by Paul R. Spitzzeri
Not quite a quarter century after the first automobile put in its brief appearance in downtown Los Angeles streets in 1897, the rapidly growing sport of auto racing was making ever greater marks in the Angel City and environs as reflected in a “National Championship Event” held at the Los Angeles (also known as Beverly Hills because of its location at the southwest corner of Wilshire Boulevard at Beverly Drive) Speedway in February 1921. The featured object from the Museum’s collection is a “parking space rental” ticket issued for the race, scheduled for the 22nd, with the note that it was “good on postponed date if postponed.”
This, in fact, is what happened, as the date was pushed back five days due to inclement weather. Before we get into the specifics of the contest, there are prior posts here dealing with early auto racing in our region, including one held at Ascot Park in South Los Angeles in February 1913.
Another concerned a contest held in Glendale two years later, while an early post shared photos of the Los Angeles Speedway taken later in 1921. Other posts here covered races at the New Ascot in El Sereno and the Culver City Speedway, which essentially replaced the one in Beverly Hills, these occurring during the last half of the Roaring Twenties.
This one was different in that it was promoted as “Auto and Air Races” with “Nine Thrilling Speed Events” including the “World’s Greatest Racing Pilots and Bird-Men Entered in [a] Spectacular All-Day Program.” Tickets for the event were priced at $1.50 for general admission, $2.50 for unreserved grandstand seats and $4 and $5 for reserved spots in those stands. As for the “parking space rental,” that was $5, though attendees could take the Pacific Electric Railway streetcar from the downtown Hill Street Station, between 4th and 5th streets, using the 16th Street line and save on that hefty fee.
A notable point to make about some of these events is their taking place during the winter in generally balmy Los Angeles, though there were also some important Thanksgiving Day races that, in the case of one at the LA Speedway in 1920, capped the racing season—we’ll post about that contest this November, so look for that during the holiday week. So, while it certainly seemed safer to hold this championship race on Washington’s birthday, it turned out not to be the case.
The pre-race promotion was definitely significant, with the Los Angeles Express of the 21st informing readers that 60,000 fans were expected to pack the Speedway the next day, even as the federal weather bureau was “warning that a heavy storm was scheduled to strike Los Angeles late today.”
In its edition of that day, the Los Angeles Record ran an article by Darsie L. Darsie (yup, a real name, not a pen name!), that observed, “defying death at every turn, nine royal good fellows will pilot their racing cars at frightful speeds” while “well do they remember the last race,” this being the aforementioned Thanksgiving contest, which, again, we’ll cover later this year. The columnist added “not one of the pilots has a thought of his own danger . . . calm, apparently indifferent to the ever present danger in racing, they coolly gamble with death on every lap” and he concluded:
Splendid specimens of manhood, trained to the quick, their minds and muscles in perfect harmony, the drivers as a whole are a grand bunch of fellows. Racing to them is a business, a fascinating business, it is true, but nevertheless a means of livelihood.
When it came to racing fans, however, Darsie asserted that “a race without [an] accident is a dull affair” and “they have but little regard for the lives of the boys who are amusing them.” For those in attendance, the car skidding on the course was “little more than a toy on a platter” and so “they throng to the Speedway in search of the thrill that goes with mad speed.”
The powerful storm did hit, as expected, though it cleared out rather quickly; still Los Angeles Times cartoonist Ted Gale made reference to the fact that the winter was quite dry beforehand, observing “he was a little late—but he finally landed!” Race officials stated that, while the track was not the problem, the infield where crowds were to be gathered and the parking areas were of concern.
With the delay, Darsie of the Record wrote up a humorous column that an editor addressed, stating “on account of beautiful weather yesterday, the Speedway races were called off, on account of rain the day before.” It was added that Darsie was “in such perfect condition to have described the races had they actually occurred, that it was deemed miserable not to let him describe them anyway.” So, it was added, “you will find a thrilling version of what didn’t happen, yesterday.”
Darsie’s facetious report was that Tommy Milton, despite holding the lead and heading into the homestretch, was passed by Ralph De Palma, who achieved a top speed of 180 miles per hour and “drove a masterful race.” Before that, however, a strange occurrence took place in which the mechanic of Roscoe Sarles (the mechanic rode with the racer in these contests) happened to be reading the Record sports page and dropped it on the track.
De Palma’s car, the account went on, roared by and the paper got attached to the radiator, causing the car to overheat, but was able to overcome this and triumph. Darsie then announced the winners and their prizes, thusly:
Tommy Milton wins the blotting paper bathtub.
Ralph De Palma wins the cast iron toy balloon.
Ira Vail is awarded the celluloid frying pan.
Roscoe Sarles gets the bird’s-eye maple moth balls.
A special trophy was awarded the guy who ordered the races postponed because of the rain. This bird wins the elegant tissue paper umbrella.
The Times of the 23rd, however, informed readers that “everybody seems to be perfectly well satisfied at the postponement of the track and aerial events and the belief seems to be prevalent that the show will be better for the delay.” Beyond the fact that the drivers had more time to practice and get their cars “to the last notch of efficiency,” it was added that “the landing field for the airplanes will be greatly improved.”
