Race Without Death

The noteworthy thing about Indianapolis' 22nd annual 500-mile auto race last week was not the closest finish on record, not the new track record (104,863 m.p.h.) set by Bill Cummings, but the failure of Death to make its appearance.

What Mardi Gras is to New Orleans and the Derby to Louisville, the 500-mile classic is to a city which once rivaled Detroit as an automobile manufacturing centre. Last week a crowd of 135,000 was sitting in the unroofed stands when the 33 cars, after gathering speed for a lap, rolled past the starter in groups of three. Around the 2 1/2-mile brick oval with an unsteady, insistent roar, sidling awkwardly at the turns, straightening out for speed on the straightaways, whirled the bright-hued machines hardly bigger than toy-store cars. After 30 miles George Bailey of Detroit ran his Scott Special into the outer retaining wall, bounced over to the ground. A broken wrist was his only injury. That was the worst wreck of the race.* Fifty miles farther on two more cars skidded with only minor hurts and the rest of the field was warned to slow down while the wreckage was cleared away.

That lull in the race became important at the finish. Cummings, driving a four-cylinder Miller Special, with No. 7 painted on its yellow hood, streaked across first, barely ahead of a black Duray. To make sure he had finished the race Cummings kept on around the track twice before he slowed down at his pit. Mauri Rose, driver of the Duray, who had led the race from the 250-mile post to the place where Cummings passed him 200 miles farther on, learned that he had lost by 27 seconds. On the ground that Cummings had illegally gained three quarters of a lap while the cars were supposed to have slowed down, Rose's backers lodged a protest which held up payment of the prize money pending a decision by the American Automobile Association contest board.

The Men. In almost every sport there is someone whose nickname is "Wild Bill." "Wild Bill" Cummings got his from his father who was a racetrack driver from 1907 to 1921. Young Cummings was born within earshot of the Indianapolis Speedway, learned to distinguish Barney Oldfield's car by its sound, promised his mother that some day he would win the 500-mile race. He gathered speed slowly, first as a Western Union messenger boy, later as a taxidriver. When he was 16, he began driving in motorcycle races, graduated to automobiles two years later. He finished fifth in the 500-mile race of 1930, entered unsuccessfully for the next three years. Meanwhile he made a good living out of a shop called Ned's Brake Service and a night club in the suburbs. When the night club failed last winter Cummings bought a beer tavern. Two nights before last week's race, he spent the evening there with taxidriver friends, went home and stayed in bed until nearly time for the start.

If the A. A. A. decides in favor of Cummings, he will get $35,000 in cash prizes and 600 points toward the U. S. auto-racing championship which is awarded each year by the American Automobile Association to the driver who compiles the best record in official races. Race drivers who compete in short dirt track races not sanctioned by the A. A. A. may earn as much as $4,000 a year. Drivers good enough to get regular backing in such important races as those at Indianapolis, Oakland, Detroit and Syracuse, may earn up to $15,000 a year in prizes. Winning the Indianapolis Classic often means a job with a manufacturer. Tommy Milton, who won in 1921 and 1923, is on Packard's engineering staff. Billy Arnold, who won in 1930, is with Chrysler. Famed Ralph De Palma is doing sales promotion for Ford.

The Cars-- A good racing car costs anything up to $20,000. The purpose of auto-racing at Indianapolis is mechanical improvement and economy. This year, a new rule required cars to use not more than 45 gallons of gasoline. In Cummings' tank was a new type of gasoline developed by Standard Oil of New Jersey which may be ready for the market in two years. With it he got 20% more than normal mileage, had 8 1/2 gallons left at the finish. Tiremakers consider the 500 miles at Indianapolis equal to 40,000 of ordinary wear. Only nine tires were changed in the race last week.

In the last ten years, motors made by Harry A. Miller, 59-year-old Los Angeles designer, have won eight times. Last week, nine different makes qualified for the race. Miller fours won first, second, third, fourth and seventh places. Harry Miller makes his cars and motors in a 40,000-sq.-ft. factory in Los Angeles. He started in a small laboratory 15 years ago when Tommy Milton, whose cars he had "doctored," commissioned him to build one. He dislikes plotting engine areas, explains his ideas to subordinates who put them on paper. No businessman, he has sold enough patents, like those for the front-wheel drive under which Cord operates, to make him several fortunes. Yet he is perpetually in financial straits, once refusing to discuss a deal which might have made him rich because the manufacturer "talked engines like a durn fool."

So skillful at tinkering engines that mechanics visit his shop just to watch him, Miller no longer works on his cars, has not owned a pair of overalls in years. He amuses himself on his small ranch near Malibu Beach with a group of monkeys which he hopes will be the nucleus of a private zoo. The monkeys are named after famed auto-racers whom their owner thinks they resemble. Another Miller hobby is radio; he has a dozen sets. He has designed marine engines for Gar AYood, contemplated making an airplane motor until he lost interest in flying three years ago because he thought it was too dangerous. He never rides in his racing cars, owns a small sedan which he drives with timid caution.

Tracks. The Indianapolis Speedway, built in 1909 by Carl Fisher and associates, cost $1,000,000. It was originally made of macadam, later topped with 3,200,000 paving blocks. As bumpy as a cobblestone road, it is now the only hard-surface speed way left in the U. S. The old brick tracks at Tacoma and Minneapolis, the wooden tracks at Sheepshead Bay. Cincinnati and Beverly Hills, are no longer used. Syracuse, Oakland and Detroit, big-league tracks sanctioned by the A. A. A., are of dirt.

Current tendency in auto-racing is toward road-racing, which used to be popular in the U. S. 25 years ago. In Europe road-racing remains profitable and popular. Last week in Rome, Carlo Pintaguda and Mario Nardilli, driving a Lancia at an average speed of 564 m.p.h., won the Lictors Gold Cup -- a 3,500-mile race for touring cars over a course that includes four mountain ranges and 97 cities round Italy and Sicily -- in which two drivers were killed, a score injured.

*Week before during practice for the race, Driver Pete Kreis and Mechanic Bob Hahn were killed when their car ran over the retaining wall.

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