Soapbox derby race remembered by participants
Approximately 3,000 spectators roared as the racecars sped down Brownsville’s steep Union Street Extension hill. It was July 4, 1947, and a Brownsville version of the more universally known Soap Box Derby was under way. The cars in this race were not built of soapboxes though, and the race had a different name. It was called the Orange Crate Derby, and it happened 56 years ago. The day before the big event was scheduled, a Brownsville Telegraph reporter described what would occur.
“Eighteen youthful Barney Oldfields will streak away in their race for the championship of the Brownsville Optimist Club’s first annual Orange Crate Derby. The event, the first of its kind ever sponsored in Brownsville, will provide residents with unusual entertainment. Racers will run in heats, and winners of heats will compete in the final race. The motorless, boy-made racers will move from the starting line by gravity.”
A reader perusing the Telegraph report might have been led to believe that the homemade race cars would gently coast down the street, using only gravity as a propellant, until one of them glided across the finish line first. In truth, the speed and potential for accidents in these races was much greater than might be inferred from the Telegraph description.
One of the boys who participated in the race was Hiller native Harry Hackney, who now resides in Tampa, Fla.
“Those cars were practically unsteerable,” Harry told me. “No kid could control his car. We just aimed the car and hoped for the best. In the nationally telecast Soap Box Derby race, the course is perfectly straight, yet some of those cars drift clear out of their lanes. Union Street in Brownsville is not straight, and we discovered that the secret to winning was to avoid steering your car. As soon as you moved the wheels, you created drag that slowed you down.”
Harry’s fellow competitors in the 1947 Orange Crate Derby, according to the Telegraph, were to be James Chalfant, Medio Pasqualucci, Eddie Horwatt, James Teringo, Donald Gue, Jim Turturice, Rudy Turosik, Donald Turosik, Gerald Allen Jones, Eddie Labin, James Brown, Robert Bakewell, John Raymond, Robert Eicher, Nelson Horner, Robert Black, and Pete Stephenson.
What was at stake in these races? Besides pride and bragging rights, numerous prizes were offered. The top award for the winning racer was to be a “completely equipped bicycle contributed by the Brownsville Hardware company.” Matty’s service station would award a radio as second prize, and Coulter’s hardware store put up a Flying Dutchman for third.
The Orange Crate Derby was “the first endeavor by the recently organized Optimist Club,” said the Telegraph, and to make sure the event would be a success, other merchants also pitched in. The official judges for the races were Mrs. Wilbur Jones, Dr. R. A. Mulligan, William V. Winans, Burgess James Forsythe of West Brownsville, and the Rev. E. J. Keifer. Drivers of the cars were instructed to have their “autos” at the site one hour before race time, reported the Telegraph, so that the judges could “inspect the vehicles for appearance, safety and design. Progress of the heats will be announced through a public address system.”
In the weeks before the big race, the competitors went to work constructing their race cars, which were supposed to be built by the boys with guidance by their parents. Harry Hackney recalled the preparations he made for the race.
“Practically no kid alive ever built a car himself,” Harry declared. “He or she may have contributed a lot to it, but it was nearly impossible for a 14-year-old kid with limited knowledge and few resources to construct a winning car.
“I started this car by myself. I had no materials from which to construct a car, no place to build a car, no tools and very little knowledge, but I didn’t let that worry me. ‘Things will work out,’ I figured. I traveled five miles out to my uncle’s farm and rummaged through the barn until I found a 2 by 12 board long enough for a base, and somehow I shaped it into the form of my racer.”
Some parts of the car came directly from the national Soap Box Derby program.
“The wheel and axle assembly was official Soap Box Derby equipment,” said Harry, “and was supplied by the sponsor. The gold wheels were $10, and the better-grade red wheels were $12. The race sponsors were not permitted to use the Soap Box Derby name and it was renamed the Orange Crate Derby, but we did get the official wheels, axles and rule book. The Optimist Club even took all the drivers to Pittsburgh to see the semifinals of the official Soap Box Derby there.
“I remember that the rubber would not stay on those wheels we got,” Harry continued. “The rough roads soon caused chunks of the tire to fall off, denuding the whole wheel rim and leaving a steel rim that folded over.
After the derby, I coasted around in that racer until all the rubber was gone from the wheels, then I sold it to another kid for a dollar.”
Harry’s work on his racer soon attracted his family’s attention and plenty of advice.
