Ancient History

In late July of 2004, the 22nd to be precise, a few will celebrate the 110th anniversary of what many consider to be the first contest for automobiles. On that date in 1894, 21 entrants participated in something more akin to a point-to-point reliability run than a race - the "winner" not being the first to finish the 126-kilometer run from Paris to Rouen. While a steam-powered De Dion was actually the fastest and the set the fastest time for covering the distance, the gasoline-powered Peugeot and Panhard-Levassor machines got the nod instead.

Although the first actual head-to-head contest by self-propelled vehicles intended to travel by road - when necessary - was held in July 1878 on a one-mile horse racing track at the fairgrounds in Oshkosh, Wisconsin, credit for the "automobile race" is credited to the Paris-Bordeaux-Paris event held in June 1895. This event covered a distance of nearly 1,200 kilometers and took over 48 hours to complete. 1895 also witnessed the first Italian and American races, the former won by Simone Federmann in a Daimler Omnibus and the latter by J. Frank Duryea in a Duryea Motor Wagon.

Not that any "racing fans" out there really care, of course. "Racing fans" seem to have almost zero interest outside the narrow range of racing and racing-related events which occurred within the scope their personal interest in motor racing. It is not merely the current crowd of "racing fans" who have known nothing else but Ferrari and Michael Schumacher - many whose interest in motor racing was whetted by folks such as Jim Clark or Emerson Fittipaldi are equally as uninterested in anything much beyond when they became involved in following Clark or Fittipaldi.

All this is, of course, perfectly understandable. People tend to not be very interested in history to begin with and what little history that they do have an interest in is usually due to a personal connection to the era or event or area they study. Besides, history requires some effort and that simply is not going to be expended by most, especially if it means that other interests have to be reduced or cut back.

I find that the races at the dawn of the motor racing era are just plain fascinating. Indeed, the period up to 1916 is one of the most interesting and fascinating in all the various periods of motor racing. It has drama, triumph, tragedy, politics, celebrities, mysteries, heroes, and spectacle.

Motor racing was developing on both sides of the Atlantic during this period and in slightly different ways. In America, horse racing and its associated gambling did not sit well with many during the Progressive Era. Many of the States either outlawed horse racing outright or placed such restrictions on the sport that its attractions withered for many - especially when one considers that many States prohibited the public sale and consumption of alcohol long before Prohibition was placed into the Constitution: drinking and gambling were both targets of the reformers and both usually took place at the race tracks.

It is a bit of a historical anomaly that the site of the first automobile event on an oval track was at the Rhode Island State Fairgrounds, Narragansett Park, in Cranston in September 1896. The event, part of the annual State Fair, saw a crowd estimated to be almost 50,000 people show up to watch the cars run on the muddy one-mile track. In September 1915, the track was converted to a one-mile concrete oval track and demolished in 1925, the racing ending in 1923.

In 1900, James Gordon Bennett, Junior established the Coupe Internationale, better known as the "Gordon Bennett Cup." The events ran from 1900 to 1904 and led to the Automobile Club de France (ACF) developing its own great event, the Grand Prix de l'Automobile Club de France, which ran from 1906 to 1967. From 1968 onward, it has been merely the Grand Prix de France.

In the first years of the 20th Century, motor racing in Europe usually consisted of point-to-point races, the originating site being usually Paris and the destination another capital city. The cars were started at intervals and generally dashed from one point to the next as rapidly as they could, such items as crowd control, closing the course, and safety being often quite hazard and even non-existent. A crash in one of the vehicles of the time could carry with it very serious consequences. Serious injuries and fatalities were not uncommon, but neither were they as commonplace as one might imagine.

In 1903, the ACF ran its major event of the season, another city-to-city race, this time from Paris to Madrid. The ACF was unable to finalize its plans for the event until March, scarcely two months to the running of the race. The French government had been increasingly lukewarm towards such events, but was finally persuaded to agree to the race through a combination of diplomacy - the Spanish readily consented to provide its part of the security and other requirements needed for the race - and backroom pressure from the automotive and industrial interests, very powerful and influential patrons to more than a few politicians in Paris and elsewhere.

