across my ticket to the U.S. Nationals in 1974. A reserved seat on the west side (pit side) was a whopping $10.00. That's right -- ten bucks, half a sawbuck, a couple of fives, a super sized value meal. The story of how I got there is almost as interesting as the price.
At match race at Capitol Raceway in Maryland one of the booked in cars was the ATI Black Magic car owned by Jim Beattie, owner of ATI. While I was admiring his trailer, he invited me in to look around. It was a three-axle Chaparral, big money in those days. We talked about drag racing and I told him that when he first opened his shop in Silver Spring one of his first jobs was the overhaul of my parents' 1958 Buick's Dynaflow. It had some kind of problem with the planetary and he had to take it in and out about a half a dozen times. He said he remembered the car because it was one of the first ones he had worked on and it kicked his butt for a few weeks.
I
asked if he was going to Indy and he said, "Of course, everybody goes to Indy."
He then asked if I was going and told him that I didn't have a ticket or any
place to stay. He said to call his office on Monday and ask to speak to his
secretary. Of course I called her on Monday and we got hotel reservations and
tickets. We had to pick them up at the credentials desk, and we were to identify
ourselves as representatives of Levi's. We had to pay for the hotel (I think
it was $22.00 per night, big money for a Holiday Inn) but we had passes for
the whole event. Whoopee!
Little John Lombardo was staying in the same hotel and was rebuilding the engine in the parking lot. My best friend, David, watched for a while and then went up to bed. Our room overlooked the parking lot and about an hour later, around 11:30 p.m., they fired up the Funny Car. Lombardo drove it down to the end of the lot and did a few burnouts and then they shut it off.
I went up to the room and realized that David had the key. No problem, I think, he has to be awake after that. Knock on the door -- no answer. Knock a little louder -- no answer. I start pounding on the door now, waking up people in other rooms. Finally he opens the door and says he didn't hear me. I asked did he hear the Funny Car running? He answers "Huh?" He sleeps through anything.
The next morning we head out for the track, but first we must have breakfast. What's a road trip without breakfast? We stop in the Steak and Egg on east 38th Street. We look at the menu and order coffee. The waitress comes over and we order steak and eggs. "Sorry," she says, "no steak." Okay then, ham and eggs. No ham. Bacon and eggs? Sorry, no bacon. What do you have? "Three eggs," she says. Scramble them with some toast, we say. "Sorry, no toast."
After a satisfying breakfast like that, can the day get any better? Of course, we are heading to the U.S. Nationals! We arrive at the track, pick up the tickets (no problems, we were both wearing Levi's) and wander through the pits. Sensory overload was the only way to describe the day, Funny Cars, dragsters, Pro Comp (remember that?), Modifieds, Comp eliminator, Stock, Super Stock, Pro Stock, Top Fuel Bikes. I mean everything and everyone ran flat out; no delay boxes, no throttle stops, no electronics, just good old-fashioned heads up racing.
It was a weekend of watching old legends fade and seeing new ones born. Watching
T.C. Christenson's "Hog Slayer" twin engine Norton, watching Gary Beck (right)
shear the wheel of his Top Fueler, watching Bob Ingles spin his Pro Stock Pinto
in the fence, Dyno Don's 351-powered Mach I (below) . . . the list goes on and
on.
Monday, final eliminations, the day dawned cool. No, make that cold -- no, make that damned cold. I was freezing in the stands and went to buy a sweatshirt and, you guessed it, no sweatshirts, long sleeve shirts, not a one, sweaters, nada. I finally bought a very expensive bright blue with white stripes NHRA "Official" racing jacket for $25.00! (I wish I still had it I would sell it on eBay). We watched more racing then I could ever remember before or since, and we left after the final eliminations.
I still to this day can't tell you who won, but we were two dead tired, very happy, drag racing fans. I told David I would drive the first half of the 12 hour drive home and made it about half an hour before I told him he had to take over. I had had a couple of Uncle Frank's corn dogs before leaving the track and the smell I emitted on the way home kept David awake. I also kicked off my shoes and socks and he later said he didn't know what was worse, my feet or the smells erupting from my digestive system. We arrived back in Annapolis at 5:30 a.m. and decided to drive straight to work (we both worked in a dealership at the time) and sleep for a few hours in the parking lot. Since the back lot was locked we just pulled up by the front door and dozed off. Some time later we awoke to see the owner of the dealership staring in the window at us. He always arrived early and he did not look too pleased to see two grubby, smelly, half-asleep employees blocking the door. We went into work but just gave it up and went home around 10:30.
Ahh, drag racing. When did you go from a big event to big business? Now the national events are usually over at the flash of green, one or both cars smoke the tires, nobody really pedals their way to a win. Super Gas puts me to sleep and the real diversity that made it unique is gone.
There were Herm Petersen, The Jade Grenade, Shirl Geer, Kelly Chadwick, Slammin Sammy Miller and other cars that never really ran the whole national circuit -- but everybody went to Indy. Today, could there ever be another Gary Beck or Marvin Graham? I don't think so.
I would really like to thank Jim Beattie from ATI. He may never remember me, but his generosity gave me enough memories to last a lifetime.
Gene Snow
Mickey Thompson
The Blue Max
Herm Petersen
Don Prudhomme
Candies & Hughes
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