Indy Journal - 1963

1963

Record breaking performances by Parnelli Jones, the magnificent showing of the Lotus-Fords, the qualification of all three Novi-powered cars, the diversified starting field, and the oil controversy were highlights of the 1963 Indianapolis 500 mile auto race.

We received our tickets on May 8, which is the latest we’ve ever received them. Dad ordered them at the same time as in previous years, about the middle of February, but this was the first year we didn’t get the tickets until May. In other years, it was either March or April. When the tickets hadn’t arrived by Friday, May 3, Dad decided to call the Speedway and see what had happened. One of the ladies in the Speedway ticket office talked to him and told him that the tickets were late arriving from the printers. In addition to this delay, our tickets were in the section that was being mailed out last. The lady told dad that if we hadn’t received our tickets within a week to call back again, but that proved unnecessary.

Once again, like last year, I came home from George Air Force Base in California to see the big Memorial Day Classic. I arrived home on Saturday, May 25.

On Wednesday morning, May 29, we did all of our packing. As usual, it looked as if we were going to stay for a week instead of a day. We packed blankets, pillows, jackets, caps, field glasses, camera, film, sunglasses, medicine pills, and raincoats. In addition to these articles, we took cooking utensils and food. The food included hamburgers, hamburger buns, mustard, ketchup, bananas, fruit salad, apples, cup cakes, potato chips, deviled eggs, pears, eggs, bacon, coffee, milk and water, plus a few other items I may have forgotten. Our utensils included knives, forks, spoons, plates, glasses, napkins, plus liquid soap and a washrag for washing the dishes. The most outstanding utensil was a new cookout stove we had bought since last May 30. It came in handy and worked real well. We cooked our baked beans, eggs, and bacon on it.

About 12:00, after we had eaten dinner, we started putting our equipment in our 1957 Chevrolet. The equipment pretty well filled the trunk and about half of the back seat. All three of us checked and rechecked everything two or three times before we left. At the last minute, I discovered that I didn’t have my traditional, old, paint shoes on so I rushed up to my room and made a quick change. With that important job done, we were ready to go. With Bobby in the right rear seat, Dad in the right front, and me in the driver’s seat, I turned the ignition on, we waved good-bye to mother and Susie, and at 12:29, we started on our annual trip to the Indiana capital.

We went to 3^rd St. and North Grand, turned right onto North Grand and went to 5^th Street, turned left onto 5^th St. and went north to Sangamon Avenue, turned right onto Sangamon and west east out of town. After we crossed the Route 66 bypass, we went over the new Interstate Route 55 for the first time. We arrived in Decatur about 1:15. The city seemed about the same as every other May 29^th afternoon that we had seen it. At 1:30, we went over Lake Decatur and were on our way out of the city. We had gone through the first and only big city on our way. We traveled east on Route 36 and at 2:30, we arrived at our familiar stopping place, Chrisman.

A surprise was waiting for us. Our traditional resting place was no longer there. It had been torn down and only a vacant lot was there now. Last year, it was closed but not torn down. We stopped at the coffee shop across the road from the former one. It was 2:33 when we stopped. The shop left a lot to be desired as far as cleanliness is concerned. The first thing we did, before we went inside, was use the restrooms. I always feel better after that. I had a cup of coffee, dad had a chocolate milkshake, and Bobby had two dips of vanilla ice cream with strawberries on them. She couldn’t eat all of it so I ate what she couldn’t eat. Because of my coffee, I had to use the restroom again before we left.

At 2:56, we were on our way again. In 10-15 minutes, we were in Indiana. The long straight road I had become accustomed to in Illinois now came to an end, and from now on, it would be mostly curves and hills. We saw the same things we had seen for the past nine May 29ths, but I never tire of seeing them again. The many small towns we go through are just like the small towns around Springfield. I was unlucky and got behind a driver who had nowhere to go and all day to get there. To further add to my trouble, there was an almost endless yellow line on the highway. The line behind me continued to get longer and longer. Finally, the highway became two lanes in each direction. He was nice enough to move over to the right hand lane. I released some of my frustration onto the accelerator and in a short while, we had left our source of frustration far behind. For a while, I drove 70-75 mph to make up some of the time I had lost. When I felt I had made up the time, I slowed down a little. The traffic began getting heavier so we knew our time was getting short.

As we were nearing Indianapolis, we encountered something new. We came upon a sign that said “SPEEDWAY” and had an arrow pointing to the right. We were taken by surprise and didn’t know what to do. Should we stay on the regular road as we always had done or should we take the new road? At the last second we decided to take the new road. All three of us were apprehensive as to where we were going. The road curved to the right for a distance and then straightened out. We were going north. Pretty soon, we saw another sign and it said “SPEEDWAY” with an arrow pointing to the right, so we turned. It curved to the right, and then straightened out, and then we came to our first light on the new highway. There was a big overhead sign that said Crawfordsville with the arrow pointing straight ahead. We thought it probably meant Crawfordsville Road, but we weren’t sure. We were going south now. I was beginning to wish we had taken Route 36 all the way in. None of us knew for sure what we were doing, but we kept going anyway. A few minutes later, Dad’s and my faces lit up with joy as we recognized a familiar landmark. The two of us discovered the famous, tall, black smoke chimney located across the street from the south end of the Speedway. Now we knew we were on Crawfordsville Road and Lyndhurst Drive, our regular turning off place, and pretty soon we came to Fisher Street. We turned left and stopped at the house on our left. Our worry and apprehensions were over. The new road had led us right to the front yard of our “home.” From the time we turned off Route 36, we felt uneasy as to where we would land up, but in the end, worry and apprehension turned to jubilation as the new highway had led us to the exact place we wanted to go to. I stopped on Fisher St. and backed the car into the yard and turned the engine off. The time lost behind the slow driver had been made up, the new highway had been conquered, and now we were safe and sound at our temporary home. It had taken us 4 hours and 5 minutes to complete the trip. It was now 4:34 pm.

We got out and walked around the yard a little bit. A minute or so later, Mrs. Kramer came out and welcomed us for the 9^th time to their home. Dad paid her the $2.00 fee and then the four of us talked for a few minutes. She said her husband wasn’t home now, but would be a few hours later after he got off work. While we were talking, Mrs. Kramer received another customer so we had to say good-bye.

Bobby asked dad and me if we wanted to eat supper now, but we decided we didn’t want to. We decided, instead, to take our first walk down by the speedway. We saw the usual things we always see – the long lines of cars beginning to form, the five o’clock rush traffic, vendors selling their wares, and all the other events traditional with the 500-mile race. When we reached the speedway we decided to tour the speedway museum. As usual, the place was crowded with people, both looking at the racecars and trying to buy tickets. We walked down one aisle and up the other, looking at all the many racecars on display. We had seen most of them before but we always enjoy seeing them again. In the middle of the aisle, there are pictures of the winner of every race. After touring the museum, we decided it was suppertime. As we were leaving the museum grounds, we bought our first newspaper from a paperboy. While walking back to the car, we noticed that both the cars and the people were becoming more numerous.

We were curious to see how our new outdoor oven would work, so we got it out and cooked hamburgers and baked beans on it. Dad got the fire started and then Bobby put a couple of hamburgers on one side and the baked beans on the other side. When we tasted our cooked items, they tasted just like they do when cooked at home.

As mentioned earlier in this story, there was no shortage of food. About the only thing we didn’t eat was some of the eggs and bacon. It was quite different from eating at a table with a roof over our heads, but we had a lot of fun. I like to sit and watch all the cars and people going by as we’re eating.

When we decided we had had enough to eat, we cleaned up our mess. Bobby had brought some liquid soap and a washrag, so now she had her chance to use them. While she was washing the plates, silverware, and cups, dad and I put some of the food away. We couldn’t do too much because Bobby had everything arranged a certain way and we weren’t sure just what that way was. Bobby finished what we couldn’t do. All three of us thought it was a good meal.

When we had all of our food put away, we sat in the car and read the newspapers we had bought. As always, the Indianapolis newspapers were full of information on the big race. It made for interesting reading because there was a lot we didn’t know. I came across one article and called it to Bobby’s attention. It said that Internal Revenue Service agents would be at and around the speedway to keep an eye on the scalpers.

It was beginning to get dark now, so we decided to take a walk down by the speedway to see what was going on. The area was becoming more and more infested with the 500-mile race spirit. Most of the ditches on the sides of Crawfordsville Road were filled with cars. Most of the people were taking life easy and having a good time doing it. Some were eating supper, while others slept, played cards, drank beer, listened to the radio, and found other ways of entertaining themselves.

When we arrived at the intersection of Crawfordsville Road, 16^th St., and Georgetown Road, we decided to go east on 16^th St. There was no shortage of vending stands and venders. I’m sure some of the items being sold were junk, but the people were buying them anyway. The religious radicals made their annual appearance and handed out their handbills, about 100% of which went straight to the ground and stayed there. As usual, there were the high school and college youngsters pushing and running their way through the crowd. Most of them were drinking beer and their talk showed it. The quiet person is out of place here. There was a plentiful supply of firecrackers this year and every few minutes one would explode.

When we reached the southeast corner of the speedway, we came upon the new Indianapolis Motor Speedway Motel. It was on the other side of the street, but we could tell that it was really a fancy motel. In addition to the motel itself, there was a restaurant as part of the motel. Business seemed to be real good.

After viewing the motel and all the crazy people, we started walking back. Although I’d seen this same scene for the last nine years, I still couldn’t keep from laughing at everything that was going on. The traffic, which consisted largely of sightseers, was almost bumper to bumper and going nowhere fast. Open convertibles full of young people having a joyful time were plentiful. The sound of empty beer cans being kicked around abounded everywhere. On the speedway side of the street, the lines of cars extended back eastward indefinitely. In addition to being high, the drunks used some language that most people wouldn’t consider normal. One vendor along the street was demonstrating how to operate some household item and his audience extended back into the street. Pretty soon, we came to the First Aid Station located across the street from the main entrance to the speedway on 16^th St. When we went by, there were no casualties being worked on.

Our first stop was the usual one at the corner drugstore. The store was overflowing with customers and all the employees were busy trying to keep up with things. I bought a couple of newspapers. We looked around the store for a few minutes and then left.

We continued on down Main St. A couple of doors south from the drugstore, we were attracted by a window display. Several people were looking at something in the window, so we decided to see what it was. A television set had been installed in the window and it was in operation. A discussion program was in progress. Among those on the program were Freddy Agabashian, Al Dean, Dan Blocker, Jose Jeminey, and three or four other people who were connected with this year’s race. Naturally, the topic of conversation was tomorrow’s race. It was an interesting program and we watched most of it. Then we walked on down Main St. a little farther.

