Jack McAfee passed away last Saturday

Just received the news...

 

To all of our friends....or more appropriately "extended family", I say THANK YOU from the bottom of my heart for all of your concerns and thoughtful words.

Many of you have heard that my Dad left us this last Saturday morning due to liver cancer. Everything happened so fast it's still hard for me to accept. In short, I took him to Long Beach Memorial on Feb 16th because he was very week and delusional. He spent the night....then another night, and on it went until the doctor informed me on Sunday Feb 25th what was going on. He was moved to a nursing home, and finally a hospice home where he was in great care for his last remaining days. I was told he had 3 to 6 months left; 13 days later he was gone.

Per his wishes, there will be a private memorial service for family only.

I will be hosting an event in his honor in the near future(probably at the Peterson), and promise to keep everybody informed when I have a final date and details. It's going to be an evening of some serious bench racing!

I apologize to those I haven't returned phone calls yet, but will do so shortly.

Again, thank you for your thoughts, and I look forward to seeing all you soon very soon.

Sincerely,

Rex

 

Copy of an e-mail from Pete Vamlaw to Jack's son. Thought some of you might want to read it..

Stu


Dear Rex,

Writing a eulogy just doesn’t feel like the right way to remember your dad. Instead, I found a letter, which I wrote to him in December,1999 after the Fabulous Fifties Banquet in his honor. It was based on notes and recollections from the time I worked for him in his Sherman Oaks shop. Unfortunately at the Banquet, neither of us was able to say much because we were both cutoff mid-speech due to time constraints. Of course we were both pissed; Jack, because he was the Guest of Honor, and I because I wasn’t able to poke nearly as much fun at him as I wanted. I wanted him to know that, so I compiled my notes in a letter, which I may or may not have mailed.

These are cherished memories of the people and events surrounding your dad during that very special time, when “sporty cars”, as he liked to call them, and racing were the forces that bound us all together. I doubt that many people will remember everyone on my list, but they were a regular part of his life. If some of my observations seem irreverent to some of their memories, then so be it, because your dad and I shared those irreverence’s. Besides, the event was a roast, which is a time to be irreverent.

December 30, 1999

Jack:
I’ll let the others talk of your accomplishments in racing. But I also knew you on another level. So, tonight I want to talk about the people and events that were part of your daily life. It’s been said that the people who surround him, and are part of his everyday existence define the measure of a man. That being the case, then you Jack was a wild and crazy guy, because they all certainly were!!!

It was sometime in late ’53 or early ’54, shortly after you opened your new Porsche/VW store on Ventura Blvd. After weeks of my hanging around the shop, you finally said something like, “Jeez, Pete! If you’re gonna be here anyway, then get off your ass, and pick up some parts from Competition Motors?” That began an association for which I’m truly thankful, because otherwise, I’d have never had the glorious memories or got to know those wonderful and sometimes wacky people. They were part of your life and the very fabric of that wild and crazy time in that place you called Jack McAfee Motors. Here are some of those recollections:

Henry Manney – A close friend of yours and one of my favorite people, who hung out there a lot, until he moved to Europe. I loved to hear his stories, like the one about George Metzger, who borrowed and then blew up his beloved 2litre Ferrari coupe. With his engine then in a basket, Henry just shrugged, claiming that George’s philosophy was, “Drive a little faster and maybe the noise will go away!”
Also loved the story he used to tell about becoming a ballet dancer – which he only did so to court his wife, Annie. And about their mutual friend, Eddie, who was a fabulous dancer, with the strength and agility to perform marvelous moves and spectacular lifts, etc. But Eddie had one major flaw: He really wanted to be a ballerina!

Ford Robinson – I only knew him briefly before he was fatally injured in that crash in Mexico, but he was one of the good guys. He usually had a mischievous look like he was planning to pull a prank on someone. Always friendly to me, he used a term I’d never heard before or since. Referring to a nifty exhaust bypass that I’d just installed on my MG, he asked, “What’s that….? Your “Gesatz plug?” …..Gesatz plug??? What the hell is a Gesatz plug?

High School Harry Givens - of Coach & Horses fame, surprisingly came to work at the shop as a mechanic, but that was only for a short time - obviously between gigs as a bartender.

Ted Cannon – Your old chum, who had a shop filled to the brim w/rusty car parts. More like a blacksmith shop than a machine shop, Ted looked the part. A huge and imposing figure, he always wore a black leather apron. When custom grinding a cam, he’d take a pencil from behind his ear, draw a line on one of the lobes, marking the profile, and stick it in the cam-grinding machine. You always used to say that his precision tools totally consisted of a hammer and a piece of chain.

