FLAWED GENIUS-12
My Creative Father
Chapter 12 ...(first draft)
Time Out!
My writing called a timeout. Words stuck in my brain, refusing to spill through my fingertips. At first, I thought my lack of energy was to blame, then I considered whether being old and easily distracted were the causes. Gradually, though, I realized my writing had ground to a halt not long after I ran across an online article published in the August 2016 issue of Vroom Kart International titled, Bill Cowling Jazz Arranger Who Built Karts by Frank Weir.
The article's first page showed a picture of Dad sitting in a Bandit. Other images of Bandits, myself, Billy Moseley (see previous chapter), a reproduction of Dad's 1962 Swoopster brochure, and a 1,500 word article filed out the four page spread. It took me back.
Frank Weir had gone to Evansville to research LMC Midget Motors. With help from Dennis Au, Historic Preservation Officer for the City of Evansville, Indiana, he uncovered much of the story behind Dad's company and the Swoopster Bandit. The article provided the following background information:
"Vintage karting "aficionados" Ted Johnson and Charlie Craibe unveiled their renovated 1962 Swoopster Bandits at the 2009 Rear Engine American Racers meeting The Big One held annually in Fremont Ohio. The event is dedicated to remembering and preserving the karts and engines of American manufacture that were raced during the period from 1956 to 1972. The original Swoopsters won many prestigious Midwest karting events during 1962 (BC: 1960-61) and were different in design and appearance from the Bug, Caretta, Dart, Evans, Fox, Go Kart, Hornet, and SAE that made up the majority of karts raced in the USA at the time."
The article triggered a landslide of images. Kent, the young machinist working for Dad, was described as a "...young man straight out of high school who could run any machine like a seasoned professional." I remember Kent vividly. Ten years older than me, with a light year of experience separating us, he fascinated me. Yet no friendship developed as it did with other adults at the shop and track. Kent had a bad boy vibe. His quick mastery of whatever he applied himself to, high self-opinion, and quick temper matched Dad's personality step for step. In the article, Frank diplomatically sidestepped why Kent left the shop. I remember heated arguments between Dad and Kent. Frank described their dynamic as follows:
Kent and Bill would later part company; actually, Bill sacked Kent for not driving to team orders, which required Bill's son Bobby to be the race winner at a prestigious meeting.
This statement created mystery #1 for me. Kent raced C Class and Super C if he could fit a big enough engine onto his Swoopster 500. I raced Junior class, as far apart as apples and bandsaws. We were never on the track at the same time. Kent did not work on my kart. He didn't hang around our pit area. I can't imagine anything Kent could do on race day that would affect my racing. I have a shadow memory of Dad firing Kent for not following directions at the shop, which is entirely believable given their history. People are often the most challenging element in any business. Dad could charm people in the short run, but his personality sometimes took a toll on working relationships.
Mystery #2 came from the following quote of Kent's in the article:
"Bill Cowling never came to work in the mornings but worked late at night. He was responsible for designing the kart, but surprisingly, there were no drawings to communicate what he wanted, just verbal instructions!"
Surprised the hell out of me. As mentioned earlier in this book, I watched Dad draw the plans for the Bandit, including the aluminum swing mount and other components, which Kent would have machined. All our memories are subjective. I remember going with Dad in 1958 to Futura's plant, where the first Swoopsters were built. Later, Dad described problems leading to the end of their brief corporate partnership. Might there have been a disagreement over design ownership that caused Dad to be more than careful with his plans? Kent was sharp enough, and Dad was sufficiently verbal that I could picture Dad describing what to machine without showing him drawings. I have no doubt those drawings existed.
The article and my memory conflicted. This stopped my flow of words. Once I worked through this chapter, I got back to writing. Here's an image and link to the article:
https://issuu.com/vroomkartinternational/docs/vroom_int._182_lr/91
ABOVE LEFT: Dad with the World Team trophy. RIGHT: Dad and my collection of karting trophies. NOTE: Of the two tall trophies in back, the NAKA Nationals first place trophy is on the left.
Click here for the Karting World article with the above pictures.
We raced in Owensboro, Kentucky during the last weekend of July. It was a sweet set-up with a one third mile road course, grandstands, and pits. All new. The track's main straight was longer than the Speedrome, with seven twisty turns on the backside. Bill Sterritt and his boys were there. They said hello, but I felt they would rather I didn't exist. Possibly because I was smaller, younger, and faster than either.
