I have to admit, I was pretty stunned earlier this week when online voting concluded for the Most Memorable Moments in NHRA World Finals history and Shirl Greer’s amazing comeback from a nasty fire in qualifying to win the 1974 Funny Car championship was named to the top spot.
Don’t get me wrong, I’m a huge Greer fan and am intimately familiar with the histrionics of that weekend at the 1974 World Finals at Ontario Motor Speedway, but it was up against a huge juggernaut in Tony Schumacher’s fabled “The Run” from the 2006 Finals and one of the most improbable performance-based scenarios in the sport’s history.
Also, 10 years ago, when we did a similar vote during the event’s 40th anniversary, Greer’s moment finished just ninth. This time, Greer’s rise from the ashes garnered a full third of the vote, easily outdistancing “The Run,” which earned 22 percent. John Force’s rollover at the 1992 event – winner of the vote 10 years ago – finished third with 11 percent, just ahead of Jeb Allen’s thrilling 1981 championship, which earned 10 percent (helped no doubt by the humbled-to-be-remembered Allen’s recent email exhorting friends to “vote for this guy,” showing a photo of the now fit and healthy champ on his mountain bike).
We lost Greer four years ago, but his sons, Brian and Van, continue to honor their father by annually presenting an award they call the Old Champs Choice award to racers they think their dad would have liked and through Brian’s creation with Anthony Dicero of a Nostalgia Funny Car reminiscent of his dad’s Mach I.
I heard from Brian earlier this week, and it was clear what the vote meant to him and his family. “I wanted to thank you and the entire staff at NHRA for listing Dad's championship as one of the top 10 moments,” he wrote. “It is a huge honor for my family and myself. Again, I cannot thank you guys enough and express how much it means to me and my family to be a part of the rich history of NHRA, and I thank you for all that you have done for us and for Dad.”
In honor of the win, I’d like to share some of the details of that great comeback, which I chronicled earlier this year in our National Dragster Readers Choice issue. I think a lot of people know the basics, but I was able to chat with many of those who helped to get about as complete a retelling as I think is possible. I think you’ll discover why the voters felt as they did.
From 1965 through 1973, NHRA’s championships were decided at the World Finals, where the top division finishers converged and the winner of the event’s final eliminations was crowned world champion. To some, it seemed an inequitable way to settle the season, with a year’s worth of hard work possibly disappearing in a millisecond of bad luck or breakage.
In 1974, NHRA returned to a points-based system (NHRA had crowned its first champions, from 1960 to 1964, on a points basis that relied heavily on divisional events), and few will forget that groundbreaking year, especially for the drama in one class, where it took a literal trial by fire for a champion to be forged.
Most people remember how Greer clinched the championship, but that was only the dramatic final act of a dream season that earned him the title he proudly wore until his passing in 2010.
A rough start
Greer’s championship was largely won on the divisional circuit, where he suffered through some rocky outings but often emerged victorious.
Greer’s championship season certainly didn’t start on a good foot. He skipped the first Winston Championship Series (WCS) divisional event of the season to run a well-paying match race, then bowed out in round one of the Gatornationals, where, despite holding lane choice, he picked the wrong lane and went up in smoke against Al Bergler.
In a late 1974 interview with National Dragster, Greer remembered, “When the year started and I had heard about that points deal, I thought it seemed like a pretty good idea, so we decided to give ’er a try. … I wasn’t aware at the time that you got bonus points for running all of the WCS races in your division, and that really hurt me later. [Losing early at the Gatornationals] really put us in a bad spot.”
With no incentive to race exclusively in his home division, Greer and crew traveled to the Division 4 event at La Place Dragway in Louisiana, where he not only won the race but qualified No. 1 and set low e.t. and top speed, all of which were worth points.
The momentum seemed ready to continue when Greer qualified No. 1 at his next event, the Division 2 WCS race at Virginia’s Suffolk Raceway, but when crewmembers dived into the trailer for a fresh batch of pistons to replace some they had burned, they discovered that their spare pistons had accidentally been left at home. He ran the engine on burned pistons in round one but could only run the car to 800 feet before throwing in the towel.
Paul Smith, Greer’s toughest competition not only in his division but, ultimately, in the battle for the season championship, won the event and assumed a commanding points lead.
Greer won the next Division 2 event in Blaney, S.C., but it also was not without adventure. He qualified No. 6 but again damaged the engine. As he was adjusting the valves, one of the springs worked loose and catapulted itself off the cylinder head and hit Greer, knocking him to the ground and out of action for a while. Ultimately, the team repaired the damage and Greer recovered and, showing remarkable composure, won the event on three straight holeshots, including in the final, where he beat Smith, 6.80 to 6.70.
Greer’s next event, the Springnationals in Columbus, was a humbling “die by the sword” experience because this time, he was the holeshot victim, losing to lower-qualified Tom McEwen on a 6.62 to 6.60 count. To make matters worse, Smith reached the semifinals, putting Greer further behind, and both trailed 1973 champ Frank Hall, who had won two of the three Division 4 events to date and had been runner-up at the season-opening Winternationals.
“When I look back at all of the dumb things we did early in the year, it really surprises me that we won [the championship],” Greer later admitted.
Things begin looking brighter
En route to the championship, Greer also scored his first (and only) Funny Car victory when he defeated Kosty Ivanoff in the final in Montreal.
What happened next changed the whole complexion of Greer’s season. Engine woes also knocked him out at his next race, the Summernationals, in round two, but Smith had bowed out in the opening stanza.
“If Smith hadn’t gone out in the first round, I would have quit the whole thing right there,” Greer said. “But he didn’t gain any more points on us, so I figured that we should give ’er one more try.”
That try took place at NHRA’s only non-U.S. event, Le Grandnational in Canada, where Greer and Smith qualified No. 1 and No. 2, respectively. Smith was upset on a semifinal holeshot by Kosty Ivanoff, and Greer defeated "Pee Wee" Wallace, Al Segrini, and, in the final, Ivanoff to claim his first national event win and pull within 21 points of Smith for the lead.
Hall bounced right back into the lead with a win at the Division 6 event in Seattle, but that was his final divisional event of the season, and when he surprisingly failed to qualify at his final points-earning national event, the U.S. Nationals, his total was sealed at 4,220, setting a goal for the two Southern rivals.
Greer, too, surprisingly failed to qualify in Indy, and Smith just barely scraped into the field in the No. 16 spot and lost in round one. Prudhomme won the race in what incredibly was his first Funny Car victory in more than two years in the class, and he suddenly became a factor for the championship battle.
Greer’s victory at the final Division 2 event of the year in Gainesville — which included a holeshot semifinal win over Smith, 6.91 to 6.77 — had momentarily given Greer the points lead over Smith, but Smith got bonus points for competing in all of the division’s races that year, which gave him the lead, 4,409 to 4,235, heading into the World Finals at Southern California’s Ontario Motor Speedway. Prudhomme was fourth, behind Hall (who could not earn points) and Greer (by 270 points).
A fiery finish
Incredibly, Smith failed to qualify after hurting his good rear end, and Greer was already solidly qualified and, with 200 points in the bank, in the points lead when he pulled to the starting line in Saturday’s final qualifying session hoping to better a 6.47.
At about the 800-foot mark, a crack in the crankshaft caused the main bearing to spin, and the No. 2 and No. 3 rods exited the side of the block. Oil poured onto the headers, igniting a ferocious blaze. Greer hit the fire bottles, but the engine kept running, pumping more oil into the blaze.
“The fire bottles would put out the flames some, but that oil would still keep coming out of the block as that engine just kept idlin’; it seemed like it would never shut off,” recalled Greer. “Before I knew it, the flames would just start coming up again.”
The entire rear section of the car had been burned away, and Greer was transported to a local hospital with second-degree burns on his hands and lesser burns on his face.
“As they took me away on the stretcher, I looked at the car and said to myself that that was the end of that one, and there was no way I was gonna get enough points to win,” said Greer.
No one wanted to see Greer’s season end that way, and in a wonderful display of sportsmanship and camaraderie, season-long rival Smith, fellow Funny Car racer Al Hanna, and a large group of others began thrashing on the wounded Mustang. From his hospital bed, Greer assured his crew that if they could fix it, he would find a way to drive it.
The remains of the car were hauled to engine builder Steve Montrelli’s nearby shop. Hanna took the lead role in the thrash, tearing apart the car’s driveline — clutch, two-speed, and rear end — while Montrelli built a new engine. Smith and his crew, meanwhile, took dimensions for the back half of the car and went to chassis builder Don Long’s shop to begin building a replacement rear end out of aluminum.
“We knew we didn’t have enough time to do it with fiberglass because there wasn’t enough time for it to set up, so we had to use aluminum,” recalled Smith.
Rising from the ashes
The newly formed rear end was attached to the remains of the body using rivets, screws, and duct tape, and everyone involved wrote messages on the aluminum and even drew on taillights and a license plate with a Magic Marker. It took 17 hours to resurrect Greer’s mount, and although the car certainly wouldn’t win any Best Appearing Car honors, it was deemed race-worthy.
“I got back to the track at 11 in the morning on Sunday, and when I saw the car all patched back together, I couldn’t believe it,” said Greer.
“It looked dastardly,” said Hanna, “and NHRA was really concerned about it, and it was Prudhomme — the guy with the most to lose and nothing to gain — who convinced them they needed to give Greer a chance.”
LeRoy “Doc” Hales was in his second year as medical director of the NHRA Safety Safari, and it was his duty to determine whether Greer could safely drive the car.
“Shirl’s hands received some nasty, painful, second-degree burns in the fire,” he remembered. “Fuel drivers were still wearing poor glove protection because they wanted flexibility with their fingers and hands.
“Jack Hart was the event director at that time and came to me and said he wanted to make sure that Shirl was safe to drive because of his burns. Jack and I called Shirl to the event office and told him to bring all the driving gloves he had. I examined his bare hands, which had the aforementioned nasty burns, and asked Shirl how he felt about driving.
