Reflections of Concessionaire: The Bus Drivers and Interesting Personalities of IMS

I'm feeling nostalgic tonight, so this post has nothing to do with politics. Please forgive me.

Nearly 25 years ago, I worked at the Indianapolis Motor Speedway in the concessions department. My mom managed the concessions stand by the museum adjacent to the Louis Chevrolet Memorial, and I worked as her assistant.

For those of you who don't know, the property is open year round for tours of the track and a walk through the museum. Where I worked was the only permanent stand that was open daily to the public on the property. Typically, we opened in early March, and the stand closed in late October.

The concessions stand had a storage area that had a little break room within it, and the tour bus drivers used the area as a staging point. Unless there was a special event, the bus drivers worked in teams of three or four, and, for a fee, they'd take you or your family or your group on a lap around the World's Greatest Race Course.

I didn't think about it at the time, but I was so fortunate to work with each of them. I grew close to them, and they weren't just my co-workers. They were all my friends.

There was Earl Freeland. Earl was a wisecracking World War II veteran who was quick with a story and quicker with a joke. Earl loved to eat canned vienna sausages and sardines. He referred to himself as "The Earl of the Free-land". Earl drew the ire of his bosses for often shutting off the tour bus tape and giving his own personal narrative of the track tour. "The Earl" always brought a smile to my face with his never quite straight hat and his slacks that just weren't long enough. His stories kept 20 year old me captivated for hours.

There was Kenny Rhea. Kenny liked to wear bright colored pants and loved to talk. One of his favorite stories was that he was the first man to take Juan Pablo Montoya around the track as he had given him his inaugural tour around IMS in the tour bus. Kenny was incredibly kind, generous, and, like Earl could tell stories that just kept you interested. The other drivers would get annoyed sometimes at Kenny because he liked to give a long intro before he started on the tour. Like Earl, Kenny was a veteran.

There was Travis Jones. Travis looked like he could take you down even at his age, and he probably could. He was a little moody, and he could sometimes be very difficult to get along with, but, when he liked you, he had that proverbial heart of gold. Like the others I've profiled, Travis was a veteran and an autoworker. He was proud to have worked for Chrysler. He was proud of his service. He was proud of his country and was very proud to have grown up south of Washington Street in "the Valley".

There was Bob Groover. Bob had a distinctive and loud voice. Once you heard it, you could never forget it. One day, I had a headache, and Bob said, "Sit down here in this chair, and I'll take care of it." I sat down, and Bob began to massage my temples. Within moments, my headache was gone. I've tried the method since, but it never works for me. Bob was also a veteran. He was wounded and carried off the battlefield to a field hospital where he nearly died. A few years after returning home from World War II, Bob and his wife attended the Holiday on Ice performance at the Indiana State Fair Coliseum. It was October 31, 1963. Bob's wife was killed in the coliseum explosion that night, and Bob was left again fighting for his life. I'd meet him some 30 years later, and he would still talk about those nights. He'd often comment about how he shouldn't be here, but he was for some reason. Two brushes with death. He'd live to be 94.

There was Harry Kirk or "Dirty Harry" as everyone called him. Harry was a lovable curmudgeon who would often tell jokes that were on the blue side...thus the nickname he embraced. At quitting time one night, Harry emptied his final load of customers and then took the tour bus on a joy ride around the track. Jim Baxter, another driver, said he passed his bus on the Main Straight going very fast. Harry parked his bus, and he went home and died that night.

Jim Baxter was always seemed to be a nervous wreck. He was the epitome of professionalism, and he liked to toe the line. Jim always dressed to the nines with shined shoes, perfectly fitted slacks and an ironed shirt. He was retired from Allison's Transmission. He had a very dry sense of humor, and the best laugh of the bunch. Jim was a good-hearted and good-natured man who, along with Kenny, was my mom's favorite driver of the bunch. Jim died three days before Christmas in 2014 at the age of 91. My mom died on Christmas that same year.

I could go on. I could talk about "Little John" John Schenck. He was one of the nicest people I've ever met. There was his foil "Big John" whose last name I can't remember for the life of me. Big John often preferred to stay on his bus and keep to himself. There was our yellow shirt, Tom Blanford, who was hilarious. I could even talk regular customers like Crocky Wright, the racing journalist and motorcycle stuntman and "Doc" Sloan who grew up in Mooresville in the days of John Dillinger and once faced Dizzy Dean playing minor league baseball.

I guess the point of all this is that all these men I can remember to this date.  They're all gone now. I don't know why I felt the need to document them here tonight. I wanted to memorialize my memories of them and urge you to talk to the people around you. Get to know your coworkers and let their experiences enrich your life. Thanks for indulging me.