BS - Boat Stories

[geodavid]

Russ,
This is a great pic. The site has become a text for the history of racing. I was pleased to see a mention of Frank Lane. Recall visiting his shop often. You know, he and my Dad remained friends for the remainder of their lives. Frank and his wife retired to Arizona and stayed in contact with us for years. Frank was a long time Johnson and Evinrude dealer. I think he raced inboards?
Another historic figure certainly was your Dad Wayne. He was the sole driving force behind Texas Outboard Racing. He even named the division we know as PRO. Racing in Texas sadly declined after he retired. There were so many great races and racers, thanks to Baldy. Had the pleasure of speaking with him a few tears ago about cutting oils. I do not think anyone did more for the sport. A wonderful host and really a great guy.
Another I see mentioned often is Jay Root. I do not think there was a nicer guy to ever race. Jay always looked out for others and I know Doc would have liked you for a son in law. Great to see so many on and in the website.

[Master Oil Racing Team]

I've had a few memorable times in the first turn at Alex Alan. Here is one that goes in Russ's category. & this ain't no ****!

It starts out in 1972 at the Pro Nationals at DePue. Joe Rome had been moving us along in getting our act cleaned up and trying to look professional. We talked quite a contingent of Texans into making the trip and so Joe wanted to fly the Lone Star high in the pits. He didn't think about the flag until the last minute I guess because he had to go to his banker in Stafford and borrow the bank's flag to fly over the pits. In those days the Californians had been flying their flag for some time. I don't recall any other state flags flying.

Before the races started some Texans began bragging that we would accumulate more points than the Californians. I think Artie Lund, Ray Yates and some others got it started. When we got to the pits the next day, all the Texas drivers were told what was on the line. We lost that first bet and we all had to sign the Texas flag before handing it over to the Californians. Joe was just a little perturbed to lose a borrowed flag. Thus was born the Flag challenges, later to become a rivalry between Texas and Washington.

Now, a few races later we were in Alexandria with plenty of Texans. Being this close to the West Coast a substantial number of Californians showed up. Texans were anxious for revenge. I think Erma Lund or someone from Artie's pits were keeping score and it was close. It didn't matter if a driver finished 10th, there were still points to be had.

It was the first heat, I think, of 1100 hydro. The field made a high speed flying start. I think there were a couple of gun jumpers including possibly Bill Rucker Sr. I was not up front, but I was on the inside and catching the gun jumpers quickly. It was obvious that at the first turn I would be in position to control it from the inside. Just to my right was Bill Rucker and my pickleforks were just a little forward of his transom.

At Alexandria the straights have a few bouys marking the inside of the course as you fly down them. We were running over 100 and just as we got to the final course marker before the first turn Bill made a hard move to the left as if that were the turn bouy. He drove like he was going to slip just by the first bouy and slide wide. It was so sudden I just had to turn with him. I ended up turning just inside that bouy and I was hot. I was thinking to myself "What the hell?...Rucker's not blind. Why'd he think this was the turn? What's he think the other guys are doing going straight.?"

I was p.o.'d. I had counted this as a win if I didn't break something. I had to circle all the way back around then start back for the first turn. By then the rest of the pack was already coming out of the turn and heading down the back straight. It all happened so quickly and we both throttled back like we were setting up for a turn that I didn't even think about what a near disaster we almost had at high speed. I was just so mad all I could think about was catching as many places as I could, if at all.

After the finish line I pulled into the infield for the black flag and was really bummed out on the way back to the pits. As I neared the judges stand I noticed a lot of commotion at Rucker's pits near the judges stand. I got back to our pits far down near the first turn. After I got out of the boat I asked what was going on. My Dad, Joe or somebody said the whole San Antonio bunch went down to Rucker's pits to whip his ***.

They thought Bill jumped the gun and turned left before the corner just to take me out. When they got to the pits they found Bill explaining how his steering bar just suddenly bent and the hydro went left. It could have been very bad. The San Antone bunch kind of stumbled around and maybe murmured some apologies, but it probably took quite a few cases of Lone Star Beer to settle their adrenaline down. And that ain't no ****!

[Bill Van Steenwyk]

Since the expression "BS" and the name Baldy Baldwin are so closely entwined as most who frequent this site are aware, I thought you might be interested in hearing a story about how a new species of quail got it's name.