“He said that his hands hurt, but he would be good to do what he had to. His hands were bandaged with ointment and gauze. I asked him to put on two pairs of gloves, which he did. I then put three of my fingers out and told Shirl to grab them with his hands, one at a time. I told him that if I could not pull my fingers from his grasp, he could drive; if I could get loose, then he couldn’t drive. I thought Shirl would break my fingers, he squeezed so hard, but I couldn’t pull my fingers out from his grip after two tries. Shirl wore his two pairs of driving gloves and WON! I am still grateful that Shirl held on during my ‘finger test!’ Imagine how I and everyone else would have felt if I and Jack Hart had disqualified him from driving that day.”
Greer’s safety equipment had been damaged in the fire, so Hanna loaned his buddy his firesuit and helmet, and Prudhomme came to the rescue by providing a set of garden gloves to cover Greer’s bandaged hands before he put on his fire gloves.
Down to the wire
Prudhomme had entered the race 270 points behind Greer, so he needed to go two rounds further than Greer to catch him.
Both Prudhomme and Greer won their first-round races; Prudhomme beat Gene Snow, but Greer’s victory over Leroy Chadderton was not without drama. In the hectic pit work, the blower bolts had only been put on hand-tightened, and although it survived until near the end of the run, it backfired in the lights, damaging the body again and the windshield.
There wasn’t a spare Mustang windshield to be found, so while the other mechanical work was being done, another pair of Funny Car racers, Gordie Bonin and Paul Radici, set about adapting a Vega windshield to the car. When the second round began, the team was still in the pits, working hard, but all work stopped for a second, and ears were tuned to the PA system when Prudhomme pulled up to race Dale Pulde. Pulde beat Prudhomme with a stunning 6.16 national record blast in Mickey Thompson’s Grand Am.
“We were still working on the car right up until the minute that Pulde beat Prudhomme and still probably could’ve got ’er done with just five or 10 minutes more time,” said Greer. “But when Prudhomme got beat and they started announcing that I had won the world championship, I told everybody to just forget it. Everyone had worked too hard already, and it would’ve been pretty shaky to make another run.”
Greer finished with 4,641 points, Smith with 4,409, and Prudhomme with 4,380.
“All the rest of the day, I just couldn’t believe that we actually won, and it took a while for it to hit me,” said Greer. “I just can’t thank all the people who helped me enough. All of the racers, especially Smith and Prudhomme, who lost out on a lot of money with me winning the title, were just tremendous. I can’t thank ’em enough.”
“It was a well-deserved championship, to come back from that fire and still run,” admitted Prudhomme years later. “They don’t make ’em like that anymore.”
Congratulations to Greer and his family, again. It was a moment well worth remembering and saluting.
After a two-week side trip down the memory lane of Raymond Beadle’s life, let’s return to our previous thread on photo hoarding. As noted previously, I believe that it’s a widespread practice among drag racing fans – yours truly included – while browsing the Internet. If they spy a particularly fetching photo, they can simply right-click on it and save it to their hard drive for their viewing or sharing pleasure. I showed off a few from my relatively small collection in that first column.
Alan Earman shot this famous photo of Tom McEwen for a DRUSA story.
I also noted that I’m pretty fervent in seeing that photographers get credited for their work, even if it has been pilfered from the Web. Unfortunately, none of the photos I posted have had their creators identified, but I’m hopeful that they, and those in my second batch below, will be duly credited.
Between that column and this, I was proud to hear from Alan Earman, another of the small but talented group of 1960s-70s photographers whose work populated those great early drag racing magazines. Being one of those whose works do get re-used beyond the original copyright, I was interested in his take.
“In the early days of drag racing, a photographer would receive photo credit as payment for the pictures and a press pass that would get you entry to a track, and the recognition the photographer got when their photos were published with a photo credit meant something to them,” he wrote. “They became part of the drag racing fraternity. And to a great many of them, that was more important than the little monetary compensation they got if you were lucky enough to get paid. I find it very sad that most of the older photos I see online today, there is no mention of the photographer. I'm happy however to know that the interest is still there for the older photos.” Amen, brother.
And with that, on to Part 2 of Phil’s Treasures.
Believe it or not, I had this photo tabbed to be included before we lost Beadle because it’s a pretty rare item. OK, let’s overlook for a second that this Funny Car is doing a burnout in the staging lanes at Orange County Int’l Raceway and focus on the machine itself. Yes, race fans, this is the Blue Max before car owner Harry Schmidt christened it as such. In its earliest incarnation in 1969, the car (driven by Paul Gordon and Jake Johnston) was lettered just with Schmidt’s name. It wasn’t until later that year, when Schmidt saw the movie Blue Max and fell in love with the emblem, that the car got its name.
||This one tugs at my heartstrings. Two of our dearly departed heroes, Pat Foster, right, and Gordie Bonin, were officially welcomed into the Cragar Five-Second Club as its third and fourth members during the 1979 World Finals at Ontario Motor Speedway.
Foster cracked into the fives April 8 of that year in Fremont with a 5.98 in the Super Shops Arrow, and Bonin joined him after a 5.97 at that year’s U.S. Nationals in his memorable Bubble Up Firebird.
For a complete listing of the clubs (and all other NHRA Performance Clubs), click here.
Even the best of drivers lose the handle from time to time. Here’s Brad Anderson chasing the starting-line staff at Fremont Raceway in what I’d guess would be about 1973. I saw Anderson a ton during my many years at OCIR but only saw him crash once, later in 1983. The car got loose off the starting line and hit and then climbed over the guardrail. Anderson couldn’t repair the car in time for the Finals (also at OCIR that year), so he borrowed Mike Grieco’s similar car and won the race. (Gary Aronson photo)
As I said before, the photos that I hoard are the ones that strike a chord in me, and this one does. It’s the crew of Lew Arrington’s Brutus, their evening done for whatever reason, perched atop their ramp truck to watch the rest of racing. Love the period clothing, too. Sweet photo.
I’m a sucker for one-off Funny Car bodies, and Sheldon Konblett, founder of the Service Center line of hot rod shops, is one of my heroes for that. After fielding a Lawdawri kit-car-bodied car called Chicken Little, Konblett introduced his successful Ford LTD flopper (dubbed Peanuts) in 1966, which he followed with this wild 1961 Jaguar XKE that he called Snoopy. I talked to Konblett’s son, Greg, earlier this week, who shared info about his dad and the cars. (Sheldon died in a boating accident in 1986.) The names for the final two cars were inspired not just by Konblett’s love of the Peanuts comic strip, but also because they ran in what was commonly called “the funny pages” -- funny pages, Funny Car. By all accounts, Peanuts was an ill-handling car, with some blame attributed to the body itself and possible loads it put on the tires. The car, which was featured on the cover of the November 1967 issue of Car Craft
under the blurb “Snoopy’s Laughing Jag,” got so scary that Konblett’s wife forbade him to drive the car. Johnny Hoffman, a 26-year-old driver from Norwalk, Calif., took over the controls, and on his maiden pass on March 30, 1968, the car went out of control at more than 170 mph at Lions Drag Strip and rolled six times. Hoffman was killed, and Konblett, grief-stricken by the accident, retired from serious racing. Pretty sure this photo was taken by the late, great Bob "Plum" Plumer.
Here’s another oddball Funny Car, Texan Ray Capps’ Head Hunter Dodge Charger, circa 1967. It’s hard to believe that he could see through the windscreen with the top so severely chopped, but this photo just invokes for me that “Well, we’ll never know until we try it” methodology of the sport’s pioneers.
Gotta love this pic of the late, great Jack Chrisman blasting off the line in his GT-1 Mercury Comet, circa 1967, with the exhaust blasting under the car in the days before zoomie headers. The car stunned the Funny Car crowd at the 1967 Nationals with a 7.60 blast; no other car ran in the sevens.
I remember first seeing this stunning pic in one of those wonderful Drag Racing Photo Greats magazines that Mike Doherty used to publish and had forgotten all about it until I came across this copy of it online a while ago. The first good news is that, thanks to that old magazine (which I still have, of course), I can tell you that the photographer was Marty Lemmermann and that the driver was Gerry Studnicka, who actually got away with relatively minor injuries. And, thanks to my good pal and jet-car pioneer Roger Gustin, I can tell you exactly what went wrong with this jet-powered, Romeo Palamides-owned AMC Javelin. According to Gustin, the event was the annual Labor Day race at Great Lakes Dragaway in 1972, and thankfully for him, Gustin turned down a chance to drive the car because he had his own car, the Time Machine jet Funny Car (his first jet car).
“This was two years before I got the jets approved by NHRA,” he reported, “and at that time, there were no rules or safety standards or tech inspections for jets. (It will be 40 years, on Nov. 10, since NHRA approved the jet-car program, and I received the first license to race jet cars). I was on the return road and watched this horrible scene.”
Gustin said that a number of factors, including rotted fuel lines and the use of a J-34-36 Westinghouse engine – the only jet engine ever built to use gasoline rather than J-P4 kerosene or diesel fuel – were to blame. “All the other jet cars with this type of engine had a gas-start system, and as soon as the engine started, they would switch to kerosene because gas is much more flammable than kerosene,” he remembered. “Romeo chose to use gas only for fuel, and the main fuel line split at high PSI, which sprayed fuel into the driver area. [Because there were] NO rules, there were no fire bottles. Note also that Gerry had no gloves or face shield. His only injuries were his hands and face; the heat boiled the master cylinder, so he had no brakes, but the car stopped on its own. He was a very lucky guy. Romeo did destroy this car, and it never ran again.''
If you’ve been around for a while, you’ve probably seen the famous photo of wheelstander king “Wild Bill” Shrewsberry standing up through the windshield of his L.A. Dart in mid-wheelie at Fremont, but I bet you’ve never seen this one of “Wild Bill” doing the same at Orange County while a passenger in Gary Watson’s Paddy Wagon, which is probably where he got the idea. I emailed Watson to find out how the heck this magic moment came about. “It was at the end of an eight-car show, and the track had all eight at the starting line for fans to vote on best show,” he remembered of the run, which was in November 1967. “They asked us all to return to the pits, and ‘Wild Bill’ jumped in and rode to finish line up in the air.” And you wonder why they called him “Wild Bill.” (Here’s the answer
I’ve loved Jim Dunn since the first time I saw Funny Car Summer
, and his rear-engine Barracuda was not only the most successful of the breed, but also a lot of fun to watch, as this photo from Lions Drag Strip attests.
