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It
was a bright sunny afternoon as I arrived in Akron
Ohio where the Soap Box Derby was about to get underway.
This was a major national event and the grandstands
on both sides of the track were jammed with cheering
spectators. Like a sea of multi-colors, the teeming
crowds waved pennants while pit crews busily helped
nervous youngsters inspect their home-built chariots.
Ronald Reagan and Jerry Mahoney
August 12, 1951 was opening day for an American
pastime that had almost become a national holiday.
As in past years, the public flocked to Akron from
every state in the union to enjoy this emotional
sports happening. I say emotional because in addition
to the excitement, there was a genuine outpouring
of love for the youthful participants.
Groups
of happy youngsters from each state had constructed "soap box" vehicles and were
eagerly waiting to race each other. This was the
famous "Soap Box Derby" where the competition
was keen and the meets were scheduled to begin
shortly. The Derby was an annual event that never
failed to create a media circus.
Even
though the event itself was huge, the city
was crawling with Paparazzi specifically waiting
for the "Celebrity Race" that officially
opened the festivities. Three celebrities stood
before the City's civic leaders receiving instructions
from pit bosses and their crews. Neither of the
three had driven a "soap box" vehicle
since childhood and perhaps not even then.
Nevertheless,
there they stood listening to the briefing
while scores of excited fans snapped photos
and clamored for their autographs. The three
were
decked out in wild racing silks and wore outlandish
helmets. Each helmet sported a pair of "Mercury" wings
and adorned the heads of Andy Devine, Ronald
Reagan and yours truly.
Andy, Ronnie and I had arrived three days earlier
and spent all our free time acting as chefs at
a huge barbecue given for the young contestants
and their families. A continuous barrage of flashbulbs
popped as the Paparazzi photographed us being inundated
by the fans. Crowds trailed behind as Reagan, Devine
and I inspected the course over which we'd be racing.
It was a downhill run about two miles in length
and soon we'd be freewheeling down that slope towards
the finish line.
During
our briefing, we received instructions that
would be vital for a successful run. "Keep
your eyes glued to the finish line and don't glance
at the road for an instant." The words echoed
through my mind and no doubt through my opponents'
as well.
Ronald
Reagan, a movie actor who had become adept
at union politics, had not yet become Governor
of California or President of the United States.
I was a ventriloquist with a primetime TV series
and Andy Devine was a well-known movie and television
star and a regular on the Jack Benny radio show.
Andy, if you ever saw him as Wild Bill’s
sidekick on television (if nothing else), was also
a man of enormous girth who weighed in at 300 plus.
In fact, he was so huge that his car had to be
constructed in two halves and bolted together around
him after he got in. Andy’s most famous line
was the one replayed over and over again at the
beginning of the Wild Bill Hickock show, where
the panting sidekick Jingles would gasp out after
the gallant Wild West Marshall, played by Guy Madison, “Hey,
Wild Bill, wait for me!”
Ronny and I had lots of laughs with the pit crews
who made side bets on which celebrity would win.
My crew had secretly loaded my car with weights
to make it roll faster down the grade. It was just
a good-natured prank, I guess, but the joke would
be on me once gravity began to tug at all that
iron. It was a magnificent day filled with feelings
of camaraderie as the constant din of the happy
crowd charged the air with anticipation.
I began feeling a little guilty about the extra
iron I was carrying until Ronnie took me over to
his rig and showed me the stack that the crew had
stowed in his vehicle. He wanted to come clean
and I could see traces of guilt on his face, but
they quickly faded when I showed him my car. We
really didn't think it unfair, considering Andy's
bulk, plus the extra weight that went into the
construction of his rig.
But I must say that my car was more unique than
either of theirs because I was going to be racing
with Jerry Mahoney on board. The crew couldn't
fit the dummy into such a little car so they cut
a hole behind the driver's seat and fastened Mahoney's
head in it very securely. It made a riotous sight
as they rolled the three cars up to the starting
line with the dummy's head turned towards the crowd.
As we got last minute instructions, they cautioned
us again not to look at the road but to stare straight
ahead at the finish line.
"These cars have tiny wheels" the crew
explained, "and if you look at the road you'll
fall into a steering trap that could make you lose
valuable time and too much overcorrecting can get
you into a lot of trouble". I sat there processing
that information, "Look far ahead. Glue your
eyeballs to the finish line. Don't sneak a peek
at the road".
I looked
over at Ronnie who was processing the instructions,
too, and grinned. He smiled back
at me but something in his eyes said, "I want
to win this race". To be perfectly truthful,
so did I. We completely discounted Andy's chances.
One look at his vehicle would have convinced
his strongest supporter that he didn't have a
prayer.
The excitement began to mount as the three cars
were brought up to the top of the incline. They
were prevented from rolling forward by a rod protruding
from the track that would retract at the starter's
gunshot. The moment of truth was almost upon us.
