By Dave Speer
Reprinted from Powerboat magazine, April 1976
Dave Heerensperger wound up may timepieces during eleven seasons as an unlimited owner, and none of them were Mickey Mouse. Beginning the day he assumed sponsorship of a ragamuffin community hydroplane called Miss Spokane and continuing until his announced retirement in January of this year, Heerensperger methodically shaped success: success in boat racing distinguished by innovation, expertise and victory.
Miss Spokane, built in 1956 on the same jig as the fast and famous Wahoo and Shanty I, never won a race. Its performance, or non-performance, earned little more than wide-eyed loyalty from the fans as rookie drivers demonstrated their remarkable propensity for near-miss accidents. Out of mothballs in 1963, Heerensperger's renamed Miss Eagle Electric fared no better; a white and lavender paint scheme was pretty, but that was all. When the electrical doodad merchant closed his racing cash register after two mundane seasons, what they didn't know was that Heerensperger didn't care for 3rd, 4th, 5th, 6th, 9th or 10th place finishes.
Bill Schuyler, a California outboarder from way way back, a tinkerer, a hobbyist, owned the $Bill. Norm Evans, one of those rookies with an attraction for the unusual, drove . . . except when under suspension. A good story heard in the pits recounts the '66 Gold Cup when Evans fired up his engine while still hanging over the water. "Well, Norm's a swell guy and all that," the nervous ref laughed. "but when he gets near the water something crazy happens." Evans was booted and Warner Gardner filled in. Two years later Gardner and Heerensperger returned for another try.
Miss Eagle Electric, the former $Bill, now decked out in metallic Indian red, black and gold leaf, one the 1968 opener . . . Alabama's Dixie Cup. At Pasco, Warner Gardner won again. When the "Screaming Eagle" was Seafair's fastest qualifier at 120, her owner commented, "We missed the record by a tick of the watch, but that speed's not too bad for us country boys.
And they won the President's Cup, too.
Miss Bardahl and Billy Schumacher were defending national champions that year. The Bardahl was the latest in 3-point evolution, sleek and wide, exceptionally quick in the corners. In contrast, Eagle Electric was a six year old hull built by Les Staudacher, a typical Ted Jones-influenced design of the day with narrow afterplane, high crown deck and dinky non-trips; by all measures a boat that should have been well passed its prime.
Gardner, a retired flight officer, had won his very first unlimited race in the old Miss Spokane repainted and remembered as Fifi Lapeer. He was a charger, yet was aware of the limitations of his equipment and got more out of it than any of his contemporaries. Never one to frown on a little spray aiming, his style included chopping off here and there, delivered with class, in a good natured way, with a sense of humor.
Jack Cochran built high revving Rolls power plants that were also dependable. Other crew chiefs knocked their heads against each other to try to figure his secrets out.
Against Gardner's and Cochran's Eagle, Schumacher couldn't win like before. Schu could turn faster than anybody, but Gardner was nearly as fast. When one broke the other didn't. Ether way, the Kid and the Colonel were 3 - and - 3 going to Detroit's Gold Cup and a showdown for the 1969 national title.
One the third lap of the final heat, Gardner's boat became airborne and out of control. He never had a chance. The hull shuddered, tripped to the right and rolled. Suddenly the Colonel was gone. Gone, too, was the last of the conventional 3-pointers that won big.
Even in defeat and sorrow, Heerensperger had a new business, a new boat and new steps to a championship team. Planned and promoted prior to Gardner's death, the Pride of Pay 'n Pak resembled Donald Campbell's jet Bluebird and Staudacher's Miss Stars and Stripes II. Christened a "trimaran", the 30-footer had outrigger sponsons, nothing less than radical. Detroit News columnist Pete Waldmeir scribed a more colorful description: "She looked like a South Seas war canoe bobbing on the choppy river. You keep expecting a dozen guys with spears to come pouring out of the fuselage."
At launching, driver Tommy Fults smiled. "She runs as though she were on rails, hits a turn, sets up easy and moves around fast." Pay 'n Pak moved to Guntersville, Alabama, for a crack at the world's 200-plus mile. Being kind, the attempt was a bust!, clocking only 162. The crew said something about the speedometer needing calibration. Then, the Pak barely qualified for Guntersville's Dixie Cup. Testing props, testing rudders, testing everything followed. After the particularly wild run that inspired Waldmeir's sketch Fults claimed, "I shook hands with St. Peter on that one." As the season wore out, so did Fults. He finally admitted "it was like driving your car with the emergency brake on." Unquestionably the Pride was admired for bold design, but one driver suggested the best solution was to drill large holes in the bottom and let it sink. With only a single race left on the season the exhausted Pak was traded for 'Lil Buzzard. In debut, Fults drove with all the verve his hot rod and drag boat background could muster and won two Gold Cup heats and blew two engines.
