December 20, 1947: Daytona Beach, FL:
James Slocum stood on the hard-packed sand of Daytona Beach. He knew from his uncle Rollie's stories that this stretch of sand was close to the strand at Orland Beach where his father had first raced the red Buick D-55 his grandparents had instructed their sons to sell in Atlanta. Instead, Jimmy Barrell had convinced his older brother to take the car to Florida to "race against some rich Yankees." And race it they did, winning (according to Rollie) over $100. Then they'd gone home, stashed the Buick in an abandoned barn, and had only gotten caught when Bill Merlon had sent a telegram to the farm wanting to hire Jimmy to drive for him.
James had relayed all this to Rose and her father. While Rose was largely interested because of her feelings for James, Jack Winfield had only known Jimmy Barrell for a short time after the war. He loved hearing details about the young man he remembered as being a driver who was "all guts and instinct," as he put it. James had told the Winfields about how his father had lied about his age, enlisting in the Army while Rufus & Alice were thousands of miles away in California. About how he'd finagled his way into the Signal Corps, where he found Bill Merlon and further finagled himself into a role as first an aircraft mechanic and later, a pilot. How he'd been shot down, wounded, captured by the Germans and sent to a POW hospital where he'd met Claudia, his future wife, and James' mother. He also mentioned Marie, the young French girl he'd romanced who lived near the air base and was the mother of James' half-sister, Agnes. And how Jimmy had died before either of them had been born.
But that was all in the past - the present, and particularly the future, were why James was in Florida with Jack and Rose. Jack had gotten together a group of like-minded men and arranged a meeting at the Beachcomber Hotel. The agenda: the formation of a racing organization built around the principle of using "stock" cars (which meant ordinary street vehicles) as race cars. Naturally, these so-called "stock" cars were customized to varying extents by their drivers, but in theory, they were the same automobiles anyone could purchase from a dealership in their hometowns. Jack's idea had come about because of bootlegging. Moving illegal whiskey to sell it during Prohibition (and after) had given rise to a need for cars that were small, fast, and nimble enough to avoid the police, and the drivers modified their street cars for these purposes. That, combined with the unique beach and blacktop road course at Daytona, had inspired Winfield that perhaps he could combine the two into a brand-new type of racing. He'd driven race cars for years and had run the race at Indianapolis many times before age caught up with him (it was during one of the Indianapolis races that Jimmy Barrell had lost his life), and those cars were fast but specialized for racing. Winfield's idea was simple: race cars that more closely resembled what the fans were driving themselves. There would be three divisions: roadsters, modified, and stock.
Jack Winfield's proposal was put to 35 men with the financial wherewithal and either the driving skill or a hired hand who had that skill and would drive for them. There was one big issue.
"The automakers can't keep up with demand," Jack Winfield told his audience. "The end of the war has seen every family wanting to own a car. The big irony is that during the war the plants churned out Shermans by the thousands for the Army, but even after retooling, they can't keep up with the demand of our private citizens for Fords, Chevys, and the like." There was a mix of subdued laughter and some shaking and nodding of heads.
"So we'll run the modifieds only in 1947. Then we can reassess things for 1948. I expect that modified and roadsters to be more popular than the stock circuit anyway," Jack said.
James wasn't sure about this last part - and he'd told Jack as much. "The stock circuit is going to be the biggest draw, Jack."
Jack had shook his head. He liked his future son-in-law and saw much of his old friend Jimmy Barrell in him, but he also saw him as being wet behind the ears when it came to racing. "I don't know, Jim," he replied. Jack was one of only a few people James would allow calling him anything but 'James' - the others were Bill Merlon (and for the same reason as Jack) and, of course, Rose, who James would allow to call him anything she wanted.
"The stock might be too ordinary for the working Joes," Jack said. "The roadsters are really popular in the midwest and northeast," he pointed out.
James nodded and said, "Sure. But my guess is that where this will really catch on is in the southeast. That's where bootlegging is and was the biggest. I bet the coast from North Carolina down to Florida is going to love this stuff."
Rose laughed and said, "I sure hope so." Then she turned to her father and added, "You know, Dad, I think James is right."
Jack had chuckled at this good-naturedly. He said, "Well, as long as it catches on, I don't care which division it is, or even where it catches on. So long as it does catch on!"
In the larger meeting that followed this small tête-à-tête between the three of them, Jack had outlined his plans for the modified and roadster divisions for 1947 and left the stock division out of the planning, noting they'd reconvene sometime in the second half of '47 to discuss the particulars.
"Don't you have a wedding in the middle of next year?" one of the group asked. Jack nodded, smiling, and said, "Indeed I do. And in fact, my future son-in-law will be one of our stock drivers."
James, sitting nearby, smiled as Rose squeezed his hand.
"Gotta let the kids have their honeymoon first, eh Jack?" the man who'd asked about the wedding threw in, causing general laughter.
Jack joined in and nodded. "Of course. I'd never hear the end of it from my daughter if it happened any other way!"
James thought this all sounded good to him. And to be honest, as excited as he was about making Rose his wife in June - he was nearly as excited at the thought of following in his father's footsteps. After all, that old Buick D-55 Jimmy Barrell had raced on the sands of Orland & Daytona beaches all those years ago was literally a stock car.
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Jimmy Barrell and his infamous Buick D-55 in 1916 on Orland Beach, FL
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