The delay also allowed the organizers time to schedule entertainment “to lend a little jazz to the atmosphere between the races,” though both were military bands, so “jazz” was more of a verb than a noun and, even then, who knows how much excitement the ensembles could drum up among the crowd. Speedway Association Manager A.M. Young opined that it was better for the races to be on Sunday than the original Tuesday because fewer people would be at work or otherwise engaged, though it was acknowledged that there were “numerous easterners who were staying over purposely to see them.”
A schedule of the events published in the Record of the 26th noted that the first offering, at 11 a.m., was a 250-mile round trip airplane race to San Diego and back, said to be “the first event of its kind ever staged in America” with craft required to show speeds of at least 125 mph to qualify. Fifteen minutes later, an air race was to take place of 36 miles comprising six laps on six miles on a triangular-shaped course that was within view of the grandstands. At Noon, another such race was to be held, while the San Diego derby was expected to conclude about an hour later.
At 1:30 p.m., four heats of 25-mile auto races were to commence. At about 3:15, once these were completed, a 42-mile air race on that 6-mile course was to take place with “sport planes.” Lastly, at 4 p.m., the final auto contest was to transpire with a 50-mile heat comprising the automobile championship series.
For the American Automobile Association point system, the winner of the first heat was to get 50 points and those finishing on top in the remaining heats received 40, 30 and 20 points, respectively, with second place to earn 10 points for the first three only. The final heat winner was awarded 130 points, with 60 for the runner-up and 25 and 15 each for third and fourth place. Total prize money was $15,000 at the AAA’s prescribed rate of $100 per mile. The referee was racing legend Barney Oldfield, who retired in 1918 after 16 years in the sport.
In his column, Darsie remarked that “the weather looks fine today and indications are that unless a heavy fog or something comes up,” the races were a go for the next day. He added that “the sprint races are about the most interesting thing the promoters can dig up,” though “where the safe, sane and brainy driver usually wins out in a longer race,” like the Indianapolis 500, “it is the carefree, reckless pilot who grabs the money in the short dashes.”
Darsie observed the De Palma and Milton were the favorites to win the race as they had “a good deal of a monopoly on speed records in this country and either of them is liable to win in a walk tomorrow.” He cautioned, however, that no outright favorite came out as the victor in a contest at the Speedway to date, so it was possible that a dark horse could pull off another surprise.
The Express, also of the 26th, reported to readers that “nine rip-snorting racing cars and 30 sputtering airplanes are ready for the combined ground and lofty speed carnival” and added that “there should be enough thrills in the vicinity of Beverly Hills to startle even a movie director.” Another interesting reference was the paper’s assertion that:
There have been speed programs of one kind and another ever since the days when the animals staged their famous race to get into Noah’s ark, but it is doubtful if a day’s events promising so many thrills of one kind and another has ever been lined up to equal tomorrow’s collection of condensed speed contests. We’ve had track races with a “kick,” and we’ve had aerial races with similar “kick,” but nobody ever tried to stage the two together.
De Palma, “hero of hundreds and hundreds of races,” was here accounted the favorite “by reason of the consistent exhibition of speed that has little French Ballot racer has given.” The prior week he established a world record of nearly 111 miles per hour (today, more than double that has been recorded on circuit tracks). Six of the other entrants were considered strong candidates for a win, including Milton, Sarles, Vail, Eddie Hearne, Jimmy Murphy and Eddie Miller.
Concerning the aviation part of the event, it was asserted that “in no place but Southern California could such a field of starters such as will appear in the aerial races tomorrow be gathered” and it was remarked that there were more than 30 private craft participating, four times as many in a post-World War I contest in which government-owned craft were not permitted to enter. This meant that “the healthy condition of the aircraft industry in Southern California is well indicated thereby.”
In the Times of the day of the race, under the banner headline of “MOTOR CAR SPEED MERCHANTS PRIMED TO SINGE BEVERLY HILLS BOWL,” with a subheading of “DEMON DRIVERS OUT FOR BLOOD,” the columnist “Leepson Bownes,” undoubtedly a nom de plume (get it?) but used for about 15 years in the paper’s sports pages, remarked that “miles per hour will be quoted at a very low rate this evening when the speed kings of track and sky get through with their great series of race” while it observed that “nothing short of a downpour can keep them from being held.”
While the sportswriter concurred that De Palma was favored, it was added that “his margin over the rest of the field is so slim as to be scarcely discernible with the naked eye. Umpire Fred Wagner was paraphrased as stating that “the field is more evenly matched than in any race he has ever seen.” It was remarked, as well, that this was the first race in the AAA season so it was crucial for the “throttle shovers,” while “the collection of silver dollars donated by the speedway management” was clear incentive “to make anybody keep urging his mount to its upmost speed.”