The story takes place in the mid to late 70's around the area of Lake Corpus Christi, Texas, or more specifically a piece of land that Baldy had leased for quail and deer hunting. If there was one thing he loved as much or maybe more than boat racing and the people involved, it was the sight of a good bird dog on point, another honoring, and then the sound of a flushing covey of wild Texas quail and the taste of same from a good days hunt. I was fortunate to have been invited to hunt with him quite a few times, and also fortunate to have a wife working for an airline that allowed me to hop on an airplane for practically nothing and go to see and hunt with him at the drop of hat,as I had an outside sales job and my time was pretty much my own as long as I did my job. Anyway, he called, I went, and we found ourselves together with a couple of dogs and Ray Hardy (no, the dogs werent Ray's wives) and we were having a grand old time watching good dogs work, shooting wild quail (hard to get those kind anymore) and all the good natured harrassing that goes along with hunting with Baldy. If you never hunted with him all I can tell you is you better not miss an easy shot or a hard one either or you would never hear the end of it. He shot a 28 guage 1100 Remington automatic, and I shot a 12 guage pump and there is probably twice as much shot in the 12 guage shell as the 28, but you better be on your best behaviour if you wanted to outshoot him, even with that advantage, and it happen very rarely, not only with me but many others we hunted with. He was just an excellent shot, a skeet champion many times over, as was most of his family.

It was getting late in the day, probably 5:30/6:00 pm, and we were probably already hunting too late in the day as it was getting dusk and hard to see. In addition I was wearing a pair of prescription sun glasses, had left my clear glasses in his Suburban, and wasn't really seeing that well because of the dark tint of the glasses and the approaching darkness. Just about the time we were going to quit and go back to the car, the dogs went on point. Somebody stepped in and flushed the birds and I dropped one on the other side of a fence that bordered an open field with nothing but fresh plowed dirt and clods in it. I ran as quick as I could and got through the fence so I could get to where I had marked the bird down. I saw what I thought was the quail lying partly under a big clod of dirt (remember it is almost dark and I still have my sunglasses on) so I bend over to pick it up, as the dog is trying to find a bird either Ray or Baldy knocked down and just as I touch it I realize it is not the quail but a cow turd or in other words "real BS". I immediately raised back up because I knew if Baldy saw me come up with a turd in my hand I would NEVER hear the end of it. TOO LATE..... He saw what I had my hand on,and the He Haw's started and continued all the way back to the house and late into the nite and until he dropped me off at the airport a couple of days later for my trip back home. I thought it would die down after a couple of weeks, but it went on and on and on like he was prone to do if he caught you making an *** out of yourself, and as anyone who knew him well can tell you, he was an expert at catching you.

Several months went by and Eileen and I were in a resturant in southern Missouri, called "Lamberts, Home of Throwed Rolls" where the waiters and waitresses toss your rolls from 20/30 ft away instead of putting them on your table in a basket. Just another hot spot to frequent if you come to Missouri, but anyhow,as we were paying our bill, I noticed at the cash register among the knick/knacks for sale, was a small bell jar, like you would hang an antique watch or other memento in, with a glass cover over it, with small brown turds fastened together with toothpicks and adorned with pink feathers so it looked like a small bird with a cardboard beak. Eileenmmediately said "we have to get that for Baldy, as it is a real turd bird", so we bought it and I wrote a quite lengthy description with the appropriate latin phrases, like "Turdis Birdis, Ozark species, etc., etc., and we boxed it up and sent it to him. As Wayne mentioned in another thread I believe, it immediately became one of his prized possessions and was displayed on his book case in the bar/kitchen/ area and he would tell the story to anybody who would listen about the "Turd Bird", and the dumb *** who killed it.

Wayne said in the other thread that it was burned in the house fire that destroyed Baldy's home, but I visited with him in the mid 90's I believe,after the fire and he showed it to me as one of the very few things he saved besides a few of his guns,when he woke up in the middle of the night with his house on fire. There was certainly nothing funny about the fire, but Baldy did tell one amusing story about that nite. When he discovered the house on fire in the middle of the night, the phone line was already burned in two, as the fire started in a laundry room where the junction box for the phones was located. He ran out to the car port, backed the Surburban out and got on the radio to his business in Alice, to have them call the fire dept. The house burned to the ground either before they got there or was so fully engulfed by the time they did, that they were of little help. Anyway, the Surburban had about 150,000 or more miles on it and Baldy always said he should have pulled it back under the carport and let it burn too, as it was the only thing that was not a total loss and it was worn out. He said "that was the biggest case of dumb *** I ever saw, and it was right here at home".

There are many story's that can be told with him at the center, and he would be proud I know to be known as one of the biggest "BSr's" of all time.

