Thread: Wayne Baldwin's Amazing Story: Baldy's Eual Eldred Baldwin

  1. #371
    Hangar 7 Karen Cadle's Avatar
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    Thumbs up great writing Wayne

    Thanks!
    "Sis"

  2. #372
    Team Member Master Oil Racing Team's Avatar
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    Thanks Karen. I want to try to be as accurate as possible, but you know how memories can test you. The things I have written so far include images stuck in my mind so deeply, that I can picture them, along with the way I remember things....especially when a song brings up a memory I recall every time I hear it. Up to this point, I also relied on notes I took so I wouldn't forget. I could look back at them, and start thinking about how it was, and sometimes one thought triggered another and most everything came back. I looked for an old map because I know it would do the same. Baldy often made notes or circles on maps. I love maps and save them. While looking through the box I found the one Baldy bought in Milwaukee dated 1971. We were looking for the funeral home where the services would be held for Jerry Waldman. I can't remember every detail exactly, but I remember enough to write how it would have been had it been videorecorded. Joe has helped me remember some things, and then Roostertail articles have confirmed and added to my notes. It's been a fun adventure writing this story, but now comes the part where I have had the most difficulty.

    A couple of years ago, Marc Johnson and I compared notes and it appeared that Baldy bought boats, motors, and a trailer from Marc's Dad Randy. Everything pointed in that direction, up until the point Marc posted a picture of his Dad Randy. Randy was not the guy I met at the door to hook up the trailer full of stuff. And.....I did not take much in the way of notes at all. In fact, I only have a couple of entries.

    It could have been Randy's Dad and Marc's Grandpa, but I'm not sure. It was at night, the hair looks wrong, and while specked with grey,it was darker. The man was around six feet tall or maybe a little more and was dressed in dark slacks, long sleeve white shirt and had the appearance of a doctor, lawyer, insurance guy or someone typically dressed like that in the mid sixties. So I'm going to think about it a little more before I go on Karen. I want to be accurate, but I cannot now confirm that it was Randy Johnson we bought the equipment from. Maybe someone that hasn't read this stuff before might click on a name with the following facts I remember.

    The trailer, boats and motors were picked up at a home in Greensboro, North Carolina. The trailer was tandem axle, with a box that could hold around six motors, plus storage. There were approximately two or three Dubinski's and possiibly a 10'4 or 10'6 Marchetti hydro. No runabouts. The boats were white with black trim. They may have been all white on top with black trim, or maybe just one or two Dubinski's with that paint scheme. I think the trailer was white, and I seem to have some memory trying to kick in about the box color and what was painted on it, but it won't come up in my memory. One of the things I mostly remembered that Marc and I discussed was not only the fact that the boats were in Greensboro, but I clearly remember Z and some 1's maybe one or two, plus maybe a 7. Like Z 11 or Z 171, or some combination. It was black letters and numbers on a white background. The purchase also included for sure a 4 carb C Konig, and possibly a cast iron cylinder FA Konig.

    When I resume, it will be at the point where we arrive in Greensboro, North Carolina.



  3. #373
    Team Member Master Oil Racing Team's Avatar
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    Default Some Place in Greensboro, North Carolina

    Tommy and I drove to the address without any problems. Up to this point Baldy had done all the talking. I don't know whether he made the contact in Knoxville, over a Roostertail ad, from another boat racer, or from another source. All I know is that Baldy bought these boats, motors and trailer, paid for them, and I was supposed to take them home.

    We were in the suburbs of a very nice neighborhood with rolling hills, green grass and lots of mowed lawns from what we could see at night.

    The trailer and equipment was in a driveway to our left from where the walkway led to the front door. Seems like a covered portion over the driveway where the trailer was parked, but I am not totally sure. After knocking oon the door, or ringing the bell, the man came to the door right away, introduced himself, and me to him, then we walked to his right over to where the equipment was.

