A Day for Survivors

Whatever else it is--a proving ground for automobiles, a nostalgic bit of Americana--the Indianapolis 500 is mainly a dice with disaster. Drivers come and go, cars change, engines get bigger. The one constant is danger. In 54 years of Memorial Day racing at the Indianapolis Motor Speedway, 56 people have died. But nobody has to twist a driver's arm to compete. The prospect of instant fame and fortune is inducement enough --even though he knows, as Eddie Sachs once said, that "in the long run, death is the odds-on favorite."

Sheets of Flame. Last week, the favorite won. The 33-car field was the fastest in 500 history. Driving a rear-engined Lotus-Ford, Scotland's Jimmy Clark roared through the first lap at 149.7 m.p.h., and other drivers strained to match his pace. One was too bold. On the second lap, drifting off Indy's No. 4 turn, Californian Dave MacDonald lost control of his Thompson-All-State Ford, spun crazily and smacked into the inside wall. In one horrible instant that none of the 300,000 spectators will ever forget, a sheet of flaming gas spread across the track.

Blinded, unable to stop at 160 m.p.h., other drivers tried to pick their way through the fire and smoke. Most made it. Seven did not. In the darkness, Eddie Sachs slammed broadside into the wrecked Ford. Another car piled into the tangle, and ran right up MacDonald's back, Four more cars crunched into the wreckage. By some miracle, five of the drivers survived. Eddie Sachs was trapped in his cockpit; he was dead from the flames by the time rescuers reached him. MacDonald died two hours later in a hospital.

It took 1 3/4 hours to put out the fires and clear away the debris. And then, Indy being Indy, the race began again. Fans had expected a showdown between the new-fangled rear-engined Fords and the front-engined Offies that had dominated Indy for years. For a while, it looked as if they would get it. Clark again jumped into the lead, but he was quickly passed by Bobby Marshman in another Lotus-Ford. After 39 laps, Marshman was 27 sec. in front of Clark; both were averaging more than 150 m.p.h., smashing Indy's old speed record every time around. The Fords were clearly faster. But could they last 500 miles?

EZ, It Read. The answer was no. On the 38th lap, Marshman cracked his crankcase. Nine laps later, Clark's left axle crumpled, and California's Parnelli Jones, 1963 winner, urged his Offy into the lead. But it was not Jones's day either: running low on fuel, he pulled into the pits. Somehow, a spark got into the fuel tank; the car burst into flame. Uniform smoldering, Jones leaped out and rolled on the ground; stretcher bearers carried him off.

Carefully nursing his Offy-powered Sheraton-Thompson Special to conserve fuel and tires, burly Texan A. J. Foyt, 29, inherited the lead from Jones on the 55th lap and kept it all the way. Indiana's Rodger Ward, in a Ford, cut his margin to 9 sec. at one point. But Ward kept running out of fuel, had to make five stops to Foyt's two. In the pits, mechanics waved a big blackboard--EZ, it read. Foyt still won by more than a lap. It was his second victory at Indianapolis, and his average speed--147,350 m.p.h.--set a new record. His winner's share: about $160,000. "Everybody kind of laughed at me in this Offy," he said. "I'm kind of proud of them. These old antiques have won me a hell of a lot of money."

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