Like every other year, there were four lanes of traffic on Main St. extending southward farther than the eye could see. Just like on Crawfordsville Road and 16^th St., the people on Main St. were having their street parties. Beer was being consumed by the caseload. There was no shortage of singing. The drunkards didn’t confine themselves to the street area. They were staggering all over the sidewalks too.

When we had gone a couple of blocks, we decided to turn around and go back. We stopped at the television set again. This time another racing program was on. It was a film of that afternoon’s drivers’ meeting in front of the tower. It showed all the drivers in their respective starting positions, plus the race officials giving the drivers their final instructions before the race. The officials included Harlem Fengler, Sam Hanks, Tony Hulman, Paul Johnson, and a few others. When the drivers’ meeting was concluded, the program changed, so we continued on down to the intersection of Main and 16^th St.

It was after 11:00 now and Dad and Bobby decided they had seen all they wanted to see, so they went back to the car. I walked west on 16^th St. The high school and college kids were having some of the best times of their lives. Beer drinking and loud talking were the favorite pastimes of the young crowds. Most of the girls were as bad as the boys. Many of them were sitting on tops of cars. Some had set up chairs and tables in the street and were playing cards. There was both live and radio music.

Pretty soon, a couple of girls in short shorts came walking down the street. About a half dozen boys started to follow them, making some improper remarks. The girls tried to ignore them but before long the boys had encircled them and the girls’ forward progress was stopped. The girls tried to get out of the circle, but the boys became adamant and moved in closer, much to the disgust of the girls. The girls began fighting back. Fearful that something serious might break out, I continued walking slowly down the street. Judging from the way they were being treated, I think the girls should have done something to get the attention of a law enforcement officer.

I continued on down the street and took in some more sights. The many bocks filled with cars extended farther back than I could see. At the end of four blocks, I crossed the street and walked back toward the speedway. Most of the people who lived in the houses along the street were taking in all the merriment. Many of the yards by the street curbing were littered with beer cans and bottles thrown by some of the intoxicated party-goers.

When I got to Main St., I decided to go back and see everything again. In my mind, I was thinking I only get to see this show once a year, so I’d better see as much as I can. Every once in a while, I would stop for a minute or so and just look around me to see what was going on. Although I was by myself, I couldn’t refrain from laughing aloud at some of the activity that was taking place. Some of the residents were in the same situation. I walked three blocks and crossed over to the other side of the street and started walking east again. Many of the people walking down the street were giving the revelers quizzical looks.

A couple blocks later, I came upon the girls in the short shorts. By now, the boys had them in one of the front yards halfway between the sidewalk and the house. The girls were quite angry and were showing it. They were using physical force to try to free themselves and they were also using audible profanity. Apparently, the boys couldn’t understand what the girls were telling them because they were drunk, or else they chose to ignore the girls’ wishes. It didn’t look good. I kept a close watch on what was happening, but at the same time I maintained a safe distance to stay out of trouble in case a fight broke out.

I kept walking, real slowly, and at the same time kept an eye on what was going on behind me. When I reached Main St., I crossed over to the other side of the street and continued walking east. In between streaking people and cars, I managed to cross the dangerous intersection of Crawfordsville Road, 16^th St. and Georgetown Road, without getting hit.

When my heart started beating normally again, I walked north on Georgetown Road. In a couple minutes it was 12:00 midnight, so now it could honestly be said that it was Memorial Day at Indianapolis. It seemed as if I was stepping on or kicking a beer can with every other step I took. The traffic was bumper to bumper and it moved in spurts. Squealing tires and noisy horns were common sounds. The drunks were alternating between the road and the yards. Walking was difficult because I had to watch out for both people and cars. If you didn’t get out of the way of some people, you might find yourself on the ground. After what seemed an eternity, I finally came to Gate 6, which is located approximately at the starting line and is where many of the cars go underground to get to the infield. I could plainly see the stream of light being emitted by the huge spotlight inside the speedway. There was also quite a bit of light coming from the garage area. I observed the lights, cars, and people from this spot and then started the long walk back.

As was true of 16^th St. and Main St, there were plenty of young people having a frolicsome time. Every once in a while, a carload of girls would drive by and receive aggressive attention of a group of boys walking by, especially if they were in a convertible. The boys’ efforts were in vain, however, as most of the girls continued on their way and paid little attention to the boys, other than to curb their aggressiveness. A couple of fellows, well into the state of intoxication, offered me a beer as I walked by them, but I ignored them and laughed to myself. At long last, I arrived at the three-way intersection. It was between 12:30 and 1:00 but the place was really jumping. It was, unmistakably, the night before the 500.

I turned right and headed down Crawfordsville Road. The shoulder of the road wa lined with parked cars. Many of them had newspapers or blankets covering the windows to keep the light out. Others were sitting between cars and cooking and eating food. I don’t know whether they called it a midnight snack or a real early breakfast. Some of the food smelled really good. Of course, there were others who didn’t partake of such a sedate life. They were the ones who were singing, dancing, laughing, drinking, and, in general, having a merry time. Every once in a while, I came across a car parked on the side of the road that didn’t have newspapers or blankets over the windows. Inside some of the cars were young couples engaging in some of the more pleasant activities of life.

It was 1:00 when I got to the car. Now came the problem of getting into the car and closing the door without waking Bobby. I opened the door, slid across the front seat, took off my shoes, and started to lie down when I heard somebody say, “Is that you?” I said, “Yes, I didn’t mean to wake you.” She wasn’t angry, so we talked for a few minutes. Dad was sleeping on the cot on the right side of the car. I took my shirt off, locked my wallet in the glove compartment, hung my watch on the gearshift, lay down, pulled the blanket over me, and attempted to sleep. It was now 1:15 am.

At 4:45, I awoke. Actually, I hadn’t slept the entire 3 ½ hours. I had tossed and turned, because of my cramped condition, for quite a while before I went to sleep. I sat up and saw dad and Bobby were still asleep, so I lay down again. I started to read a newspaper, but it crinkled and I thought it might wake Bobby up, so I put it down. The noise around us hadn’t abated any since 1:15. There was just as much now as there was then.

At 5:00, I heard a big BOOM. Of course, it could be nothing else but the traditional opening bomb down at the Speedway. The Speedway had officially opened. The bomb, in addition to its normal function, woke up Bobby and dad. Bobby opened her eyes and dad opened his and sat up on his cot. As usual, the line of cars on Crawfordsville Road extended for some blocks past us and there was the halfwit who started honking his horn almost at the same time the bomb went off. I’m sure the policeman heard him and started moving the traffic so that he could hurry and get into the infield. The three of us just sat for a few minutes until we had woken up a little.

Pretty soon I got out of the car, stretched my arms and legs, and then walked over to the highway to see what was going on. Some of the passengers in the parked cars were still sleeping but most of the drivers were awake and ready to move ahead, although it would be a little while yet before they did so.

When I got back to the car, Bobby asked dad and me if we wanted to eat breakfast now or wait until later. We decided to wait until later. It was time now to make our yearly trip down to Gate 6 at the Speedway to watch the cars as they went under the viaduct and into the infield.

When we started our walked about 5:30, there were already some people on their way to the Speedway. When we arrived at the Standard Service Station on Crawfordsville Road, we stopped for a while. Bobby used the restroom while dad and I had some coffee. The service station was doing a good business with its coffee and doughnut business. At this time of the day, they really tasted good. Bobby, along with the other women in the line with her, had the misfortune of getting behind a couple young women who used the restroom much longer than they should have. Their stupid scheme didn’t go over so well with the three of us or any of the other women waiting in line. To pass the extra time away, dad and I had a second cup of coffee. When Bobby finished using the restroom, we resumed our walk to the Speedway.

We could tell by looking at many of the people that they had just awakened. Many others, of course, were still sleeping. Despite the early hour, there was plenty of active life everywhere. Radios were blaring, cars were going by, policemen were blowing their whistles, etc. When we reached Georgetown Road, we turned left and walked the long distance to Gate 6. The hot dog and hamburger concession stands were doing a good early morning business. The sound of beer cans being stepped on and kicked around was a common one. For the most part, the two lanes of traffic moved in spurts and the pedestrians had to be careful not to get in front of a car when it started moving. We walked over the famous bridge located near our destination and a minute or so later, we were at Gate 6.

I stood on my toes and could see the words ALLEN CROWE printed on the pit wall. I noticed that the Indiana State Policeman who were directing the traffic were the same ones who had been doing it for the past few years. The cars came by the dozens, and there seemed to be no end to them. Of course, they were coming from three streets – Crawfordsville Road, 16^th St, and Main St., so naturally, there were quite a few cars. The policemen did a real good job of keeping the traffic moving right along. Some of the people had bought their $3 general admission tickets back farther in the line, but others waited until they got to the gate and purchased theirs from one of the Speedway patrol men on duty. The cars were of every make and year. Some of them contained so many people that they were almost dragging on the ground, while a few had only one passenger. Something new I noticed while watching the cars was the large increase in the numbers of women going into the infield. In past years, there didn’t seem to be this many women. There were several cars that had two, three, and four women in them and no men. What was the attraction? Some of the people who were standing up in open convertibles and those with their heads stuck out windows had to be told to sit in a normal position while going underground and into the infield. Most people probably wouldn’t get any enjoyment from watching everyday cars go under a viaduct, but to the three of us, it is part of the 500-mile race scene and we enjoy seeing the cars and their passengers. After watching the cars for quite a while, one wonders if there was an end to the two lines.

About 7:00, we decided it wasn’t getting any earlier and we still had breakfast to eat, so we started the long walk back to the car. It was a little safer walking back because we were facing the traffic and could see just what the cars were doing. All the concessionaires were trying to induce the passers by to buy their products. As we walked, we noticed that the traffic was still bumper-to-bumper. When we reached 16^th St., it was still the same way. We turned right onto Crawfordsville Road and went back to the car.

When we came to the Standard Service Station, I decided to stop and use the restroom. This turned out to be the most frustrating event of the whole trip. I gave dad the keys to the car so that he and Bobby could get breakfast ready. I had planned to stay just a few minutes. When I got inside the station, I saw there were already a dozen or so other men waiting in line. I gave the attendant my quarter and took my place at the end of the line. I don’t think I’ve ever been in a slower moving line. The longer I stood, the more impatient I became. I thought about leaving but I had to use the place too bad to do that. When I got close to the front of the line, I thought to myself that dad and Bobby probably had already cooked and eaten breakfast and mine was back there getting cold. Most of the men standing in line with me were just as impatient as I was. At long last, I got my chance to make myself feel better. When I got out, it was about 8:15. It had taken 30-45 minutes to do something that normally takes about five minutes. I was still burned up, but wasted no time in getting back to the car.