Speaking of rear-engine Funny Cars, here’s a pretty interesting shot of Gary Gabelich’s ill-fated, four-wheel-drive, rear-engine car minus its Vega panel wagon body. That’s Cragar President Roy Richter trying out the cockpit with Gabelich showing him the controls. I wrote about this car here
a few years ago during the rear-engine Funny Car thread.
And speaking of four-wheel-drive cars, here’s a wonderful shot of Tommy Ivo’s four-engine, all-wheel-drive Showboat. It’s the only color action shot I’ve ever seen of the car, but Ivo tells me there are others, but, this, too, is one of his favorites. What’s clear through all the smoke is that it’s Ivo’s car and that the photo was taken at Lions Drag Strip (check out Lions manager C.J. “Pappy” Hart, right, and starter Larry Sutton watching in the background). What’s not clear is who was driving. Ivo and Ron Pellegrini disagree. Ivo tells me that it’s Tom McCourry (who replaced Don Prudhomme after the pre-“Snake’s” short stint in the car), and Pellegrini swears that the helmet is too high in the cage to be Prudhomme and thinks that it’s himself in the car.
Pete Everett was the man behind the popular Pete’s Lil Demon Funny Cars of the early 1970s, driven by Leroy “Doc” Hales, Bob Pickett, and a few others. Everett also owned a Southern California Chevron gas station, which explains this great photo. It's from Hales’ driving era, but, according to the good doctor, whom I reached by email earlier this week, that’s not him climbing out of the car but Everett’s son, Bill. Hales was unable to attend the photo shoot because he was in medical school classes at the time. You can read a whole lot more about Hales in the column I wrote a few years ago (Leroy 'Doc' Hales: World's fastest doctor
“Pete Everett and I had a GREAT relationship,” he went on to tell me. “I grew up without a father, and from the age of about 16, when I began working at Pete's Chevron gas station, we developed a relationship that was somewhere between a father and big brother. Pete was the best man at my wedding in 1974. We had a great time racing on a modest budget but didn't travel much, mostly because I was in college at USC, then medical school at UC Irvine. Pete and I did almost all the engine work, except for machining, with tuning help from Gary Smith (Ansen wheels and Arias pistons). Pete had a great work ethic and loved the adulation of fans and the companionship of fellow racers. We held our own as relatively low-budget weekend Funny Car racers. Those were some of the best times of our lives for both of us. The last time I actually saw Pete was when I took him to the Bakersfield Hot Rod Reunion in 1997. We stayed in touch until he died from complications of Alzheimer's disease about five to six years ago.”
Gee, I can’t think of a single reason why Don Kohler called his Top Fueler the Defiant One, can you? Wayne Farr built this shorty car, which was fitted with a ’23-T body. The car was later lengthened and fitted with a more conventional body.
To say that the early Pisano Bros. Funny Cars were cursed would be like saying that the sky was usually blue over Orange County Int’l Raceway. After a safe 1968 with the ex-Doug Thorley Corvair, brother Frankie Pisano wiped out their new Corvair in an on-track tangle with Randy Walls at Irwindale Raceway in early 1968. Then, later that year, as pictured here, Sush Matsubara (in what I understand was his first drive for Papa Joe) lost the handle and backed Joe P’s third Corvair into the top-end guardrail at OCIR. Matsubara then stacked up Pisano’s Camaro at the 1970 Supernationals at Ontario Motor Speedway after breaking the rear end. In 1971, a big fire at the Fremont Raceway PDA event claimed the next Camaro. The car was so cursed that Drag Racing USA
devoted a whole story to the travails in the November 1971 issue.
Lil' John Lombardo was known as one of Southern California’s most consistent and hard-running Funny Car racers, but his choice in paint schemes sometimes left something to be desired.
In addition to being one of the best Top Fuel racers of the 1970s, ol’ “Big Daddy” Don Garlits was also a bit of a pyro. Fire burnouts were a frequent part of Garlits’ match race show. Another photo by Plum I believe.
Give Steve Reyes due credit for this photo of “the world’s fastest hippie,” Mike Mitchell, lighting up his 'Cuda at Irwindale Raceway. This photo, one in the great line of Pop Rod Show Stopper images that appeared in each issue of Popular Hot Rodding
magazine in the 1970s, brings back nostalgic memories to me, as I practically wallpapered my bedroom with them.
OK, that’s it for today. I have a few more in my “collection” that maybe I’ll share someday. I’ll also offer up the chance for some of you to share your hoarded collections in the future; send your 10 favorite pics to me at firstname.lastname@example.org, and I’ll publish the best. See you next Friday.
It shouldn’t come as a surprise to anyone, but the loss of Raymond Beadle a week ago Monday has surely resonated within the NHRA community, and my request last Friday for your personal tales of what Beadle meant to you was welcomed to the, ahem, max.
I know how I felt about Beadle as a giant in the class, so I wasn’t surprised to see him referred to by some of you as a god and other superlatives.
Let me kick this off with some words from someone I probably should have included last Friday, Don Schumacher, who put Beadle into the saddle of one of his three Stardust entries — Schumacher drove one and Bobby Rowe the other — in late 1972, and later transitioned into the Wonder Wagon cars. I spoke to Schumacher earlier this week while working on the Jimmy Prock news story, and he was happy to share his memories of Beadle.
“Raymond had a remarkable sales ability that led to real changes in the sport in merchandising but also sold himself to me to get that ride,” remembers Schumacher. "He was a great driver and a real character; no matter what, you had to respect Raymond Beadle. What he accomplished after he partnered with Harry, I have my hat off to. He left behind a remarkable record. He was a good guy, and I always enjoyed seeing him at the Dallas race and at Indy once in a while. I missed seeing him there this year. We mourn his loss.”
met Beadle in 1972 when Beadle just started driving for Mike Burkhart. “I approached Beadle about shooting the car for Drag Racing USA
. Beadle didn’t know me from the man on the moon, but he just smiled and said, ‘Sure let’s do it.’ Before we parted that day, he had filled out my tech sheet and made sure I had the correct info. No other racer had or has ever done that.
“Our paths would cross on the Funny Car match race circuit for the next six years. When I worked for Argus Publishers as their photographic director, out of the blue (no pun intended), Beadle calls and wants to know if I’d like to go to England with the Blue Max gang. A chance to tour with the Blue Max? Hey, I’m ready. I ended up going twice to England with Beadle, ‘Waterbed,’ and Emery in 1978. All I can say it was a once in a lifetime tour, and we had a great time.”
Scott New, whose family owns famed Firebird Raceway in Idaho, will never forget his first brush with Beadle and the Blue Max. “The Blue Max made a number of appearances here, including a one-night match race with Kenney Goodell on a Tuesday night (who was a last-minute substitution for John Dekker's Assassination Funny Car from Denver, who couldn't make the mid-week bash after breakage, I think). I'm pretty sure the special race in the mid-‘70s was likely a mid-week stop gap between similar events in Seattle and Portland. To no one’s surprise, the place was packed.
“When Dad booked him in for one of our original Nightfire 500 events (as it was originally called), all of us New boys really thought the Lord was making an appearance at our track, especially after Bill Doner lit up the Boise airwaves with a slew of radio spots clamoring that the legendary Blue Max was coming all the way from Texas to join a field of fiberglass fantastics. My father was thrilled when Beadle won our Nightfire in 1978 — it was a huge highlight for all of us in the New Crew, a memory that is virtually etched in stone up here in Spud country. I think my dad wore his Blue Max cap with those gold sewn military-style ‘eggs’ on that Max hat for the next decade or even two.”
Howard Hull, a former employee at Orange County Int’l Raceway and a frequent contributor to this column, shared his remembrances of a memorable moment with that Blue Max team that occurred at the 1977 Winternationals in Pomona.
“Bill Doner, the great drag racing promoter in the ‘70s and ‘80s, who had all the racetracks on the West Coast, had me drive him out to the track in his limo that he had purchased from the driving school at OCIR. I would carefully park it next to Blue Max pits and hang out with Harry [Schmidt] and Fred [Miller], and Bill would grab his briefcase and walk around and meet with the racers and the NHRA officials Friday and Saturday. Fred and Harry were working on the car, so I got to help between rounds, twisting wrenches with them and setting the valves. I took a school notebook and started making notes on the settings each round as I learned on how to tune the race car and the setup — quite different from today. At the end of the day, Doner would come back, gather me up, and home we’d go. After Saturday’s qualifying, I pulled some ice-cold Coors out the cooler in the trunk and gave them to the guys. Doner yelled at me for giving his beers away. I told him, “My friends let me work on the car this weekend, and we qualified well,” and Beadle jumped in about me knowing anything at all about the engine. As I was telling my side and the teams I had helped at OCIR over the last few years, Harry quietly showed him two bad gaskets that I had caught along with a cracked head bolt. Beadle then walked up to me and gave me that famous Beadle smile and turned to Doner, ‘[Expletive] off, he’s working for me now.’ Doner start laughing and headed us home."
(Above) Beadle lost the 1977 Winternationals Funny Car final to Don Prudhomme, but Jerry Ruth (below) beat Don Garlits win Top Fuel.
Sunday, Sunday, Sunday: Beadle’s pit was a circus for sure. Grant McNiff, the former manager of Seattle Raceway, with Doner, his kids, and Bill’s kids were all running around. The late Steve Woomer, owner of Competition Specialties, was along with us; it was a fun Sunday at the races. Just before the semi’s, Beadle told the kids, who had been riding in the back of the tow vehicle from the starting line to the finish line, that they couldn’t ride this round: ‘We may blow up, so you guys have get off.’ Beadle wins that round with the foot mashed on the pedal through the lights and a motor with a hole in it. The thrash was on.