    He opened the trailer box and showed me what was inside after we looked the boats over. He had some additional items that we talked about, and I don't know if he dug these extra parts out after he made the deal with Baldy or not. This is one of the things that confuses me, because I thought this guy was getting out of racing. Randy raced some more after this, and I met Marc in Florida a couple of years back. Anyway, we went into his garage I believe and he picked up one item after another and said what he wanted for it. I made a list. I don't recall whether I bought the stuff, called Baldy, or anything else, but I remember only one thing when I was writing all this down. He handed me some Autolite spark plugs and said that these were the plugs I needed to run in the VC Konig.

    Not being mechanically inclined before I started racing, and having never worked on automobile engines, I did not have a clue what an Autolite sparkplug was or even where to get them. All I knew was Champion. They were in all the Roostertail magazines, and I was very familiar with the Champion decals on the Indy cars, and the ones I had on my boats. He also gave me some timing info for the 4 carb Konig, and other info. This is all I wrote down in my book. And I didn't even write down the date.

    ADD: The stuff in blue ink might have been what Baldy wanted me to look at first before committing, and the penciled writing from when I was standing there taking down info,
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  4. #374
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    After concluding our business, hooking up the trailer, checking out the lights and making sure the boats were secure, we hit the road. Tommy and I had another destination en route to home. Bourbon Street.

    We drove until probably about 10:00 p.m so we would have a jump on the drive down to New Orleans. It was a Thursday night.

    Friday morning we got an early start, and this time with the trailer behind us, I was committed to driving all the way home with Tommy in the passenger seat. No way was he getting behind the wheel. He was very good company though, and with some very good music on the radio we had a nice, easy cruise on our way to Louisiana. The weather was holding out well. I was hoping it would stay that way when we had to exit IH10 after crossing the Atchafala River Basin, and get back on that narrow road through the swamps.

    It was somewhere on the way back that we finally heard Bobby Gentry's haunting ballad "Ode to Billy Joe" that was being harped by all the stations in the South. Having looked up the history on the internet, I discovered why we didn't know what the deal was with the song. It had been released in July and first played on one of the oldest stations in the country that had some kind of reputation for doing unusual things to get publicity. The station was WNOX 100.3 AM out of Knoxville, Tennesse. It was the B side of the record just released. WNOX played it every hour on the hour, but never said who the artist was or the title of the song. They wanted to get the jump on other stations. Listeners were calling in all competitive stations, plus WNOX to hear the song, but they did not know the name or title to tell the DJ's what they wanted to hear. Apparently, the other stations didn't listen to the B side as the A side wasn't all that great, so they had no clue. By the time we first heard it the name and title had been found out and other stations picked up it and began playing it. It hit number one in August and stayed there for awhile.

    In the meantime, we reached New Orleans after the sun set. It was not hard to get directions. We were told how to get to Canal Street then keep on heading down it and we would cross Bourbon Street. I couldn't believe how bad the intersections were. We saw sparks come off of one car that tried to beat a light.

    We suddenly came to the Bourbon Street intersection and had to go through. I was able to make a left a block or two later, then I went down a couple of blocks before heading up the other way to find a place to park. Talk about naive. Tommy nor I had no clue. We made it up to the intersection of Bourbon Street, but the street was completly full of revelers traveling in all directions. They never even gave us a glance...except for one guy.

    He walked over to us having spotted the race boats on the trailer. I rolled down the window, and he introduced himself. I cannot remember the name, but after years of thinking about it and talking with Joe Rome, I have come to conclude it was one of the racing Siracusa family. It was still to early in my career for me to know about the legendary inboard hydro racing family.

    He told me he lived in the area and him and his family raced inboard hydros. He asked me where I was from and what I was doing hauling these boats around here. I told him all about our trip, then he was telling me all about his inboard racing. I could tell he was a big time racer. He was probably mid to late twenties, and very friendly. We talked about fifteen or twenty minutes and there were no cars behind us honking, or anyone trying to tell us to get the h#ll our of the way. We were the only dumba$$es trying to cross Bourbon Street with a trailer loaded with boats.

