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REPOST
- Best of – “War Stories”
We picked out a few of their best and what you’re reading are our picks…
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Freddie ended up turning on the syndicate and got into the witness protection program and moved down to Texas. Five years later, they found him hung from a bedpost. They actually killed Freddie’s brother and that’s why he turned on them. He was a crazy, crazy individual and did not know how to read or write. He thought nothing of killing people. There’s a book out called Murder Machine and you can find a picture of “Broadway Freddie” in it - that was his nickname and it ended up on the side of the car he stole from me. The sport got fairly involved with those kinds of people and they often used the sport to launder money. There was one guy from South Chicago who ran a chop shop operation and got involved in the sport, and they killed him right in front of his chop shop. The sport got really questionable in the Seventies and that’s one of the reasons I got out back then. I was the kind of guy that tried to be nice with everyone and I saw myself getting in trouble if I stayed involved. We had the energy crisis and sponsorships were hard to find. Anyway, getting back to the situation, I was racing out on Long Island a couple of week’s later after notifying the police and Freddie DeNane came out to the race track and visited me with a Thompson sub-machine gun. He was a serious individual, so I said, “No problem, keep whatever you have…I don’t need to know anything further.” – Don Schumacher (originally published May 2003)
That’s when I came in there and the guy told me that he wanted to go to Washington. I said okay and I was really trying to get him out of the room because there were several people in there. We went out to the airplane and there were several planes out there…Lear jets…and some didn’t have any seats in them. I got to this one airplane and there was a guy that I worked with in it and me and this guy climbed into it. The guy jumps in and heads right for the co-pilot seat. Normally, I have a fire extinguisher inside each plane and I was looking for it because that would have put him right out <chuckles>. There wasn’t one. I never locked the door on the plane. We started an engine and it was about that time that the State Police showed up. I procrastinated for a while and then I started to wonder how I was going to take off a Lear jet with the door unlocked. The State Police pulled up in front of the plane. The guy started freaking out with the knife and then the cop got out of the car. The door was unlocked and one of the guys that worked for me walked up too. I made a move for the guy and then we got into a fight. He carved me up a little, but I whipped on him pretty good too. Once they opened the door and the cop put his gun to the guy’s head, it ended real quickly. (We heard the guy was begging the cops to save him. – Editor) – Connie Kalitta (originally published August 2003 a
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With friends like that…THE BROZOVICH CHRONICLES (Part I) - “I was in Memphis, Tennessee one time for a Super Chevy event, and when I went to get in my car for round one of eliminations, I had to step back pretty quick. Lying on the seat was a stick of dynamite with wires attached to a digital countdown clock. I knew I was a wanted man, but did somebody want me out of the picture that bad? This was one of my buddy Jeff Brozovich’s famous practical jokes. The ‘dynamite’ turned out to be a road flare, but it sure looked convincing, and it sure got my attention.”
