Sitting down for a conversation with Don Garlits
No one in organized sports transformed his game the way “Big Daddy” Don Garlits elevated, perhaps even saved, drag racing. Babe Ruth may have taken baseball from bunting and stealing into the modern age of bravado and home runs, but he never invented a bat or helmet that changed the actual dynamics of the sport.
Like Ruth, Garlits not only re-wrote the record books on the track, but he also introduced measures that improved the sport while making it safer for the drivers, ultimately saving it from its own self-destruction. A crash in which he lost his foot became the motivation to solve the puzzle of the rear-engine dragster, a concept that in the 1960s had ensured safety but was still impractical and certainly not competitive, therefore keeping drivers perilously sitting behind the engine of the slingshot racers.
Now enjoying life at age 93 with his successful Don Garlits Museum of Drag Racing at the intersection of Interstate-75 and Highway 484, the legend dials into his razor-sharp memory for guided tours. He becomes Earnest Hemingway at Sloppy Joe’s, tapping into enthralled ears to regale the tales of glories, miscues and ultimate triumphs along the way to becoming the most recognizable name of his sport.
His hearing loss relegates him to reading on a computer screen or phone what people say to him, but he rarely misses a beat in conversation. His voice still booms like the HEMI engines with which he loves to tinker, and his passion resides prominently on his sleeves and in his heart. The Tampa native sat down for a conversation with The Ocalan and spun the yarns he weaves on his tour in addition to other passions in life:
TO: Do you miss the competition from your younger days?
DG: Yeah, I do. It’s a whole different lifestyle. I have plenty of things that interest me: I have a lakehouse and I really like plants now — it’s really relaxing. It’s so different from the mechanical end, but I really like engines; I guess that’s why I was good.
TO: Was it the love of engines that brought you to drag racing, or your love of speed and racing that sparked a love of engines?
DG: It was the love of engines — I just love to build engines. You want to think you built a better engine than your buddy. My buddy built his engine for his ’40 Ford and I built mine for mine, then we went up to Zephyrhills and we raced to see who was the fastest. Whoever was fastest built the best engine.
That’s why in the beginning, drag racing wasn’t about who got (to the finish line) first, it was about the speed. In fact, for many years the big money was for the top speed in the meet, not who won the meet. Even in NHRA (National Hot Rod Association) at the Winternationals in 1960, the big trophy was top speed in the meet — which I won — not the ET (elapsed time). That (top speed) tells you who had the best running engine; ET doesn’t necessarily mean that — there are other factors that determine how quick the car gets there.
TO: You seem more impressed with speed than ET.
DG: Here’s an interesting tidbit — my fastest speed was 323.04 (miles per hour) at Gainesville, March 2003, but I didn’t shut off at the finish line. I drove another 200 feet full throttle. Nobody hardly could even think about doing that, but blow all to pieces. But my car was running good and pulling hard so at about 200 feet I lifted. Since then, they’ve got special devices at the end of the drag strip that shut you off at the end of the finish line whether you like it or not. My computer was hooked on to the front wheel speed and my car was running 340 mph when I lifted the throttle. The clocks gave me 323, but my computer said I was going 340. I got chewed out for that!
TO: Getting up to 340 mph probably meant more than the official speed that was noted.
DG: Oh, yeah — the speed. It was thrilling! I wanted to go a little bit further, but I wasn’t sure what might happen. I didn’t want to tear the motor up. I could have gone back the next day and went even further because (the engine) wasn’t hurt. It was in good shape.
TO: One of your wrecks led to fire suits for drivers; that was the first of many innovations to your credit.
DG: I was nearly burned to death in 1959, so that got the fire suits going. Prior to that, they just wore jackets, or we raced in tee shirts!
TO: You are also responsible for the parachutes stopping the cars?
DG: A guy in California had a parachute and he said, “why don’t you bolt this parachute on your car and see how it works?” Nobody else would do it, but I put it on my car and it really worked nice; it made the car come to a nice, smooth stop.
TO: Your greatest innovation has to be the rear-engine dragster, correct?
DG: Those (innovations) were nothing like when I blew off my foot (in 1970 at Lions Drag Strip in California). The car blew and cut my foot off. They had rear-engine cars, but they didn’t handle real well; they were no good, but it did put the driver in a more safe position. I thought, “why can’t they make these rear-engine cars work?” So, I built a rear-engine car and, boy, did I take some flak!
The guy that built and designed the 426 HEMI, Tom Hoover, top-of-the-line engineer, he said, “you know at Chrysler we have always had the utmost respect for the things that Garlits has come up with, but this time we think he’s bit off more than he can chew.”
For three months I struggled with that thing. I was testing at Bithlo in Orlando and, thank God they didn’t have guard rails right on the edge of the track — they were about 100 feet so I could drive off the track and spin out and not get hurt. The field looked like a plowed field after the three months I had been out. We never got down the track once, we put the tarp over it and built a slingshot with the driver in the back.
TO: The car would veer off course. So, you were giving up on the rear-engine car?