Surprisingly, neither dad nor Bobby was angry at me for having taken so long. Bobby knew well what I’d been through, because she had been through the same thing as we were walking to see all the incoming cars. Happily, Bobby had not cooked any eggs or bacon for me. Apparently, she knew I’d be at the filling station for quite some time. I told them I was sorry for being so late, and they understood fully and told me to sit down and have something to eat. Bobby cooked the eggs and bacon on the outdoors oven, while dad and I searched the basket for some other food. I also had some potato chips and pears. I was rather hungry so the eggs and bacon tasted good. I ate my breakfast, and then we listened to the radio, read our newspapers, and observed all the activity going on around us.

While I was eating, Bobby started washing the plates, cups, and silverware, and dad put the food back into the food basket and then started putting everything into the car. When I finished eating, I pitched in and helped dad. As was true the previous night, when we ate supper, dad and I weren’t sure just where and how everything went, so instead of getting everything too messed up, we let Bobby arrange everything as she wanted. Because I had fouled up the works by taking so much time at the service station, we had to hurry a little it.

When Bobby finished all of the work, we put everything into the car and then gathered up everything we had to take with us to the race. These items included camera, film, sunglasses, caps, field glasses, Bobby’s sweater, car keys, and the most important item of all – the tickets. We checked to see that we had everything, locked the car, and started on our way to the Speedway. It was after 8:30, so we were behind our usual schedule. The pedestrian traffic was really heavy now. About halfway to the Speedway, we ran into something we run into every year – members of the VFW selling the little red, white, and blue tags. The three of us each gave a donation of a quarter, got our tags, and continued on our way. When we arrived at the main gate, Gate 1, the pedestrian gate, we had to work our way through an enormous mob of people before we got to the ticket takers. We gave our tickets to the gateman, he tore off the first stub and gave them back to us, and we walked into the Speedway grounds.

As usual, I stopped at the first vendor I saw selling Speedway souvenir programs and bought one. Dad and Bobby bought one for themselves too. Because the traffic was so heavy, we couldn’t make much time in getting into the infield. As we crept along, we took in the array of people and concession stands. There were concession stands selling racing magazines, post cards, hats, caps, sweaters, and many other items. The food concession stands were selling hot dogs, hamburgers, barbeques, soft drinks, etc., but no beer. There is enough beer brought into the grounds from outside without any having to be sold inside.

By the time we arrived within a short distance of the entrance to the tunnel that goes under the track and up to the infield, the crowd was so large that we were squeezed in with everybody else so tight that we couldn’t even raise our arms. Normally, we arrive ahead of this heavy crowd, but my long stay at the filling station had delayed us quite a while. This is the first time I remember running into such a big crowd at this particular time. At this point, I can’t say for sure whether we were walking or being shoved to the tunnel entrance. When we got there, we walked down the walk, then straight for a while, then up the walk. It wasn’t quite as crowded walking through the tunnel. I could at least swing my arms back and forth a little bit. Now that we were in the open, we could move and breathe quite a bit better.

We turned right and walked down to Gasoline Alley. Dad and I both agreed that this seemed to be the biggest crowd we had ever seen here. Dad decided he had to use the men’s room and I decided I could use it, so in we went, while Bobby waited outside. With that important job done, the three of us walked down to the passageway that leads from the garage area to the pit area. A sign hangs overhead with the words “GASOLINE ALLEY” printed on it. It was past 8:30, so all the cars were already in their respective pits. We thought we might see some famous people, but the huge crowd killed that plan. After stretching our necks for a couple minutes, we gave up and decided to go to our seats.

We turned around and walked back until we came to the steps that take you to the northern half of the infield. From there, we found the entrance to Section 41 of Tower Terrace and went there. The ticket taker tore off a stub, and we went in. We turned left and started our sightseeing of all the pits that we could see. We looked at the cars, the crews going over all the last minute details, the layers of tires, the water fountains, the oxygen tanks, the gasoline tanks, and all the other equipment so necessary for the running of this big race. Most of the hoods of the cars were up and the mechanics were looking the engines over closely. As we approached each car, we check its number in the souvenir programs to see who the driver was. When we reached the Gasoline Alley entrance, the fence kept us from proceeding any farther, so we turned around and walked back.

All the time we had been looking at the cars, the traditional high school and Purdue University bands were marching up and down the main straightaway. The bands were putting on a terrific show and the crowd showed its appreciation by its applause. The men of the enormous crowd were particularly happy with the sight and movements of the Purdue University majorettes and the golden girl.

When we reached Section 41, we went a few steps and then an usher led us up to Row P. We turned right and walked until we came to seats 14, 15, and 16. We put our paraphernalia under our seats and then sat down. From our seats, we could see the pits of Troy Ruttman, Ebb Rose, Bob Veith, Eddie Johnson, Chuck Stevenson, and Allen Crowe. The P.A. announcer was interviewing drivers, car owners, race officials, and other people. Looking up and down the straightaway, I beheld that this was a spectacular sight that probably couldn’t be seen anywhere else in the world. The track was filled with mechanics, pit crews, USAC officials, reporters, photographers, entertainment celebrities, and other people, all making final preparations for the big event that would start in about an hour.

At 10:00, the P.A. announcer told the pit crews to move their cars into their respective starting positions on the track. For some reason, the pit crews didn’t move their cars as they were supposed to. The announcer had to tell them two more times before they started moving the cars. One by one, the cars were pushed back to the pit area entrance onto the track, and pushed forward into their respective positions. While all this was going on, the Purdue band continued playing in its magnificent way, pleasing the race fans all up and down the straightaway.

Between 10:15 and 10:30, the many celebrities in attendence for the race traveled around the track in official Chrysler cars so that the fans could see and applaud them. Among those in attendance this year were Majorie Lord of the “Danny Thomas Show,” Dan Blocker, “Hos” of Bonanza, Bill Dana, “Luke” from “The Real McCoy’s,” Hoagy Carmichael, Connie Stevens, and a few others. All of these people were well received by the crowd, but none of them received the welcome which was given to the most popular celebrity of the day, astronaut Cooper Gordon, who of course, was the astronaut who had made his orbit around the earth just a couple weeks earlier. He had driven to the Speedway from his home in Ohio to see the race. As he came down the straightaway in his convertible and headed down the pit driveway, he was given a greater reception than any of the other celebrities had received.

By now, it was 10:30 and everyone could feel the tension. Only one-half hour remained before the big show started. All of the cars were in their starting positions. The crowd seemed to get noisier as 11:00 approached. By now, the three of us, like everybody else, could hardly sit or stand still. At 10:40, the huge crowd rose to its feet and the men removed their hats as the band played “The Star Spangled Banner.” By now, everybody was off the track except the drivers, mechanics, and crewmembers. At 10:45, thousands of colored balloons were released from behind the Tower and sailed into the air. Everybody turned around and marveled at the sight.

The portable starters had been inserted in their cars and the mechanics waited patiently to use them. All drivers were in their cars, and had their safety belts and shoulder harnesses fastened. Before they got into their cars, they had fastened their pants cuffs around their ankles and the sleeve cuffs around their wrists.

Most of the fans were standing and waiting out the last few minutes. Between 10:45 and 10:50, the band played its final song, the famous and traditional “Back Home Again in Indiana.” One of the band members sang the words as the rest of the band played the song. It was now between 10:50 and 10:55.

About half a minute later, the P.A. announcer slowly said, “Ladies and Gentlemen, I give you the president of the Indianapolis Motor Speedway, Mr. Tony Hulman.” The climax of the pre-race activities had come. I put my left hand on dad’s shoulder, my right hand on Bobby’s should and the three of us smiled broadly at each other. Tony pronounced the words loud and clear, “GENTLEMEN, START YOUR ENGINES!” The packed Speedway let out a tremendous cheer. Almost instantly, one by one, the engines started coughing and producing the sweetest sound this side of heaven. The terrific roar made a wonderful sound. The exhaust smoke could be seen in the air.

Now everybody was stretching his neck to see the pace car move out. With Sam Hanks in the driver’s seat and Tony Hulman his passenger, Tony checked to see if everybody was ready to go and then gave the starting signal to Sam Hanks. Very slowly, the pace car started moving and then the front row of Parnelli Jones, Jim Hurtubise, and Dan Branson. The other ten rows followed behind these three. A cheer went up from the crowd as the cars disappeared into the southwest turn. The P.A. announcer announced that two cars, those of Lloyd Ruby and Ebb Rose, were having trouble and hadn’t started yet. The audience let out a moan as I began to wonder if they would be started by the time the field came around. A few seconds passed and then Lloyd Ruby’s car came to life and he immediately left to catch up with the rest of the field. At last, Ebb Rose’s car started roaring and he too left immediately to catch up with the other 32 drivers, who, by now, were quite a distance ahead of him. Lloyd and Ebb were given special applause by the fans. Now came the long wait. The deep, thundering sound off thirty-three engines could be heard as they went down the backstretch. Now everybody strained their neck to see the northwest turn. A cheer rose from the audience as the Chrysler Pace Car came out of the turn and headed down the main straightaway. One by one, the eleven rows appeared and followed the pace car. A few seconds later, a most beautiful sight passed in front of us. Some of the drivers waved to the crowd as the crowd waved back and applauded. One more time around and the race would be on. This was the official pace lap. The lap before was the parade lap. Once again, we followed the sound around the 2-½ mile track and waited for the cars to come out of the northwest turn. The crowd let out a cheer as the pace car appeared and really sped toward the pit area and the thirty-three cars picked up speed. Sam Hanks and Tony Hulman went flying down the pit driveway, the starter, Pat Vidan, waved the green flag, and the race was on.

As expected, pole position holder Parnelli Jones was the first one to go through the southwest turn. As they came down the straightaway for the completion of the first lap, Jim Hurtubise, second place starter in one of the three Novis, went ahead of Jones and crossed the starting line first. It was the last time Hurtubise led the race. At the end of the second lap, Jones and Hurtubise had exchanged positions.

During the third lap, the yellow flag came out and the crowd rose in anxiety. It was announced that rookie, Bobby Unser in one of the Novis, had hit the wall in the south chute and was out of the race. The car was hurt, but Unser wasn’t. The audience moaned in disappointment as one of the sentimental favorites was already out of the race.

As if this wasn’t enough, another rookie, Art Malone, in another Novi, pulled into his pit while the yellow flag was on. Again, the crowd moaned in disappointment. Malone couldn’t get the car into high gear. His crew worked quickly and sent him on his way again. Two laps later, he was in the pits again. The crew went to work and sent him off again. Two laps later, he was in again. His crew did their work and sent him off again. With 18 laps gone, Malone made another pit stop. His pit crew decided the malady couldn’t be remedied, so the car was withdrawn from the race. With less than 20 laps completed, two out of the three Novis were out of the race. The only hope was now with Hurtubise.

Prior to Malone’s departure, Johnny Boyd, who started 27^th in the Bowes Seal Fast Special, left the race after 12 laps with valve trouble.

