Green for Danger

They were by definition the most expert drivers in the country, but they began breaking traffic rules as soon as they took off. The 33 qualifiers for the Indianapolis 500-mile auto race last week scrambled out to begin the "Big Spin in the Brickyard" like Memorial Day road hogs trying to beat their neighbors to the beach. Even the pre-race parade, which called for the competitors to ride in neat ranks three abreast behind a pace car, immediately degenerated into a fight for the pole. It took three turns around the 2 1/2mile track before the fast-moving field straightened out enough to satisfy the official starter. Then the green flag fell and 33 big feet pushed 33 throttles to the floorboards. The restrained snarl of the parade whined into the high-powered scream of the annual Memorial Day drive toward fame or death.

Death was only seconds away. Riding nose to tail pipe, the tight-packed cars skittered around two turns and scrapped all the way down the backstretch. "Nobody was giving anybody anything," said Driver Shorty Templeman. On the very next turn, Ed Elisian's John Zink Special slammed into the pole car and spun out of control; 13 other cars piled up behind him in the worst traffic mess in Brickyard history. "I just went into the turn too hard," said Elisian later. "The brakes locked on me, and I went onto the grass. There wasn't much to it."

There was, as a matter of fact, just this much more: Indiana's young (29), clean-jawed Pat O'Connor rode right up the stern of another racer, could not keep his Sumar Special from flipping over. No stranger to the Brickyard, Irish Pat O'Connor had racked up some 2,000 miles there in four other 500s. But experience could not save him. He suffered a fractured skull, died in flaming wreckage. The first lap was not yet finished and the 42nd Indy 500 had scored the race's 48th fatality. Elisian, whose harebrained driving had touched off the crash, drew a belated suspension from all races sanctioned by the U.S. Auto Club.

Yellow for Caution. Yellow caution lights flared all over the track. The drivers who had escaped the crash held their positions while the track was cleared. But eight cars were out of commission. When the caution lights blinked off, the front runner was a handsome, husky, 31-year-old Arizona cowboy named Jimmy Bryan.

Driving the same Belond Special that won for Sam Hanks last year, Bryan tramped on his foot throttle and tried to pull away. At the halfway mark he was still being tailed by Veterans Tony Bettenhausen and Johnny Boyd. Coming up fast was Rookie Driver George Amick. Each of the cars was powered by a four-cylinder Meyer-Drake Offenhauser engine. The drivers' skills and the speed of their pit crews meant more than any mechanical difference.

Seconds for Cash. Jimmy Bryan had an edge in both. His pit crew never kept him off the track more than 35 seconds at a stop. He drifted into curves and tore down the straightaways with the same swift talent that had won him the national driving championship three years in the last four. He fought the wheel with the husky skill that helped him last through the 1954 race after his shock absorbers and springs collapsed, and his whole body was bruised and bleeding from pounding of the bricks.

"The only strategy I know," said Jimmy, "is to get out and run as hard as you can." Of the 14 who finished. Jimmy Bryan, with an average speed of 133.8 m.p.h. (v. the record 135.6), was the winner by 27 seconds over George Amick. That brief difference helped him earn the driver's share (upwards of 40%) of a $105,574 purse. Second place purse: $38,374.

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