Part II - “In the late 1980s Brazovich and I were match racing at a track near the Arkansas – Missouri border. I had my Beretta at the time, and I had his car fairly outclassed at the time as far as numbers went. But this was at an old Air Force base, and the racing surface was really horrible. Back then Jeff was one on many up-and-comers who would do everything in their power to try and grab an advantage at the starting line when they were racing me. By then I was considered a veteran, having raced all over the country for quite a few years, and a lot of guys were a bit intimidated by that. Anyway, this particular time, Jeff left so early that I started laughing out loud in the car. I took off, figuring I’d just run him down anyway. Well, the track was so bad that my car shook and I crossed the centerline behind him. I was gaining on him like crazy, so I thought that I’d just cross back over and pass him up, but just as I had the car stabilized and was about to steer over into the other lane, he pulled his chutes! The next thing you know, I’m barreling down the track at a high rate of speed, just inches off his back bumper and totally engulfed in pink parachute cloth! Needless to say, I wasn’t laughing any more - that was more excitement than I planned on having that weekend, I’ll tell you. Somehow, we both got stopped okay, but it was a wild ride for a few seconds, and something I’ll never forget.” Part III - “One time we were at a very fancy restaurant in Indy, and I was sitting next to Carl Moyer, who was a very good sponsor of mine over the years. Anyway, we’re sitting with a group of about 15 people, just talking, when this green pea comes flying through the air and lands on Carl’s plate. He never reacted, but slowly began to look around the room to see if he could figure out where the heck the thing came from. As he leaned back in his chair, he could see around a partition that separated us from another room full of people. Sitting there looking very innocent was Brozovich, who was also sponsored by Carl. Never changing his expression, Carl motioned for the waiter, and calmly said ‘bring me a raw egg,’ to which the waiter said ‘no.’ Carl said ‘I’ll give you five dollars for a raw egg,’ but the waiter still said ‘no,’ so Carl asked him why. ‘Because I’m the guy who will have to clean up the mess later,’ he said. ‘I’ll give you twenty dollars for a raw egg,’ Carl said, and the waiter said ‘I’ll get you two raw eggs.’ Eggs in hand, Carl leaned back and fired them one after the other into the crowded room and then leaned forward as if nothing had happened and continued the conversation. None of us at the table could see past the partition except Carl, and the curiosity was killing me, so I said ‘Carl, I only have one question – how good is your aim?’ He just smiled and said ‘it’s deadly - two direct hits.’ His face then fell as he added…’on his wife!’” – Bill Kuhlmann (originally published June 2002) a
d v e r t i s e m e n t Who said horses can’t fly? – Bill Kuhlmann and I were booked in to do a match race deal at Beaver Springs, Pennsylvania. We were running the Super Circuit back then, and had been at Maple Grove in Reading, Pennsylvania the night before. Anyway, Kuhlmann and I are there to because that was in the formative days of Pro Mod and we were in big demand for match racing. The track at Beaver Springs was a pristine little place – it was kinda old, you know, but they had it all painted up real nice and everything. Of course, it was surrounded by mountains and forests -being up there in that part of Pennsylvania. The track was real narrow, and right at the end there was a big bunch of huge trees and thick woods.
Kuhlmann and I made our run, and as we’re wrapping up our chutes at the top end, I see this guy come out of the timber and come walking kinda stiff-legged towards us from the very far end of the track. As he gets closer, I can see he’s a racer from his torn-up fire suit. He’s as white as a ghost, you know, all scratched up and shaking so much he can hardly talk. “Where the hell did you come from, “ I asked him. “He just turned and pointed to the forest out beyond the sand trap. ‘Out there,’ was all he said at first. He took a few deep breaths, looked at Bill and I and said, “I ran my Super Gas car down through here about half an hour ago, and I couldn’t get stopped at the end of the track. I didn’t want to put it in the sand trap, so I tried to steer around it, hit an embankment and the car went airborne.’ Seeing that he wasn’t hurt, Bill and I broke started laughing hysterically. We just about died when we went down to have a look for ourselves a little later, though. There was this Mustang II totally wedged in the trees about head high – the poor guy launched himself up there and couldn’t get out. Nobody missed him, and they sent us down on our pass not knowing that he was up there, struggling to climb out the window between all the branches. As far as I know that car is still wedged up in that stand of trees – I don’t think that guy ever went back to get it – he probably never raced again. His Mustang is probably a condo for crows or something now. - ” – “Animal” Jim Feurer - (originally published April 2002)