Meanwhile, Jones was increasing his lead over the remaining cars. After 20 laps, 50 miles, he led the second place car by 22 seconds. Behind Jones came Hurtubise, Roger McCluskey, Jim McElreath, A.J. Foyt, Bobby Marshman, and Rodger Ward.

Elmer George and rookie Johnny Rutherford left the race after 21 and 43 laps respectively with mechanical trouble.

The yellow flag came out again on the 47^th lap when Bug Tinglestad, in the Hoover Special, crashed into the southwest retaining wall and eliminated himself from the race. On the next lap, Allen Crowe, in his Gabriel Shocker Special, lost his right front tire just as he was entering the southwest turn and crashed into the wall. Neither Tinglestad nor Crowe were hurt, but their cars were too badly damaged for either of them to continue racing. With the race one-fourth completed, seven cars were out of the race.

While the yellow flag was out, Bobby Marshman and Jim McElreath made pit stops and provided the audience with some of its most anxious moments. Marshman approached his pit too fast, applied his brakes, and spun. McElreath was right behind Marshman and going faster than Bobby. All of the action took place right in front of us. I jumped up in nervous excitement and started screaming. Immediately, everybody jumped up to see the action. The two drivers continued spinning but, through some miracle, managed to avoid making any contact with each other. There were black skid marks going every which way. They managed to straighten themselves out and continued on their way. With a sigh of relief, everybody sat down again. This was one of the biggest scares I’d ever received while watching a 500-mile race.

The green flag came out again, the crowd regained its composure, and the race continued. Parnelli Jones still led, followed by Roger McCluskey, Lloyd Ruby, Bobby Marshman, Don Branson, and Jim Hurtubise.

On the 63^rd lap, Jones made his first pit stop. He received fuel, two rear tires, and new right front tire in 25 seconds. Roger McCluskey went into first place but had to make a pit stop on the 67^th lap.

With McCluskey sidelined for a few seconds, rookie Scotchman Jim Clark, driving one of the two Lotus-Fords, went to the front of the field. He and teammate Dan Gurney had been running near the head of the field since the start of the race. The serious challenge of Clark for first place now became apparent to everybody. Most people had expected the two cars to make a good showing, but not this good. Clark surprised everybody by running almost 150 mph consistently and maintaining the lead until the 96^th lap. He stopped for his first and only pit stop of the race. As it turned out, this pit stop was one of the bad breaks that plagued Clark and kept him from winning the race. Instead of the normal 20-30 second stop, his stop was 32.3 seconds, not good by Indianapolis standards.

While Clark had been leading the race, Bob Veith and Bobby Grim made their departures from the race scene, and on the 99^th and 100^th laps, respectively. Jim Rathman and Duane Carter also called it quits. All of them had to drop out because of mechanical trouble.

On the 101^st lap, Jim Hurtubise, in the only remaining Novi, went streaking down the pit apron with huge clouds of smoke emitting from the back of his car. His pit crew remedied the malady and sent Jim back into competition. After he left his pit, a USAC official noticed a puddle of oil that had leaded out of his car onto the pit apron. The official ordered started Pat Vidan to give “Hercules” the black flag, and with 102 laps now completed, all three of the Novis were out of the running.

Jones continued to set new records on almost every lap. He was traveling at the unbelievable speed of 149-150 mph and seemed to have no trouble doing so. While the other cars seemed to be straining to keep up their pace, Jones and his Agajanian Willard Battery Special were touring the track at higher speeds and with less trouble.

Clark and Gurney continued to surprise everybody by remaining in the top five.

Chuck Stevenson, in the Bardahl Special, was finished after 110 laps with mechanical failure, and two laps later, Eddie Johnson, driving the Drewry’s Special, hit the wall and sustained rib and foot injuries, but wasn’t hurt seriously.

Jones made his second pit stop on the 126^th lap. He received four new tires and a tank of fuel in 26.2 seconds. As it turned out, he chose a good time to make a pit stop because Lloyd Ruby, in his Fink Special, hit the wall in the northwest turn and spun into the infield. Ruby was unhurt, but his accident caused the yellow flag to come out again. The yellow flag helped Jones because Clark was unable to make any headway during this time.

When the track was cleared and the green flag came out again, Jones pushed the pace up to about 150 mph. Clark held on to second spot, while McCluskey was third and Eddie Sachs was now fourth.

In addition to Clark making a strong bid for first, McCluskey and Sachs were fighting their own private battle for third place. This battle included broadsides though the turns and on at least one occasion, a wheel tapping episode in one of the corners.

Paul Goldsmith, in this Delmer Special, left the race after 149 laps. With 160 laps, or 400 miles, gone by, seventeen cars were still in the race.

On his 163^rd lap, Jones made his third and last pit stop. He received four new tires and a full tank of fuel in 26.2 seconds. His lead over Clark had been big enough that he was able to get in and out of his pit without relinquishing the lead to Clark. Clark was unable to move into first place, but he did cut a big chuck out of Jones’ lead.

When Jones returned to the track, he and Clark proceeded to put on a show that had everybody going wild with excitement. The Scotsman figured he had a chance now to catch the leader and increased his speed to 150 mph in an attempt to do so. With each lap, he reduced Jones’ lead. After 178 laps, there were only 4.5 seconds between the two front-runners.

Then misfortune hit Clark. Eddie Sachs spun out in the southeast turn and this caused the yellow flag to come out again. In addition to being unable to make any gain, Clark got caught behind Ebb Rose, who was running considerably slower than the rest of the field, even during the yellow flag period. Jim didn’t know it then, but he could have passed Rose and not be punished for it. As a result, he lost 15 or more unnecessary seconds, which, in the end, could have been the factor that prevented him from passing Jones and going on to win the race.

At 180 laps, the crowd received a surprise when it was announced that smoke had been seen coming from Jones’ car. This brought about the biggest controversy of the race. Harlan Fengler, the chief steward, noticed that the lead car was leaking oil and directed starter, Pat Vidan, to give it the black flag. When J.C. Agajanian, the owner of the car, saw what was happening, he rushed over to Fengler and became engaged in a bitter discussion with him. The two of them exchanged some bitter words, but in the end, Agajanian won out and the black flag was not given to Jones.

With the oil controversy settled temporarily, the drivers drove on to complete their remaining laps. Unless an unforeseen emergency arose, Jones would finish first and Clark second.

With 196 laps completed and running near the front of the field, Bobby Marshman suddenly spun in the southwest turn and was out of the race. It was really a tough break for Bobby. He had driven a terrific race from the start.

With the yellow flag out because of Marshman’s spinout, Roger McCluskey, who had third place wrapped up, spun in Jones’ oil and was out of the race. It was a sad goodbye for Roger, who had driven a wonderful race and was only about 1½ laps from the finish line.

The yellow flag was still out when Jones came down the straightaway and became the first driver to receive the checkered flag while under yellow-flag conditions. Thirty-two seconds later, Jim Clark finished second. The remaining finishers were as follows: third, A.J. Foyt; fourth, Rodger Ward; fifth, Don Branson; sixth, Jim McElreath; seventh, Dan Gurney; eighth, Chuck Hulse; ninth, Al Miller; tenth, Dick Rathman; eleventh, Dempsey Wilson; twelfth, Troy Ruttman; thirteenth, Bob Christie; and fourteenth, Ebb Rose.

It was rather amusing to notice that difference between Christie’s and Rose’s running times. Christie finished thirteenth in 3:40:25.18. Rose finished fourteenth in 3:46:40.63. In other words, for 6 minutes and 15 seconds, Rose had the track to himself. His car didn’t run properly at all during the race, but the trouble was never serious enough to take him out of the race. He just kept going and finally, after everybody else was finished, received the checkered flag.

It’s also interesting to note that the red flag wasn’t used this year. The red flag means the race is finished and is given to those drivers who are still running after the first few finishers are done, but who still have quite a few laps to complete before they go the entire distance of the race. All drivers still running at the finish completed the full 500 miles.

When he was interviewed in Victory Lane after the race, Jones said he still couldn’t believe he had won the race. He was too dazed to believe the truth.

After the celebration in Victory Lane had subsided a little bit, Jones and his wife, car owner J.C. Agajanian and his wife, and speedway president Tony Hulman were driven around the track in the Chrysler 300 pace car for the acclamation of the audience.

When the pace car and its passengers returned to Victory Lane, thus leaving the track devoid of all activity, we gathered up all our equipment and started our long process of getting out of the Speedway. After getting out of the Tower Terrace section, we fought our way through the crushing crowd and walked back to the garage area.

As always, the garage area was mobbed with race fans trying to get a look at the racecars and drivers. The only driver we saw was the tenth place finisher, Dick Rathmann. He was drinking a can of beer and talking to some member of his pit crew. His racing uniform was soaked with grease and dirt. We also saw A.J. Watson, a name that needs no explaining to race fans. In contrast to what they looked like before the race, the cars were covered with oil and dirt. Most of them had really been through a strenuous test.

Bobby and I got separated from dad, but there was no panic among each other when we got away from the garage area a little bit. We found ourselves near some restrooms so we decided to use them while we had the chance. From there, we walked down to the infield area on the southwest turn. The area looked like a dump. Beer cans, paper cups, soda bottles, waxed paper, and other debris were scattered all over the place. Plenty of work lay ahead for the speedway cleanup crew.

We walked across the track and in between Grandstands A and B. When we reached the back of the stands, we turned left and walked toward the main gate. Like every other year, there were boys selling the Indianapolis Times with the story of the race on the front page. The headlines this year were “Parnelli Jones Wins With Record 143.137.” This edition is always delivered by helicopter to the winner of the race as he is celebrating his victory in Victory Lane.

We walked out the main gate and then turned right and started walking down Crawfordsville Road. The traffic, both pedestrian and car, were really bad. Everybody looked tired and sunburned. Before the race, everybody was going crazy trying to get into the speedway. Now they were doing their best to get away from the place.

When we arrived back at the car, we opened the doors and windows and then sat down for a while. I took off my shoes to relax my feet and rubbed some “Mentholatum” into my face and arms to prevent myself from burning too much. The three of us sat in the car and watched all the activity taking place around us. Bobby asked dad and me if we would like a little something to eat and we both said that sounded like a good idea. We had coffee and water to drink and bananas, potato chips, fruit salad, cup cakes, deviled eggs, and pears to eat. We hadn’t had any dinner, so it tasted pretty good. We wanted to eat all we could so that we wouldn’t have much to throw away. Although the fruit salad, deviled eggs, and pears hadn’t been under refrigeration, it made no difference in their good taste. When our appetites were appeased, we cleaned up our mess and put everything back into the car.

Without my shoes on, I walked over to the side of Crawfordsville Road to observe the traffic and to take some pictures with the camera. When I returned to the car, the three of us sat and read some of our newspapers while waiting for the heavy traffic to thin out a little bit.

