Kelly Ferjutz, car enthusiast and published author 

The 24 Hours of Daytona

(As seen through the somewhat bleary eyes of a BMW fanatic working in a Porsche Pit.) (1969)

At 3:08 pm on a warm sunny Saturday afternoon the green flag dropped and 62 snarling creations of metal, plastics, rubber and other assorted components began the 24 hours of Daytona. Exactly 24 hours later, 26 cars took the checkered flag behind Chuck Parsons in the Penske Hilton Lola T70, and those 24 hours became part of history. And in the sunshine, the victorious gladiators were drinking champagne and laughing, forgetting for the moment the tension, the sadness, the tiredness and the monotony of all those hours of racing.

Weeks and months of effort and experiment were over, although sooner for some than anticipated, as "to finish" became the name of the game. For a Maserati Berlinetta, the finish was before the start, as he pitted on the pace lap, and retired. On the 23rd lap, an Owens Corning Fiberglass Corvette driven by Tony De Lorenzo (co-driver-Dick Lang, Xenia, Ohio) had a flat tire, and while in the pits, the fuel pump ignited, burning the rear of the car seriously enough to become the first running retirement of the race. The other OCF Corvette, co-driven by Jim Harrell (of the orange Falcon fame) and Gerald Thompson, also of Michigan, was pulled in for DeLorenzo to drive. On lap 230, he lost it and slammed into the wall. He climbed over the fence and was taken to the hospital, but was OK. He was 1st GT and 10th OA at the time. Jo Bonnier, also driving a Lola T70, had a slight mishap with a Mustang and after several pit stops to check damage, retired with a broken drive shaft after 52 laps. He was later a dashing figure in the pits in his burnt orange sweater and slacks. After one hour, the Porsche 908's were running 1-2-3-4-5, followed by Ickx (GT40), Donohue (Lola T20), Hobbs (the other GT40) and Jim Garner's Lolas(#9 Patrick+Jordan, and #8, Motchenbacker and Leslie). These ten cars ran in these positions, but not this order, for the first nine hours, when the #51 Porsche 908 was retired.

The 908's were beautiful! Long, sleek, white missiles with different colored nose and tail sections and side lights to distinguish the cars at night (very sneaky, these Germans! ) While they ran, they were invincible. Even before the race, they were invincible. You knew the entire Porsche team was remembering the 1968 finish - three Porsche 907's crossing the line abreast. The contingent strolled around the Paddock and Garage area in their racing jackets with "PORSCHE" emblazoned in fluorescent lettering, and they were always about six inches above the ground. After the retirement of the team, any Porsche people you could see were walking slowly, head down, the picture of discouragement. The mechanics found other solace - beer. The last 908 was retired at 8:15 am, succumbing to a broken intermediate shaft, as had the others. After overcoming the exhaust manifold problems, (even changing manifolds twice on some of the cars), they all broke intermediate shafts, which are someplace between the crank and the cam, and run the alternator and the oil pump.

During the 3d hour of the race, as I was wandering through the pits, I found Bert Everett, whose 911 was running in the Touring Class. (It was really a 24 hour Trans-Am, but nobody knew it.) He asked if I'd like to help, and I, of course said "yes". For 18 of the 24 hours, I timed and helped keep lap charts for his car, co-driven by Alan Johnson and Tim Coleman. It was the biggest thrill of my life, as he finished 5th OA and 1st in class. At 8am, he was 4th OA and the #14 appeared on the big board. Such a commotion in the pit! Having never kept lap charts before, life was a little hectic for a while. 

After two years of fervently wishing all the Porsches would go chase themselves and leave our BMW alone, here I was, eagerly watching for Porsches. It took a while to get everybody sorted out. Some 911's were in the GT class, so not of great concern to us in Touring. But how do you tell a GT Porsche 911 from a Touring 911 at an average speed of 98 mph? For that matter, how do you tell a C/P 911 from a B/S 911? (Translation: GT = Grand Touring; C/P = C Production class; BS = B Sedan class. All the very same car body style, mind you, but a different engine.)  After nearly an hour, I finally learned who was who, when darkness fell with a thud. It seemed like one lap it was daytime, the next, darkness. Then learn the cars all over again by their night running lights. The Sylvania panels are great, allowing you to see and identity at unbelievable distances. But most intriguing were the colored running lights. The 908's had side lights at the rear to match their nose and tail panels. #50-green, #51-white, #52-blue, #53-red, and #54-yellow. Our car, (#14) had one red light on the left door post. #96 Corvette had 3 blue lights on its lower left front corner, while #22 Porsche had one yellow light on the left front. Don Yenko's #11 Camaro had a blinking strobe light, while three sequential yellow blinkers (from left to right) marked Bill Campbell's #77 Porsche. #47 Porsche had 3 blinking green lights, # 43 Porsche had red and green lights, and the Penske Lola, one red light on its roof. But #18 Camaro had the easiest identification - no right headlight - even after 4 pitstops to replace or repair the light. You have to give this car credit. In addition to regular gas and oil stops and the above mentioned four, it had two stops each to replace the fan belt, repair the header, and tighten a loose gas tank, one each to replace plugs and brake pads, and 3 each for body repair and to adjust the front end. In spite of all this, it finished the race.