This was why we had come to Akron. Yep, this was
it!
As the starter raised his pistol, we took one
final look at each other and crouched down into
the seat. No doubt, we all desperately wanted that
victory, even though it was for a good cause. And
it was, indeed, it was for a very good cause. Keeping
youngsters off the streets and involved in a wholesome
pursuit was laudable.
It's
too bad they discontinued those soapbox races.
Competing in a race and building his or her own
car, strengthened a youngster’s character
and enhanced his mechanical skills. The newspapers
back in those days weren't filled with headlines
of children shooting classmates and teachers.
It's a shame we don't have national events like
that
anymore. It undoubtedly kept a lot of young people
off of drugs and out of trouble.
Well, the moment we'd been waiting for was imminent.
In a few minutes this celebrity race would be history,
officially opening the 1951 Annual Soap Box Derby.
Then the real contestants would vie for the prizes
which included a generous portion of national recognition,
college scholarships and who knows what other surprises
the General Motors Corporation would have in store
for the winners?
We lowered our heads to minimize wind resistance.
Every muscle tensed as we waited for the gunshot.
Then it came, CRACK! The rods were withdrawn into
the track and the cars began to roll.
The first few moments were pure delight but as
the momentum began to increase, the speed started
to threaten our enjoyment. Faster and faster gravity
pulled at our iron-laden vehicles and it also pushed
my adrenalin button.
In a flash, the multi-colored pennants and spectators
whizzed by. There was a strong temptation to peek
but I had been amply warned to resist that foolhardy
impulse. I sensed that Ronnie was right beside
me but I had no idea of Andy's whereabouts. The
wind was whistling loudly under my winged helmet
now and my facial muscles began to quiver from
the force of the rushing air. I was so intent upon
my driving that I never gave a thought about Mahoney's
welfare.
We were barreling down the course, freewheeling
at a scary pace for such a tiny car, and it was
becoming increasingly difficult to hold a straight
line. I understood what the crews meant when they
said the wheels were so small that the slightest
movement could start the dreaded over-correction
trap. Ronnie, at the time, was waving wildly at
the crowd, his silk scarf flapping behind him.
I was a tiny bit ahead of him.
Suddenly, the crowd let out a frightening gasp
that unnerved me and I knew instinctively that
something had happened to Andy. I froze all movement
and literally glued my eyes to the finish line,
which was now zooming up to meet me.
I hoped that Andy was okay. He was most certainly
out of the running. Not so with Ronnie. He was
right beside me, neck and neck, doggedly hanging
in there. Though I knew that the crowd was still
cheering, all I could hear now was the wind howling
in my ears and pushing hard against my face and
body. Ronnie couldn't be shaken off. He seemed
to stick to me like crazy glue.
We were side by side and it was anybody's race
when, suddenly, he swerved for an instant. Perhaps
just a fraction of an instant, but whatever had
happened cost him a few inches and if I hadn't
remained transfixed on the finish line, it could
have been me. We came hurtling down the hill at
breath neck speed. Could I hold it together a few
seconds longer?
I knew Ronnie was still beside me but I was uncertain
which of us was ahead. We were still holding that
position as we streaked across the finish line
and were fanned in by the black and white checkered
flag. We had arrived simultaneously and the crowd
was on it's feet screaming and cheering. Zip, Zip
we crossed the finish line and began to pull hard
on the brake. Some brake, a wooden dowel that dragged
along the ground and gradually brought the car
to a halt.
We were well beyond the finish point when the
cars finally stopped rolling. Only then did I learn
that I had won by a hair. Ron was less than half
a second behind me and poor Andy had fallen into
the over correction trap and ran smack into the
grandstand.
I'll
never forget the thrill when I was brought
into the winner's circle and presented with
the
coveted "Oil Can Trophy". The official
grinned as he handed me the award and made the
official announcement into a gigantic bank of microphones.
. “And now, the undisputed winners of the
1951 Annual Soap Box Derby Celebrity Race are
- Paul Winchell and Jerry Mahoney!”
Andy
was panting still, but he had made it over
to the awards ceremony. Oh, he had a few bruises
but his pride was probably a little more banged
up than his body. He turned to Ronnie and said, “Show
business is getting awful crowded, Ronnie. I think
I'll go into politics.” Reagan gave him
a funny look.
We were then hustled into convertibles supplied
by GM and paraded through the streets to let the
rest of the citizens greet us. Meanwhile, back
at the track, the real heroes began their meets.
The trophy I won is one half of a real oilcan
mounted on a polished wood plaque that hangs on
the wall of my office today. Below it is a newspaper
photo of Ronnie standing beside Jerry Mahoney and
me as we received the trophy. He was smiling graciously
but I know in his heart he wanted to win that race.
Reagan went on to become out beloved President,
but history is history and it records the name
Paul Winchell as the winner of that event, one
glorious afternoon in 1951 at Akron Ohio.