“Unlike today’s teams with eight guys and all of the technology, back then it was 90 minutes and three guys, so we all jumped in. Either Chip or Jason McCulloch went running over to Goodyear to get a new set of tires while I pulled the heads off and had to grind them down on the edges to make them fit the new block. We had several other racers working alongside, changing out the used fire bottles, wiping off the oil, and changing out the parachutes. ‘Jungle Jim’ was in charge of crowd control with a cocktail in one hand and the pennant string of flags, holding back the crowd as we worked frantically on the car.
“The car is finished, and we — kids and all — pile into the limo and roll through the staging lanes; this has to be a first as all of the NHRA officials just waved me through. I parked close to the starting line, and we watched as each class makes their final run, but Don Prudhomme beat the Blue Max in the final. However, Jerry ‘the King' Ruth, from Seattle is in the finals next to Don Garlits and has Competition Specialties on the side of the car as sponsor. Ruth wins big, and we all pile into the car, and I slowly drive down the racetrack to the finish line. I pull up next to Beadle and ‘Snake’ as they are chatting, and Bill opens the trunk. ‘Snake’ comes over and looks inside and starts laughing and says, ‘I like how you boys travel.’ He and Beadle grab a cold Coors and wish each other the best as they walk off to their tow rigs.
"As I drove the car home that Sunday evening — the kids sleeping, the adults chatting away — I slowly replayed that weekend’s events through my head; I wondered how much of a letdown high school was going to be the next day after spending the weekend helping out on the Blue Max.”
, who was married to one of Beadle’s ‘70s peers, Tripp Shumake, remembers well the Blue Max halter tops for which Beadle and Co. became famous.
“Raymond made sure all the ladies in the pits had one on,” she remembers. “I was fortunate enough to get one from him and wore it often. The races back east were always hot and muggy. Years later, my daughter, Heather, came across it and continued the legacy by wearing it during her college years. Raymond was not only a great racer and friend but also a smart business man who certainly knew what he was doing when he came up with the Blue Max halter top.”
Here’s a sampling of some other Raymond Beadle memories I received.
Murray McDonald: “Growing up in Western Canada, I never got the chance to see the Blue Max in action until my first trip to Indy in 1981, but I was a fan long before that. Reading National Dragster, SS&DI, and seeing the occasional race on TV made me a Blue Max fan. I remember getting a postal money order and mailing it to Texas for a Blue Max T- shirt; when the package arrived, it contained two T-shirts and two English Leather ‘on the go’ kits, which was awesome because I only ordered one shirt. I also recall sending fan letters to various racers, and the only replies I received were from the Blue Max and Terry Capp. This thoughtfulness only made me more of a fan. In this current world of computers and social media, I finally gave in and joined Facebook and signed up to follow the current edition of Blue Max Racing. A few months ago, I saw a post from Raymond Beadle asking what the car ran. I thought it was so cool to see a post from him, and it took me right back to the early ‘80s with the same excitement I had then when receiving my Blue Max parcel. For my generation, it truly was the golden era of drag racing, and there was no bigger star than Raymond Beadle and the Blue Max. Rest in peace, Mr. Beadle.”
Pat Welsh: “The 1979 Summernationals were magical for one reason: Raymond Beadle. I was 13 years old and attended all four days. During Thursday qualifying, Beadle ripped off the first five-second pass in a Funny Car at Englishtown. There were maybe 800 people in attendance, and I was honored to be one of them. After the run, he hopped on the highway to catch Bruce Springsteen in concert, I think in Philadelphia. He himself was a rock star. He came back on Saturday to run a 5.94 that paced the field by nearly a tenth of a second. He would go on to win the event over second-time finalist John Force.
"That same event had the Blue Max Top Fuel dragster with Dave Settles behind the wheel. He ran a 5.79 or thereabouts for the No. 1 qualifier. They went on to the final and lost to the unbeatable Jeb Allen.” [PB note: According to Settles, a brand-new input shaft broke on the run while he was leading Allen.]
“The next year, Beadle came back with that beautiful deep blue Chaparral trailer that was just immaculate. There wasn't a detail in that operation that wasn't first class. I was thoroughly impressed. That same trailer is still in operation on the current day Blue Max Nostalgia Funny Car. Raymond Beadle, thanks for the great memories. They are forever etched in my mind.”
John Jamison: “After reading your wonderful, heartfelt story on Raymond Beadle, I had to send this picture to you. It was taken Oct. 19 at Mo Kan Dragway in Asbury, Mo. It is a small track that opened in 1962 that has somehow managed to stay viable through all these years. I grew up nearby in Joplin, Mo., having been baptized on nitromethane from the likes of Terry Ivey and Omar Carrothers back in the early ‘70s. The Blue Max was in for a one-day match race with Ronny Young in the seat. I was able to speak with him, and he shared many stories of the Max and, of course, Raymond.
“When driving home, I was so excited for what I had seen, taking me back years when drag racing was, for me, the best. After learning of his passing the following day, I suppose what I also experienced was RB making his final spiritual pass down the quarter-mile. RB is certainly in a heavenly place now, but thanks to him, the Blue Max will live on forever.”
Kelly Westphal: My dad, Bob, who passed away in June 2013 from cancer, was hired by Raymond in the winter of 1979 to run his newly formed machine shop. My dad had been the shop foreman and head engine builder at Ed Pink’s from 1969-1977. He first met Raymond when they did engines for Don Schumacher. Long story short, in addition to doing his Funny Car engines, machine work, etc., Raymond appointed my dad to build the engines for the new sprint car team with driver Sammy Swindell. There was an alley that separated the buildings at the shop, on one end was the dyno room, and across was where Pat Foster built the Funny Car chassis. My dad was having troubles with an engine and got mad, to which he grabbed a few quarts of oil (Cam2 was our sponsor) and stepped outside and hurled them towards Foster’s shop, splattering oil everywhere! Foster comes running out to see the commotion, and Raymond steps out of the shop where Emery, Fred, and Dee were working on the car and casually walks to my dad and says, ‘You know you have to clean that mess up, don't you?’ LOL.”
Russell Cox: “Raymond was in and out of my life starting about 1977. I was working part time for ‘Moose’ at T-Bar chassis on Gasoline Alley (Reeder Road) in Dallas, and there was always a group of who's who in the shop. I was so thrilled to meet Raymond one evening. I was a nobody, but he was kind and friendly. Raymond had a new chassis there from Tony Casarez (T-Bar did most of Tony's tin work; this was before Raymond hired Pat Foster as his full-time chassis builder). A couple of years later, I went to Raymond looking for a crew job; he had nothing. However, on his own long-distance nickel, he called Paul Candies and inquired on my behalf. That was class. I ended up working for the late Gordon Mineo, where we crossed paths a good number of times.
"As I ‘grew up’ with a real job, Raymond and I crossed paths once again. He was now the owner of Chaparral Trailers, and I was with Prior Axle, the supplier of all the solid bar trailer axles used on those trailers. This continued on until the closing of Chaparral. We are all terminal, but Raymond's passing is as hard to accept as Gordon Mineo's was. What an honor it was to know them both!”
Garry McGrath: “Living on the other side of the world and being a drag race fan had its drawbacks, but thankfully we had Wide World of Sports on TV occasionally and various magazines to catch up on the latest happenings in the world of the quarter-mile wars. When I finally was old enough and had the bucks, I flew out to the States and took in my first NHRA race to see if what I was reading about and watching on TV occasionally was in fact real.
“During a walk through the pits in Arizona, I was totally a blubbering mess seeing the race cars and teams along with the drivers and had to sit for a while to take it all in, then, to my surprise, this cooler-than-cool dude was walking towards me chewing on a piece of chicken and walking like he owned the joint. It was the man, Raymond Beadle, and I lost it. As I stood up and walked towards him, he — in the smoothest way possible — tossed the chicken bone at my feet and said, ‘Howdy.’ I stood there and watched him pass by like I had just seen a god, not able to speak. I will never forget that image, and to this day, I try to eat chicken that way and say ‘Howdy’ to people. They look confused, but I know they see Beadle every time, and that, for me, feels cool — crazy, but true. He remains to this day my favorite driver and character of all time. He was an inspiration for me to enter the quarter-mile wars. My condolences to all his family and friends. He made a larger-than-life impression on people all over the world.”
Paul Seglund: “I was merely a fan back in the ‘70s when the Blue Max team seemed to burst on the scene but always rooted for them for obvious reasons. I was more involved with NASCAR and was really glad to see they used their expertise from a derided sport to beat the good ol’ boys for a while. It sure is tough losing all great people but glad you have a well-written forum for truly the golden age. Godspeed Raymond.”
Randy Johnson: "I was stunned (as was everyone else) by the news that another one of my drag racing heroes had graduated to that great dragstrip in the sky. My experience with Raymond was simple — he always made time for his fans. I specifically remember speaking to him in the pits at the ’82 Gators, not long after he flipped the Blue Max EXP racing against Al Segrini. Raymond was frustrated at himself but still found humor in the event. After ‘Big Daddy’ Don Garlits and ‘the Professor’ Warren Johnson, Raymond Beadle has always been my favorite drag racer. That fact made the decision very easy to purchase the item (above) when it was offered to me. I purchased the body from a local racing shop in Fort Lauderdale [Fla.]. They had gone to Beadles’ auction and won pallets of clutch parts for their Alcohol Funny Car. They didn’t know the lot they had won included three Blue Max bodies. Fortunately for me, I bought the last one left. A buddy I worked with at Florida Power & Light also worked in the evenings on their Funny Car. He told me to stop by their shop as there was something I might be interested in purchasing. I paid $600 for it, and it’s in amazing shape. It means even more to me now that Beadle is gone.”