    After we had talked awhile this guy said "You want to cross the street don't you?" I told him "Yeah!" And he told us where to go park after we got across, then he just walked out in front of a car slowly making its way with the crowd coming from our left. When that car stopped, we inched our way forward, blocking that lane, and he did the same for the traffic coming from the right. He waved at us after we passed through that throng, and we found someplace to park the rig a few blocks away.

    Tommy and I walked down Bourbon Street for a little bit taking in all the noise, crowd and excitement. Then we finally got the courage to go into a club to see what we had come to Bourbon Street for. It was a hawker that stopped us and steered us inside to the bar.

    As we sat down, we both took in the girl dancing behind the bar. Music was loud and she was gyrating like Tommy and I never could have imagined. The bartender then showed up and asked "What'll you boys have?" We both said "Coke!" He told us that we would have to have a mixed drink in order to stay, and he could see the confusion on our faces that we were not drinkers and knew nothing about alcoholic drinks. This guy had seen thousands like us pass through his bar, and since he had empty seats, there was no reason to toss out a couple of paying customers so he said "I think both of you would like a Tom Collins." We knew every place like this along Bourbon Street would be the same story so we agreed that two Tom Collins' would do very well. He brought them, we paid, and our eyes seldom left the stage. We nursed those two drinks for at least an hour. We poked the straws on our bottom lips or up our noses when we went to take a drink because we couldn't take our eyes off the show. We finally had to leave, but we did not go to anymore shows. Neither one of us could afford to drink anymore. Not because of the price, but because we were not used to it, and I still had the get the car and boats out of the French Quarter and find a place to bed down for the night.

    There were a very nice girls, but a particular blonde has always stuck in my memory, and I can still remember one song she was dancing to. It was Tom Jones' hit "What's New Pussycat." That was a very memorable night, and left us in good spirits for the race home tommorow.



  5. #375
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    Saturday morning we were in good spirits. The weather was good, and although it was still a long haul, we would be able to finally get home after having originally started this trip nearly two weeks earlier. We got through to Breaux Bridge and back onto IH10 without any incident. This time though we got a good look at the swamp as it was good weather, and we weren't being pushed. We got on through Lake Charles, crossed back into Texas and at Beaumont, we were back on familiar roads.

    Boat racing had taken me into the additional states of Mississippi, Alabama, Georgia, and North and South Carolina. So that makes nine of fifty states I have now been in. Tommy and I were feeling some of our independance. It felt good.

    When we got to Houston, I called Baldy and told him where we were. Baldy told me that Dan and Blanche Waggoner were holding a party for the local boat racers at their house that evening. They didn't know I was out of town when they set it up, but when Baldy said he would be there, he told me that the others would like to see all the equipment if we felt like taking the time to stop off there on the way home.

    It was not exactly on the way home. It was more like the side trip we took for lunch in Georgia a few days back. It was about the same distance as home, but we lived an hour west of Flour Bluff, which was on the coast. At first I thought of declining, then I thought about who would be there. Tommy and Betty Wetherbee would certainly be there. That means Marsha might be there too. I decided to take the chance and told Tommy we would detour to a boat racer's party before we went home.

    Baldy was there and of course Dan, Blanch and David Waggoner. Steve Jones, Larry Baker, Joe and David Fuqua, Alex Wetherbee and Tommy Wetherbee and his wife Betty, and I think Richard Frye were all there. But no Marsha Wetherbee to my great disappointment. We still had a good time though.

    As I think I mentioned way back at the beginning of this thread, David Waggoner, the only child of Dan and Blanch had cerebral palsy. His speech was slurred, but I was able to understand him, unlike some. He was devoted to Dan and Blanch and racing. He liked boat racing, stock car racing and motorcycle racing. It was his own motorcycle that gave him some independance.