Outside of the track, it was fair game. Once we were building onto our shop and we had some non-union people building it. We had some union protesters come over and start trouble with us and our guys. My dad and I ended up beating on those guys pretty good. They were some big boys. One guy didn't even get out of the car, but I took care of him right there. The other guy actually wore my dad out and he must have been worn out too, so I worked on him for a while and I beat on him until I couldn't hold my arms up and we were almost like a tag team. I let dad get on him for a while and I rested. That boy was taking it pretty good. I had slammed him between the door and the car once early in the fight. My dad had pulled in front of them initially and left his door open. When they were bloodied up and had enough, they decided to leave. You guessed it…they took the door with them. – Scott Kalitta (originally published May 2004)
I remember being in Australia and coming from the Outback from Adelaide. I was down there with Gary Densham. They took us into a little brick hotel. You would have thought you were in Tijuana. The motel was surrounded by water that wasn't too deep. This was a brick hotel that was out in the middle of nowhere. The people in that area actually carried what looked like spears as they walked along the side of the road. It was really the Outback. This has been over 25 years ago… back in 1974. They told us to go in our hotel room and got us some hot beer. We went up to our rooms and it rained like you wouldn't believe. That night, the water rose. They came up to our room and informed us to keep the doors and windows open. I looked at him asked him why. I thought it would let the snakes in. He set me straight and told me it was to let the snakes out. When the water would rise, the snakes would go up the staircase and find their way into your room. I said, "You're sh**ing me, get me back to America." – John Force (originally published March 2000) a
d v e r t i s e m e n t Gotta love those Sullivan County Cops - My memory is not the greatest these days but I can remember running at Bristol in 1965…I think that is the year. It was Larry Carrier’s track and when we got there they were still laying asphalt down. Larry was an innovator and he understood how the spectators and sponsors perceived things. He built a tower that no one else had and it had suites and all. It was a pretty neat deal. They’ve since tore it down and built a new one. He was way ahead of time. He knew what it to enhance the drag racing image and cater to those responsible for spending the money. Larry was a straightforward kind of guy and there was no bullshit with him. He would tell-it-like-it-is and that’s what he would stand by.
Larry had a way of hiring redneck hillbilly cops to work as security of his events. I wanted to go up and look at the starting line, and the cop wouldn’t let me. I tried to tell him that we did it all of the time. He got hostile and the next thing I know I was headed to the pits and they took me to jail and it cost me $250 to get out of that mess. The cop was a real peckerhead. They were calling my name to come to the lanes, from what I was told, and I wasn’t there. I had to call someone to get them to turn me loose. But, that’s what happens when you hire someone from the outside and I was upset at Larry because he knew what was happening and let it all go down. He was paying the people and he should have stepped up, but didn’t have the balls to do it. (We heard it was the only fight that Connie came out on the losing end of – Editor) - – Connie Kalitta (originally published August 2003) Throwing the security guard off of the tower – Nope, that one didn’t happen. I got into a hassle once, but I never threw anyone off of the tower. I really don’t have anything against security guards, but they get overzealous sometimes. Those are the rent-a-cops. But, there was the one time at a hotel. Nah, that wasn’t me that was someone else. (Yeah, we heard it was someone else, too. – Editor) – Connie Kalitta (originally published August 2003)
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d v e r t i s e m e n t Souse of the Border - “One time Animal Jim Fuerer and I were match racing down in Texas, right near the Mexican border, and the track owner took us down into Mexico one night to have dinner. It just happened to be Jim’s birthday and he didn’t know that we knew it. The track owner’s wife was a professional cake decorator, and we had arranged for her to do up a special cake for Animal. Anyway, the restaurant we went to was separated into sections by dividers, and they’d make you sit in a waiting area until they had 25 or so people, and then they’d herd everybody into a section all at once. They’d do that all night long as people showed up.
About this time the lady with the birthday cake had come out of a door behind Jim’s back and was walking quietly towards the table. Of course, everyone at the table had quit talking and focused their attention on Jim because he was about to be surprised from behind. At that same moment, in Jim’s view a partition opened up, and 25 people went streaming through, heading to another room. Jim jumped to his feet, pointed, and yelled ‘Hey! That must be where they keep the donkey!!’” No one else had a clue what he was talking about, but I was under the table, almost passed out from laughing so hard.” – Bill Kuhlmann (originally published June 2002)
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d v e r t i s e m e n t Foggy Mountain Breakdown – Back in 1987, Bill Kuhlmann and I we were barnstorming around the country, and we had a match race in Clay City, Kentucky. Bill still had the old white Camaro that was the first car to run 200 miles an hour, and by that time I had put nitrous on my car, too. We got there early in the day, and the only other people there were Kuhlmann and his crew; the place was deserted.