Looking for a winner, Heerensperger talked Ron Jones from the designer's self-imposed U-boat exile. "I won't say Dave begged me," recalls Ron, "but he talked for hours trying to get me to build the Pay 'n Pak with two Chryslers in it. I didn't want to build it. I told him all the reasons about all the gas I got over the '66 Bardahl accident and Ronnie Musson's death. Finally, with a lot of thrashing, I said OK." The owner was rolling for aces, branching out again, being different, trying, and gambled on a fork-nosed cabover. After only three races, Fults was disenchanted with the progressive design; he jumped ship back to the conventional round nose 'Lil Buzzard.
Tommy Fults was ahead of his time in a way, an easy spirit with surfer's long blond hair in a traditionally conservative sport. Though he used a lot of pedal and showed no fear, corners were his weakness; maybe he didn't really know how to drive a hydroplane. The Colonel had befriended Tommy and urged discipline in place of Fults' frivolity. (Tommy wanted no one to pass him . . . even in warm ups.) At the 1970 Atomic Cup, Fults carried opening heat wins into the finale. All he had to do was finish. Characteristically, Fults made a run at Notre Dame. Everybody heard Heerensperger storming down and back yelling, "Oh, if I had a walkie-talkie, or a hammer!" Tommy did win the trophy.
With his victory on the Columbia River and the fastest heat of the year at Seattle, the twenty-nine year old driver looked forward to San Diego's fast track. Testing mid-morning he circled back towards the pits. The water was sticky and a sponson dug in at flank speed. In a accident that shouldn't have happened, "Was Tommy Tucker" died. A fluke, they said.
When Fults quit the cabover, flat-bottomed inboard champion Ron Larsen stepped into the cockpit. Improvements came, but low torque (compared to a V-12 aircraft engine) was the stumbling block to higher performance. "There's another way," one of the crew members said. So, over the next winter Jim Lucero yanked the V-8's and moved the steering wheel behind a Rolls Merlin: a daring and simple solution? Would it work? Billy Schumacher won the last three races of 1971 in the turned-around Pride of Pay 'n Pak . . . an amalgam of Ron Jones' aerodynamics and Lucero's probing logic . . . but 1972 fizzled, a year marked by the bitter defection of Schumacher who refused to drive in a storm-tossed Ohio River filled with everything but liquid. Billy Sterett, Jr., provided the only relief to the long season of second places to Bill Muncey. He scored a fast paced upset of Muncey's until-then invincible Atlas Van Lines as Washington, D.C.
The ultimate Pay 'n Pak . . . barring a future change of heart . . . was the best. It was another Ron Jones boat, with a share of Luceroisms thrown in for measure. The tail was different with a wing perched upon twin fins, an idea borrowed from cloth and wire biplanes, sprint cars and maybe one of Tommy Fults' dragsters. Beneath, another unique idea in boating: honeycomb sandwich construction. The hull was a hummer, deceptively efficient, and like wine improved with age. Nine 1973 races later, Heerensperger, Lucero and drier Mickey Remund had their first national title. The best moments were shared with the ex-Pak, Miss Budweiser, as both pickle-forks seesawed and thundered in front with all others lagging far behind. In '74, George Henley winning 7 of 11 and another U.S. 1, also captured what Heerensperger wanted the most - the Gold Cup.
Last season, Pay 'n Pak make a false start and struggled from oblivion to championship urged by Henley's persistent foot and an equally persistent crew. Stanley Terraplane, chronicler of unlimited racing's sociology and speedy deerring-do writes . . . "Pay 'n Pak was the story . . . summer in Hoosierland the first week in July. Those who watched carefully knew that the U-1, testing, testing, would now do what Henley and Lucero wanted." A week later at Dayton's grand gravel pit, "Weisfield's was so strong it hurt itself and Pak won . . . At Pasco's Gold Cup Weisfield's lost blowers, Budweiser came unstuck again, U.S. and Lincoln Thrift had a wonderful duel, Shenandoah produced a smoke screen impenetrable . . . Pay 'n Pak won the day , of course, so easily that the final held no suspense."
When evening fell at Seattle, Lucero added up the times he'd been crew chief for the winners . . . George sat nearby, peeling off his socks. "Every time I push the button, she goes," he marveled. "Every time."
"San Diego's fog, faint but persistent, hung on past noon this year . . . the crowd probably saw the best unlimited race ever . . . Pay 'n Pak, behind by 249 points, lead only thrice all day, but each time at the finish line. Three times Pak came off the last turn like a slung stone, passed the leader, and won . . . the race, and the high point championship. George didn't want to drink the lousy water; he got champagne that night."
Dave Heerensperger bows out a leader. His Eagles, Buzzard, and Pay 'n Paks rolled and cajoled to 25 team victories, 16 by the amazing U-1. Heerensperger was a flamboyant and demanding owner, a man who understood winning best. Outgoing, he sought what was best for his team. Some people say they won't miss his sharp, often abrasive businessman's approach to boat racing; but everyone will miss all he brought with him: commitment, expertise, high drama and superb boat racing.
Knowing his past in manners financial, one suspects Heerensperger profited a nickel when he sold his camp to Bill Muncey. In trade, Atlas Van Lines adopts the finest unlimited team on the circuit, a team of pride and passion. Now, I suppose, Dave will spend his spare change acquiring another double windup pitcher for Pay 'n Pak's softball team? He'll be expected to win.