On 24 May 1903, a field of 216 racing machines left the starting plaza outside the Versailles Palace at intervals and headed for Bordeaux, 522 kilometers away, the site of the end of the first day's racing. It was a warm, pleasant day and literally hundreds and hundreds of thousands of spectators lined the roads to watch the machines speed by.

Although most descriptions of the race are rather overblown, hyper-dramatic accounts of what is inevitably referred to as a "death race," there was little at the time to anticipate that the event would turn out the way it did, something of a fiasco.

The problem was primarily the combination of dust and the fragility of the machines. The roads were generally not only unpaved, but still better suited for horses and wagons than racing cars now capable of speeds in excess of 100 kilometers per hour. The field of over 200 cars and motorcycles were launched on the first leg towards the Spanish border at 0345. The last competitors were flagged away as the first were entering Tours. Charles Jarrott, the first to leave Versailles was also the first to arrive at Bordeaux, told of the long wait and the whispers of the crashes and injuries that began to filter in as more and more of the competitors arrived. Lorraine Barrow, teammate to Jarrott on the De Dietrich team, died along with his mechanician after hitting a dog wandering loose on the road and then striking a tree. About a half dozen spectators and one of the Renault brothers, Marcel, died that day along with Barrow and his mechanican. Many others were injured as the result of crashes or flying rocks.

When the extent of the mayhem that was enveloping the event became known, the ACF was in a bit of quandary as to whether or not to continue the event. The Spanish government helped make matters easy by simply canceling the necessary permits for the event once it crossed into Spanish territory. Most accounts seem to leave the impression that the Paris-to-Madrid race brought racing, particularly city-to-city racing, to a halt. Not quite the case. A month later the Circuit des Ardennes was run on a course at Bastogne as was the Coupe Internationale at Athy in Ireland.

What is remarkable about the Paris-to-Madrid event, is that the winner, Fernand Gabriel, started deep in the field - his race number was 168 and the numbers were assigned by starting order - and managed to be among the first to reach Bordeaux. A truly remarkable performance and a spectacular display of driving which easy stands up today. That Gabriel had to contend with the dust, the rutted and torn up roads, crowds edging into the road, and the debris which literally began to litter the roads and absolutely smash any hope that someone could challenge him for the victory is often overlooked. That this remarkable feat is absolutely ignored today is enough to make one groan - and groan very loudly at that....

Riding next to Louis Renault as his mechanican during the Paris-to-Madrid race was a Hungarian working for the Renault brothers, Ferencz Szisz. Perhaps his name will surface in about two years as part of the centennial celebrations for the running of the first Grand Prix de l'Automobile Club de France in 2006.

Speaking of celebrations, this Fall - 8 October - will be the centennial of the first running of the William K. Vanderbilt, Junior Cup on Long Island. I have yet to hear much of anything about any plans to commemorate this occasion. Naturally, I am not very surprised by this. I am certain that some sort of celebration will be laid on, but strange that few seem to have any real interest in all these centennials rushing at us literally over the coming months.

A parting piece of information that might be a bit of interest to one or two out there. Here is something from a work-in-progress that I have been laboring on for a good while and which seems to finally nearing some level of completion: a look at the first season the Contest Board of the American Automobile Association held a series of events to crown a National Champion.

This excerpt is not a championship event, but an event that is interesting in that even today you can actually drive the course used back in 1916.

Here is the Corona street course located today:

3rd Corona Grand Prize
Grand Boulevard
Corona, California
8 April 1916

Distance: 109 laps of 2.7689-mile boulevard road course for 301.810 miles
AAA Sanction No. 897
Promoter: Citrus Belt Racing Association of Corona, Inc.
Starter: Frank Lowery     Referee: F.H. Ott
Formula: Class D
Purse: $12,000

Corona, about 50 miles, more or less, Southeast of Los Angeles was laid out by its founder, R.B. Taylor like a wagon wheel. Grand Avenue Boulevard circled the town like the rim of a wheel and the interior streets functioning somewhat like the spokes of a wheel, although the topography prevented the actual use of such an arrangement. The distance covered by Grand Boulevard was just under three miles - officially it was measured at 2.7689 miles. In November 1914, Eddie Pullen, driving a Mercer, had won the race from Barney Oldfield in his Maxwell. There was an estimated crowd on 100,000 on hand to watch the event.