The “ozone sweepstakes” sponsored by the Aero Club of Southern California were also discussed, with mention that the San Diego run involved a trophy as well as cash, while the shorter contests were organized by horsepower and speed of the craft, with Bownes adding that “they ought to put up a wild and thrilling exhibition.”
For safety, efforts were made to prevent aircraft from flying over the expected large crowds and the landing area, inside the venue, was fenced with a police presence “to keep innocent villagers from wandering out on the course and getting their hair parted by a propeller.” There was one woman entrant, Neta Snook (1896-1991), who worked for another racer, Bert Kinner, and also gave Amelia Earhart her first flying lessons. After her 1922 marriage and the birth of a son, Snook ended her aviation career, though, in 1977, for the 50th anniversary of Charles Lindbergh’s solo fight across the Atlantic Ocean, she flew a replica of his Spirit of St. Louis.
In its summary of the day’s events, the Record of the 28th commented that “Ralph De Palma was the spectacular figure in a series of spectacular motor races” as he “won the first, or trial heat of the day, and the 50-mile final, finishing as he pleased.” As to his Ballot, it was remarked that “this new racing creation is a wonder and expert auto men said yesterday that they believed it to be the fastest thing of its kind on a track.”
In the trial heat, De Palma reportedly “decided he’d had enough rear view of the other machines” and, on the 19th lap, “set his foot down. Goodnight! The field looked like it was standing still as De Palma shot from fifth to first place” so that “down the home stretch the Ballot came almost by itself.” Because he won the first race, De Palma sat out until the final heat, while Sarles, Murphy and Milton captured the others.
When the final heat came, there were a half-dozen of the original nine entrants, with “a popular bet was De Palma at 2-1 against the field.” Again, he was in fifth place after 16 laps before again gunning his vehicle and moving quickly into the top spot past Sarles, but looked to have held up as the latter again reclaimed first position. For a good 17 laps, the two, with Murphy and Milton, were closely matched and the paper recorded,
Then, when everyone figured Sarles a winner, De Palma stepped on it. Goodnight again! The Ballot had speed to spare . . . There was a hurry and a scurry among the other drivers to grab second place and for a second the crowd trembled as the tiny speed demons seemed ready to crash together.
Milton took second place barely ahead of Sarles, followed by Murphy, Vail and Miller, while “De Palma was surrounded by a mass of humanity after the race and carried up and down the track on the shoulders of his admirers.” With respect to the San Diego race, fog caused its conclusion on the return. The three short races were won by Earl Daugherty, E.C. Robinson and Frank Clarke and Snook finished sixth out of seven racers in this last contest, with the Times, also of the 28th, noting that “she took fewer chances on the turns but otherwise was apparently as good a pilot as anybody.”
The paper also remarked that,
The Speedway crowd is rapidly being educated to aerial events and the applause and cheering were very noisy when Clarke and other pilots made particularly neat turns. The fact that more than twenty airplanes took part in the aerial events without a single forced landing or real difficulty of any kind was a splendid testimonial to the skill of the pilots and the safety of the modern airplane when properly handled.
The Express called the event “five of the most spectacular auto races ever witnessed on an American speedway,” while it added that “never before in the history of the sizzling gasoline sport was there ever seen such daring, nerve-tingling driving as that which kept the 40,000 spectators on the verge of nervous prostration.”
The winning “speed wizard extraordinary” gathered 180 points for the new season, pocketed $4,000 and fought off “a persistent jinx [hounding him] for years.” Milton, “driving like wild and never budging an inch” whatever the risk also earned $4,000 and racked up 100 points. Sarles accumulated 75 points and walked away with $2,000 as he “romped into third” while spectators “knew that the daring Roscoe was in the fight every second of the affair.” Another notable detail was that “motion pictures of the races are being shown at the California theater by the Express Animated Events,” a sideline of the paper.
As for the Times, it asserted that De Palma “is one of the greatest race drivers in the world and owns an automobile that is no ash can” while he “demonstrated to the crowd the real meaning of the word speed. As for the crowd, the paper remarked that “40,000 people were on their feet, so the chills could romp up and down their spinal columns without having to twist around any corners.” It was claimed that in the first heat with all nine entrants “the crowd was bunched so closely that every time [cars] turned a corner, men, women and children fainted.” It was repeated that De Palma executed a burst of speed “with a snort” and took control of the race “in a dast [dash] that has seldom been equaled on the track.”
With the final heat, “the fireworks didn’t explode until the thirty-seventh lap” as De Palma hit the gas hard” and roared to victory. The Times noted that “as far as accidents went, the day was a failure,” though Ira Vail came close to causing a collision in the fourth heat,” and that the two ambulance on standby waited to no avail, but “no one complained.” De Palma’s average speed of 107.3 mph was the “fastest time made in competition since [the] reduction in size of racing motors to [a] 183 cubic inch maximum by [the] American Automobile Association contest board.”
By all accounts, the auto races were an unqualified success. We have parking space rental tickets for both Thanksgiving races at the Speedway in 1920 and 1921, so will definitely look to highlight these for the next two holiday seasons. Check back for those!