Russ Truelove, now 85, raced on the old beach course near Daytona in the 1950's. (Photo: Mike Hembree, SPEEDtv.com)
Like veterans of the last world war, the old beach racers are dwindling to a precious few. There probably are a couple of dozen or so of these old-time daredevils left, and, as they fade away, so will one of the truly singular periods in NASCAR history.
Russ Truelove is one of the survivors. Now 85, he raced on the old Daytona beach-road course several times in the mid-1950s and lived – barely – to tell the tales. He repeats them every February during SpeedWeeks at Daytona International Speedway, the giant racing complex that replaced the beach-road course in 1959.
Truelove lives in Waterbury, Conn., but it’s easy to see that “home” for him is Daytona Beach, the racing town that pulled him south in 1955. His eyes sparkle under a web of white hair as he relives the wild days when stock car racing was an adventure and Daytona was one of its first frontiers.
Every February since 1993, when a reunion of former beach racers was organized, Truelove has traveled to the Daytona Beach area to walk the sands where he and hundreds of other drivers – men and women – raced hopped-up stock cars in the 1930s, ’40s and ’50s. Races were held on the beach beginning in 1936, and the hugely popular events – tens of thousands attended – continued through 1958, not including a break during World War II.
Competitors raced north on the beachfront, turned left onto the paved surface of Highway A1A, then drove south to return to the beach. The course, now identified by historical markers at the north and south turns, was 4.2 miles long with an “infield” barely wide enough to contain some shrubs and sea oats.
In the 1950s, the race-course area on the southern end of Daytona’s long beach was virtually deserted, making the sort of racing activity Truelove and others enjoyed an easy event to schedule. Now, there are condominiums, beach houses and roadways. In fact, encroaching development in the late 1950s spelled the end of beach racing and was a factor in NASCAR founder Bill France’s decision to build a new superspeedway – Daytona International Speedway – a few miles west of the shoreline.
What’s left? The Racing’s North Turn restaurant, which served food then – drivers could buy box lunches – and still turns out a mean cheeseburger near the spot where racers turned left onto A1A. And the memories of drivers like Truelove, who knows all the stories – most of them true.
One that is stunningly true concerns Truelove’s rodeo-like ride in the 1956 race. He arrived in Daytona Beach with a 1956 Mercury, fine-tuned it in the pits near the course’s south turn and qualified fifth in a huge field of 77 (three years earlier, a whopping 136 cars had started the race, three abreast on the sand, waiting for the green flag to begin the chaos).
Truelove’s fun didn’t last long. Attempting to pass Jim Reed, one of NASCAR’s early short-track stars, as they approached the north turn, Truelove’s right front wheel caught in the softer sand near the surf, launching the car into a series of flips and creating one of the most spectacular wrecks in NASCAR history. Black and white photographs of the accident were vivid enough to make Life magazine, and people who previously had never heard of NASCAR suddenly were introduced to this relatively new motorsports sideshow.
Truelove wasn’t seriously injured, but he spent the night in a nearby hospital, his bell decidedly rung.
“The car was a family car,” he said. “I had to register it and get it insured so I could drive it down. My wife was here in the grandstand when I dumped it. She ended up over at the hospital with me. She said, ‘My God, how are we going to get home?’ ”