Of course, for me, the greatest part of the 24 hour race was that there was a BMW running. At least it was a BMW engine - in a Chevron sports racing chassis. I thought it was the most beautiful thing I'd ever seen, and the crew let me climb all over the car, asking a million questions, and taking pictures. They must have known I'm a BMW nut - I'm probably the only person in the world with a engine block in my living room. (It's disguised as a flowerpot).

The Chevron was entered by Raceco of Miami, which also entered a Ferrari 275LM. Unfortunately, the Ferrari died after only 3 hours. It was slightly upsetting to me, in the last hours of the race when Everett and the Chevron BMW were battling for overall position. Finally, however, the Chevron finished 6th OA, two laps behind Everett, and I cried with happiness. 

Just after 7 pm, I looked up to see a pair of headlights coming toward our pit across the grass, between the track and the pit lane. They belonged to a Corvette which blew a tire and finally came to rest on the far side of the pit lane. It took a few minutes for everybody to get back to their right places after that little episode. About this time, Roger Penske must have been ready to pull his hair with a frenzy. After only 45 minutes of racing, the Lola decided it was nearly out of fuel. Since the tanks held 37 gallons, and they were figuring on one lap per gallon this necessitated a few extra pit stops. The car developed fuel pickup problems, and would not utilize the second tank, so every hour for the remaining 23 hours, it required a pit stop for fuel. They, too, had exhaust manifold problems, spending over two hours in the pits welding and re-welding. Charlie Parsons was brought in as a last minute replacement for Ronnie Bucknum, who injured his hand in a motorcycle accident, and was to be seen wandering forlornly through the pits during the race.

During the fifth hour, an XKE blew its engine near the start finish line, causing the most spectacular accident of the race. The Alfa T33 prototype spun in the oil, and lost it going down the straight, then at the turn into the infield, it was run over by Peter Gregg's Porsche 911. Gregg was unhurt, although his car was withdrawn, as was a Porsche 907, also involved in the fray. The driver of the Alfa was taken to the hospital for x-rays and possible fractures. The 907 was 10th OA at the time of its retirement.

Bill Campbell, who demolished a Zink FV against the wall in his first Qualifying race, and went on to finish 3rd in the GP had problems with his new 911. (Last year's 911 was totaled at the Watkins Glen Trans-Am.). The transmission broke about midnight and after spending an hour replacing it, re-entered the race, only to have the clutch go, in the wee hours of the morning. He quit.

At midnight, Don Rabbit, Jim Garner's crew chief said, "The #9 Lola is being put to bed for the night." Evidently it was a very light sleeper, as it took the flag for 7th OA the next afternoon. Garner was a very happy man after his cars finished so well, 2nd and 7th OA, 2nd and 4th in class. The Chevron BMW finished one position higher than #9, which spent much time in the pits with overheating, and also changing a right rear hub. (hub?) The over 2 liter sedans had a bad time of it, as most of them blew engines. During the 9th hour, John McComb's Mustang and Don Yenko's Camaro retired and Titus's Firebird required a new differential.

At Mid-Ohio's Trans Am race of last year, there was a Camaro, driven by Jim Corwin of Michigan, with a stock street exhaust. Our crew promptly named him "Silent Sam." Three races later, Silent Sam suddenly appeared with straight pipes. And now, another great achievement! He finished the 24 hours, 13th OA and 3rd in time, overall. 