Shortly before 4:30, we decided the traffic was light enough that we could leave. The first thing I did was to sit on the grass and put my shoes on. While I was doing that, Bobby got everything arranged in the back seat and pushed it to the left so that she could have somewhere to sit. Our reading material was the only thing left out. Dad and I put our sunglasses on, checked to see that everything was put away, and then he turned the ignition key and we were ready to go. At 4:29, we said goodbye to Indianapolis for another year and started the ride home.

Dad was the driver, I sat in the front seat, and Bobby sat behind me. Dad turned right and stopped at the stop sign. The traffic wasn’t so bad now, so we didn’t have much trouble getting onto Crawfordsville Road. We decided to take the regular route home instead of taking a chance on the new one we had come in on, so we got into the left lane and the policeman directed the traffic so that we could turn left onto Lyndhurst Drive. As expected, it moved along pretty well. Most of the residents were sitting in their front yards watching the huge exodus of racing fans from their city. There were newspaper boys at various places along the road selling the post-race edition of the Indianapolis Times, so a couple of blocks before we reached highway 36, while we were stopped a few seconds in the traffic, I made a quick purchase and had another Indianapolis newspaper to read.

When we got to the highway, we turned to the right into one of our yearly stopping places, the Standard Service Station on the northwest corner of the intersection. The three of us got out and walked around a little while the attendant filled the car with gas, washed the windshield, and checked the oil. When the car was ready to go, dad paid the attendant and we were on our way again. We turned right and headed west.

The traffic was still heavy so we didn’t make very good time for quite a while. It was almost impossible to pass because of speed zones, oncoming vehicles, and insufficient space to get back in between cars. We soon ran into the holiday drivers who had nowhere to go and were taking their time in getting there. They’re always a nuisance because they impede the flow of traffic. Route 36 between Indianapolis and the state line is hard to make any speed on in a situation like this. The road is full of curves and turns. The yellow lines along the centerline, of which there are plenty, keep one from doing much passing. If you don’t have the yellow line to contend with, you have to slow down to go through a town or city. In addition to the badly shapped road, you have to watch out for wild drivers. Many face fans have a long way to go to get home, and they take advantage of every opportunity they have to made good time. Some of them do some wild passing and narrowly manage to avoid getting into some serious crackups.

The day before, after stopping for a rest at Chrisman, we decided we wouldn’t stop at the same place coming home. We would find a better place. As we were slowing down for the stop sign at the intersection of Routes 36 and 71, dad saw a little restaurant to our right and decided to stop there. It was the first time in our ten years, while coming home from the race that we had stopped at any place other than Chrisman. It was about 6:15 now.

It was an odd looking building and we couldn’t figure out just what it was, but we went on in. We turned to our left and sat down at one of the tables with four chairs. The waitress brought us a glass of water and gave us a menu. We scanned the place and dad finally figured out that it used to be a caboose on an old railroad train. It wasn’t fancy by a long shot; in fact, I thought it was crummy. The old place at Chrisman was better. There weren’t many people there. One lady did the cooking while two others waited on the customers. Dad had some trouble in getting something to eat. They were out of is first two choices of a meal, but they had his third choice. He didn’t particularly want it, but it was about the only meal left that he liked. Bobby and I were luckier and got our first choices. While we were waiting for our food, a young couple who had been to the race came in and sat down behind us. After they came in, a couple of farmers came in, not together, but one a couple of minutes after the other one. The service was pretty slow, but at last, the waitress brought us our food. I had two pork chops, applesauce, corn, and two glasses of milk. When we finished eating we paid the bill and left.

It was about 6:45 when we left. We stopped at the junction and then continued on our way. In about five minutes, we left the Hoosier land and were back in Illinois. When we came to the junction of Routes 1 and 36, it seemed funny to keep on going instead of turning off to the right and stopping at our familiar restaurant but of course, the building wasn’t there anymore so we couldn’t stop anyway.

As we continued on our way, we saw the same sites that we see every year coming home from the race, but I never tired of seeing them. The motels along the highway, the farmers working in their fields until dark, the U.S. Industrial Chemicals Company at Tuscola, the many side roads that intersect with Route 36, the children riding their bicycles and having fun in some of the small towns, the filling stations along the highway, the people sitting on their front porches in the houses along the highway, Lake Decatur, driving through Decatur, traveling the familiar trail between Decatur and Springfield, and the final stop at our back door for unloading are the highlights of our trip home from the 500-mile race.

We knew we were getting close to Decatur when the highway became a four lane one, and a couple minutes later, we traveled over the lake and then into the city on Eldorado St. About 15 minutes later, we were on the west side of Decatur and on the last leg of our trip home.

Dawson was the last town we went through. The highway goes around Riverton, so the next city we came to was Springfield. We followed the same route getting to our house as we did leaving the city. We came in on Sangamon Avenue, turned south onto 5^th St., and south on 3^rd St. to 1157. We pulled into the driveway, stopped at the back door, and turned the engine off. Once again, we had made it back without an accident. It was now 9:09 pm. It had taken us 4:40 to go from Crawfordsville and Fischer to 1157 N. 3^rd St.

As we were getting out of the car, mother, Suzie, and my cousin, Donna Coy, came to the back porch to see us. It took us three trips from the car to the kitchen to bring everything in. When we finished that, we put everything away and then sat down and talked about our trip. The big event was over for 1963.

POSTSCRIPT

Unlike most previous years, discussion about the race didn’t end when the last car left the track. The controversy over this year’s race will last for a long time. The main poits of the controversy were leaking oil and use of the black flag. Many people believe that Jim Clark, not Parnelli Jones, would have won this year’s 500-mile race if the United States Auto Club, the governing body of auto racing, had enforced its rules. I am one of these people.

Harlan Fengler, the chief steward, should not have withdrawn the black flag once he had directed started Pat Vidan to give it to Jones because his car was leaking oil and creating a hazard for the other cars. No car owner should be able to tell an official how to run the race. It was announced on the P.A. system about 20 laps from the finish of the race that Jones’ car was smoking on the backstretch. He should have been given the black flag, even if he was leading. Dempsey Wilson’s car was leaking oil noticeably during the latter part of the race, but nobody made any protest about him. The officials didn’t even start to black-flag him. Both cars should have been removed from the race. At the drivers meeting the day before, Fengler had stated explicitly that any car leaking oil would be withdrawn from the race. Why didn’t he practice what he preached? There was no doubt about Dempsey leaking oil. Three drivers, Eddie Sachs, Roger McCluskey, and Bobby Marshman, spun out of the race because there was oil on the track. McCluskey and Sachs were sure bets to finish third and fourth and Marshman was among the first ten when he spun out. McCluskey and Sachs complained vociferously about the oil and said Jones should not have been allowed to stay in the race when it became apparent that his car was leaking oil. The day after the race, Sachs and Jones got into a fight in an Indianapolis restaurant. Sachs told Jones how he felt and Parnelli replied with a fist to Eddie’s jaw. Through all the controversy, Jones remained silent and didn’t express an opinion one way or the other. If USAC is going to make laws, then it should also enforce these laws. The lack of doing so has left many hard feelings.

Another topic of conversation about this year’s race was the tremendous showing of the Lotus-Fords. For a while, it looked as if Jim Clark would be the driver in Victory Lane after the race, but Jim didn’t get the breaks that are necessary to win the 500. At 178 laps, he was only 4 ½ seconds behind Jones, but from then on, the yellow flag prevented him from making any headway. I’m sure that if he had maintained his pace and the yellow flag hadn’t come out, he would have won the race. What would have happened if he had won? It certainly would have caused an uproar. Dan Gurney, seventh place finisher, probably would have done better if it hadn’t been for his 42-second pit stop on the 92^nd lap. Clark and Gurney and their Lotus-Fords have really given race fans something to talk about.

One cannot talk about this year’s race without taking about the Novis. Their name had been changed to Hotel Tropicana but to the race fans, they’ll always be the Novis. For the first time since 1958, one of the big cars made the starting field. Not only one, but all three of them made it this year. Unfortunately, they still have their seemingly perpetual jinx. Two of the cars, driven by rookies Art Malone and Bobby Unser, had trouble from the very beginning. Unser hit the south wall on the 2^nd lap and was out of the race. Malone’s car wouldn’t go into high hear, and after 18 laps, it was retired. Jim Hurtubise did a good job of qualifying the other car at 150.257, and started in the middle of the front row. He did well in the race until he had to retire at the half way mark with an oil leak. Will one of the sentimental favorites of the speedway ever roll into that paradise called Victory Lane? After these many years of trying they certainly deserve to win. If one of them ever does win, I think there will be a celebration unlike anything else in the history of the speedway. Race fans and officials will cry with joy at the sight of a Novi in Victory Lane.

Parnelli Jones has established a fantastic record in only three years at Indy. In 1961, his rookie year, he started 5^th and finished 12^th. He led the race for several laps but his car wasn’t in top shape and he was red flagged at 196 laps. In 1962, he became the first driver in speedway histry to travel 150 mph. He led most of the race until his brakes went out. He finished seventh. This year, he won the pole position for the second time in his three years.

Rodger Ward has established an almost unbelievable record of consistency in the last five races. From 1959-1963, he has finished 1^st, 2^nd, 3^rd, 1^st and 4^th. Rodger was lucky to finish fourth this year. During most of the race, his position ranged from 5^th to 10^th. If Sachs, McCluskey, and Marshman hadn’t spun out, he probably wouldn’t have finished higher than 6^th. Much of his luck must be credited to his great mechanic, A.J. Watson.

The 500-mile race isn’t the complete story of the Indianapolis Motor Speedway. While the race itself had changed tremendously during the last decade or two, the physical appearance of the speedway had changed also. Since he became owner in 1945, Tony Hulman had poured millions of dollars into improving the huge plant for everybody. No long is the track “correctly” known as “The Brickyard.” It is now covered with asphalt, except for a three-foot section at the start-finish like. These bricks remain for sentimental reasons.

The speedway museum, opened in 1956, is too small now and a newer and larger one will be built in the near future. This museum is one of Indiana’s biggest tourist attractions and draws people from all over the world.

Almost all of the old wooden grandstands have been torn down and replaced by modern steel and concrete structures. More seats are being built for the expected increase in attendance in the coming years.

The Indianapolis 500 remains the world’s greatest single day sporting event. It has a history and tradition all its own. Although the race itself is the most important part of my annual trip to the Hoosier capital, still it is only part of the trip. From the moment I begin packing until I arrive home and finish unpacking, I live in a different world. The trip from Springfield to Indianapolis and back is not boring to me, even though I see the same sites year after year.

The 500 Festival has given a tremendous boost to the 500-mile race. The parade, golf tournament, bowling tournament, Governor’s Coronation Ball, and the Mayor’s Breakfast have become part of the big race. The USAC Awards Banquet and the annual meeting of the Champion 100 mph Club are annual events that take place at Indianapolis in May.