    David's right arm was always bent up at the elbow, and his hand was bent down at the wrist. He walked with a prounounced limp and shuffle. To drink out of a glass, he had to stick the fingers of his right hand down into the glass to grip it, then tilt it up over his head for a drink. I can't remember how much he could use his left arm or hand. He seemed limited on that side. but I can't totally recall. It could be that it was just because his right hand was dominant that his infirmity showed up to a greater extent He could lift Dan's runabouts though and helped carry them. He was determined to be of help.

    David worked for the city of Corpus Christ and drove a motorcycle to and from work. He owned a Triumph 650 at this time, and he asked me to take a ride with him down Waldron Road. I didn't really want to, but I knew it would hurt David's feelings if I declined. He was very proud of his motorcycle and wanted to show me what it would do.

    We rode down his street to Waldron about a block and a half west then he turned northbound. We were going about twenty five or thirty miles per hour and I just had my hands hanging loosely near his waist. There wasn't much in the way of a rear seat...just a pad on the rear fender with braces to support weight.

    Suddenly David cranked the throttle all the way back and I frantically got my arms around his waist as I was sliding off the back. I pulled myself back up on the seat just as he shifted into the next gear.

    I mentioned David had difficulty taking a glass of water. It was the same eating, or anything else he did with his right hand. He had to modify his movements to make simple chores work. To shift, he had to jerk his right hand at the same time he shifted with his foot, then quickly pull back. It would not have had to have been such a fearful trick had David not been trying to speed shift and get up to top speed as quickly as he could, but to me it was terrifying. The bike would jerk violently each time he shifted. I think he shifted twice more and each time the asphalt was moving faster under our feet. In no time we were doing 90 mph.

    I don't know if that was top end or not, but that bike was very powerful, and it was only a matter of seconds that we got up to speed. David turned us around and we headed back at a leisurely forty five or so miles per hour.

    I'm not sure if anyone else ever rode behind David like that. A lot of people more or less kept their distance because they were uncomfortable being around him the way he talked, ate and drank. He was beaming though when we pulled back into his backyard, and I am forever grateful I took that ride. It was kind of a turning point for me too in my relationship with David. Neither one of us had helmets and we could have been killed if a car pulled out. I know he had fallen before and afterwards, but not with another rider aboard. He just wasn't physically capable of doing some extreme evasive manuevers that a skilled rider might have.

    We got back into Alice sometime around midnight, and I dropped Tommy and his alligator off at his house. I was glad to be back in my own bed. It was a great road trip though that I have never forgotten.



  6. #376
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    Default That sounds like downtown Buford!

    [QUOTE=Master Oil Racing Team;117929]
    Finally, around 1:30 or so we spotted a sign of a town about twenty miles north of the intersection. We had not come upon any signs of towns anywhere near for awhile so we took the exit. It was a winding road taking us through the forest to a small town set back in the hills. I don't remember the name of it, but it had one outstanding feature. There was a very large brick building that I believe was two or three stories and went a whole block. I think there were other structures behind that building in a courtyard like area, but my memory is too dim. There were around twenty to thirty people walking back to it having come off a lunch break, or shift change. We found no real restaurant in the town as you would envision, but there was a large white frame clapboard house up the hill caddy corner to the factory, and half a dozen or more people were on the porch and walking down the steps headed back to the factory. Somebody in town must have given us directions because I don't remember seeing any sign on the house..

    She told us that the factory was a tannery. [QUOTE]

    Wow, Wayne. That sounds like Buford Georgia. Take a look at the photo of the Tannery on this link and see if it looks familiar. We live a few miles from downtown.

    Jean
    http://visitbuford.com/History.htm

  7. #377
    Team Member Master Oil Racing Team's Avatar
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    It was time to get back to work preparing for the next race. I had written in my book that we raced at Highlands, Texas (Baytown Boat Club) on June 26and 27, but we already put the June race behind us. It was scheduled for JULY 26 and 27.

    It was the week before the race we got home. The crankshaft from Scott Smith had come in while we were gone, and so I reassembled and spaced out the crank as Jack Chance had taught me. After first aligning the three piece crankcase and driving the tapered pins home.