The Corona road race was revived after a season when the race was unable to be held due to the lack of an effective organizing effort due to internal bickering and no leadership taking the helm. This state of affairs could be directly traced to the notion that the only folks who seemed to benefit financially from the event. Whereas those owning property fronting Grand Avenue Boulevard had willingly signed over the right of the race to be held on their doorstep in 1914, once several refused to do so, others soon fell in line. Thus the event was abandoned.

After that unpleasant experience, a new organizing committee was established, the Citrus Belt Racing Association of Corona. In part, the committee was spurred to action as much by the perceived, rumored demise of other Southern California venues as Santa Monica, Venice, and San Diego as well as the desire to revive the event.

The Citrus Belt Racing Association of Corona certainly thought big. Rather than just revive the event, the committee applied to the Motor Cups Holding Association and the AAA Contest Board to host the American Grand Prize and Vanderbilt Cup races, preferably the former. The association managed to scour the local merchants and other benefactors to raise $12,000 to show that they were quite serious. Indeed, the association made it clear from the start that even if their bid for the "International Grand Prix" - as some referred to the Grand Prize event - that Corona would host an event.

One small problem arose that gave the association some concern: the Grand Avenue Boulevard course was considered not a road course by the Contest Board, but, well, a boulevard course. There was no provision in the rules for hosting the Grand Prize or Vanderbilt Cup races on a "boulevard" circuit. Yes, there had been an amendment which allowed the races to be run on a speedway - for an substantially increased sanctioning fee - but, apparently not on a road course. In their application the association argued that the circuit was really a road course. All they could do was hope for the best.

Alas, world soon came from the Motor Cups Holding Association that Corona would not be considered as the site for either event. With word coming on 17 March in the midst of series of rain storms which had left the course in sorry shape, there was a distinct possibility that the race just might be canceled. There was faint satisfaction that Sheepshead Bay was also denied the events or that the races would once again remain in California, Santa Monica once again being selected to host the events.

Having already spent considerable time, effect, and capital on the event, the association decided to run the event on 8 April, a Saturday. This was the soonest date that it was agreed that the roads could repaired and the race preparations completed. Wires were soon crisscrossing the nation as the association asked the Contest Board for a sanction for their 300-mile event, the Corona Grand Prize. Chairman Richard Kennerdell of the Contest Board assured the association that their request for a sanction would be honored. For reason not clear, the Corona Grand Prize was not placed on the calendar of National Championship Trail events. That did not deter any of the possible entrants, especially with a purse of $12,000 of which $5,000 went to the winner. Plus, there was the usual accessory monies to be earned, so this was an event which warranted attention.

Prior to the start of official practice in 1 April, Hughie Hughes got permission to do several laps of the course in order "to test the gearing" of his 12-cylinder Sunbeam. After taking a few laps to warm up the car, Hughes then uncorked a flyer. With a lap of 1 min 34.2 sec, Hughes averaged 106 mph on that lap which was the fastest lap yet run west of Chicago. Hughes later said that the test session led him to change the gearing to allow for perhaps laps in the 115 mph range. With the previous lap record being at 102.8 mph and set by Bob Burman in the 1914 event, there was great speculation as to the speeds which would be reached on the circular course.