John von Neuman - Used to come by on his BMW motorcycle, wearing a Polo shirt and his expensive driving gloves. Loved to talk racing with you but rarely gave you cars to sell. How many did we get? Maybe 3 VWs and a Porsche in 3 years?

Steve Wilder - Rich kid from the east, and your first salesman. Featured in an early road test article in R&T with his Morgan, but when I knew him, he was going to Art Center and driving a VW. Lasted about three weeks at your shop, because with nothing to sell, he couldn’t make any money

Castrol – The day you received your first shipment as the local dealer. You and I went down to San Pedro, with the old Caddie, and the GMC truck, and hauled ALL those cases and 55 gal. drums back to your house in Manhattan Beach. Later, driving the Cad with a trailer, I picked up a small load of cases from your house to take back to the shop, only to find the trailer swinging wildly behind me on old Sepulveda. That’s when you said, “Jeez, Pete! You’re supposed to put the weight in the front of the trailer, not the back!”

But the best thing about that deal, besides the smell of hot Castrol, was seeing those wonderful Castrol and Shell movies that you’d screen for us employees whenever you’d get a new one in.

Sonny Williams - Mr. Meticulous, but a great mechanic. Always reminded me of Alan Ladd. Scared the bejeezus out of me the first time he barked, “Don’t touch my tools!” - Which he always kept neatly arranged in a shiny Snap On Tool chest, lined up side by side with military precision and always spotless. He also had a black VW that he maintained in an equally meticulous fashion, and would let no one near.

Dr. Hildreth Hoppe - A regular customer who drove the first 550 engined Carrera coupes I’d ever seen. A short, stocky woman, she was always neatly dressed in a tailored suit. Sonny swore that she was a mind control practitioner, and claims to have seen her bend spoons by sheer willpower. Wooowooowooowooo!!!

Harry Jones – Loved to race small cars, and was a partner with Johnny Rich in one of the best custom car and body shops in the biz. He gave me a brief but spirited ride in his new Moretti coupe around the streets behind your shop, even though there was a grammar school back there.

You two always seemed like brothers, with him saying just about as little as you did. So, the three of us would do a lot of staring off into space, especially at those regular Saturday lunches at Kenny’s Hamburger Stand on Coldwater & Riverside. If you remember, it was located just a few feet from the street and only a couple of yards from the freeway on ramp. It was so noisy that no one could hear anyone anyway. I could never understand why you the place.

Just after I got out of the service, Harry did a repaint on a ’53 Chevy I’d bought for my wife. After I picked it up, all shiny and new looking, I was on my way home when I noticed a wheel and tire passing me on Moorpark St. Thinking that some poor bastard had lost it, I continued driving until I realized it was mine....just about the time the left rear dropped to the street in a shower of sparks. I was really pissed at your buddy, Harry. Obviously, someone at R&J forgot to tighten the lug nuts

Rolf Wuetherich. – The crazy German mechanic, who rode with James Dean on his last ride, but lived to tell about. When I first met him at Beverly, Mass., he still had his teeth wired together, and walked with a cane. Although not a very talented driver, he always wanted to prove to the world how good a racer he was, especially on the Highland off ramp of the Hollywood Freeway. At Brynfan Tyddn he introduced me to his Czech friend, who’d been working for Max Hoffman in New York. Rolf called him “Wenzel”.

Wenzel - Rolf’s little Czech friend – At Giant’s Despair and Brynfan Tyddn, he used to run around admonishing Rolf not to mess with his tools unless he asked. But he’d say it in his broken English, which came out, “Rolf, venn you nimm a tool aus mine cast, you must qvetch me first”.

At the Giant’s Despair/Brynfan Tyddn Victory Banquet, he and Rolf got me totally swacked on Bavarian Boilermakers - shots of Cognac with a beer chaser. Later when he moved out here, he became known by his real name, Vasek Polak.

Don Horst - Porsche’s Zone Manager, who came by with the news about James Dean’s accident. Used to come by regularly, driving a lovely, tomato soup colored Super Coupe, but never seemed able to do much to get you more cars!!!

Sue Yoder - Your receptionist, bookkeeper and office manager. She had a wonderful caustic sense of humor. While she sounded sweet on the phone and to you, she always had a cigarette in her mouth, and would say some of the nastiest things behind your back. She also warned us to “Watch out for Hannig & Olbrecht”, the two German mechanic/partners, who would drop in periodically, looking like the sorry remnants of a lost Panzer Division…usually to pilfer parts.