Anyway, that night everything was going pretty well until it came time for our third race. We had one win each, and this was for all the marbles. It was about midnight, and as we were getting ready to come out this thick fog starts to roll in. It got so bad that the local racers pulled out of line and called it a day. When you were match racing, though, you got paid for each run, and if you didn’t make them all you had a smaller payday. Besides, the crowd all wanted to see us run the tiebreaker. Kuhlmann and I weren’t about to give away any money, so we wanted to make the last run. I asked the track owner if the fog ever lifted, and he said ‘yeah it does – it rises up and then it comes back down. I’ll tell you what – you guys get suited up and in your cars, and as soon as the fog lifts I’ll give you the signal to fire up. We did what he said, and lo and behold, after sitting there for five or ten minutes the fog started to lift. I could see the tree, and down the track pretty well, but it was just like being in a hallway. The guy gives us the signal, and we both do huge burnouts, back up and get ready to go. As we’re rolling to the line the damn fog starts to drop again, and by the time the tree comes down it was about rooftop level. We both launch, and instantly it’s total nothingness – I mean you can’t see anything but some real dim lights off in the distance. At about 600-feet I shook the tires real bad and shut off, coasting to the edge of the track. Meanwhile, Bill is trucking on through, sees some lights, thinks it’s the finish line and he shuts off, too. He’s only at the thousand-foot marker, though, and even though the visibility was now down to zero, I could tell by the sound of it that he hadn’t gone all the way through the top end, so I pulled back on the track, nailed the throttle, hit the nitrous and blasted through for the win! It was so foggy and so dark when we both finally got to the top end that I couldn’t see a thing. Thank God I didn’t have to try to find that damn gate! All I could hear was ‘Animal? Animal? – where are you? Are you okay? I answered back ‘I’m over here – are you all right? “Yeah, I’m okay, but I don’t know where the hell I am!” It took the guys at the track a little while to come get us, because they couldn’t find us! I don’t know for the life of me how we got out of that one. – “Animal” Jim Feurer - (originally published April 2002)
One of those times I remember well took place at Detroit Dragway when
the real cheap promoter was running it. He was one of the cheapest individuals
that walked the face of the earth. They didn't have very good lights
at that track. My dad made a run and he caught on fire. The fire truck
at the other end started running down the track to catch him. It was
night time and you guessed it, the headlights were in his eyes. He hit
the guardrail. At the end of the night, the promoter decided to cut
dad's pay in order to fix his guardrail. I can't really remember what
happened…but I don't think it was pretty. – Scott Kalitta
(originally published May 2004) a
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MAC
TOOLS STAND THEIR GROUND - This
was the week before the 2000 Gatornationals. It was unbelievable. I
had a bad week. I had probably the worst week of my life. I was at the
labor commission with an employee. Then I got a bad haircut…they ruined
it…my head got mowed…I looked like a punk rocker…not that there's anything
wrong with those guys…I looked like a mini Jerry Toliver…a mini me…I
looked like him except I'm much cuter…I got a brand new Jag and then
it got T-boned. My parts didn't fit in my new trailer so it had to go
back. I pick up the newspaper and read that Castrol got bought out and
then a guy on the flight into Gainesville got sick. That was the one
thing that went right for me. I was on the flight with the Grand Marshall
of the Gainesville race in 2000 ... Kevin Smith of Mac Tools. We were
on a shuttle from Atlanta in there. I hate small planes and they warned
us that it was going to be a bumpy ride. I'm afraid of flying. When
I was getting on the plane I realized that he had taken my seat. I didn't
bother him because he was the boss and I found another seat and just
sat down in it on the other side. The plane take takes off and the kid
beside him gets sick. I mean…awww…it was bad. I felt bad. Oh God. It
was awful. This guy was sick as hell and we were all shipping him bags
as fast as we could pass them. I didn't know the sick guy's name, but
that dude was holding his own. Kevin was sitting right there and never
flinched. I leaned over to him and said, "Mac Tools…they always
stand their ground." I thought for a minute that since they were
paying me all of this money I should offer to trade seats… I said to
myself, no f&$#*$& way. – John Force (originally
published March 2000)
You
stole the car fair and square – you keep it - One of
the more unique experiences that I had was in racing on the East Coast
in New York. I don’t remember what track it was at, but we went back
to the motel and parked our car in the parking lot. We got up the next
morning and everything was gone. It had disappeared. I had a complete
operation back home, so we went back there and got it. About three weeks
later, I was out on the East Coast match racing with Jungle Jim. One
of his crew guys told me that he saw my rig over in Freddie DeNane’s
place. Freddie DeNane was a car thief out of Brooklyn, and he ran a
car back then, and he was connected with the syndicate. He was connected
with a group that thought nothing of killing people. I went ahead and
got ahold of the police and put them on it.
