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A M E R I C A
I N F E R R A R I this country’s FIA affiliate, regarding how to certify any records that might be broken. The
FIA wasn’t exactly helpful; they simply told Fritz where to send the records if he broke
them. The records to be attempted ranged from 10 kilometers to 5,000 miles, and from
1 hour to 24 hours, records mostly held by Ab Jenkins.
The next step was to get permission to use the salt. Both the Department of the Interior
and the State of Utah had jurisdiction, but when Fritz called the Interior Department, they
referred him to Utah. Utah, in turn, referred him to Washington.
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Frustrated, Fritz flew to Utah and was amazed at how remote the salt flats were. He
realized that NART would have to create the track themselves in an environment that
had no electricity. The salt was much rougher than Fritz had imagined. He spoke to the
caretaker, who offered to drag the course to smooth it with pallets weighted with cement
blocks. When Fritz mentioned permission, the man said the record runs were fine with him.
Armed with this tidbit, Fritz called Washington and told them of his progress. Their
reply was along the lines of, “Well, if it’s okay with Utah, it’s okay with us.” The next call was
to Utah, in which Fritz reported that Washington had given permission. Not surprisingly,
Utah said, “Well, if it’s okay with Washington, it’s okay with us.” The deal was on.
Fritz’s cousin, Joe Mooney, owned a trucking business, and donated use of a semi-
trailer, a tractor to pull it, and two drivers. Bill Mitchell, the legendary head of design at
General Motors and a racing fan, provided a motor home and a truck. The cars were a 512
M (1020) the team had not raced since 1971, and two Daytona coupes.
They arrived at Bonneville on Thursday, September 19, 1974. Headquarters were estab-
lished at the Texaco station in Wendover (population 781), the closest sign of civilization.
The mechanical team consisted of Frenchman François Sicard and Italians Nereo Iori
and Franco Genasi. Other support was furnished by Dan Wayne and Dave Webb of Irvine
©2024 David Bull Publishin
Industries, a manufacturer of harnesses and belts. Bob Craige took care of ensuring radio
contact between the cars and crew, a form of underemployment, since he was a physicist.
Craige remembers beloved Road & Track journalist Henry Manney III being the team’s
salvation at times. Craige later said, “We’d be working our asses off during the night, and
while everyone else was in a bar or the Stateline Casino, Henry would be right there with us.
He kept the trunk of his Volvo stocked with milk, fruit juices, and other nourishing things.”
Chinetti Jr. commented years later, “Henry was a very special writer and a wonderful
person. He brought along fruit and juice and, out of nowhere, he’d walk up to a mechanic
or a driver and say, ‘You look like you need an apple.’ You can’t imagine some guy going
up to Alonso today and saying, ‘You look like you need an apple.’ But that’s the kind of
thing that went on when Henry was with us at Bonneville.”
While the cars were being prepared, the course was laid out. It consisted of two
straights, each 1.8584 miles long, and two curves, each 3.1416 miles long, for a total distance
of 10 miles. Markings included flags at each mile and black steel barrels at the beginning
and end of each corner. The corners were so gradual that they became imperceptible to
the drivers at night. The inside line was delineated by a ribbon of black oil.
©2024 David Bull PubDuring the preparations, nightly R&R sessions took place at Bonnie & Brent’s Hideaway
in Wendover and the Stateline Casino. The patrons were amazed to see Paul Newman
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