    Crankshaft installed and the block bolted onto it, I began to turn the flywheel and feel the bump of pistons. The bottom cylinder wasn't so bad, but the top needed much more grinding. I didn't know any other way to tell where it bumped other than to smear grease on the piston dome, and see where grease spots were located on the head.

    I didn't torque the head down properly in the beginning because the piston was still bumping. I had a lot of grinding to do, so it was grease on the piston, grind on the head, clean everything off and start over again. It was painstaking work and I was no "painstaker". I was anxious to get this over, but I kept at it. Finally, I was "feeling" some results. The bumping was barely perceptible. I then started checking the cc's of the head. Seems like it was supposed to be 8 1/2 to 9 cc's per cylinder, but I would need to look that up to be sure. One motor my memory says was 12. I can come back to edit if I'm totally off,but to continue the story, the top cylinder still needed a lot of grinding.

    I compared the squish area of each cylinder by eye, and tried to make a match, but this was my first go to try something like this. The head was not smooth at all. I was taking away metal to get both heads close to even before I tried smoothing and polishing. I actually never got around to polishing. After getting the CC's fairly close there was still an almost undetectable bump at top dead center.I could not find any more grease marks on the top cylinder. I finally tried the bottom cylinder, and there it was. Just the most infintesimal grease spot.

    I ground a little more, tightened up the heads as they would be when race ready, then turned the motor over again. No bumps. I then began to try to sand out all the tool marks and smooth the surfaces. I figured that when the engine got hot, and everything expanded, the piston might strike one or other of the heads. I got lucky. After all that work, by the time I got the heads down, not to a polish, but with all the tool marks sanded down, the motor ran fine. I would not know that until the following weekend when we went to Baytown. In the meantime, I was blindside from an unexpected quarter while I was finishing up that A Konig.

    Pam Yawn came into the combination motor room/tack room and stood behind me while I worked. After a few minutes of silence, I finished up what I was doing and turned around to smile at her. She said we had to talk about something. At first I was confused at her serious expression. She was never like that. Then she smiled and said "I think we should think about dating others besides ourselves." My whole head got hot. I lost all thought. I said nothing. Pam went on." You know I'm going to the University of Texas in a few weeks, and ...you know....we'll be apart. I think we should think about going out with someone else when I'm not home.. Is that Okay?"

    My head was spinning. No it was NOT OKAY! But I didn't say anything. I didn't know what to say. She was my first and only girlfriend. I was too shy and ugly to find someone else like her. Pam must have seen the look on my face. She told me I would find others to go out with. That it would only be while she was in Austin, and that she would see me when she came home, but I knew then it was over. That fun filled "Summer of Love" came abruptly to an end.

    ADD: I found an old packing slip from Overseas Dealers that suggests we got parts to rebuild rather than replace the crankshaft. That was most likely done by Jack Chance's brother-in-law whom I never met, but did a lot of excellent machine work for us. Baldy had ordered the parts on July 6. The packing slip was very faded so I had to do some work to make it readable.
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  8. #378
    Team Member Gene East's Avatar
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    The worst thing about a first girlfriend is, she's usually also the first heartbreak.

    Thank God we always seem to get over that!

  9. #379
    Team Member Master Oil Racing Team's Avatar
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    Yup! That's part of growing up Gene.



  10. #380
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    There was not enough time to get all the equipment we bought ready, but we may have rigged up the Marchetti hydro. About that same time we ended up with an FA Konig with a cast iron block. It could have been included in the purchase. I just never remembered exactly where it came from, so this buy could have been where we got it.

    The Marchetti was 10'6" I think. It would help us be competitive in A hydro. I was really looking forward to trying out that 4 carb C Konig. It had a real mean look with all those carbs, and open exhausts. It looked like a fun motor to drive.

    We got everything loaded and headed out on Friday July 25. The race was scheduled for July 26 and 27, 1967, so as usual we got checked in to the Holiday Inn at Baytown, then went to Jack Chances house and shop a few miles away on Kilgore Road. We wanted to show Jack some of our new "goodies" as Baldy would say.



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