Don’t
mess with Connie’s plane - Of course, there’s the urban
legend about the guy that tried to hi-jack one of my planes. That wasn’t
a rumor. That was a true story. I was in my office and the dispatch
area was in the back. This guy came in and wanted us to take him to
Washington. He had a three-piece suit, a brief case and everything.
My people agreed because that’s the kind of business that we are in.
We asked him for a credit card and he opened his briefcase. Instead
of bringing out the card, he whipped out a butcher knife. He grabbed
one of the girls, which today is my daughter-in-law. She escaped from
him and then they called me.
Paybacks
are a mutha – One of my summer jobs was in working with
Dale Pulde and Mike Hamby on the War Eagle. We were in Brainerd, which
was a road course. It was late and I had met a girl and I was trying
to impress her. Pulde had a little Mitsubishi truck. I took her out
on the road course and I never over-revved the motor, but I did spin
it sideways a time or two in the turns. Steve Gibbs happened to see
it. He jumped on Pulde about it. Pulde and Hamby looked at me because
they knew who it was. I admitted to it to Gibbs. He knew me, but it
didn’t matter. Pulde was really mad, but he got me back a year or two
later. We were doing some pics for Miller Beer in 1985. I had a super
tricked-out VW Sirocco and it had the spoiler stuff and all - it was
my pride and joy. Everyone was upset with me because it was getting
late and cold, but I was a perfectionist and wanted everything right.
We had my car running and the lights shining on the photo shoot which
had been going on a few hours. The next thing I know, I hear the shriek
of my tires and Pulde takes off in my car down the strip and up the
return road. He went through the pits and down the strip again. I was
livid. They were all laughing and saying “Remember Brainerd?” That was
a good lesson. – Whit Bazemore (originally published April
2004)
Word
got around - I think our reputation for not being afraid
of anyone prevented a lot of people from wanting to get in our faces.
I used to be scrappy, but I've mellowed out a lot, too. I never got
into it at the races - I never needed to. There was only maybe a few
times we've ever had to deal with an unruly spectator. As much as we
hated to be politically correct, we had to because of all the sponsor
and political ramifications. No one wants to get suspended. My dad got
suspended once for punching a cop in Indy and that has always stood
out in my mind. It served as a deterrent.
Please
take my car, and I’ll throw in a girl - A lot of guys
back in the early days used a ramp truck to bring their cars to the
tracks. When you got to the track, you always needed a tow vehicle.
Before you would start your qualifying for the smaller meets or the
match race, they would always announce “Don Schumacher needs a tow vehicle.”
That would at least stir some interest for the weekend. Guys would come
over with their good looking girlfriends and offer up their cars. Usually,
by the time we left for the weekend, we’d leave with the girlfriend
too. That was a pretty normal happening thing. We usually traveled with
a pretty rough and ready group when we traveled down the road those
days. It wasn’t unusual for us to race five nights a week. We used to
run all over the country and sometimes put as many as 600 miles between
events. During the winter, we all lived out in the Marco Polo in California.