The entries were similar to those who had contested the opening events at Ascot Park, with a few additions and deletions. Mercer was to be represented by Eddie Pullen and Joe Thomas in their red cars; Hughie Hughes with his Sunbeam of course; Teddy Tetzlaff in the purple Milac; Eddie O'Donnell in a Duesenberg; Bob Burman would drive either his faithful red Peugeot Burman or a Premier which said to being rushed to completion for his use in the event; Earl Cooper was entered, still ailing and dodging surgery; Barney Oldfield would be driving his Delage and his Cyclone - a Duesenberg-engined Fiat - would be driven by Cliff Durant, the "Millionaire Kid" and entered as the Chevrolet Cyclone Special; Durant's mount at the San Diego race, being fully repaired after its excursion into the hay bales, would be driven by the "daredevil Italian," Tony Janette; Sterling Price in his Apperson, and who was following Hughes' lead by changing the gearing to allow higher speeds; Lou Gandy in one of his own specials, with "Lightning" Ed Waterman in the other; and, J.P. Edwards in his Edwards Special III. Others that might participate were Omar Toft, still recovering from his injuries suffered at Ascot Park, the car now repaired and now once again race-ready and a few others such as the Tahis Special or the Lentz Romano Special.

Practice began on April 1 and continued through the week. For all the hopes of a large starting field, by race day the grid held only an even dozen starters. And one of those was a close call. On Wednesday, Earl Cooper had a tire fail at over 80 mph. The car snapped out of control and ran into one of the many palm trees lining Grand Avenue. The force of the impact of the Stutz hitting the palm cut the tree off at the point of impact. Incredibly, neither Cooper or his mechanician were injured. The car suffered relatively minor damage considering the nature of the crash. The Cooper team went to work repairing the Stutz, the major problem being a bent frame. In a 36-hour session, the car was somehow made ready for the start of the race.

Just before one o'clock on a warm, breezy Saturday afternoon, the 12 cars starting the race lined up at the starter's stand. They were arranged in three rows of four. On the hour, the pole-sitter - by virtue of drawing ballots - "Lightning" Ed Waterman in Lou Gandy's Stutz Duesenberg led the field off for a single pace lap, Waterman being instructed to hold the pace at 50 mph. As the cars passed the flag stand at the end of the pace lap, starter Frank Lowry flashed the flag and the Corona Grand Prize was on.

From his position on the second row, Bob Burman moved past the others to lead the first lap. While Burman was pushing the red Peugeot to stay ahead of those on his heels, notably Eddie Pullen, Earl Cooper, Joe Thomas, Eddie O'Donnell, and Teddy Tetzlaff. Others were already in trouble. Hughie Hughes stopped at the end of the third lap, his right rear tire in shreds. Cliff Durant pitted on the next lap with the same problem as did Oldfield another lap later, it becoming apparent that the right - or outside - tires would be in for a beating on this absolutely flat, circular "boulevard" road course. Throughout the event, the toll on the right rear tire would climb as car after car was forced to pit when that particular tire either failed or the driver scrambled into the pits before it did.

At the front, a red Mercer - Pullen - replaced a red Peugeot - Burman - for the lead. Scarcely had the lead switched than one of the lead pack, Cooper, headed for the pits and a tire change. Only five laps after the stop, however, Cooper was out the race, eliminated by a failed crankshaft bearing which was later traced to being a result of his collision with the palm tree on Wednesday.

On the same lap that Cooper pitted, Pullen did a lap at 96.8 mph, indicating that the pace was very quick at the front of the pack. The warm, breezy afternoon soon changed to a hot, sunny afternoon and this pace was prove difficult to maintain. Burman was being frustrated in his efforts to catch the leader by both a slipping clutch and for what would finally total up to eight stops to replace tires and work on his mechanical ills. The clutch problem got to the point that when the crew finally wearied of pushing the car away, they jacked up the rear wheels allowing the tires to spin freely and then dropping the jack so the Peugeot could hit the asphalt with enough momentum to propel the car back onto the course.

Hughes was another plagued with no end of problems, finally retiring with clutch failure. Durant's Cyclone Fiat seemed to devour tires and he seemed to be in the pits as much as he was on the course itself. While Thomas was also suffering from tire problems, he had the benefit of the Mercer pit crew who were easily the fastest by far of all the crews. This allowed Thomas to not fall hopelessly behind as was happening with some of the others.