Kris Miller: “I was astounded when I got to the roll-over picture. My first of 20-plus years attending the Gatornationals was in 1982. I can honestly state the one thing I absolutely remember from that race is the Blue Max car on its roof. My bud and I drove up to G-ville, and we did not know where the dragstrip was located. We followed the signs for the airport, and it got us there. We pulled up to the ticket booth that was literally in front of the track entrance adjoining the parking lot and bought our tickets. That was the only year we sat on the side of the track opposite from the pits. I also saw the Blue Max in 1971-72 at Maple Grove when 32 Funny Cars raced under the lights and was always a fan of the car.”
David "Mick" Michelsen: “I went to my first drag race in 1976 in Lakeland, Fla., and the first Funny Car I saw run was the Blue Max. You can re-read my email to you back when you did the column on “My First Drag Race.” After seeing the burnout, dry hops, and the run, I was hooked on drag racing, especially Funny Cars. I’ve been to every Gatornationals since 1978, so I have seen all of the Blue Max Funny Cars and one Top Fueler race there. The time he rolled the Blue Max at the Gatornationals, I was standing at the fence on the spectator side when he hung the left; he was headed right at us, so we all dove to the ground and didn’t get to see the results until it came out on the And They Walked Away video.”
Herb Edwards: “I was one of the ‘little people’ that was there from 1970 on. I’d do whatever it took and enjoyed it all, drag racing and being on the team. I was a mechanical engineer working at Texas Instruments in Dallas and hung out at Beadle’s shop as much as I could. My wife said I ‘lived’ there. He also had a speed shop in Dallas for a while, and I’d hang out there, too. I’d watch Tharp beat his chest, bragging about his driving, and I’d look over at Beadle and he’d raise his eyebrows, look up, and smile. It was one big family back then.
“I knew Raymond when he drove a Top Fuel car for Prentiss Cunningham in Lubbock and used to take his 6-year-old son to Six Flags when I worked at Chaparral. I’d see all the racers every day that are legends now. I was talking to Beadle one day, and the Ford factory rep walked up and slapped Beadle on the back and said, ‘I’m sorry, Beadle, we can only give you $5 million this year as we’re doing a Who concert with Budweiser, but I promise we’ll do better next year!’ He kept the Ford people happy sponsoring his Funny Car while at the same time having Pontiac sponsor his NASCAR operations when Rusty Wallace was driving. He was a master at doing that. When he got offered the driving job with Schumacher, he asked me if I thought he could do it. I told him he could beat anyone. I am a very lucky man to have experienced the racing life with one of the best.”
Tony West: “I can’t believe Raymond Beadle is with us no more. Only yesterday I hung two press kit covers to my study wall that I managed to get from a memorabilia show at Indy! I watched the Blue Max every time the team came over here to the UK to race, couldn’t find a more approachable and friendly group like the Blue Max!”
Chuck Dewandeler: “My memory of Raymond is how dominating his presence was at the Motorplex. Crisp white, starched dress shirt. He was watching his son, Ryan, and I go through the Roy Hill Drag Racing School in '99. Very pleasant and he was kind enough to sign my completion certificate (from Roy). I treasured that as much as the whole racing experience.”
Gary Crumrine: “We’ve lost another hero. Man, did he have a heavy foot and fear was not in his vocabulary. One of the guys that could run with the Chi-town Hustler, Prudhomme, Hawaiian, you name it. Really miss the Blue Max.”
As I mentioned at the start of last week’s column, writing about those who we’ve lost has been an ongoing part of this column and a dual-edged sword. While it saddens me to have to share their life stories because they’ve passed away, there’s a genuine sense of honor and duty to do it, for them, for their friends, family, and fans. I don’t take the responsibility lightly, and I can tell that you guys get that.
All of that brings me to a very telling and well-written submission by Insider reader Eric Widmer that I thought you might enjoy and relate to.
‘Tis a sad day today which will not end with the day’s passing. For most folks, Fridays are exciting as they are at the forefront of an emerging weekend with all kinds of niceties awaiting. Then, this guy who writes and edits and some other stuff for NHRA got the notion to write some cool articles that any racing fan looks forward to. But not anymore. I, mean we do, but it’s with trepidation and for quite some time.
We cannot resist the anticipation of looking forward to pictures of cars we thought we’d never see again, of reading of the personalities that made life great in the racing world, which is the real world for many, perhaps the only world. But the angst is momentarily paralyzing until it happens, with the striking of the right buttons in the right order, and ‘Voila’, it happens. The emotions ascending or descending depending on the opening line which starts the ‘read,’ and there it was.
When I was a little boy in the ‘60s, my mom took me to this great war movie. And then a few years later, there it was. You see? They had just built a racetrack named OCIR, and I begged and begged my mom to take me there. She finally relented in 1969 and did. After a couple of outings, a race car showed up with the movie’s namesake on the side of it. Could it be? There was no doubt. That name meant that car was a winner and something to be reckoned with. A fan was born. Kinda!! OK, not really a loyal fan. I mean, come on, "Mongoose" and "Snake" were there first for me. But think it through, man! These incredible, metal-flake and pearlescent paint jobs adorning raw power in the form of Funny Cars and dragsters.
I have to admit the intrigue I had with this gorgeous candy blue Mustang Mach I. And it furthers when the body is flipped up and a cowboy emerges from the cockpit. What a car, but then any car that looked great grabbed my attention. But that Blue Max emblazoned on the side, no matter the year, always looked great and ran great until the end crept up.
And now the cowboy that furthered the dream met an end that crept up. ‘Tis a sad day today which will not end with the day’s passing.
Anyway, I was trying to have fun when writing you, but this is miserable from any angle other than I’m delighted we had a Raymond Beadle in the first place.
And thank you for keeping us informed and in the loop, Phil. And for your dedication! I don’t know how this could work, but maybe there’s a way to write some features on the living legends while they’re still living. I mean, it really stinks that Raymond has left us along with Harry, and I’m glad we still have Fred Miller and Dale Emery.
Not to be morbid, but I am not looking forward to the future loss of greats as Don Garlits, Don Prudhomme, Tom McEwen, and such. I just cannot imagine this world with them gone, nor do I want to. I had no idea that R.B. had such great relationships with Richard Tharp, Don Prudhomme, Billy Meyer, and the others you wrote about. How great would it have been to know this stuff while they’re still with us. I guess what I’m trying to say, today is a huge reminder of tremendous loss in one individual known as Raymond Beadle. It’s a reminder of former greats we’ve already lost and a little bit of drag racing itself has passed away. And I’m concerned with future loss.
And as far as I’m concerned, Raymond Beadle and all the greats are still alive, just in a different arena that we can’t see or hear. Still tough on us who are still here.
I definitely get what Eric is saying — Billy Meyer joked with me the other day that I ought to have a separate column just for tribute obituaries to keep the Insider on a happier vibe (like I’ve got time to do both — ha!) – but if you browse through the archives that are at the top right of every column (organized first by year, then by date), you’ll find more than 650 articles (OK, 654, but who’s counting?) and quite a few profiles of those still with us: Roland Leong, Richard Tharp, Jeb Allen, Herm Petersen, Jake Johnston, Marvin Graham, Dale Emery, Simon Menzies, Whit Bazemore, Clive Skilton, Shirley Shahan, John Peters, Jeff Courtie, “Wild Bill” Shrewsberry, Bill Pryor, Larry Sutton, Jay Howell, Ron Pellegrini, “Capt. Jack" McClure, Bob Pickett, Leroy “Doc” Hales, Chip Woodall, Keeling & Clayton, Kuhl & Olson, Gerry Glenn, Bobby Vodnik, and many more.
Yet scattered through that list are also far too many goodbyes of some of our great heroes. Like Eric, I can’t imagine a world without “Big Daddy” and “Snake” and “Mongoose,” yet we all know that’s coming someday. (Sorry guys.) I have amazing friendships with both Prudhomme and McEwen, guys whom I grew up idolizing and would have given anything to have gotten a “Hey, kid” from them back then yet guys today who I can call (and who even call me). It still sometimes seems like a dream. Yes, the day that either of those guys leaves us, more than the drag racing fan in me is going to be sad.
Personally, I hope they all live to be 120-something and I’m gone long before then because I can’t imagine how you could ever honor them big enough and well enough to match their contributions to the sport.
Until then, let’s all continue to celebrate them every chance we get.
ust last week, Insider reader Richard Pederson was reveling, with me, in the fact that last Friday’s column had been a joyous one, sharing great old photos instead of having to talk about another drag racing luminary who had passed away.
That feel-good moment lasted until 6 a.m. Monday, when I got a text from Richard Tharp. Honestly, I didn’t even have to read the text to know the news would not be good. Reports had been coming out of Dallas for the last month about the deteriorating condition of one of the sport’s all-time greats and grew even sadder over the weekend. Tharp’s text read simply: “Raymond Beadle died at 4 a.m. Dallas time.”
Beadle, who had been too sick to travel to Michigan in September to accept the most recent honor in a feted career – induction into the Motorsports Hall of Fame of America – died after being unwell for the past few years, including having a heart attack two years ago and another in July. In the end, multiple issues arose, and his body gave out two months short of his 71st birthday.
Beadle's success in so many arenas is well-known and well- qdocumented – in drag racing (three Funny Car championships each in NHRA and IHRA, including both in 1981), NASCAR (1989 world champion), and the World of Outlaws, the latter two as an owner – that I don’t really even need to relate it here. I’d steer you instead toward the thoughtful and encyclopedic biography that Todd Veney wrote for us in 2001 as part of our Top 50 Drivers list (Beadle was No. 20). If you want to see all of the Blue Max cars (and a few others) that Beadle drove and a history of what each accomplished, check out the companion column I wrote this week for the National Dragster website, Raymond's Rides, or relive the history of the Blue Max in this column I wrote here two years ago, which includes an interview I did with Beadle and his memories of those early days with Harry Schmidt.
No, Beadle gave so much joy to so many folks – his friends, family, fellow racers, and, of course, the legion of fans who clamored for the Blue Max – that I wanted this column to be about the man and those who knew and loved him. Naturally, I had spent time interviewing Beadle throughout the years, but this list needed to be more personal. Tharp. Don Prudhomme. Kenny Bernstein. Billy Meyer. Dave Settles. Dave Densmore. Steve Earwood. “Waterbed Fred” Miller. Dale Emery.