“I was progressing as well as could have been expected, given the lack of materials, tools, ability, time and space,” Harry recalled. “After a few days, my uncle dropped in to see what I was doing, and he began to lend a hand. I didn’t feel I needed any design advice, but soon another uncle was inspecting the project, and I found myself hindering progress. Then I had to have some welding done to the axle to attach a pivot and steering means. Soon I was an outsider, trying to catch a glimpse of my car.
“Finally on the day before the race, it came time for a test run. Those wheels were faster than anything I had ever experienced before. They were ‘greased lightening.’ My first test run was on Rush Run Hollow Road towards the river, a gentle grade that follows the creek. My family chased me in the automobile as I went down the slope faster and faster, struggling to maintain control. I finally reached the bottom of the grade, having logged one shaky, erratic mile at the controls.”
Then disaster struck when Harry took one too many practice runs.
“As darkness was settling on us,” Harry said, “there in front of me loomed the steep hill coming down from Alicia-Maxwell Road. ‘Let’s try that one,.’ I suggested. That was a big mistake. I started down the steep grade and the car began to edge a little to the left. I overcorrected, it drifted right, I overcorrected again, and swerved to the left. Soon I was weaving from one side of the road to the other, completely out of control, and I could see my uncle at the bottom of the hill, running from one side of the road to the other trying to get out of my way.
“When I got to the bottom at a high rate of speed, I plowed right through the high weeds into a large boulder. I flew out the right side of the car as the rock crashed through the front of the car. For some reason, the fact that the car has a brake did not occur to me when the car was out of control. This is a common reaction of novice racers. Jimmy Turturice, another of the contestants, nearly killed his old man on Telegraph Road during trials.
They careened off the road and up into a field, and Jimmy’s father, who was straddling the back axles, went flying over Jimmy and tumbling through the cow patties.
“I was not hurt,” Harry remembered, “but my car was in ruins and the next day was race day. The axles were bent and had to be straightened with an acetylene torch. This took the temper out of the steel, so I was not allowed to sit in the car because my weight bent the axles. Needless to say, even though my pre-race test runs were a disaster, there would be no more practice for me. We couldn’t risk bending the axles any more.”
Derby Day, Friday, July 4, 1947 dawned bright and sunny, and Harry and the other contestants gathered at the race site for inspection of their vehicles by the judges. As they assembled, Harry sat down gingerly inside his Car #4 long enough to have his picture taken.
“I believe it was Mario Antonucci who took the picture,” Harry recalled. Antonucci operated a photography studio in Hiller at the time. As soon as the picture had been taken, Harry got out of his fragile vehicle to spare the axles any further strain.
The staging area was at the top of Union Street Extension, directly across the old National Pike from the entrance to Redstone Cemetery, which can be seen in the background of the photograph to which Harry referred. Also visible in the photo, standing behind Harry’s car and waving, was Harry’s father, Graham Hackney, proprietor of Hackney’s Dairy Bar.
“In the picture, the boy sitting on the ground behind my dad was Jimmy Chalfant,” Harry noted. “He was assisting Car #3, operated by Eddie Horwatt and sponsored by Matty’s Garage, which was judged best looking and best built car in the race. Jimmy Chalfant drove Car #1, sponsored by Springer’s Hardware.”
Before Harry could participate, he needed to locate a critical piece of protective gear.
“Helmets were required,” Harry remembers, “and I could not find a helmet. I borrowed a really old, beat up helmet from Edward Jolly.”
The luck of the draw was not kind to Harry, and for his opponent in his first heat, he was pitted against Eddie Horwatt’s Car #3. Harry was definitely the underdog against Eddie’s handsome racer. When it was time for the preliminary heat between Harry and Eddie to begin, both racers pushed their cars to the starting line at the top of Union Street Extension. In next week’s article, I will share the rest of the story of the first annual Brownsville Optimist Club Orange Crate Derby, including the details of the championship heat and the crowning of the 1947 Orange Crate Derby champion.
Glenn Tunney may be contacted at glenatun@hhs.net or 6068 National Pike East, Grindstone, PA 15442. Comments about these weekly articles may be sent to Mark O’Keefe (Managing Editor – Day), 8 – 18 East Church Street, Uniontown, Pa. or e-mailed to mo’keefe@heraldstandard.com . All past articles are on the Web at http://freepages.history.rootsweb.com/~glenntunneycolumn/