In this day of Interstate highways and well-stocked
spacious haulers, it is somewhat difficult to envision traveling from race to
race in 1962. To enable the younger folks to comprehend this exercise and to jog the memories of more mature
readers, I have created the fictional “CORNBELT CLASSIC”. This was a four race series ran at some dusty fairgrounds
ovals in mid-America.
Ellsworth, Kansas is located at the junction of state
routes 156 and 111, not far from the geographical center of the U.S.A. Here on the plains, you can look for miles in any direction and see corn
and wheat.
The skyscraper in this part of the country is the local grain
elevator. Typical of most small
towns, there was a market, post office, gas station and feed store.
There were also several small industries, dealing in agricultural related
products and services.
Corky Long and Buzz Wentworth had grown up in Ellsworth and were boyhood chums. Corky
worked at a local store that sold and serviced agricultural pumps as a rebuilder
and drove a modified on weekends. Buzz
had opened a small shop to do auto and farm implement repairs and served as
Corky’s mechanic.
Corky had saved up money during his senior year in high school to buy a racecar. He
bought a 1941 Ford Coupe for fifty dollars and Buzz converted it into a jalopy racer. After two seasons with
some success, they sold the jalopy and purchased a worn out modified. It was an old narrowed chassis stock car, with a 327
c.i. Chevy engine.
After rebuilding the car, they had another good season,
winning several features at their local track. They
were on the road to fame and fortune.
Recently these two had received a flyer announcing the first annual Cornbelt Classic. It would be a long June weekend, traveling to four tracks located in Kansas,
Nebraska and Iowa, where they would challenge the other local heroes.
At noon on Thursday, they took off in Buzz’ 55 Chevy pickup, packed with what few spare parts they had, a couple of tires and
wheels and of course their bedrolls. Salina was about forty miles away, where the first event would be held.
It was a warm afternoon, with big puffy clouds in the sky, but no hint of
rain. Arriving at the track, out near the air base, they got registered and set up the pit area.
A shunt in a preliminary race caused a bent front end, which was
straightened using a chain and a sturdy tree in the pit area.The feature race
posed no problems and a third place finish garnered them $75. The only concern was that the temperature gauge ran a little hot for the
last few laps.
After the races, they pointed the pickup north on
U.S. 81 and drove to a roadside rest near Concordia, where they bedded down for
the night. In the morning, they munched on some sandwiches, they had packed at home and pulled the left bank
head to find a leaking gasket. Driving into town, they stopped at the Western Auto and got a new gasket and headed west
on state route 28 to U.S. 36 and then north on U.S. 281 to Red Cloud, Nebraska
and the Webster County Fairgrounds.
As they signed in, they were greeted by one of the competitors, Howard Condon, who invited them to share his shade tree in the pit
area. It was a pleasant afternoon and the racer ran fine, staying cool with the newly installed head gasket. On the last lap, a brush with another car sent the car into the wall and
broke the front spring eye. They
still picked up $30 for the night. After
the race, Howard invited them to follow him back to the family farm about
seventy miles away and spend the night on the way to the Saturday show.
Heading east on U.S. 136, they stopped for hamburgers and a beer, then suffered through a rainstorm until they got to Fairbury.
They were able to sleep in real beds and woke early to the smell of ham,
eggs and all the trimmings along with hot coffee.
Howard’s mom fed them well and got them off to get the car repaired.
They went to a local blacksmith shop, where they found an old junk Studebaker, which had a spring, that could be adapted to their racer.
With repairs and routine maintenance performed, they packed up for the
journey to Harlan, Iowa. As they
were about to leave, Mrs. Condon brought out a basket full of fried chicken for
them to take on their trip.
As they were riding down the highway, with the tires
singing in rhythm to Ernest Tubb on the radio, suddenly the trailer weaved and a
tire had shredded. With a little effort, they got a spare mounted and were back on their way.
The sky darkened and the temperature dropped and soon there was a
thunderstorm. The vacuum operated windshield wipers struggled to keep up, but
after turning north on U.S. 59, the rain subsided and soon there was steam
coming off the highway as the sun baked it.
The track at Harlan was bigger than what they usually ran, so a gear change
was in order. Because of the earlier rain, the track was tacky, but got slicker as the feature started.
It was the right combination for Corky, as his somewhat worn tires seem
to adhere to the surface and he claimed the $250 first place money.
Leaving Harlan after the race, the pair traveled
south on U.S. 59 for about fifty miles and found a five dollar motel near the
intersection of U.S. 6, where they got a restful sleep and a good breakfast at
the adjacent Mary Jane’s Café. >
This Sunday drive would take them south through St. Joseph, Missouri and across the river to Atchison, Kansas.
It was a warm, muggy afternoon at the Atchison County Fairgrounds. There was a good sized crowd in the stands and this looked like an
outstanding finale for the Cornbelt Classic.
Corky claimed victory in the preliminary race and
picked up another third place finish in the feature, which paid $75 plus two
free steak dinners. Third place in
the four-race set provided an additional bonus $75.
Corky and Buzz got loaded up quickly and headed for
their steak dinners. After that, it was two hundred miles, with serenades from
Flatt and Scruggs, Red Foley and Patsy Cline, to get home.
On the way, they plotted how they could use their winnings to pick up
some spare parts and of course get the rear tires recapped with knobby treads.
It was a pleasant trip home, as they replayed the last four days. Arriving
about midnight, they were tired, drained and had to be at work at seven a.m.
Next year, they would settle for nothing less than Kings of the Cornbelt
Classic.
On Tuesday evening, just as Corky was about to go down to Buzz’ shop to work on the car, the phone rang.
It was George Selkirk, who owned the IMCA sprint car driven by Billy
Burgess. Selkirk told Corky that
Burgess had just signed with a USAC team to run midgets, sprints and champ cars,
so he needed a driver to run his car at Des Moines on Sunday. Selkirk had seen Corky run at Harlan and Atchison and felt he had the
talent to run on rough and tumble IMCA circuit.
This story could have taken place just about anywhere
in the country. No matter what kind
of cars they raced or where the tracks were, there were guys just like Corky and
Buzz who were the roots of what is today, a megabucks operation. We owe a lot to their perseverance for the racing programs, which we
enjoy today.
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