DG: My wife came out to the shop and she said (pointing at the slingshot), “what is that?” That’s my new car for 1971 — I’ve got three weeks and I’ve got to be in Long Beach. I’ve got a $100,000 contract. She said, “you would get back in one of those cars after it mutilated you like that?” I said, “honey, it doesn’t have a transmission; it’s a high-gear only — this is what I do!”
She said, “if there’s anybody on this planet that can figure this thing out and make it work, it’s you. Now, get back!”
TO: Looking back at your career, were there racers you feared more than others?
DG: I didn’t fear any of them, but there were three cars in my career that stand out. The longest-running feud was with “The Greek” (Chris) Karamesines from Chicago. He started in ’59 and went all the way, 30 years. “The Snake” (Don) Prudhomme, he was tough but he didn’t stay in dragsters long. For about a 3-year period he was really tough. His official word was, “Garlits ran me out of Top Fuel and I got a Funny Car.”
But Shirley Muldowney, for the short period of time we raced from ’75 to ’86 when for all practical purposes I quit, that was a tough period because she was really hard to beat. Shirley and my match races were the highest paid match races ever. We would get as much as $40,000 for both of us to compete. Compare that to how I originally got paid $500 for a match race.
She was so intense; she didn’t care about the money — she wanted to win the race every time.
TO: Sounds like Shirley Muldowney holds a special place in your life and career.
DG: She did a lot for the sport. She broke the barrier as the first woman to drive Top Fuelers and she won several championships. She got us into places nobody else could get us into publicity-wise. Drag racing was a man’s sport — rough, tough men working on these cars and driving them, and she got in there and went head-to-head and toe-to-toe and kicked ass. She was tough, with a killer instinct; she didn’t take prisoners.
TO: Who was the best you either raced against or saw?
DG: Shirley — she was the best. Prudhomme is next then “The Greek.”
TO: Do you think the sport of drag racing is in a good place today?
DG: No. The truth of the matter is a lot of people are going and a lot of people are enjoying it, but it’s not sustainable like it is, not the big classes. The race is too short; they cut the distance down to 1,000 feet and that was a mistake. They should have left it at a quarter mile and de-tuned the engines. The NHRA couldn’t bring themselves to force the crew chiefs to make dramatic changes in the engine — they wouldn’t do that because television has a lot to do with it.
Nothing makes it more exciting than to show the wrecks and nothing makes it more exciting in drag racing than to show the explosion with a big fire and, of course, the guy is not hurt. The NHRA has allowed the engines to be more and more powerful because it causes more and more explosions.
They’ve had to shorten the race which is not good for the man in the stands because they only get 3.6 seconds. It costs $25,000 to make one run in one of the big team cars. I got into drag racing in the ‘50s because it was NOT expensive. It was something that I could have as a regular, normal job and maintain. That’s not possible today under any circumstances.
TO: What auto racing sports do you follow besides drag racing?
DG: Virtually none. I’ve been to the Indianapolis race a couple of times; I went to the Daytona race one time. It’s so boring. I was over (at the Daytona 500) as a Kendall sponsor and they had a whole booth of their own. There weren’t enough chairs for me to sit down so I was leaning against a back wall and I fell asleep standing up. I wouldn’t fall asleep at no drag race!
TO: But is there a certain respect among drivers of the various auto sports?
DG: Oh, the utmost respect. I wouldn’t want to do it. Before I ever went to a drag race I went to a track with a friend of mine — he had a nice engine and car and I was the paint guy. We went out to Phillips Field (in Tampa) and he was pretty good; he had built a good engine. Then, one of the older tough guys just bumped him right over the wall and tore the car all up. The kid got a ball-peen hammer and beat it all out so he could race some more. I said, “this ain’t for me.” I don’t mind if a guy’s faster, but I don’t want to get bumped over the wall because I’m faster.
TO: In the mid-90s you became interested in politics and ran for congress. What are your recollections from that time?
DG: I was just so sick of the way they were doing things up there (in Washington, D.C.). I was at a meeting in Citrus County and this woman was there babbling, and she was running for congress. I thought, “Jesus Christ, I ought to run for congress” so I jumped in the race. I was doing real good — I won the write-in with 60 percent, but lost the actual voting with 42. It was to Karen Thurman and they were dirty. Her thugs ripped my signs down in all those counties — it was real dirty politics.
They tried to get me to run again by saying, “oh, you’ll do better next time.” I said, “no, they had their chance to have a good person — to hell with them.” I’m so glad because I’d be dead now — that lifestyle’s no good. God did me a favor by getting me beat.
TO: You don’t think you would have lasted in D.C.?
DG: Art Malone, a good friend of mine who gave me the maximum donation, came up to me and said, “I prayed that you would lose — they probably would have shot you. They don’t like people like you up there.”
TO: Running for congress was a learning experience for you?
DG: I used to be a Democrat. When I moved here, I was a Democrat and I got hooked up with Buddy McKay. He was just the nicest guy you’d ever want to meet. We’d go to meetings and he’d say all the right words, then he made the mistake of having me come up to Washington with him for a fundraiser. The son of a bitch, he turned into like a chameleon — he was a totally different guy in Washington, talking about abortion on demand and higher taxes. Down here, he didn’t talk like that. I came back and changed my party affiliation.
