The Prancing Horse (#184) features a review of our documentary Carrera Panamericana (1950-54). Written by Jeff Allison, the review is an appreciative look at the film and the cars and drivers of those extraordinary races. Viewed from the perspective of today's safety standards, it is difficult to believe these races were allowed to take place and that so many stepped up to the challenge they presented.
Carrera Panamericana

 

Elysée Wednesday tonight--"If we go over a cliff, wake me up."

Look for us Wednesday evenings on the patio from 8 pm (or shortly thereafter) until about 11pm at Caffe Primo, 8590 Sunset Blvd West Hollywood, CA 90069. Underground parking on Alta Loma just east of the Cafe and south of Sunset or on the street.

No need to RSVP; just join us if you can.

 

Since my children were very young, they were always on me to tell them 'Sidney stories'. My father was a character who was audacious, clever and charming in equal proportions and was not above making up his own rules as he went along. When I would drive him somewhere and the traffic was bad causing long lines at a traffic light, my father would urge me to 'make a lane' which was his way of saying to pull out and proceed on the wrong side of the road where there would be no back-up and we could make some headway until, that is, cars coming in the opposite direction might want that section of road.

In the 70s, my father underwent lung surgery to remove a tumor. It turned out to be benign but it was a serious procedure and we were all concerned for him. While in the Intensive Care ward, Sidney managed to behave himself--hooked up to oxygen, IVs and with several nurses stationed in the same room, he hadn't much choice. When he was transferred after a few days into a regular room, however, my father began making side deals with his private nurse of the most outrageous sort buying, bargaining and cajoling goods and services that are not on any hospital's list of offerings and just how he got away with it, I'll never know. Honor is due.

When his condition had improved sufficiently, my father was transferred to a nursing home for another week or so of recovery. Here there were no private nurses to run his errands and accommodate his wishes and the nurses who were on duty weren't likely to be receptive to Sidney's shenanigans, but did that stop him? No.

Sidney would wait until the evening to clean up and shave. By morning, he had a five o'clock shadow. By early afternoon, he looked like someone living in an alley. By the time the evening shift of nurses came on duty, he looked a right ruffian and someone you would want to spend a minimum amount of time around. After the nurses had completed their evening rounds, Sidney would clean himself up and, looking quite dapper, present himself at the nurse's station and claim to be his own brother there to check Sidney out of the convalescent hospital for the evening. He would flirt with the nurses and they all thought it was very nice that Sidney's brother was seeing to it that he would have a nice recuperative dinner in a restaurant. Of course, that isn't what happened and women and jazz clubs featured largely in what was to follow on those evenings. Oh, yes, this became a routine during his stay in the hospital and no one ever caught on.

One evening, my father found himself at the check-out counter in a grocery store. As the clerk is ringing up his charges, Sidney hears something of an argument taking place at the check-out counter behind him. Somebody is complaining vociferously that the clerk won't cash his check and Sidney pays it no heed. As the dispute continues and becomes louder, he hears the man say, "I'm the best organ player in the world and you won't cash my check!" Without turning around to look, Sidney calls out, "If you're the best organ player in the world, your name had better be Jimmy Smith!" After the briefest of pauses, the other man said, "I am Jimmy Smith." And thus, Sidney and Jimmy became friends.

Here's to the Mojo of those two men...

 

Elysée Wednesday tonight--"You can't buy a bag of peanuts in this town without someone writing a song about you."

Look for us Wednesday evenings on the patio from 8 pm (or shortly thereafter) until about 11pm at Caffe Primo, 8590 Sunset Blvd West Hollywood, CA 90069. Underground parking on Alta Loma just east of the Cafe and south of Sunset or on the street.

No need to RSVP; just join us if you can.

 

The photo here is the starting grid of the 1962 1000km de Paris at Montlhéry. It was GTO 3987's first race entered for Ricardo and Pedro Rodriguez by Luigi Chinetti's North American Racing Team. It can be seen on the front row of the grid on the right and it won the race. Also on the grid is the famous Ferrari Breadvan, Count Volpi's Ferrari 'hotrod' that did the GTO one better by being lighter, lower and having the engine further back in the chassis to improve weight distribution. Though it had to make do with the 4-speed gear box of the underlying SWB 2819GT, the aerodynamics were, no doubt, an improvement as the car's frontal aspect had been reduced. It was driven by Ludovico Scarfiotti and Colin Davis (son of the legendary 'Bentley Boy' and Le Mans winner Sammy Davis) and finished third behind the GTO of John Surtees and Mike Parkes.

This is particularly interesting to me as it was not the last time GTO 3987 and the Breadvan spent time in each other's company. For a number of years, my good friend Matthew Ettinger owned the Breadvan and it was during the time I owned 3987. We spent a lot of time speeding along southern California highways together at all hours of the day and night and our adventures with those two cars could (and will) fill a book.

When I first owned the GTO, I wasn't conscious of its racing history other than to know that it had raced. Also, I had no awareness of the Breadvan's rich history, of how it came to be and who had created it out of a short wheelbase Ferrari Berlinetta. It was much later that I learned that Giotto Bizzarrini--the father of the GTO, if you will--had transformed it for Giovanni Volpi into a GTO substitute.

If nothing else, auto racing is a consideration of longevity. Ricardo and Pedro Rodriguez and Ludovico Scarfiotti were killed in racing accidents. Mike Parkes was killed in a road accident. Giotto Bizzarrini's relationship with Ferrari--the company and the man--came to an end in November 1961 when he was part of the legendary walkout in support of sales manager Girolamo Gardini. Gardini had been summarily fired by Ferrari along with Scuderia Ferrari manager Romolo Tavoni and chief engineer Carlo Chiti.

The memories of these two cars and the events surrounding them persist and the cars themselves have become mythic--icons of a Golden Age, you might say. That Matthew and I remain friends after the passing of decades is significant and our love of Ferrari automobiles continues unabated. An uncommon longevity.

(The photo here shows me with Matthew Ettinger taken last week at the Elysée Wednesday gathering.)

The video below, shot during the 1000km de Paris at Montlhéry, shows GTO 3987 bearing the number 1 and the Breadvan can be seen on the grid as well.

 

Elysée Wednesday tonight--"Who are you to refuse my sugar?"

Look for us Wednesday evenings on the patio from 8 pm (or shortly thereafter) until about 11pm at Caffe Primo, 8590 Sunset Blvd West Hollywood, CA 90069. Underground parking on Alta Loma just east of the Cafe and south of Sunset or on the street.

No need to RSVP; just join us if you can.

 

a few candid photos from last night. Some familiar faces, some new...

 

Your posts are a true gift to this website. Thank you for the stories and Please do not stop!

Wilson

 

Wilson, your very kind words are greatly appreciated!

 

What do you know about this Cadillac?
Carrera Panamericana