By Parton Keese
Reprinted from The New York Times, June 24, 1972
DETROIT, June 23 — Illustrating the imminent danger drivers face when their tender craft take on quixotic waters, the unlimited hydroplane Miss Madison was torn apart today and sank in the Detroit River. Charlie Dunn, her rookie driver, escaped serious injury in his unsuccessful attempt to qualify for Sunday's Gold Cup. The Gold Cup is the race of races for one of the world's most dangerous sports. Ironically, Dunn was the only racer who tempted the froth, whipped up yesterday by 20-knot winds.
Today he hit a wave he couldn't avoid. The craft fell apart. He was taken to Detroit General Hospital, but released after a few hours.
Dunn, from Miami, said afterward: “The boat was going about 120 miles are hour when she hit a roller and nosed under.” The 34-year-old Dunn is in third place in the national point standing.
The accident left only nine boats in the fleet slated to race for the Gold Cup Sun day. Atlas Van Lines, driven by Bill Muncey, led the qualifiers with an average two-lap (six miles) speed of 120.948 miles an hour, with Notre Dame (113.745 m.p.h.) second, Pride of Pay ‘n Pak (110.647) third, a second Atlas Van Lines (107.103) fourth, and Pizza Pete (105.575) fifth.
Despite the near-tragedy other drivers were not deterred.
“It's strictly an ego trip with me,” explained Muncey, the most successful driver in the history of unlimited hydroplane racing. The money isn't worth the risk, you don't need that much in physical attributes, it's not an especially brainy business and there are hundreds of easier ways to gain fame.
“But I like it, maybe even need it. It appeases my male vanity, I guess.”
Not all drivers of the huge two-ton thunderbolts, capable of speeds of 200 miles an hour, can even approach the records Muncey has set in his 17-year career. Yet every week of the racing season they show up at the regatta course willing to put their lives on the line for the thrill of creating the ear-splitting roars and dazzling rooster-tail sprays that mark their profession.
Eight drivers have lost that gamble with living in the last six years—six killed in competition, one in a practice run and an other in a construction accident. The sport seems to have entered a hiatus caused by a slowdown in mechanical progress and lack of money.
But the dedicated breed of unlimited hydroplane owners, drivers and mechanics, though fewer in number, continues to survive on admittedly limited achievement.
The machine is the dominating specter in unlimited racing. Though a Muncey or a Bill Schumacher or a Dean Chenoweth may outperform less qualified drivers in racing craft and equal potential, it is the esoteric nature of the peculiar hull shape and the engine propelling it that ultimately determines the success or failure of the racing team.