During the ninth hour, as the Porsches started failing, the Ford GT40's moved into lst and 2nd places, but couldn't maintain the blistering pace set by the Porsches, and the average speed started dropping. The Porsches began at 118 mph, and slowed (?) to 114. The Fords lowered it to 111-112. At 5 am, the #2 Ford was retired with a cracked cylinder head. An hour later, the #1 car developed the same problem, and although John Weyer said "its only a matter of time", the car was running strong in lst place an hour later when Ickx attacked the wall, and the car burst into flames. 7 seconds was the evacuation time. Ickx had built up such a tremendous lead that it was more than an hour after the crash before he lost his #1 place on the big board.

An hour after the Ford crashed, the last Porsche (Mitter/Schutz) was retired, and the sense of loss was universal in the pits. Even though you knew that the Porsche team expected (not just wanted) to walk home with all the marbles, you couldn't help wishing they could. One of the saddest sights I've ever seen was the Porsche pit area after all the cars had been taken back to the garage, and the equipment and personnel evacuated. It just didn't seem right to see such a deserted area in the middle of the pits during a race. By the time daylight arrived, there were great gaping areas, as entire teams had been retired -- the Porsches, the Fords, the OCF Corvettes. Their pits looked like scenes from "On the Beach." 

I found it to be incredible that despite not running the last 7 hours of the race, Ickx and Schutz had more completed laps than 7 of the cars still running at the finish of the race. The last four hours of the race were relatively uneventful, except for the unbelievable tension incurred as time runs out. At 12:50, after nearly 2 hours in the pits repairing the engine, the Camaro of Larry Bock came through the pit lane only to die going around the first corner, and it was all over. An hour later, the Corvette that had charged the pit lane with the flat tire, sounded like it was dying. The only lady driver in the race, Smoky Drollet was co-driving this car, and I was really hoping she'd finish, but at this point, I wasn't holding much hope. But then, half an hour before the end of the race, the car suddenly came alive again. By this time, all the fancy Porsches were out of the race, except for Masten Gregory's 910 and a Canadian 906, #62, which we had followed from Columbus to Florida, and of which I had become very fond. There were still seven 911's running, and they sounded as crisp as though brand new, snarling at downshifts. Jerry Titus's Firebird sounded just plain ole tired, as though it was just too much work to rev up the engine for the downshift. The Chevron which at the beginning sounded like our own "Banana", still did, but like it had a sore throat. The five remaining Camaros sounded like the baby stockers they really are, while the two MGB's backed off like popcorn machines. And through all this the Ferrari GTB of Sam Posey and Ricardo Rodriguez rolled up the miles in quiet stately elegance, like a Duchess out for a Sunday drive. (Sam Posey - quiet?)

It was 2:00 and I was nervouser and nervouser. Everett's car was still running strong, although the crew thought he might have a burnt valve or two. They tried to get him to slow down, but he wasn't having any, thanks. He'd been a marvelous host, appearing in the pits during his non-driving hours with hot tomato juice and sandwiches or coffee. I suddenly realized that the 906 was missing, when it reappeared. (The battery was going dead on corners.) Then the Chevron didn't come around, and I died a little. I revived quickly the next lap, however, when there it was again. The minutes of the last half hour seemed like they were ten minutes long. Each. It was hard to remember the last time around for some of the cars, and at this point to not finish was cause for suicide. I missed Garner's Lolas, when suddenly there they were on the heels of Parsons and on top of each other. Garner was right --Penske's T70 and his T70's don't look at all alike. I wonder how they managed that?

At 3 pm, I was nearly ready for a straight jacket. If I had been timing the Banana in a race like that, I'd have died long ago. And then - the next to the last lap, Everett was 10 seconds late. I couldn't believe it. I didn't want to believe it. As the tears were about to start, there he was, and even though I really hate Porsche 911's, especially when they're sedans, I couldn't help but be happy with this one. It was, of course, excellently prepared and driven, and the entire crew did a tremendous job. (I only hope they're not all so efficient in the remaining Trans-Am Races.)

At 3:08 on a warm sunny afternoon, the black and white checkered flag was waved triumphantly, and there were 27 tired but happy drivers still in contention, as the 1969 running of the 24 Hours of Daytona were no more.

Note. The "Banana" was the name given to the light yellow BMW race car, for which I crewed. It didn't run at Daytona. This memoir was written and published in the March 1969 issue of the NeOhio SCCA newsletter. It was re-typed, as written, as is, unedited. Well, cleaned up a tad, maybe. Mostly stray commas! (I was infected then, too, apparently.) 

The 24 Hours of Daytona - Kelly Ferjutz 

NOTE: See Kelly's Book review on By Brooks Too Broad for Leaping - By Denise McCluggage - A  book written by one of the leading female automotive journalists out there.