[geodavid]

Bill,
I was in an accident milling for the start in Winona, that is hard to believe was not my fault. I was sitting there kind of forlorn when Baldy sauntered over, asked if I was alll right, then said "All the squirrels are not up in trees."
This has remained a response for doing anything stupid in our household ever since. Passed from generation to generation. Just giving credit where it is due. Hey Wayne, what happened in the second heat of that 1100 race? I think that very well could have been the corner I will never forget. In flipping the memory pages, I remember the six bangers that you passed and believe one was none other than the Great Billy Jack Rucker.

[Master Oil Racing Team]

There are quite a few sayings that Joe reminds of of Alan since I wasn't always around to hear them.

One that Joe likes to tell is from one of those hot days at DePue. There was a race delay and Joe and my Dad were sitting on a concrete wall down from the VFW taco stand. They were just sitting there quietly, my Dad swinging the handle of his crank rope back and forth when he told Joe--"I'm so hungry I could eat the *** end off a cow walking fourteen miles an hour".

As far as the second heat goes, I would have to look that up. I have been trying to remember which race you had referred to earlier and I am not exactly sure. One that comes to mind happened in the early 70's though. And it may have been as much optical illusion as driving so I am not sure I can take full credit.

Tim Butts was wanting to quit his work at Eaton Corp and go into full time boat building. He had already placed ads in Roostertail and maybe even Propeller. We became friends a couple of years earlier and my Dad was impressed with the new boats he had designed. My Dad wanted him to build us a B hydro, but he said no. He wanted to build us a CDF so my Dad agreed. He was wanting to show the boating world he could build more than just AB hydros. That was the first one and my Dad named it HOOKIN' BULL. We took deliver of it at Alexandria in 1972.

We tested and got the boat set up. During the racing that weekend my Dad noticed a big hole consistently appearing in the first turn when there were a lot of boats together there. Having ridden deck with Charlie Bailey I also noticed it. When racing you don't always get to look around in the first turn too much.

Anyway, I think it was in a heat of 1100 hydro that all the boats were together at the line and there was a race to the turn. I was caught up around lane 8 or 9 or so. I thought about trying to break out by hanging on the throttle to the last minute and get enough ahead for a legal overlap. Everybody was hanging on though, including the inside boats. Each boat further outside knew he was going to catch a lot of water when the turning began.

I didn't get enough lead by the time we were ready to set up for the turn, then I remembered my Dad telling me about that big hole. I immediately dumped the throttle to scrub off speed as quickly as possible, looking over my left shoulder at the same time. No one there. I got back on the power and turned hard left. There were a couple of boats inside that had now backed off to get through the turn, but between them and the rest of the pack was a huge hole.

There were three things going for me at that time. First, I hung on the the throttle longer than the inside boats, thus more speed. Second, I cut about 30 to 50 yards off the corner compared to all the others who went so wide. And finally and most important, I was the ONLY ONE to have a Butts Aerowing. It was the ONLY CDF Aerowing in the world at that time. Even without the other two advantages, the smooth drivability and cornering characterestics let me blow that corner down and be headed down the straight while the others were still in the turn.

I can still remember that corner and I'm guessing that it is the one you remember also.

[geodavid]

YES, that is "the corner" Wayne. I swear, it did not look like you had a chance. Then, through the roostertails, you slipped right through. Whew, got a little out of breath thinking about it. Better take a few from the oxygen bottle.
I could not type I was laughing so hard about the cow *** eating at moving speed. Wayne, we all miss him, none more than you do. A great person and now that I have a couple of brats, I see him as...a great Dad.

[russhill]

Ron called me today and said I should check out the latest on Jack Leek. I did. As i said, we lost a winner.

But then I saw the words "Winter Nationals" and laughed. You know we old folks laugh easily.

Now this is one of those Russhillian stories, you don't have to believe it, but it's no ****, honest.

In about '69 or '70 some land swindle company in Topock wanted to hold a boat race to attract buyers. Topock is on the Colorado River about 15 miles south of Needles. They were going to put up some fantabulous amount of money--maybe $15,000, so we said, "go for it." (Well it wasn't all cash much of it was discount on the land which was almost worthless.)

It was to be in February or March--it seldom get over 100 degrees at that time of year. So I said Let's call it the "Winter Nationals." I wasn't creative enough to have thought of that myself, the NHRA had held WinterNationals for years.

So I presented it to the APBA hierarchy. Well, of course, they refused it on the grounds that it would dilute the significance of the "real" nationals. For 104 years, APBA has always rejected new ideas.

So I said, "Here are two guys, Fred National and Clyde Winter who want to give us $15,000 (or maybe it was $25,000) and because you are prejudiced against their names, you are going to tell them to go fu-- themselves?"