In just two days, I tracked them all down, and each was eager and honored to speak of his memories of a great racer and generous friend who was a whole lot of fun to be around. They shared some great stories; unfortunately, many of them began with, “You can’t print this, but …” What I can print is presented below, with deep respect and appreciation.
From left, Don Prudhomme, Richard Tharp, and Raymond Beadle in 2011 at Prudhomme's birthday party
harp and Beadle were inseparable buddies since the 1970s, two larger-than-life Texans who raced and partied together and still enjoyed one another’s company long after the party ended. They lived less than five minutes apart in the Dallas area, talked pretty much every day, ate supper together sometimes five nights a week, and just plain ol' hung out with Beadle’s other close friend, Tommy “Smitty” Smith. For Tharp, losing Beadle was like losing a brother.
That he had to watch his friend’s long and painful descent to his passing has worn heavily on him, as he was there every step of the way, encouraging and consoling – and even chastising -- his pal. When the end neared and Beadle’s body began to shut down, Tharp could barely stand it, and his passing, though seemingly inevitable, hit him like a ton of bricks.
“It’s tough, tougher than I thought it would be,” he admitted, the sadness clear in his voice. “This got my attention harder than anything I’ve ever experienced in my life. I still really can’t believe he’s gone.”
True to his nature, through his last tough months, Beadle put on a brave face for his friends, insisting he would be all right, but when he allowed his daughter, Michelle, to admit him to the hospital last week, Tharp knew the end was near. “It just killed me; he was trying so hard not to have anyone go out of their way or feel sorry for him.”
The long friendship that ended Monday began in the late 1960s, when both were racing in Top Fuel. When Beadle moved to Dallas in the early 1970s to drive for Mike Burkhart, Tharp was already there driving the Blue Max car, whose lineage they would later share when they reunited in the late 1980s and Tharp took over for Beadle in the cockpit in a last hurrah.
As Beadle progressed in the 1970s from Burkhart’s ride to Don Schumacher’s well-funded team, Tharp went through a series of rides, and they faced off occasionally until Tharp went back to Top Fuel with the Carroll Brothers and later Candies & Hughes.
“Even though we were racing in different classes, we went everywhere together,” he said. “We’d fly to the races together and hang out before and after. We had a good time. He was just a good, good guy. I don’t remember anyone being mad at him, and if they were, they didn’t stay mad for more than 10 minutes. You might want to break his neck one minute, but 10 minutes later, you’d want to hug his neck.
“One thing about Raymond: When you were his friend, you were his friend forever, and, believe me, I tested him pretty good. He bailed me out of a lot of trouble over the years. He helped so many people over the years, and you never had to ask him to help you. He’d just show up with whatever you needed to get back on your feet.
“I’ll guarantee you one thing," he added. "When they made Raymond Beadle, they threw the mold away. There’ll never, ever, be another guy like him.”
Old pals reunited: from left, Beadle, Bill Doner, Billy Bones, and Prudhomme, at Prudhomme's party in 2011 (Gary Nastase photo)
ven though he was the guy who ended Prudhomme’s four-year reign as Funny Car king, “the Snake” always liked Beadle, from the heat of Funny Car battle in the 1970s right until the very end. After a family visit to Louisiana, Prudhomme stopped in Dallas and got together with Tharp to see their old friend the week before he died.
“He couldn’t leave the house, and I think he went back into the hospital that night, but when I left there, I pretty much knew it was going to be the last time I saw him; that hurt a lot,” he said. “We sat and talked for a long time; it was cool to have that time with him.
“Raymond was always a guy that I really, really liked. We used to battle each other on the track, but we used to have fun when we hung out. He was always a pleasure to be around. We used to pal around with a bunch of guys – ‘Waterbed Fred’ and Billy Bones, Bill Doner, Richard Tharp – to hang out in Dallas, go to Campisi’s; we were tight. Outside of ‘Mongoose,’ I don’t know there was anyone inside of racing that I was tighter with than Raymond.”
That Beadle felt the same was obvious when he and Tharp flew to Los Angeles in April 2011 for Prudhomme’s surprise 70th birthday party at the NHRA Museum. It was a long and mutual admiration and friendship.
I asked Prudhomme how he – a notoriously all-business guy when he was racing – was friendly with one of the few guys who could hold his own against the Army cars.
Despite waging war throughout the 1970s, including in the exciting 1975 U.S. Nationals final (above), Prudhomme and Beadle remained great friends.
“I wasn’t friendly with anyone who could beat me; let’s make that perfectly clear,” he said with a laugh, mostly at the memory of himself. “I always wanted to not like him, but I couldn’t help but like him. He’d beat you, and at the other end of the track, he’d almost always sound like he was sorry he beat you. It’s funny to think of it now, but we were all best friends. Hell, I was the best man at ‘Waterbed Fred’s’ wedding. We were a lot tighter than anyone ever knew or could imagine.
“That whole Blue Max thing was pretty impressive, with Raymond and ‘Waterbed’ and Dale Emery and their 10-gallon hats, cowboy boots, and long hair,” he marveled. “And, I’ll tell you, you never had a bad time hanging out with Raymond, before or after the race.
“What I remember about that team was I think Raymond was one of the first guys who only drove. Most of us back then were drivers and tuners, but he actually had a crew chief [first with Schmidt and then Emery]. I was working my ass of on my car, and I’d see him kicking back and relaxing. He took that to the next level that you see today and taught us all something.
“He was always thinking; when he had his NASCAR team, he was the first guy to have a condo – hell, he bought two – [on the first turn] at the Charlotte track, and now they’re worth 10 times what he paid for them. We’d go there and hang out with him, and he’d treat us like gold. He treated everyone that way. Even if he didn’t have the money, he’d buy everyone dinner. He wouldn’t let you buy. I remember the first time I bought him a meal, he was almost insulted.
“We had a lot of good times; Fred Wagenhals [of Action Performance] had a cabin, and we’d all go up there: ‘Waterbed’ and his gal, me and my wife, Lynn, Raymond and [wife] Roz, and Ed Pink and his wife would go to the cabin, and Raymond would be up early every morning cooking for us, bacon and sausage and gravy stacked up -- he could fix a meal. He loved cooking and loved to eat.”
He ended our conversation by saying, “I can’t say enough good things about him,” and apparently he couldn’t. A day after we talked, I got a late-night text from Prudhomme that read, in part, “Just thinking about Raymond … He was probably the coolest guy I ran into in drag racing. Going to miss him.”
Wow. If “the Snake,” the epitome of cool (as even the L.A. Times noted), calls someone else cool, you know he was. Awesome.
(Above) Beadle and Billy Meyer, friends since the early 1970s, shared a laugh during a Legends Q&A at the 2011 national event at Meyer's Texas Motorplex, where Beadle was a regular visitor. (Below) Beadle also took part in that year's Track Walk.
illy Meyer was feeling pretty melancholy when we talked about Beadle’s passing. This was the first year since he opened Texas Motorplex in 1986 that Beadle hadn’t been there, first as a racer and in the 25 or so most recent years as an honored guest in Meyer’s private tower suite. Beadle was too ill to come to the race.
Meyer’s admiration of the legend stems from his earliest days in the sport, in the early 1970s, when Beadle became a mentor to him, not so much with driving tips but how the teenage Funny Car phenom with a sometimes short fuse should handle himself otherwise in the world.
“He was a really good friend,” said Meyer. “He was about 10 years older than me and showed me the ropes about sponsorships and how to handle stuff, when not to blow up at people. I was a ‘damn the torpedoes’ kind of guy back then, and he helped me calm down.”
Meyer, who was still in high school during his first two years in Funny Car, would often ride to the races with Beadle (who then was driving for Burkhart) while both raced on the Coca-Cola Cavalcade of Stars circuit, and Beadle’s wife at the time, Holly, would tutor him in English. “I was not a good student in school,” he admits.
Meyer has fond memories of being with Beadle and Paul Candies, with whom Meyer was especially close and whom we also lost last summer, for huge post-victory dinners that either would stage if their teams won. “We’d go to dinner, and I know they spent more than we won. It was the best food you could get, Bananas Foster and bottles of champagne. Somehow I was in on that clique. It’s amazing the fun we had. Now they’re both gone. It’s a big loss.”
Beadle could also thank Meyer for “Waterbed Fred” Miller, a key member of the Blue Max crew. Miller had worked on Meyer’s car until it had to be parked as part of his land-speed effort in 1975 and joined Beadle’s team during that time.
Meyer also acknowledged Beadle’s business acumen, especially when it came to apparel. Beadle is widely accepted as the guy who moved the needle on fan engagement with wearables. Racers had been printing and selling T-shirts for decades, but Beadle took it to a whole other level. I can’t tell you the number of foxy chicks I saw running around the pits with Blue Max halter tops in the 1970s.
“He really took it to a whole new level, and I think that’s because he was selling the Blue Max brand and not his own name,” agreed Meyer. “The name ‘Raymond Beadle’ on a T-shirt is not going to sell like the Blue Max. He got so successful at it that NHRA had to begin to regulate how those sales went on, which led to MainGate [NHRA’s souvenir vendor, then known as Sport Service] and the racer T-shirt trailers you see today.”
It wasn’t the first time that Beadle got NHRA's attention. Along with Meyer and Candies, the trio, leaders of an owners association, orchestrated the legendary Funny Car boycott of the 1981 Cajun Nationals, demanding higher purses and, secondarily, better safety.
Densmore, who with Earwood was doing NHRA’s PR at time, noted, “The drivers specifically targeted the Cajun Nationals because it wasn’t one of the major [events], and Raymond told us they didn’t want to hurt the NHRA, they just wanted to get someone’s attention. It worked.”
