Pictures and text copyright Bill Pollack
Bill Pollack stands next to Mr. Parravano's Ferrari 340 America, (S/N 0150A).
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The following is an excerpt from Bill Pollack's memoirs, entitled "Red Wheels and White Sidewalls", re-printed with permission of Brown Fox Publishing. Pollack, most famous for his exploits at Pebble Beach with the famous Cartsens Cad-Allard, has written a humorous but true look at South California racing in the early 1950s. With a forward by Carroll Shelby, the book also contains "Other Voices", anecdotes written for Bill by his contemporaries, such as Phil Hill, David Fogg, John Fitch, Mary Davis, Ruth Levy Raymond and many more.
Bill had considerable experience with Italian cars as well. This segment is taken from "People and Places". The book, priced at $23.95, can be ordered from www.brownfoxbooks.com
There were so many people that played a part in the 50's evolution of the sport. There were admirals and generals and actors and kids. All got involved because it was exciting and fun. We were amateurs in the strictest sense of the word, and that was a big part of the charm.
In the fifties when the sport of motor racing was beginning to catch on and it was still amateur, most of the entrants were owner-drivers. A few lucky ones like myself had the rare privilege of driving someone else's car. Without trying to go down a roster of drivers and workers of the fifties, there were a number that stick in my memory as friends.
Tony Parravano was a successful contractor, a personality in his own right, who bought fast Italian machinery by the handful. He was also known as the man with golden screwdriver, because no matter how well a car might be running, Tony could not resist an open hood. The sight of three or six Weber carburetors was like sugar to a diabetic. He would reach in and start adjusting a perfectly fine running machine, to the dismay of his mechanics.
Most of the cars Tony bought had been "raced hard and put away wet." Tony was a cash buyer and always in a hurry and Ferrari always had some little beauty in the back lot for this kind of buyer that had only been raced once by a little old man from Pasadena.
Pollack
found instant fame at Pebble Beach, where he defeated Phil Hill's 2.9
Alfa Romeo with the Cartsen's Cad-Allard.
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Tony called me and asked me if I would like to drive a 2.9 liter Ferrari coupe he had bought. He said that the car would be at the ensuing Torrey Pines Race and he wanted to find out the weaknesses in the car. I should feel free to push it as hard as I wanted. Translation, break this car if you can. I was sure that the car had probably been well broken already. Note, Tony also entered a 4.4 liter Ferrari for me to drive. Sometimes the programs and the actual entries did not always jibe. I drove the 4.4 down to Torrey but it was a might sickly so we ran the coupe.
I arrived at Torrey Pines January of 1956, in my bright blue Pirelli drivers’ suit. This is in the days before cars caught fire. My surprise must have shown on my face when I saw this beautiful, pristine touring coupe with natural suede upholstery. I could not believe that Tony would want to race this car as it looked to be right out of the box, brand new. Tony smiled, and told me to take it out and find the weakspots.
It was a hot day and I drove the car hard. Torrey Pines, with its right angle corners was very hard on brakes. Towards the end of the race the brakes started to feel soft and I decided to bring the car in rather than take a chance on going off the course and doing some serious damage to this little beauty.
There was a cliff at the end of the main shoot that dropped off to the Pacific Ocean. A couple of drivers had already made that little tour down the mountainside. I did not care to join that exclusive club. When I pulled in, Tony wanted to know what was the matter. I told him that the pedal felt soft and he bent down to take a look at the rear wheel. When I heard some strange sounds I climbed out of the car and joined the lookers. The drum brakes had been so hot that the spokes of the wire wheels had melted their impressions, criss-crossed, on the drums. I was still looking at the brake drums and complimenting myself on bringing in the car before something bad happened when there was a loud yell in Italian. Tony was making strangling sounds and pointing to the interior of the car. Walking over I saw that my Pirelli driving suit had left a perfect replica of the Pollack backside in bright blue on the beige suede. Well, that was definitely the weak point in the car, I don't think that I drove for Tony again.