When the Double Super A class ran its first heat, I saw Bill and Dad leaning on the pit fence watching Billy Moseley race. I drifted over to hear what they were talking about. Billy and another guy were going at it tooth and nail. Billy ate him up in the corners but could not keep up with him in the straight.
I heard Bill Sterritt say, "That driver of yours is hell on wheels through the turns, but Harold has too much engine for him on the straight."
"His name is Billy Mosely. Nicest guy you'll ever meet. Hell of a driver. Makes our karts look good. Who's the other guy?"
"That's Harold Maglinger. President of the local club here. Got way more money than talent. Love to see your Billy take him. Somebody needs to." The race finished with Billy coming into the main straight for the checkered flag three kart lengths ahead of Harold. The finish line was two thirds of the way down the straight. By the time they got there, Harold had just passed Billy for the win.
"Shouldn't that finish line be in the middle of the straight?" Dad said.
"Used to be. Don't know when they changed it. We don't race here that often. But you bet your bottom dollar that Maglinger had his hand in it."
Billy won the second heat, moving through traffic easier than Maglinger, which left them tied with a first and second each heading into the final heat. Unfortunately, the third was a repeat of the first. Billy lost by inches at the finish line.
In August, we went to the GKCA Nationals in Mansfield, Ohio. A long way from sixteen, I could only watch from the pit fence. Dad chose not to race, taking pictures and having marketing meetings instead. The track was in the back lot of Rupp International. Mickey Rupp's father owned the big manufacturing company. To build his Dart Karts, Mickey took over a section of the factory and used company engineers and fabricators. Gave him a hell of a price point advantage over other manufacturers like Dad. Dart karts were well-made and priced below market, but their design lacked innovation.
The best race of the day was between Billy Mosley and Chuck Florian, Mickey's paid professional driver. Even with the huge factory behind Chuck, he did no better against Billy than Owensboro's Harold Maglinger. Chuck had more engine; Billy owned the turns. Chuck won the first heat by inches. Billie won the inverted second heat by several kart lengths. The difference in handling was stark. Racers entered the back straight from a thirty degree banked turn and drove straight at the pits, turning a sharp left at the end of the straight, about forty feet from the pit fence. Billy would lead Chuck out of the banked turn from the tighter section of the track; Chuck would pass him on the straight. Chuck set up for the turn, much like Mickey, but at a less extreme angle. His inside front wheel lifted three inches off the ground through the apex of the sharp turn. Billy entered the same turn in a modest four wheel drift with all four tires planted firmly on the track, getting back much of Chuck's lead from the straight. In the third heat, Billie blew one of his engines just when he was pulling away from Chuck. Out of the race. Dad, Larry, Tom, I, and a few others hanging on the pit fence let out a collective groan.
"He had him in that last heat, don't you think, Dad?" I said.
"Yes, Son. I think he would have beaten him. That would have been something. Billy, on a working guy's budget, doing all his modifications in his garage, beating the Dart Kart factory sponsored professional driver at their home track. Not to be, however. It's a damn shame."
The following month, we got a late start on a long drive up the length of Indiana, through Chicago, and to Dousman, Wisconsin, for the NAKA Nationals. Dad ran number 11, and I ran number 7 for all our races. We qualified for the Nationals by sweeping the Regional and Sectional races. Getting to registration late, we found my number 7 had been taken in the Junior classes. I had to run 8. I had nothing against number 8 until the weekend was over. I experienced an entire season of bad luck during those two days.
I set track record fast times in both my classes. Dad was close behind. In my first Junior A Bushing race, I was in front by half a lap when my engine died, caused by Barney, our pit guy, forgetting to drill out the plastic ball in the breather hole of my new gas tank. Pulling into the infield was miserable. As I was lapping the field in Junior A, I passed a slower kart on the outside of a switchback. He could not hold his racing line, went wide, and bumped me off the track. I kept racing but soon got black flagged: three wheels off the track was an automatic disqualification, no matter the reason. Problems continued. I brought home only one fifth place trophy, instead of two, five foot tall first place beauties.
Dad was out of his Senior A classes early. He replaced Barney in his Senior A Bushing kart, which Dad had provided him. Together, they won the class. Barney likely would have won it himself. That first place trophy was important to Dad's marketing efforts. I felt sorry for Barney at the time. In retrospect, Dad looked childish. The trophy looked the same in pictures, no matter who won it. Dad may have taken the kart from Barney because of his screw-up with my gas tank.
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