"Waterbed Fred" Miller was a key member of the Blue Max crew from beginning to end. (Below) Miller, right, shared the winner's circle at the 1975 U.S. Nationals with car owner Harry Schmidt, left, and Beadle.
s mentioned earlier, Miller was one of the trio of key Blue Max crewmembers during the championship years, along with Dale Emery and Dee Gantt. He actually preceded the other two, joining forces with Schmidt and Beadle after Meyer parked his team after a late-season match race at Orange County Int’l Raceway. It was a chance encounter with Schmidt at Pink’s Southern California shop just days after becoming unemployed that got him hired to wrench on the Max, which Schmidt and Beadle had recently decided to resurrect.
Miller, not a Texan like the rest of the gang but a native of Mansfield, Ohio, was working in the motorcycle shop owned by Bob Riggle (of Hemi Under Glass fame) in the early 1970s when he met Emery and Gantt, who at the time were working (and, in Emery’s case, driving) for Jeg Coughlin’s Funny Car operation. They offered Miller a chance to crew for them for the weekend, and he never looked back. When Coughlin parked the car after the 1973 season, Miller went to work for Meyer, then a year later as the lone crewmember on the new Blue Max. Beadle, Schmidt, and Miller barnstormed the country, running NHRA, IHRA, and match races until Schmidt burned out.
When Emery and Gantt joined the team a few years later, it was a strong mix of experience. Emery had become famous driving the Pure Hell fuel altered and raced in Funny Car until breaking his arm in a scary crash in Burkhart’s Camaro at the 1977 U.S. Nationals. (It was also Emery who bestowed upon Miller his indelible "Waterbed" nickname, not for any '70s-style debauchery Miller had committed but for his repeated failed attempts to repair a leak in his water mattress; "It started out as a pinhole and by the time I was done 'fixing' it, there a hole big enough to stick my head in," recalls Miller. "Emery would see me and say, 'There goes 'Waterbed Fred' and it just stuck.") Gantt also had a long history in the sport, wrenching for guys like "Wild Willie" Borsch and Fred Goeske, and was on Larry Fullerton’s 1972 NHRA championship-winning Trojan Horse team. It was a powerhouse team, and Beadle treated his people well. Miller also thought there was none better than Beadle as a driver and a boss.
“I don’t ever remember him raising his voice,” he remembered. “Even if someone made a mistake, he’d never be up your ass about it. He always had the same demeanor, whether he was racing at Indy or walking around the shop. He never got rattled in the car, never paced before getting into the car. He had ice water in his veins. He had a good eye for hiring people, and he hired the best guys around to work in our shop, and he treated everyone well.
“Pat Galvin was telling me the other day how he and Donnie Couch were just ‘two grunts’ working on race cars – not even on the Blue Max -- and how Beadle would grab them up to go to dinner or to a Bruce Springsteen concert with everyone else. Everyone went; that was how Beadle was. He didn’t choose who was cool or not; he treated everyone the same. It wasn’t like he ate at the steakhouse and you ate at McDonald’s.”
Miller, Beadle, and "friends." Beadle saw to it that there was always a good time to be had in the Blue Max camp.
Miller was there “for every win and every loss” of Beadle’s great Funny Car run with the Max and later took a position in Charlotte with Beadle’s NASCAR team, where he saw firsthand Beadle’s impact on that sport, thanks to his drag racing roots.
“We had been using titanium on the Funny Car for a long time, and when we brought it to NASCAR with titanium driveshafts and spindles, they freaked out,” he remembered with a laugh. “They didn’t have a clue what it was. It was like it was moon metal and scared the crap out of them. We had been coating our pistons and camshafts – anything that moved and had friction -- for years, but we were one of the first guys to do it in NASCAR. I thought they were going to have a cow. And the people that Raymond hired, they all went on to greater careers in NASCAR because of him.”
Beadle seemed to know everyone, especially in the music industry, from Willie Nelson and Bob Seger and the guys in their bands, and he was good friends with E Street Band saxophonist Clarence Clemons and the guys in Springsteen’s band, including “the Boss” himself. When the Springsteen show pulled into Dallas, there was a special Blue Max room backstage, and everyone had all-access passes for the whole Born in the U.S.A. tour.
(Side note: As a huge Springsteen fan, I went to a lot of his concerts during that time and remember seeing Springsteen at the L.A. Coliseum in 1984 return to the stage for encores wearing a Blue Max hat and singing “Stand On It,” a racing-themed tune. I may have been the only person in the place who was wowed by that, but I remember it as if it were yesterday.)
Miller, who went on to work with Action Performance in the collectibles world, stayed in touch with his longtime boss and friend. “We still talked a lot on the phone, and I would see him at various functions. When I’d come to Dallas, I’d stay with him. I'll miss that."
(Above) Beadle, left, and Dale Emery won four Funny Car championships together from 1979-81, including both NHRA and IHRA crowns in 1981. (Below) Before they joined forces in late 1977, they raced against one another, including earlier that year, with Emery driving for Mike Burkhart, for whom Beadle had driven earlier in his career. (Steve Reyes photo)
The recent Blue Max reunion: front row, Beadle and Richard Tharp; back row, from left, Dale Emery, former Blue Max driver Ronny Young; Fred Miller; crewman Scott Nelson, and Tommy "Smitty" Smith.
hile Beadle was the marketing and driving force behind the Blue Max, crew chief Emery was certainly his mechanical enabler. Emery, an Oklahoma native afforded full-on Texan status by his affiliation with the Blue Max and his current residence in Denton, Texas, went to work for Beadle in late 1977, after breaking his arm in an accident at the U.S. Nationals. After a problem-plagued 1978 – highlighted only by a win at the season-ending World Finals – they won the NHRA championship in 1979, 1980, and 1981 and joined the last one with a simultaneous IHRA championship. (Beadle won his two previous IHRA championships before Emery joined the team.)
The duo first met at Chaparral Trailers, where Emery worked while not racing; Beadle stopped by looking for a trailer for the new Blue Max effort. After his crash in Indy, the plaster was barely dry on Emery’s cast before Beadle offered him a job. Emery hadn’t intended to retire from driving but was intrigued by Beadle’s offer to tune the Blue Max. The fact that he already knew Gantt and Miller certainly didn’t hurt. Beadle headed off to England for a series of match races, and both guys mulled it over for two weeks before Emery accepted.
“I told Raymond I’d never tuned for anything I didn’t drive but that I would try it; it seemed to work out OK,” he said. “We did pretty good.
“He always treated us right; if we needed something, he’d help us out. He really gave me an open hand of what I could do with the car, and I liked experimenting, which is why I came up with the dual-mag deal and some other things. I was always trying to make it run better.”
When it came to rating his driver, Emery didn’t hesitate. “He was a money driver; he never got rattled,” said Emery, with the admiration clear in his voice. “If we made it to a final, we knew we never had to worry about him being late.”
Emery stayed with the Blue Max to the bitter end in 1990, when the car was essentially underfunded and not equipped with the best parts. It was at least in part Emery’s urging that got Beadle to finally sell the team.
“He was pouring all of his money into the NASCAR team because that was his deal at the time,” he remembered. “I talked to him and told him we couldn’t keep on doing what we were doing. We didn’t really even have parts good enough to run match races. I told him he needed to sell the deal while it still had a good name, and he did.
“We all got together –- Beadle, me, Fred, and a few other guys -– for a Blue Max reunion a couple of weeks ago in Dallas,” he said. “It wasn’t a great big deal, but it was great to get everyone together one last time. I still talked to him every week. I would just check up on him and see how he was doing. We’ve always been good friends; we raced together and had a lot of fun. I really liked the guy.”
Kenny Bernstein, left, and Beadle watched the "Texas Chainsaw Massacre" unfold.
hen most drag racing fans think of a tie between Beadle and Bernstein, they inevitably think about the 1981 Winternationals and the “Texas Chainsaw Massacre,” in which Bernstein offered up one of his spare bodies to Beadle, who had blown the roof off of his car in winning his semifinal race. The roof from Bernstein’s Budweiser King Arrow was cut off and crafted to Beadle’s Plymouth Horizon in time to make the final (which Beadle lost).
But the two go way, way back further than that: They were junior-high and high-school classmates in Lubbock, Texas, in the late 1950s and early 1960s. Although they knew each other, they didn’t hang out, and it wasn’t until Bernstein returned to Lubbock after attending college in Dallas that he realized that Beadle was interested in racing.
Bernstein drove Top Fuel for Vance Hunt, the Anderson brothers, and Prentiss Cunningham early in his career, and Beadle also later drove for Cunningham before both transitioned to Funny Car in the early 1970s.
“I spent a lot of time with Raymond after that, at a place we called Gasoline Alley in Dallas, where we’d all hang out or had shops. I was with the Engine Masters [Ray Alley], and he was driving for Burkhart. We raced against each other a lot in the 1970s and ‘80s when we were in our heydays of racing.”
Bernstein, long acknowledged as drag racing’s master marketer, thought highly of Beadle, who, unknown to many, had taken marketing classes himself.
“He was a great promoter; he was always hustling and putting things together and trying to take it to the next level,” said Bernstein. “He was a real go-getter, in everything from sponsorships to merchandising.”
Despite their tough battles for Funny Car supremacy in those days, the two former school chums remained friendly. “We stayed pretty close throughout the time until he got out of racing, then we kind of lost touch as we both did our own things, but the times we had together were very special and memorable,” said Bernstein.
(Above) Dave Settles drove the short-lived Blue Max Top Fueler for Beadle and two partners in 1979. (Below) Settles, left, and Blue Max crew chief Dale Emery
ave Settles was another fellow Texan with a long relationship with Beadle. Settles saw Beadle socially throughout the later years, always in Meyer’s suite at the Dallas event and regularly at the yearly winter get-together of former Texas racers in Denton. The former driver and crew chief, who remains active in the sport building fuel pumps, met Beadle in the early 1970s while driving for the Carroll Brothers team. Although Beadle also raced Top Fuel at that time, he soon went to Funny Car and Settles stayed in Top Fuel, and they never did race one another, though they did race together.