It was a pretty successful race. I think we called it the "Winter-Nationals." It was all stock and "Alky" as we called it then, but I note we're still running a "Winter Nationals" without the hyphen.

Ron want's to have a Nostalgic Nationals, but again APBA is against it--but we'll cover that later.

[Master Oil Racing Team]

One of the highlights of the reunion was to meet Russ Hill. I think Russ must have had a great time too because he met someone that could compete on equal terms-----Joe Rome. Joe could throw back anything Russ sent his way. It was great to listen to those two as we sat in the VFW waiting for reunion attendees to sign in. Now to the story.

This ain't no S*#T.

Joe and I left out on Monday afternoon planning to get way down the road, then get an early start Tuesday to go visit Marshall Grant before heading on to DePue. We rode in Joe's Tahoe and he made good time. We ran 75 to 80 most of the way so we got past Little Rock. We shut down just a little west of West Memphis. After we spent 5 hours with Marshall we headed north. Joe called a friend and he suggested we go up 57 rather than 55. It was a good choice because we would have hit St Louis at the afternoon rush. Again, we pushed 80 and made good time.

I was originally planning to fly back to Houston, but a couple of weeks earlier I decided to ride back as Joe wasn't going to stay late on Sunday. So after we went to the pits and made our farewells we hit the road.

Joe didn't really push too hard in Illinois, but we made good time. Before we got to St Louis Joe began to squeeze the throttle & we flew --taking the direct route through St Louis. We had decided on coming back through there because we figured traffic would be light on Sunday afternoon.

Up to this point I never offered to drive and Joe never asked. Joe was pushing hard and we both wanted to get to DePue quickly and the same when we headed home. If I was behind the wheel, I would have kept it legal (except where I had to keep up with the truck traffic.) But Joe was getting us down the road and that was what we both wanted.

We had figured on getting at least to Little Rock or maybe as far as Texarkana before shutting down. We found a Cracker Barrel on the east side of Little Rock (Joe has a Cracker Barrel map), but Joe pealed off to the loop a couple of miles before we got to it. So we kept going. Then Joe's eagle eye spotted one on the other side of Little Rock. After eating we got a little sleepy so we pulled into a rest area just outside Texarkana. We, no make that Joe, slept for two hours, waking up only once. I leaned over in the seat with my eyes closed, but no sleep. I can sleep at a drilling rig, but there I can scoot the seat of my pickup back and tilt the seat all the way. It was too cramped in Joe's Tahoe to do any of that.

So we get back on the road about 2 am. I am still not offering to drive or Joe not asking. He is pushing hard and we have come across very few state troopers. I am really sleepy now and try to grab a few winks between towns. Around Nacogdoces Joe does a little weaving so I finally ask him if he wants me to drive. He declines. We put on some Fabulous Thunderbirds and crank it up. Everything is fine. Joe is checking his watch.

We get on down the road a ways and I am back trying to get some sleep. About 80 miles north of Houston Joe is weaving more. It seems like he can't make up his mind on a starting lane. Then he sweeps hard left and I jump up. I told him he was heading for the turn lane for a crossover. He denied it, but in the interest of safety I asked again if he wanted me to drive. I am now not thinking about getting back quickly---just about getting back. But he is talking like he is wide awake and I have gotten only a little REAL sleep. Joe checks the time.

We pass through Shepard and I am now sitting back up. The sky has lightened up considerably and the sun is just about up. Joe checks his watch. Now Joe starts crossing back and forth over the center stripe. A little further he weaves constantly from one lane to the next. Then from the rumble trips on the outside to those on the inside. Suddenly Joe says "Now I'm sleepy". We pull into a gas station and switch. I drive for the first time on the trip. We are primed to enter Houston a quarter after 7:00 on a Monday morning rush hour. Joe's timing was perfect & that ain't no S*%T!

[Skoontz]

Is one of KT's favorites. After she won Sunday at Parker he walked down from the Hills pit to the stock pit area and gave her a big hug. He is famous for his "Nappy haired Hoe" comment to KT when she was trying to comb out her helmet head hair. If Joe is like Russ, I did not think the world had another like him. Can't wait to se him at Longbeach, and then a week later he is usually at the SCAOMC meets swapping stories. The most favorite, the one about young Jimbo beating the seasoned Russ for the first time

[Master Oil Racing Team]

Well Skoontz, I can't say Joe is like Russ. It appears Russ is one of a kind. What I meant is that Joe can fire right back. While we had some lulls in action waiting for people to come pick up their packets, the time passed quickly listening to the two. Have a great time at Long Beach and the meet.