The enormous mass of humanity at the speedway every Memorial Day is composed of every size, age, and class of people in the U.S. The traditional, informal, unofficial “Night Before the 500” festival is a part of the Indianapolis racing scene. The Purdue University Band, the majorettes, and the golden girl marching up and down the main straightaway before the race is a sight that never fails to please me immensely. The eleven rows of three cars each lined up in perfect formation behind the pace car as they move down the front straightaway is a breathtaking sight that must be seen to be understood and enjoyed. I always cry a little and get a lump in my throat when I hear Tony Hulman say those four words that send everybody into a frenzy, “GENTLEMEN, START YOUR ENGINES!” The terrific roar of those 33 engines coming to life, no matter how loud is may be, is the sweetest sound a racing fan knows. Every year, as I view and enjoy the many pre-race activities, I stop and think how lucky I am to be able to see, in person, the annual Memorial Day Indianapolis 500 mile auto race, the world’s greatest sports spectacle.

Pace Car – Chrysler 300
500 Festival Queen – Linda Lou Mugg

Indy Journal - 1962

1962

1962 was another outstanding and record-breaking year for the Indianapolis 500 mile auto race. New records were set in both the time trials and the race. Perhaps the most outstanding feature was the breaking of the 150 mph barrier. Parnelli Jones wrote his name into Speedway eternity on May 12, the first day of time trials, when he ran his four-lap average at 150.750. He was the only driver to top 150 mph.

We received our tickets on March 27. They were $12 Tower Terrace seats located in Section 41, Row L, Seats 6,7 and 8. On Tuesday, May 29, Bobby, Dad and I got everything ready and put it into the car in preparation for the annual trip. After eating our dinner and checking to see that we had everything we should have, we once again started on our yearly journey at 12:41.

We hadn’t even gotten to the street yet when a light green car pulled up and stopped in front of our house. I knew almost immediately that it was my good friend, Jimmy Hoover, coming to visit me while I was home on vacation from George Air Force Base for two weeks. As soon as he saw me he asked if I was leaving to see the race at Indianapolis. We got out of our cars and talked to each other for about five minutes. After ending out little chit-chat, each of us headed our separate ways.

We went to 3^rd and North Grand, east on North Grand to 5^th St., north on 5^th to Sangamon Ave., and east on Sangamon on out of town. As usual the traffic between Springfield and Decatur was stop and go, with slow drivers and speed zones slowing us down quite a bit. We arrived Decatur about 1:30. It took ten minutes to get through the city.

As we traveled on our way we listened to the Milwaukee Braves-Chicago Cubs baseball game on our car radio. The Cubs were getting beat badly and the three of us were amused by some of the comments of the Cubs announcer. About the fourth of fifth inning he started saying he wished it would rain so that it would be an incomplete game. The game was a slugfest and although the Cubs tied the score a couple of times, they finally lost, 11 – 9.

Shortly before 3:00, we stopped at our usual place, Chisman. As our car came to a slow stop, we noticed the place looked odd. It was vacant. We looked inside and then asked the filling attendant what had happened. He told us the place was closed down and suggested we go to the little joint across the corner from this one, so we decided we’d try it. It was the same kind of place, a restaurant, but not quite as large as the other one. We got out and stretched a little and then went in and sat down at the counter. Dad had a cup of coffee, Bobby a Coca-Cola and I a 7-Up. When we finished our drinks, we went outside and walked around for a few seconds. At 3:15, we got back into the car and resumed our trip, with our next planned stop the last one, Crawfordsville Road and Fisher Street in Speedway.

In less than ten minutes, we were in Hoosier-land. The long straight road, which started a few miles east of Decatur, now come to an end and it became curving and winding. As we went up and down through the land of the Wabash, we took notice of the pretty land that could only be found in Indiana. As we traveled through the small towns of Danville, Montezuma, and Avon – just to name a few – I thought how much they looked like some of the small towns around Springfield and of the many times, mostly on May 29, that I had traveled though them. Although this was the ninth consecutive year to see the big race, I never tire of seeing everything along the roadside between Springfield and Indianapolis.

As we got closer and closer to our destination, the traffic become heavier and heavier. I can always tell when we’re just about there by the modern, attractive homes on the west side of Indianapolis. We started looking for the turnoff, Lyndhurst Drive. A new four-lane highway has been built on Route 36 going east into the city. At last, we came to our turnoff, identifiable by the Standard Service Station on the left. Dad said to pull into the filling station so I did. I told the attendant to fill the tank and he put in 10.9 gallons at $3.48. Dad wanted to use the bathroom, but after waiting for what seemed an eternity, he decided he could wait until we got parked. Then just as he was getting into the car, the two men who were in the bathroom came out, so dad got to use it after all.

Despite the bumper-to-bumper traffic on Lyndhurst, I happen to hit an opening in both lanes at the same times so I quickly dashed into the lane going north. The policemen were doing a good job of keeping the traffic moving so it didn’t take too long to get to Crawfordsville Road. When we crossed the famous 16^th Street, I knew we were just about there. When we got there, I turned right and went a few blocks until I reached Fisher and then turned left. Our “home” is on the left hand corner so we didn’t have far to go. Dad said to back the car in, so I did. He guided me and told me when to stop. I stopped the car, put it out of gear, looked around a little, raced the engine slightly, and then turned it off.

It was 5:10 and once again we had arrived safely and soundly. Dad had been talking to the wife of the owner of the home, Mrs. Kramer, so when Bobby and I got out of the car, we did likewise. Mrs. Kramer seemed to remember us but couldn’t recall our name until we told her it was Dalbey. After we paid our $1.50, we sat in the car for a few minutes and talked.

Dad asked me if I wanted to eat first or go down by the Speedway for our first view of the race crowd. I said I wanted to see the people so the three of us took our first walk down Crawfordsville Road to see some of the thousands of persons who had come to see the race. The traffic was heavy and getting more so. We decided to take advantage of the small crowd touring the Speedway Museum and tour it ourselves. As is the case every time we go through it, there was something new to see this year. Several more racecars had been added and some of the companies that built automobile parts had displays. Many people were trying to buy tickets at the ticket office.

We bought a couple newspapers in front of the museum and then went back to the car and ate our supper. Bobby had prepared a large amount of food for the three of us so we didn’t have to worry about going hungry while we were there. We had coffee, milk, and water to drink, plus baked beans, pears, potato chips, cup cakes, bananas, sweet rolls, salad, dressing, and a couple of other items.

We cleaned up our dishes, read parts of the newspapers we had bought and then got acquainted with our neighbors on our right. They were a young married couple about my age. There were nice, friendly people. They had just bought a new, red Corvair. Dad wanted to hear all about the car and the husband was happy to talk about it, so those two talked about the Corvair while the wife, Bobby, and I talked about the 500 mile race and events connected with it. She said they were from Nebraska and her husband was waiting to be called into military service, so they decided to come and have a good time while they could. The three of us talked about the race, the 500 Festival, all of the people around us, the many experiences we had had in our previous trips, and other items connected with Memorial Day at Indianapolis. She was very pleasant and easy to talk to.

After we had talked for about an hour or so, Bobby and I decided to take a walk down around the Speedway to see what was going on. There we really saw what Indianapolis was like the night before the 500. We saw a couple of street parties before we got to the Speedway. On the other side of the road, there was a small pickup truck with a canvas over the top of it acting as a roof. Inside were about a dozen people laughing, singing and drinking beer. It was getting to the place now where we could hardly walk without stepping on or kicking a beer can.

When we got to 16^th St. and Georgetown Road, we walked down 16^th St., which runs along the south end of the Speedway. The people and cars were really thick now. Cars were moving bumper to bumper at a snail’s pace in both directions. On the north side of the street, the cars were lined up in three and four rows back farther than we could see. Many of the occupants of the cars were sitting on top of them and really having a joyous time. Some of them were playing cards, some were drinking beer, and some were singing and yelling as loud as they could. Those who had set up camp on the street were doing about the same thing.

On the other side of the street, where we were walking, there were many vendors trying to sell many different items. As couple of the vendors were selling rather large buttons with humorous remarks on them. Bobby and I really got a big laugh out of some of them. Some of the remarks were “I HATE SEX,” “I LIKE SEX,” “TO HELL WITH WORK,” “TO HELL WITH THE BOSS,” “TO HELL WITH KHRUSCHEV,” “MEMBER OF ALCOHOLICS ANONYMOUS – IN CASE OF TROUBLE, GIVE ME A BEER,” and several other funny remarks. The more we looked at them, the more we laughed. A short distance down the street we came upon a vendor selling Indianapolis Motor Speedway t-shirts with streaking racecars on them. When he saw me walking by, he shouted to me, “Take one home to your mother.” Both of us just let out a big laugh right in front of the vendor.

As we continued on our way, we saw distributor demonstrations for cars, go-karts races, religious fanatics yelling and passing out pamphlets, hot dog stands doing a land office business, many stands selling Speedway pennants, caps, sweaters, buttons, and several other demonstrations. Everybody was really having a good time. When we got down to the Holiday Inn, we stepped off to the side and leaned against the fence by the parking part of the Holiday Inn and just watched the thousands of people having such a merry time. I think this is the biggest night of the year for many race fans and they really live it up.

After viewing the crowd for about half an hour, we started back. We were walking behind this fellow who was pretty happy, apparently from drinking too much. He decided to kick one of the many beer cans lying on the sidewalk, but as he took a big kick at it, his shoe came off and went flying through the air, landing several feet up on the sidewalk. The fellow had to hop all the way on his left foot through the heavy crowd to get his stray shoe. It was really comical and we got a big laugh out of it.

When we got back to 16^th St. and Main, we went into the drugstore on the corner. I go through the store every year. The place was quite crowded. We looked around a little and bought a newspaper before we left. It was getting pretty late and Bobby decided she wanted to go back to the car, so we did.

While we walked down Crawfordsville Road, we came upon some nut in the middle of the road that was showing off and beating on two big barrels and trying to sing while he was doing it. I laughed so hard at the nut that my side started to pain me and I was having a hard time getting my breath.

When we got back to the car, things were pretty quiet. Our nice neighbors on the right appeared to be asleep, but our left side neighbors were still awake and fiddling around in the dark. They were from Texas and he was a typical Texan with his ten-gallon hat on. I told him I had spend a couple of months in Texas and how hot it was in the summer. His reply was, “Oh, that’s not too hot.” After that I didn’t say anymore to him.

Dad looked as if he was asleep, but Bobby and I ended that when we opened the car doors. The three of us talked for a few minutes about what was going on, and then I decided to go back and see some of what I hadn’t seen yet. I walked back to the drugstore at 16^th and Main, crossed the street, and walked west on the north side of 16^th St. Most of the people were sitting on their front porches or in their front yards watching all the activity. The cars were lined up now in four lanes farther back than I could see. I walked slowly to take in as much as possible.