In the meantime, the "Smiling Irishman," Eddie O'Donnell, was once again sailing along at a pace which was fast enough to be in the hunt, but slow enough to conserve his tires. The strategy reaped its benefits by the 40th lap when he passed Pullen to take the lead. By the time Pullen finally pitted, he was already a lap down on the Duesenberg. Despite his rapid pit stops and rapid pace on the course, Pullen could not mount a real threat to O'Donnell for the lead.

"Terrible Teddy" Tetzlaff had taken over the Omar Special of the injured Toft when little purple Milac broke its crankshaft during practice. After a lackluster start, Tetzlaff had managed to put himself into the second spot by the 50th lap, a full lap and half behind the white Duesenberg. Tetzlaff managed to hold station with O'Donnell but could not cut into the lead that had been built up.

The "Smiling Irishman" was firmly in the lead by the 50th lap. As well as the 60th, 70th, and 80th laps. Behind him, things began to shuffle around a bit. Burman had really gotten the bit between his teeth and not only closed in on Tetzlaff but passed him to take second. Thomas soon was also past relegating Tetzlaff to fourth.

Once Burman was past Tetzlaff, he began to pull out all the stops and set after O'Donnell in the same fashion which had initially earned him the moniker of "Wild Bill." O'Donnell finally pitted, but only for gasoline and oil, choosing to not change the tires. This was the break Burman was waiting for and he flung his red car around the course at speeds not seen for literally some hours.

Then disaster struck. As the Peugeot was traveling at a speed estimated to be about 100 mph, the right rear wheel collapsed. The car, near the very point where Cooper had crashed on Wednesday, began to spin to the left, or to the inside of the course. The car then hit the curb on the inside of the street, breaking the stokes of left side wheels. The impact with the curb then launched Peugeot into the air, the car beginning to roll. As it flew through the air, it cut down one of the course guards. It also snapped a telephone pole in two, bounced off the front of a spectator's car parked on the edge of the course. The wreckage tumbled into a group spectators. Both Burman and his riding mechanician, Eric Schroeder, were thrown from the wreckage. They landed near each other nearly 50 feet from the wreckage. Both were still alive when medical assistance arrived. Schroeder died on the way to the hospital as did Burman mere minutes later.

Later, the fault for the crash was pinpointed as being due to the presence of an unprotected culvert which projected about two feet onto the course. When the right rear wheel of the Peugeot struck the culvert, the impact collapsed the wheel, breaking the spokes. There was also the absence of a safety area at the point where the deaths occurred. In addition, the course was lined with trees and utility poles. Nor was there any protection provided for the spectators at that point or anywhere else along the broad sweeping course. Automobiles - such as the one struck, and spectators were lined up within a foot of the race course, the only "barrier" being what was described as "a flimsy wire fence supported by two-by-fours," in the 15 April 1916 issue of Motor West.

In addition to the deaths of Burman and Schroeder, W.H. Speer, the course guard, died instantly when hit by the flying Peugeot. Five spectators were listed as being seriously injured and taken to the hospital for treatment. The exact number of those receiving lighter injuries was not determined, but estimated at perhaps a dozen or more easily.

Despite being right behind the Burman/Schroeder crash, O'Donnell somehow managed to avoid the carnage. With Burman's accident, Thomas was now in second with teammate Pullen now threatening Tetzlaff for third. When O'Donnell finally crossed the finish line to take the checkered flag, he was met with silence from the massive crowd, the three deaths and the injuries now being common knowledge.

Both O'Donnell and Tetzlaff ran the entire race using their original set of B.F. Goodrich Silvertown tires. Needless to say, this feat was loudly touted by the tire-maker. The five of the first six were on Goodrich tires - Durant being the exception. The first four also used Oilzum lubricant and Ventura gasoline.

Second place Joe Thomas had been Pullen's mechanician on his last visit to Corona. Tetzlaff stepped into the Omar Special ride less than 24 hours before the start. He had not had any practice with the car and his efforts to hold off the challenges at the end were foiled by an engine which was missing very badly by the end.

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