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This year is the fiftieth anniversary of Mario Andretti’s one and only win in the Indianapolis 500. Of all the years that Andretti was the favorite to win or found himself in a position to win – 1969 was not that year.

By the time the 1969 Indianapolis rolled around, I was a veteran spectator. I would not turn eleven until later that fall. I had started going to the race in 1965, when I was six. My father chose to take his father and brother in 1966, so that is a hole in my “500” resume. But we returned in 1967, not only for the race, but that was also the year we began our annual trips to Pole Day. When May of 1969 came around, it would be my fourth race and third Pole Day

The year before, my father started taking The Indianapolis Star for the Month of May. It usually arrived at our house two or three days later, but we all read the racing section up and down. That was in the days when practice actually began on May 1, although those first few days were usually pretty relaxed. Still, The Star did a good job of covering anything that went on at the track. I think my father may have known someone who kept up with things on a daily basis, because I remember many times when he would come home from work and tell us something that had happened at the track that day.

While that sounds routine today, remember – this was in the days before the internet and before cable. We had four channels when I was growing up – ABC, CBS, NBC and the local educational channel out of Memphis, which would later become affiliated with PBS. There was not a lot of Indianapolis 500 coverage during the Month of May in Jackson, Tennessee in the sixties. So to have information from the track that was just a few hours old was really something.

Pole Day morning looked promising. I recall it being hazy and humid. The cars took to the track for practice that morning. I know that because I remember seeing that radical Lotus 64 that Mario Andretti had been scheduled to drive. I remember being struck by how ugly I thought the car was – especially from the rear, which we saw as it went past and dove into Turn One. It seemed to have wings all over it.

I remembered being shocked at how ugly so many of the cars were that year. The wedged-shape Lotus 56 turbines driven the year before, were beautiful in my opinion. But the next year, most of the cars in the field had tried to copy the wedge design. The results ranged from awkward looking to downright hideous. The Eagle chassis from the past couple of years were gorgeous cars – especially the nose with the prominent Eagle beak. But the 1969 Eagles that Dan Gurney and Joe Leonard drove in 1969 were atrocious – at least at the time. Looking back, they don’t seem so bad. But even back then, I did not like change – and most cars in 1969 featured way too much change for this ten year-old.

Bobby Unser had driven a classic looking Eagle to victory the year before. The next year, he had changed to a Lola chassis and a new sponsor in Bardahl. At the time, I had no idea what a Lola chassis was, but I knew I didn’t like its looks. The front-end looked flattened out with a radiator opening that resembled a catfish. To add insult to injury, the classic Rislone paint scheme had been traded for a black and yellow checkerboard scheme that covered the entire car. I was not a fan.

Who had the only decent looking car in that morning practice? My hero, AJ Foyt.

Unfortunately, that morning practice would provide the only glimpse of the cars I would see that day. Rain would come before qualifying was set to begin. We sat in the covered seats in Stand A for most of the day, just waiting and waiting. With a long drive back to Tennessee and rain starting and stopping throughout the day, we finally left around 3:00. Later that afternoon, Jigger Sirois would make his infamous attempt (that I won’t get into with this post) – but by that time, we were listening to it all on the radio traveling through southern Indiana. Rain would continue and wash out Sunday qualifying also.

Later that week, my father came home from work announcing that Mario Andretti had crashed that radical Lotus and destroyed it. He would be in a totally different car for the race. When qualifying finally resumed the next Saturday, we were listening on the radio from home. Being a ten year-old, I wasn’t keen on listening on the radio. I remember going in and out of the room, and every time I asked what was going on – I was met with “Shhh!”

But I knew that Foyt was on the pole and Mario Andretti was in the middle of the front-row, alongside that ugly car of Bobby Unser. All I really cared about was that Foyt had beaten Andretti. Our household was a Foyt household. We didn’t cheer for Andretti, we cheered for Foyt – because you could not cheer for both. I was mentioning that to Paul Dalbey at Barber last month and he couldn’t understand that. But in those days, that’s the way it was. I’ve since learned to appreciate and respect Mario Andretti as a driver and a person, but in those days – I was not a fan.

When we went back for Race Day, I saw the new car that Mario was to drive, It looked a lot better than the Lotus he had crashed earlier, but I still wasn’t a fan. The week before, my brothers had talked about a new driver that was very classy that we needed to watch. His name was Mark Donohue. I loved the look of his car. Although he was driving the same Lola that Bobby Unser was in, Donohue’s car looked a lot better in the Sunoco paint scheme.

For a while, it looked like Foyt might win again. But he had trouble in the pits. I could see his car number “6” sliding down the scoring pylon directly in front of us. It was obviously not going to be his day. He would return, but would no longer be a factor. One of my father’s favorite drivers was always Lloyd Ruby, but he ripped out the side of his fuel tank on a pit stop. His day was also done.

By this time, I was pulling for Dan Gurney. He was driving an ugly Eagle, but I always liked him. But even though Gurney was running in second, he was far behind.

You have to also keep in mind that while I was not an Andretti fan, I didn’t care for Andy Granatelli, either. I considered him a blowhard. As a kid, I liked his turbine-powered cars, but I didn’t care for this latest breed of STP cars and I basically didn’t like him either. I cheered for his turbine cars in spite of him.

Like my feelings for Mario Andretti, my opinion of Andy Granatelli changed as I got older. As an adult, I have had great respect and admiration for both of them. But as an impressionable kid – I didn’t care for either of them while growing up.

So it was with great chagrin that I sat and watched Mario Andretti take the checkered flag in the1969 Indianapolis 500. It further incensed me when Granatelli kissed him on the cheek in Victory Lane. Now it is considered one of the more colorful moments of the sixties.

With a rained-out qualifying weekend, all of the ugly new cars and a Granatelli car driven by Mario Andretti winning the race – 1969 was not my favorite Indianapolis 500. Of course, I look back on it much more favorably now that I appreciate the historical significance of that Brawner-Hawk being pulled into service after the Lotus 64 was destroyed due to a wheel-hub failure; and Mario winning his one and only Indianapolis 500 – especially when he became such a legendary driver afterward.

Today at seventy-nine, Mario Andretti is one of the best, if not the best, ambassadors for the NTT IndyCar Series and the Indianapolis 500. But fifty years ago, this bratty kid was not happy when he took the checkered flag in the 1969 Indianapolis 500.

George Phillips

This entry was posted on May 2, 2019 at 4:03 am and is filed under Indianapolis 500. You can follow any responses to this entry through the RSS 2.0 feed. You can leave a response, or trackback from your own site.