The street parties were in full swing and really going strong. Most of the people in the cars had set up tables on the street and were talking, paying cards, dice, or other games, and drinking. The first intersection west of 16^th and Main was completely filled with partygoers. I walked three or four more blocks and then crossed over to the other side of the street and walked the other way. There were several groups of college and high school students having their own gay street parties. I came upon one group of fellows who were really having a good time. They were jumping on and off their car, singing, running around, and making wisecracks at girls who walked by.

The lane next to the curbing on the south side of the street was the only one open to traffic. Pretty soon, on open convertible with two girls in it came by. The girls didn’t know the boys were hiding in the front of their car. When the front of the girls’ car was about even with the rear of the boys’ car, one of the boys suddenly stepped out in front of the girls, put his right arm straight out in front of him and said, “STOP!” The driver immediately slammed on the brakes and stopped just a few inches in front of the boys. The stop was so sudden that the front end of the car bounced up and down half a dozen times or more. The girls weren’t happy with what had happened. A couple of the boys asked if they could get in the car and go riding with the girls. The girls said no, started to drive off and then the boys ran and jumped in the car anyway. There were almost standing on their heads to get the girls’ attentions, but the girls just ignored them.

One half block down towards Main St., another group of college kids were whooping it up. Unlike the aforementioned group, this was a mixed group, boys and girls both, and they were having just as much fun. There were doing the limbo, beating on barrels, and blasting out on the trumpet. The kids lined up in a straight line and one by one went under the limbo bar held by two of them. Each time it was lower than the previous time. After a while they had to give up. There were three or four barrels and they really worked them over good. They beat them with both their hands and feet to make as much noise as possible. While two of them beat the barrels the rest of them kept time by yelling, singing, and clapping their hands. I, along, with several of the neighbors and passers-by, just stood in the yard and watched and laughed at them. After beating on the barrels for a while, one of the fellows took a trumpet and started blasting away on it. It was so loud, that on a normal night, I think it would have been audible two blocks away. The spectators and I were getting a big laugh out of the free show.

I watched this show for 15-30 minutes and then I walked down to 16^th and Main St. and then turned right and walked down Main St. for a few blocks. There were as many parked cars here as there were on 16^th St. Everybody seemed to be laughing and having a merry time.

About four blocks down, I noticed there was a large crowd, mostly males, gathered in the parking lot of a filling station on the corner. As I got nearer, I could hear Hawaiian music playing, so I could guess what was going on. I didn’t want to miss anything, so I strolled over to the filling station. Sure enough, it was just what I thought. A couple of gals, dressed like Hawaiian hula dancers, were swaying their figures across the parking lot and giving the guys a big thrill. I watched this show for about 15 minutes and then started walking back the same way from which I had come. I walked real slowly as to take in as much of the action as possible. When I got back to 16^th and Main, I walked the short distance to Georgetown Road and then took a walk down that street. The beer cans and the drunks were really thick along here. Georgetown Road runs along the west side of the Speedway parallel to the main straightaway. The traffic was bumper to bumper in both directions and moving very slowly. Many of the people were young folks about my age and having some of the best times of their lives. Almost every front yard was being used as a parking lot. After what seemed like blocks and blocks, I finally reached Gate 6, which is almost even with the start-finish line. A little north of Gate 6, there was a huge spot light going around in circles and emitting a stream of light which could be seen far from the Speedway and which really lit up that part of the Speedway. I watched the activity for a few minutes and started back to 16^th St. I had to be real careful of the traffic for a couple of reasons, 1.) I had to walk almost in the street and 2.) Some of the drivers were feeling the effects of their drinking and were driving in quite odd ways. It was getting to the place where almost every other step I took I was stepping on a beer can. At last, I got back to 16^th St. and then down Crawfordsville Road back to the car. With the exception of Indiana, almost every license plate I saw represented a different state. Cars filled not only the streets but the gutters too.

For the odd time that it was, between 2:00 and 2:30 a.m., the people were doing a variety of things. They were sleeping, drinking beer, reading books and magazines, playing various musical instruments, cooking either late midnight snacks or early breakfasts and eating them, playing cards and a few other games, and doing other things until it was time to move inside the Speedway grounds. Some of the couple were keeping to themselves and seemed to be enjoying each other’s company quite a bit.

When I got back to the car, I opened the door as quietly as possible but still managed to wake dad and Bobby. They asked me how everybody and everything was. We talked and laughed for a few minutes, and then decided to sleep for a while. Bobby and dad sat in the back seat while I lay in the front seat with my head on the left side of the seat by the steering wheel. I took off my shoes and dad had removed all the inside door handles, so that made it a little more comfortable. I finally got to sleep for a while but at 5:00, the traditional opening bomb went off, indicating the official beginning of race day, and bringing to an end my abbreviated night’s sleep.

The three of us sat up, opened our eyes and looked out the windows at the cars and the people. The lines of cars on Crawfordsville Road had grown tremendously in just the couple of hours we had slept. The cars we could see had not started to move yet and many of the people in them were still asleep. We watched the activity and listened to the radio for a few minutes. Then we washed up a little. We had brought soap, towels, and a washrag with us. At 5:15 am, the water really felt cold on my face but my face felt better after I got some of the dirt off it. Our young neighbors to the right were still sleeping.

At 5:30, we took our yearly walk down to Gate 6 and watched the miles and miles of cars go under the track and onto the infield. It sprinkled for a few minutes but not enough to bother anything. We saw the usual sights that we see every year at Gate 6. There were thousands of cars with every make, model, year, and state being represented. The same was true of the people. Some were still asleep and some were still feeling the effect of their beer drinking.

We started walking back to the car about 6:30, and had to be real careful as we walked so that we wouldn’t be hit by the oncoming traffic. We got back to the car about 6:45 and decided it was time for breakfast so we checked to see what we had. We had a hearty meal of pears, cupcakes, potato chips, oranges, potato salad, regular salad, baked ham and beans, bananas, coffee, and water. I started to drink my milk, but I knew in an instant it was sour, so I drank some of the coffee and water. Despite what it may sound like, it was a good breakfast. It had variety if nothing else. When we were stuffed with food, we put away what we didn’t eat, put all of our scraps together, and then washed our glasses, silverware, mouths, and hands. When that was done, we sat in the car for a while and talked, read the newspaper, and listened to the radio.

At 8:15, we decided we might as well leave for the Speedway, so we checked to see that we had everything we should and had left in the car everything that we wouldn’t need. We took our tickets, cameras, film, field glasses, caps, and sunglasses. We got out of the car, locked all the doors, said good-bye to our neighbors, who were awake by now, and started walking slowing to 16^th St. and Georgetown Rd. The first place we stopped at was the Standard Service Station where we used the bathroom facilities. It cost each of us a quarter and we had to wait in line a few minutes, but we felt much better when we left. As we continued on our way, the crowd became larger and larger. Many people were still sleeping in their cars along the side of the road. Many of them were cooking their breakfasts. As we do every year, we ran into Veterans Administration members selling little pins if you gave them money. We gave them some money so that they would quit bothering us. By the time we got to the Speedway, the crowd and the traffic were really heavy. I took a couple pictures of the entrance to the Speedway and then we gave our tickets to the ticket taker. He tore off on part of the tickets and gave us the rest of them.

As usual, the first thing I did as soon as I was inside the grounds was to buy a 50¢ official racing program. Then we started walking slowly to the viaduct at the starting line and took in the many sights along the way. Before we had gone too far, I had to stop and use the men’s room. The place wasn’t real sanitary and it had a bad smell to it, but it was good enough for right now. We saw hot dog stands, soft drink stands, stands selling books, magazines, pennants, caps, sweaters, and other items. At last, our walk came to its end as we reached the viaduct. We turned right and went down low underneath the track. About a minute or so later, we were on the infield and came into contact with daylight again. We walked around the infield for a while, seeing all the people, the garage area, and other attractions. At 9:30, we went to the Tower Terrace seat area where our seats were located.

Before we went to out seats, we walked down the area between the seats and the pit area. All of the pit crews were getting their tires, gasoline, time watches, paper cups, and other items into their proper places. Many of the crews were running the engines of their cars. In this group was the Bowes Seal Fast Special Crew Car No. 1, to be driven by 1961 winner, A.J. Foyt. We noticed that the crewmembers had worried looks on their faces as they raced the engine. There were many pictures being taken of pit crews, drivers, race officials, and other people. We walked down to the entrance to Gasoline Alley, and stayed there for several minutes. We saw several celebrities, including Jimmy Daywalt, Troy Ruttman, Clarence Cagle, and Harry Harty.

About 10:00, we went to our seats. As we walked by the pits, we looked in our racing program to see whom the driver of each car was. The car of Parnelli Jones was in the first pit north of the entrance to Gasoline Alley, and it was drawing a little larger crowd than the other cars were. The usher helped us to our seats. We put all of our equipment under our seats and then looked up and down the straightaway at the track and the huge crowd of people. For the first time in the history of the Speedway, the entire front straightaway, with the exception of a few bricks kept as a memento, was covered with asphalt.

A few minutes after 10:00, the pit crews began pushing their cars to their starting positions. Less than one hour remained now until the green flag fell, indicating the beginning of the race. While all this was happening, the Purdue University band and a couple of other bands were marching up and down the main straightaway to a happy audience. The band, as usual, was doing a terrific job. The majorettes and especially the golden girl made a big hit with the male racing fans in attendance. At 10:00, the bands played “On the Banks of the Wabash.” After the cars had been rolled onto the track many movie and T.V. celebrities, plus famous people from other areas of life, were introduced over the P.A. system and then driven around the track in official Studebaker cars for the race fans to see. Of all the celebrities who were present, the one who made the biggest hit with the audience was Marlena Schmidt from Germany, Miss Universe 1962. She was really a pretty gal.

At 10:30, several USAC and Speedway officials made the final inspection of the track. Many famous people were being interviewed over the P.A. system. Among them were drivers, chief mechanics, car owners, race officials, retired drivers, plus some of the famous movie and T.V. people who were there. With each passing minute, the excitement and tension increased.

At 10:40, the enormous crowd rose to its feet as the Purdue Band played “The Star Spangled Banner” and then sat down. At 10:45, the crowd stood again as the band played “Taps,” honoring those who had been killed in war and those race drivers who had won the 500-mile race but were now dead. After Taps was played, the first group of multi-colored balloons was released from a tent behind the Tower. Everybody looked back and up to see one of the most spectacular sights in their life. At 10:50, the band played the last song “Back Home Again in Indiana” while one of its members sang the words.