It was right across the street from Disney World. Because all of the
drag racers were there, it was almost like one of the old drive-ins
for people to circulate in and out. It was a different type of lifestyle
and we were just a bunch of gypsies traveling the country. We were traveling
the country trying to be professional and could never really understand
why we couldn’t attract sponsors to get the job done. –
Don Schumacher (originally published May 2003)
AUSTRALIA,
MORE SNAKES AND WOMEN WITH HAIRY ARMPITS - I first discovered
that women didn't shave their armpits in Australia. The first time a
female fan waved at me and she lifted up her arm, I had to look back
to make sure it wasn't a man. Women are hairy in Australia for some
reason, I don't know why. I went out in a field with one…I was single
back then…let's say…to have a picnic…and this guy came by with a giant
tractor. It had all these things on the roof and I thought they were
hoses. I looked closer and saw that they were snakes. He didn't see
me in this clump of trees at the middle of the racetrack. It was a big,
giant, bush area. This track was huge because it had an Indy racecourse
in it. When the guy saw me down there, he told me to get out of there
immediately. It was marshland. I told him that it was nice in the area.
He let me know that there were snakes out there capable of biting a
man and killing him in 20 seconds. I got up and ran out of there. The
picnic ended.
Bad
Girls + The Governor = Bad Situation for Whit – I won’t
say who my sponsor was, but in the 90s, in Topeka…the governor of Kansas
would have a dinner party for the racers. I was invited two or three
years in a row. It was an honor and the Governor knew me well. A nearby
team had a few entertaining girls hanging out. A couple of them were
wearing cut-off shorts and their cheeks were hanging out. I would venture
to say that it was not the most professional image to convey. It wasn’t
my team so I didn’t care. However, the Governor showed up with his family
and a few friends. These are well-to-due and proper people. It was an
honor that they came to see me. As you can imagine…it was a situation
where you want the Governor and his group to hang out as long as possible.
But, at the same time, you don’t want them to see any of the shenanigans
going on nearby. It wouldn’t be cool because there might have been an
association. Any other time, it might have been fine. Those girls sat
in their chairs the whole time, and I kept my fingers crossed that they’d
remain seated. If they had stood up it would have been obvious what
they were and what they were there for. The Governor hung out for 20
minutes or so and left. All was good. – Whit Bazemore (originally
published April 2004)
We
eventually got our table, and Jim was sitting right at the head of it.
I was sitting next to him, and he and I were the only two talking to
each other. Everybody else was talking in little groups, so they couldn’t
hear what we were saying. Jim was pounding back Margaritas at a rapid
rate, getting a little tanked and rambling on about being in Mexico
and the rough part of town we were in. He said he’d even seen signs
for the infamous Mexican donkey show. Now he was being real quiet so
that nobody could hear what we were talking about, and he asked me what
the heck that was all about. I just laughed and told him he was in no
shape to find out.
Anyway,
I climbed up to the top of the rickety old grandstands they had, looked
down the track, and then said to Bill, ‘well, I often wondered where
I was gonna die - I think I know now!” So, anyway, the track owner finally
showed up, and he took us down to the top end to show us their set-up.
He said, ‘it gets pretty dark down here at night, and it gets hard to
see, so I want to show you this.’ He pointed to a ten or twelve-foot
wide gate at the far end and said, ‘if you can’t get shut down, we have
this gate open and you can drive out through it and into the parking
lot of the stock car track next door.’ We just looked at each other,
laughed, and hoped to hell we could get stopped in time.
The
Cheapest of the cheap - The earliest recollection I
have of going to the races was in the late ‘sixties. We had one of the
pull-along trailers that was long enough for the car to fit inside of
it. We had a Ford truck with a camper and I used to watch the races
from there. It was a lot of fun. Back in those days, some tracks used
to turn the lights out at night and let the header flames show.
© Competitionplus 2005
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