In 1979, Settles was the driver of the short-lived Blue Max Top Fueler, which was owned by Beadle and financed by well-heeled Dallas-area developers Foster Yancey and Brad Camp, who also were minority owners of the Dallas Cowboys and handpicked Settles as the driver and crew chief. The car debuted midseason and ran only eight races – winning the IHRA Springnationals and scoring a runner-up at the NHRA Summernationals – before being parked.
I asked Settles why Beadle, who was en route to winning his Funny Car championship, would also put his foot into the Top Fuel waters.
“Raymond was big on getting exposure for his sponsors and his team, so it made sense for him, I guess,” said Settles. “He thought he could never get enough exposure, and when it came to that, he was always on his game. Me, I just wanted to hit the pedal.
“The car’s first race was the big IHRA Springnationals event in Bristol; I’ll never forget it,” he recalled wistfully. “I pulled up there for my first run Friday, and people started cheering and going on and on. I couldn’t figure out what they were cheering about – it’s just a couple of Top Fuel dragsters. It didn’t dawn on me until later that it was because of the Blue Max name.
“I think Foster and Brad realized the value, too. The Blue Max was the ‘in’ deal in Dallas; everyone knew about it – no matter what sport you were in -- and everyone knew Raymond. Being around Raymond was a fun place to be; there weren’t too many dull moments.”
s mentioned earlier, Earwood was running NHRA’s Publicity Department with Densmore in Beadle’s heyday, and as a fellow lover of good times, they enjoyed one another’s company.
"He believed in taking care of his sponsors and press and publicity before a lot of the rest of them did,” he recalled. “He was great to me and Densy.
“He really changed our industry, no doubt. He was a great businessman racer – in a different mode than a Rick Hendrick or a Roger Penske -- but also just had a lot of common sense. He was first-class all the way. When he started racing NASCAR, back in those days, if the guys had a wreck, they’d just beat the fender out for the next race, but ol’ Beadle wanted his cars perfect every time.
“Raymond got along with everyone --Bernstein, Meyer, ‘Snake’; sometimes you couldn’t even put those guys in the same room at one time, but Raymond got along with all of them. He got along with everyone. And generous? When he’d take people to dinner after a race, it would be 40 or 50 people. He’d just call the hotel and rent out the restaurant. We had a lot of fun back then. He was a helluva personality; we’ll never see another one like him. He was really something. He lived a very full life and did it right.”
eadle was a superstar of the 1970s and 1980s, so it was only fitting that we’d hear from today’s Funny Car star, John Force, who inducted Beadle into the International Drag Racing Hall of Fame, as you can see in the clip at right (thanks to reader Dave Wesolowski for the link!).
Wrote Force, "In my long career, there have been five people that I have looked up to: ‘Big Daddy’ [Don Garlits], Shirley [Muldowney], [Don] Prudhomme, [Tom] McEwen, and Raymond Beadle. I have taken his passing very hard, and it hurts me personally. I saw what kind of team owner and driver he was as well as what kind of creative promoter and teammate. He had the most loyal team with guys like Fred Miller, Dale Emery, and Dee Gantt. They were together through good times and bad. Our legends are getting older, and we have to appreciate them every day.
"I saw Beadle roll the Blue Max over in a terrifying crash. He has ice water in his veins because he just got out and put his hands over his head in triumph. I have never heard the roar of the crowd like that.
"Raymond surrounded himself with the best people, and they fought together every day. That is how I have run John Force Racing every day. Loyalty is the key, and so are principles. Raymond taught me that, and that is why I will miss him so much. In my early days, he helped me so much, and I thanked him every chance I got. He was a legend and one of the best who will be missed every single day."
will close with this great essay written by Densmore, who, like Tharp, felt the loss of Beadle on a very deep level. He sent it to me the day that Beadle died, and I want to share it here.
I know they say life goes on, but for me, at least, it will go on with far less enthusiasm, less fun, less intrigue and less real joy in the absence of Raymond Beadle, the face of Blue Max Racing Inc. who on Monday lost his battle with heart disease and a variety of other physical demons in the ICU ward at Baylor University Medical Center in Dallas.
The irony is that it is the same ICU ward in which I spent so much time with John Force after his 2007 crash at the Texas Motorplex. Force finally walked out of the hospital. After suffering an apparent stroke, Raymond did not.
I’ve had to deal with the passing of so many of my heroes the past few years – Wally Parks, “Diamond Jim” Annin, my dad, Dr. Al Densmore, Dale Ham, Eric Medlen, Lee Shepherd, Paul Candies. All of them enriched my life and, through their very presence, made even my worst days somehow palatable.
But this death has been particularly difficult for me to accept. I don’t know why, but I do know that I have a hole in my heart as big as Texas. We were friends for almost 40 years, linked by our West Texas roots, our love for drag racing and our mutual disdain for the status quo. “That’s the way we’ve always done it” was a mutually irritating phrase.
Of course, that outlaw attitude is what made Raymond larger than life. He was Force’s idol long before the 16-time champ won his first race. In fact, Force still likes to tell how Raymond provided his team’s first uniforms. They were only Blue Max T-shirts, but when Raymond gave them to Force at Spokane one year, they became the first matched outfits in Brute Force history.
At a time when 90 percent of the sponsorship in drag racing was automotive, Beadle went after the mainstream market and landed deals with English Leather and Old Milwaukee beer. The English Leather era is itself worthy of a tell-all book, but he also had deals with NAPA and Valvoline and, at the end, Kodiak tobacco.
Raymond approached the sponsorship equation not with hat in hand, as was typical of the era, but from a position of strength. He put together deals with Ford and later with Pontiac, although I’m not sure GM ever got back all its cars. Having studied marketing in college, he applied those lessons to the sport. The result was the creation of what today is a massive collectibles market.
He sold so many T-shirts and hats and hat pins and halter tops, especially those that came with the “custom fit option,” that it compelled the NHRA to rewrite the rules governing sales. In essence, he made it possible for MainGate to enjoy the success it does today because NHRA determined that if they were providing the arena for such entrepreneurship, they should get some of the profits.
He was, in my estimation, the perfect driver because, like Lee Shepherd, he was totally unflappable.
When his first wife, Holly, grew temporarily hysterical after his 1982 crash at the Gatornationals in Gainesville, an unruffled Raymond told her that if she was going to react like that, he wasn’t going to let her come back because it was very distracting.
That crash also demonstrated his flair for the dramatic. After barrel rolling the Blue Max and with the crowd holding its collective breath, he climbed out through the escape hatch, hands over his head in mock triumph.
Although he won just 13 times, he won three successive NHRA Funny Car championships (1979, 1980, 1981), the first ending Don “the Snake” Prudhomme’s four-year reign in the U.S. Army car.
His calm demeanor was aptly demonstrated in 1975, the year he convinced Harry Schmidt to partner with him in the resurrection of the Blue Max. That first year, he was in the final round of the biggest event in the sport, the U.S. Nationals, and he was racing one of the biggest names on the planet, “the Snake.”
After the burnout, the car sprung a small oil leak. Fellow Texan Richard Tharp, who was at the starting line as a spectator, raced back to the crew cab for a wrench, but before he could return, "Waterbed Fred" reached in and hand-tightened a loose fitting. Raymond then calmly pulled to the starting line and, ignoring all the drama, won the race.
How big was Raymond Beadle? Well, when Bill Center, the erstwhile motorsports writer for the San Diego paper got a new dog in the ‘80s, he named him “Raymond Beagle.”
Having conquered drag racing, Raymond moved on to NASCAR, where he won races with Tim Richmond and a championship with Rusty Wallace. He also went racing with the World of Outlaws, where he almost won a title with Sammy Swindell.
Those were unbelievable times. It was, as I am fond of telling each new audience, a time when sex was safe and drugs were legal. That’s only a marginal exaggeration. We flew to NASCAR races, flew to sprint-car races. It was the best of times, and Raymond always went first class, with or without the wherewithal to do so.
There was a time when money was really tight, and every day included phone calls from irate creditors. Raymond knew every dodge in the business, any scam that might win him a little more time to “put something together.”
“Forgetting” to sign the checks, envelopes without postage, items sent to erroneous addresses, but my favorite was one day when he signed a batch of checks and gave them to the office staff. The girls dutifully put them in the proper envelopes for postal pickup.
Unbeknownst to them, Raymond had snuck back into the office and liberated the envelopes so, when the calls began anew, the staff was none the wiser, informing callers with proper indignation that “I know we sent them out because I put them in the envelopes and in the box myself.”
Raymond always was making deals, and irate creditors were part of doing business. He used to tell everyone in the office not to get so mad. “It’s nothing personal. They only want their money.”
It was amazing to me that he could leave even some of his closest friends hung out on this deal or that deal and, still, when it came to crisis time, they’d be there for him. It was that way up until Monday.
He moved comfortably in any circle. He was pals with princes and paupers. Those in his circle regularly were treated to Willie Nelson and Bruce Springsteen concerts, and the late Clarence Clemons and other band members were regulars at the races – and at the victory parties that often followed.
Raymond got Willie to perform at SEMA, a function at which he and Holly got involved in a marital spat that resulted in her storming out and flying back to Texas. When Raymond returned, she asked him about her mink. She’d left it on the back of the chair. Raymond left it there, too.
Part of Raymond’s ultimate undoing was the fact that he developed a love for cooking. Actually, he developed a love for eating what he cooked, and, as a result, let’s just say that he was a little above his fighting weight at the end, which recalls one final story.
Former National DRAGSTER staffer John Jodauga is an accomplished artist who Raymond commissioned to do a caricature for a press kit cover in the ‘80s. It was typically well done, but J.J., the consummate professional, sent it to Raymond for final approval and asked if there was anything else he could do.
Raymond asked him to take about 10 pounds out of his cheeks. And he meant it, too. Rest in peace, R.B.
Amen. He'll be missed, but the legend of the Blue Max will fly on forever.
I invite fans and friends of Beadle to share their thoughts and memories of the man for a future column; send them to me at email@example.com.