Pete Barnum - Sweet and lovable, semi retired Network Exec, who looked like Santa Claus without the beard. Pete bought an early Speedster from you. Probably the only one you got from von Neumann, during that three-year stretch. It was always amazing to see Pete drive it into the shop, because he was so large, that he really didn’t drive it. He wore it…like a ballet slipper.
I think Pete was the guy responsible for putting a tape recorder in Parravano’s 4.5, before the race at Bakersfield in ’54. He had talked you into narrating it from the driver’s seat, but it only resulted in you recording yourself going on your head. But you successfully caught your final words, which were, “Aw ****!!!” Wonder what ever happened to that tape? Today it would be priceless.

Betty and Denny Shutes – More than regular customers, they were like your extended family. Betty was the most unlikely person to ever want to be a racecar driver - a socialite maybe - but she seemed at least 10 years too old to be a racer. Yet she turned out to be a quite a competent driver. Her first racecar was her ’54 Porsche Continental Coupe, which I used to service for her…when no one else was available. Had a couple of good dices with her at Santa Barbara. Recently, I learned that Jim Sitz was a sales assistant in Denny’s camera store. Small world!

Sonny Baker - Another regular customer, and close friend of Betty’s. She idolized Betty and began racing a white Speedster when Betty bought and started racing a red one. Later she managed Jay’s Sports Car Accessories, down on Melrose near Cahuenga, until Jay went out of business. Then she disappeared.

Joe Landaker – the lovable guy, whose greatest joy was driving John Edgar’s big rig. Joe was indirectly responsible for Parravano being dubbed “The Golden Screwdriver”. He was the mechanic, tuning your ride in the 4.5 Ferrari at Santa Barbara, when Tony pushed him out of the way to adjust the Webers himself, resulting in a jet of raw fuel squirting six feet in the air - all to the amusement and entertainment of a crowd of the curious, including myself.

Always willing and a very hard worker, yet he lacked a certain finesse as a racecar mechanic, probably because he had a habit of forgetting to replace a small but important part or two.
As a body and fender man, he came from the ball peen and sledgehammer school of bodywork. I remember one afternoon when Joe fabricated a headrest for Edgar’s new 550 in preparation for your ride with Pete Lovely at Sebring. Not a thing of beauty. It ended up looking like a coal miner’s lunchbox.

I spent a lot of time with Joe between Beverly, Mass, Wilkes Barre, PA and NY City in ‘56, often hitching rides in back of the van, usually in the ’51 375 GP car, playing like Kirk Douglas in the Racers.

Steve Mason – Nice guy. Kept John Edgar medicated, and tried to keep him sober, or at least coherent, which was usually a losing proposition. He loved big brimmed hats and driving John’s Messerschmitt.

John Edgar - Not much to say about John that others haven’t said already, but I specifically remember when he put you in the 3.5 Ferrari at Palm Springs, and you began to ***** that you couldn’t get the thing to stop. It was a very funny sight to watch you pass the pits and brake for Turn #1. Every time you came by, you rose out of the seat about eight inches in your attempts to slow the car. And if memory serves me, you had trouble walking afterwards.

But, my favorite story was at Torrey Pines in ’55 or ‘56. Steve Mason had set up a regimen to keep John sober. During the race, with a pair of binoculars around his neck, and stopwatch in his hand, John carefully followed your progress by clocking each lap. You were holding your position nicely, so none of us could understand why your times kept getting slower and slower. Then we realized that in spite of Steve’s efforts, John was getting drunk, and his reactions were getting slower and slooooower as the race progressed. But where was he getting the booze? It was only when we saw that he never raised the binoculars above his lips. But every so often he’d tip them up and tilt his head back, that’s when we realized that the binocs were dummies, and were actually bottles. One of the eyepieces was really a bottle cap, which he would unscrew every time he wanted another jolt.

Gino Borgesa - Whenever I sat in one of the racecars in the shop, you’d accuse me of trying to imitate him. I’d barely get my hands on the steering wheel when you’d find me and either ask, “How fast are you going, Pete?“ Or, “Jeez, Pete! Who do you think you are, Gino Borgesa?” Then, some forty years later, when you and I finally reconnected, one of the first questions you asked me was, “What was Kirk Douglas’s name in the Racers”. And like a secret password between us, I replied…”Gino Borgesa, of course!!!”

The following was not in the letter, but I’m writing it now:

Jack, one of my greatest pleasures and fondest memories was working with you on the video version of “The 1950 Carrera PanAmericana - Tribute to Ford Robinson”. I was honored that you trusted me to be the keeper of Ford’s original footage.

You often told me how you idolized Rex Mays in your youth; that he was a hero to you. And as I told you, there were many of us out there who idolized you, and to us, you were our hero. Rest in peace, my friend. We’re really going to miss you.

I hope you made it to that big ballroom in the sky, and are back on the dance floor, swaying to the music of Louis Prima and Keely Smith.

Rex, thanks for being there and allowing me to share this.

With kindest regards and greatest affection,

Pete