When the song ended, it sounded as if everybody started to whisper. They knew it was only a matter of seconds now. The excitement and tension were reaching their climax. Most of the people remained standing. Drivers, pit crew members, and officials were the only people on the track now. All 33 drivers were in their cars. Helmets were on and fastened, shoulder harnesses were tied, seat belts were tied, gloves were on, and pants and sleeve cuffs were buttoned. Portable starters were inserted in the front of the cars and the crew members assigned to the starters were itching to start their engines. Drivers and pit crews held last minute conferences. Everybody was ready to go and just waiting to hear those four famous words.

At last, at 10:53 the P.A. announcer said, “Ladies and Gentlemen, I give you the president of the Indianapolis Motor Speedway, Mr. Tony Hulman.” A couple of seconds later, Tony pronounced loud and clear those four famous words that send everything and everyone into a frenzy, “GENTLEMEN, START YOUR ENGINES!” Almost instantaneously, the thirty-three big engines came to life with a tremendous roar. The noise of the 33 engines all going at the same time in almost the same place is tremendously loud, but to the race fan, it is one of the sweetest and most beautiful sounds he knows. When the starters were removed and the drivers indicated they were ready to go, one crew member from each crew standing at the back of his car raised one of his arms into the air to indicate to the officials that his car was ready to be pushed away.

About a minute later, Sam Hanks, driving the Studebaker Pace Car, with Tony Hulman as his passenger, slowly pulled away from the starting line. One by one, the cars were pushed away as they disappeared into the southwest turn, and crew members scrambled to get themselves and their equipment back to their respective pits. The deep, thunderous sound of the fastest starting field in 500 mile race history could be heard as it traveled down the backstretch. The eternal wait was on. It seemed forever until the cars appeared again. All eyes were focused on the northwest turn, and a few seconds later, the pace car appeared and started down the main straightaway. A huge cheer went up from the crowd. Led by the front row of Parnelli Jones, Rodger Ward, and Bobby Marshman, the rows of three appeared one by one. The pace car was traveling at a good clip as it went by us. The thirty-three cars were lined up perfectly. I don’t think they could have made a better formation. Some of the drivers looked around and waved at the crowd as they passed by while others looked straight ahead. The eleven rows of three each was one of the prettiest sights I’ve ever seen anywhere. All thirty-three cars had started without any trouble, which was rather unusual. The enormous crowd of 200,000 or more gave the drivers a tremendous applause as they passed by. Some waved, some cheered, and some did both. One more time around and the green flag would fall. Once again, all eyes turned to the northwest turn. Patiently, but nervously and noisily, the crowd waited out the time. Bombs were still going off and balloons were still soaring into the sky. Most of the people were standing on the seats. Suddenly, a loud cheer went up. The pace car came out of the turn and it really moved as it came down the straightaway. The field was just a short distance behind and pick up speed. The Studebaker streaked down the pit apron; starter Pat Vidan waved the green flag, the drivers charged full blast for the starting line and THE RACE WAS ON!

As everybody expected, Parnelli Jones jumped into the lead. As they came by for the finish of the first lap, it was Jones, Ward, and Foyt. Jones set a new record for almost every lap he led. He was traveling at 146-147 mph until the 17^th lap when the yellow flag came out.

All of the drivers immediately slowed down. There was a pileup of cars at the end of the northwest turn. Four drivers were involved, including Jack Turner, Bob Christie, and rookies Chuck Rodee and Springfield’s Allen Crowe. Turner received a broken toe and various bruises, but Christie, Crowe, and Rodee were unhurt. When track officials had the mess cleaned up, the green flag came out again, as records continued to fall and be set.

Jones led for all but five of the first 125 laps. Then he ran into some back luck and lost his brakes. Consequently, he had to slow down considerably.

Midway through the race, the Thompson Harvey Aluminum Special had to drop out when an oil seal worked loose in the rear axle housing. This was the only car not powered by an Offenhauser engine. Instead it had a Buick engine.

A.J. Foyt, 1961 winner, was up near the front of the pack until he made a pit stop on his 69^th lap. There was much confusion during the stop and during the process, somebody didn’t fasten the wheel nut on the left rear tire. When Foyt got to the first turn, the wheel came off. He pulled into the infield, unhurt, but was out of the race.

Rodger Ward led the race from about the 170^th lap to the end. Len Sutton and Eddie Sachs tried hard to catch Ward, but they ran out of time. Rodger won his second 500 mile race with a record average of 140.292, finishing twelve seconds ahead of Sutton.

Finishing behind Ward, Sutton, and Sachs were Don Davis, Bobby Marshman, rookie Jim McElreath, Parnelli Jones, Lloyd Ruby, Jim Rathman, and Johnny Boyd. The first four cars broke A.J. Foyt’s 1961 record of 139.130 mph. It was the first time Len Sutton had finished a race at Indy. Eddie Sachs put on another excellent show this year, just as he did in 1961. He started in 27^th position and finished third, with an average speed of 140.075 mph.

Most people agree that barring unforeseen trouble, Parnelli Jones would have won the race if his brakes hadn’t gone out. He was setting new records for almost every lap he led and his car was running faultlessly.

Rookie Jim McElreath’s six-place finish brought him the honor of “Rookie of the Year.” He started in 7^th place with an average of 149.025 mph. About ten minutes after Rodger Ward received the checkered flag, Pat Vidan, the started, waved the red flag, which means the race is finished. Eddie Sachs’ pit crew was near our seats and when he tried to get out of his car after the race, he was so cramped up that he couldn’t stand by himself and had to be helped by his crew members so that he wouldn’t fall down.

When all activity on the track had stopped, the three of us took a tour through the garage area. We saw several of the cars and a few of the drivers. One of the drivers we saw was Ebb Rose. He was with his wife and mother and was talking to some of the fans touring the area.

The cars looked much different than they did about four hours ago. They were covered with dirt, grease, oil, and other items, which distracted from the beauty of them. Those that finished the race or most of the race had taken a beating.

The crowd touring the garage area was real large and it made for difficult maneuvering. If you weren’t careful, the impact of the crowd would move you.

After we had seen everything we wanted to see, we walked across the track and across the pathway between Grandstands A and B. Everybody looked tired and sunburned. Just before we left the grounds, I bought a paper, which told about the Rodger Ward victory. The traffic, both pedestrian and automobile, was real heavy. There were still plenty of beer cans to step on.

We arrived back at the car shortly before 4:00. Our young neighbors on our right were already back from the race and were resting in their car. It really felt good to sit down and get off our feet for a while. The first thing we did was take off our shoes and then drink some water. We had quite a lot of food left and we were hungry so we had what might be called an early supper. It made me feel much better. While we ate, we talked to our young neighbors. We were all tired but had really enjoyed watching the race. I still had several pictures to take yet so I cruised around the area taking various shots. After I took my pictures, we sat in the car and looked at some of the many newspapers we had gathered. We also took in the heavy automobile and pedestrian traffic. The traffic was bumper to bumper for many blocks, but it was moving steadily. When we began feeling a little more refreshed, we cleaned up the mess we had made while eating, washed our silverware, hands, and faces, and then put everything back the way it was.

When the traffic began fading out a little, we decided we may as well leave. We checked to see that we had everything and then we said good-bye to our neighbors and left. Dad drove, I sat in the front seat, and Bobby sat behind me. We drove the few feet out to the street, turned right, and stopped at the stop sign. When there was a lull in the traffic, we turned right and went to Lyndhurst Road. The policeman signaled us on so we turned left and drove south on Lyndhurst. Most of the neighbors were sitting on their porches or in their yards and watching the heavy traffic go by. The traffic was stop and go all the way to the intersection of Lyndhurst and Route 36. As might be expected, it was almost all race fans heading home after a long and tiring, but still pleasant, day. As we always do, we noticed several boys standing along the side of the rode selling the latest edition of the Indianapolis newspapers. When we got to the intersection, we turned right onto Route 36. Incidentally, we left the parking lot at 4:50 and waved our final good-bye to our neighbors in the Corvair.

The traffic was still moving in spurts on the highway. Slowly it began thinning out. We ran into the usual number of pests who were driving excessively slow and holding up traffic, plus those drivers who were out for a holiday afternoon spin. We had our radio on and every newscast had a story about the 500-mile race. When we got to Danville, there were still young boys in the streets selling the late afternoon edition of the Indianapolis newspaper. We traveled through the Hoosier State, observing the pretty spring scenery at roadside tables. At 7:15, we arrived at Chrisman and pulled off to the left and stopped at the same place that we did yesterday when coming over. We got out and stretched a few seconds and then went on in. We sat on stools as we had yesterday, but these were to the left of where we sat yesterday. I took off my sunglasses and my eyes felt much different. There were several race fans there. Each of us had a complete, hot meal that really felt good. I also had a good, cold glass of milk and one of water. When we felt we had had enough, we paid our bill, used the restroom and left. We got into the same seats we had before we stopped and once more, drove west on Route 36 to Springfield.

Many farmers we saw along the saw were enjoying the end of the holiday by sitting on their porches and watching the traffic go by. Most of the sights we had seen during the evening hours of May 30. About 8:45, we arrived at Decatur. For the first time this year, we ran into some rain. It wasn’t very much but it was enough to let us know it was raining. When we got out of Decatur, we picked up our pace again and shortly after 9:30, we arrived at 1157 N. 3^rd St. in Springfield.

We stopped in the driveway beside the back steps. I was a little stiff from having sat in the same position for two hours and had to kick my legs a little before I could walk up the steps. It took each of us two trips to get everything out of the car and into the house. We left everything in the kitchen temporarily and then went in the front room and sat down and told mother all about our trip. Dad and I both washed up a little bit to get some of the dirt off our faces. My arms were still hot from having set out in the sun so long and it stung when I ran water on them.

Once again, our annual trip was over, and for the ninth consecutive year, it had been a most happy and enjoyable time for me. It was dad’s tenth and Bobby’s third trip. I enjoyed every minute of the trip, from the time we said good-bye to mother until we said hello to her again. Despite the usual predictions of possible rain for the race, the weatherman once again smiled on Indianapolis on Memorial Day. The race get faster, the crowd gets larger, and the outside activities connected with the race increases in number every, and 1962 was no exception.

The Indianapolis 500 is unlike anything else. Nowhere and at no other time can one find so many people having such a wonderful time. The 500-mile race continues to be the greatest single day sporting event in the world, and I think it always will be. I consider it a privilege to be able to attend this marvelous event. Each year is the same and at the same time, each year is different. A person must see the race and everything connected with it, in person, before he can appreciate what a tremendous thing it is, and after nine years, I still marvel at all of it. There is almost too much to tell all in one story. Each year when I get home, I’m tired and say to myself, “I’ve had enough for this year,” but I also know that I would be unhappy if I was anywhere else on May 30. Come Thursday, May 30, 1963, I once again plan to be at the Indianapolis Motor Speedway for the 47^th running of the annual Memorial Day Indianapolis 500 mile auto race.

Pace Car – Studebaker Lark
500 Festival Queen – Jerilyn Jones