TO: There’s more to you than just racing — what interests you, personally?
DG: There is a side of me most people don’t know. Number one, I’ve studied economics… and I know how the money system works. For years and years, we didn’t have inflation because they couldn’t print a paper dollar unless it was gold backing, and of course the government does not like that. Congress would never dream of spending only what they have — it’s always borrowing and borrowing. What’s our debt at now, $37 trillion?
TO: You have a big library, what else is in there that tells us about Don Garlits?
DG: I’ve studied archeology, so I know a lot about human origins. I know stuff about this planet that most people don’t know. Information is out there, but they don’t talk about it because it will ruffle feathers — like the aliens. They’ve been here forever, the people from other worlds.
TO: You mean, like beings from other planets, UFOs and such?
DG: I’ve got a whole library on this stuff — it’s not fiction; it’s books that people have written that have been involved. One time I got a phone call from (congressman) Cliff Stearns and he said to get your TV crew and go to Washington, that they were having a disclosure meeting at The Press Club and “I want you to cover it for me — I can’t go over there; it would tarnish my reputation.”
There were 21 people, old retired men who worked in governments, airlines, generals — real people that know things. This one particular guy was in NATO and was in charge of all the crash sites of flying saucers. He said there were seven races (of aliens) visiting the planet — this was in the ‘80s — and three of them looked just like us. They could put on a suit of clothes on and you wouldn’t know them from Adam’s house cat. Think Bill Gates, George Soros and the guy who started Facebook. See, they already did all that — come here and made a fortune. He said they worried about that.
He said the other ones, you wouldn’t want to see them. One was a species that looked like a praying mantis, 6-foot tall, flying spaceships, which put me in mind to something I heard when I was a youngster. Secretary (James) Forrestal, he was the Secretary of Defense (after) World War II. They had a crash in Norway, and they sent him over to the crash. He came back to the United States just really upset. He’s babbling about bugs flying spaceships, so they sent him up to the seventh floor of the Bethesda Naval Hospital in Annapolis. He wrote a note that said, “I don’t want to live in a world where bugs are smarter than people” then jumped out the window and killed himself.
TO: It’s apparent you are a man of many passions, one of them this museum. How did it come about?
DG: You’ll have to ask God that question because He’s the one that put it here. We started this museum in 1976 after my wife and I took a trip to England. Everybody over there had a car museum out on their estates way out in the country and people came out to visit and they had big crowds.
I thought, “this is a good idea” because I had all these cars… a big warehouse that was just full of them. We had a nice estate in Tampa and we put a 15,000-square-foot building up… and nobody came.” My wife asked, “what are we going to do with this white elephant we’ve created when you can’t race anymore and support it?” I said, “I’ll move it near the interstate.”
We like Brooksville because that’s where we set the first record in 1957. At the Brooksville exit where (State Road) 50 crossed (the interstate)… we thought that would be the place for it. We could write a check for $80,000 and not disturb the racing account… and thank God the guy wanted a quarter of a million dollars for that dirt!
We were both a little depressed. I said, “let’s spend the night at the Holiday Inn then go further north in the morning, AND, let’s pray about it. We got down on our knees and we talked to God: “God, do you want us to live out our lives in Seffner or should we move this museum? Only You know the answer. We’re going to go look tomorrow and if we find something, we’ll move, and if we don’t find something after looking all day we’re going back to Seffner and never troubling You with it again.”
TO: You opened the museum in 1984, so you got the answer you wanted.
DG: Next morning, we drove through Wildwood and this was the next stop… this was totally undeveloped. This piece was vacant and my wife said, “what a beautiful piece of property!” I went to a pay phone and dialed the number (listed on a small ‘for sale’ sign) and a woman answers the phone. She said (the price was) $80,000 cash.
(At this point, the fond memories well up in emotion for Don Garlits and his voice cracks up a bit.)
DG: 30 days later, I owned it! She says, “what are you going to do with it?” and I said we’re going to put a museum on it. She said it’s zoned agriculture and I said I’ll get the zone changed — I’ll take my chances with the (county) commission.
I had this two-page speech… I only got two lines out of my speech and Don Green, the county commissioner, says, “Stop! We don’t want to hear anymore!” And I want to tell you my heart almost stopped; I couldn’t believe it. Then, he said, “we’re going to give you the zone. What we want to know is why did you land on that intersection? It ain’t ever gonna be nothing.”
Check it now — they can’t build the roads fast enough.
TO: The high price tag in Brooksville was a blessing you may not have understood at that time.
DG: Do you realize it would have failed? When that turnpike cuts into the intersection, 80 percent of my customers turn to go to the attractions (in Orlando) and 20 percent continue down I-75. We would have not made it at the Brooksville exit — 250,000 cars go by here every 24 hours and that was a 10-year-ago count, so it’s probably more now.
TO: Do you think your legend is as much about how you innovated the sport as it is all the victories and records?
DG: Of course — that’s why I like the museum; it shows all my innovations. You can actually see the stuff that I did. I don’t have to tell you about it; you can actually look at it.
This museum is a non-profit — it won’t be liquidated when I die. It’ll be here as a testimony to the sport and all the things we did.
