Why no one could fill the void left by Swede Savage

Racer went from zero to hero in seconds for a young racing fan

Thursday, Aug. 14, 2008 | 2 a.m.

Sam Morris

Race car driver Swede Savage’s headstone in San Bernardino, Calif., reads “David Earl Savage, Jr. Our Champion. Our Daddy. My Sweder.”

If you get off the 215 freeway and head west on Highland Avenue in San Bernardino, Calif., you will eventually pass a classic carwash with giant pastel stanchions that twirl around in the wind. (Or maybe with the aid of electricity.) It looks just like the Car Wash they used in the 1976 movie, although, sad to say, George Carlin no longer is looking for the “tall black blonde” who skipped out on her taxi fare.

A couple of blocks beyond the carwash, on the left, is Mountain View Cemetery.

Randy Rhoads, Ozzy Osbourne’s guitar player, is buried there.

So is Swede Savage, the race car driver.

I wasn’t much of a Randy Rhoads fan, although I kinda dig those riffs he played on “Crazy Train.”

Swede Savage, on the other hand, was one of my heroes. Come to think of it, he was probably the last one.

I’m not really sure why I liked him, although I think his name had a lot to do with it. Swede Savage. With a name like that, he had to race cars for a living. It was preordained. Maybe he could have been a movie star. But he could never have been an accountant, or a dentist.

Swede Savage certainly had the look of a movie star. Tall. Blond. Handsome. I think that’s the other reason I liked him.

In the late 1960s, when I became infatuated with the Indianapolis 500 and the men who were drawn to it, a lot of the drivers still sported crew cuts. Or they were rednecks, like A.J. Foyt. They came from either Texas or small towns in the Midwest. They walked around with grease under their fingernails and a pack of Marlboros rolled up in their T-shirt sleeves.

Swede Savage was different. He had long hair and looked like Malibu Ken. He wasn’t from Clermont or Coal City or Lebanon or Tinley Park. He was from San Bernardino, Calif., (although they often listed his hometown as Santa Ana) like in the Route 66 song.

(I guess I should point out that at the time, I had been west of the Mississippi only in the family station wagon when we made it as far as New Mexico. And now that I’ve been to San Bernardino, it sort of reminds me of Fort Wayne, only with browner hills.)

My adulation of Swede Savage bordered on obsession. There was this older guy in our neighborhood, Joe Hovanec, who looked like Swede, and we sorta became friends. One day, I almost asked when he was leaving for the race in Milwaukee, before reality set in.

In 1972, when I was 15, Swede posted the ninth-fastest qualifying time at Indy. Third row, outside. Not a bad starting spot for a rookie. I was crushed when his car lasted only six laps. I don’t even remember the Gasoline Alley reporter interviewing him.

But the next year, 1973, was going to be his. He was driving for Pat Patrick’s STP team, one of the best in the business. His teammate, Gordy Johncock, may have been better-known, but Swede was the one on top of the speed charts most of the month. He briefly sat on the pole but would start the race fourth. A lot of guys who have won the 500 have started fourth.

We were out grilling in the back yard when Salt Walther had his big crash at the start and the rains hit and they postponed the race. But the next day was Tuesday, and a lot of the big shots at the Standard Oil refinery had to be back at work. And so my grandma, who worked there, wound up with free tickets. In the penthouse seats heading into Turn 1, no less.

Ohmigod! I was going to Indy. By the time they got to where we were sitting, Swede might even be in the lead. He would have to pass Johnny Rutherford in the bright orange Gulf car and Mark Donohue in the dark blue and yellow No. 66 -- and tough as nails Bobby Unser in the porcelain white Olsonite Eagle. But maybe Swede could pass Unser, too, because people in the racing business said Swede was a charger.

Well, they didn’t start the race until Wednesday, because it also rained Tuesday. Swede didn’t lead the first lap, but he led for 11 laps, before making a pit stop. Then, on Lap 58, there was an explosion up the track, coming out of Turn 4.

Thirty-three days later, Swede Savage died.

That was 35 years ago. On Sunday, we finally met. Under a big shade tree on Lawn S in Mountain View Cemetery.

SWEDE SAVAGE, it says on the simple granite marker. The United States Auto Club logo is etched in stone under his name, with No. 42, his car number during most of his career.

David Earl Savage, Jr. Our Champion. Our Daddy. My Sweder. Aug. 26, 1946-July 2, 1973.

Swede’s wife was expecting the couple’s second child when he died. Their daughter, Shelly, was 6.

Shelly is buried next to her father. She died of leukemia in 1995.

I took off my cap, which seemed like the thing to do, and although I’m not exactly what you’d call a religious person, I said a little prayer, because that also seemed like the thing to do.

And when we drove back by the carwash, I couldn’t decide whether the reason I don’t have heroes anymore is because I got old or because sometimes it hurts.

Discussion: 9 comments so far…

By wadisaay

8/14/08 at 5:27 p.m.

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THANKS FOR A WELL WRITTEN STORY!. I CAN FEEL THE EMOTION. I REMEMBER WATCHING ALL THREE DAYS OF THAT RACE. I HAD LOST A BROTHER IN LAW PERISH IN A SPRINT CAR THREE YEARS LATER. LIKE YOU I HAD A HERO TOO, HIS NAME WAS JIMMY CLARK. THANKS FOR REMEMBERING SWEDE! YOUR STORY IS GREAT! SOME DAY (WHO KNOWS), MAYBE I WILL VISIT THAT CAR WASH AND CEMETERY..MIKE..LINCOLN NE.
By Ron Kantowski (Staff)

8/14/08 at 5:45 p.m.

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Mike: Then you surely know how I feel. There is a green diecast Lotus sitting on one of my book shelves at home. It is the car Jim drove during the 1963 F-1 season.

Thanks for the kind words. I have heard from a lot of Swede's fans and it's nice to know that others still remember ...
By TomS

8/15/08 at 8:38 a.m.

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Thanks for the story - I grew up in the San Bernardino area and raced against Swede in Quarter Midgets. I was in northern Indiana when he died. It has been a long time since I thought of Swede and our youth. Thanks for the memories.
By franklin

8/15/08 at 10:58 a.m.

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Thank you for a fantastic story, Mr. Kantowski. Swede Savage really was an original on the circuit and one can only imagine what might have been had it not been for that terrible tragedy.

Thank you again for the thoughtful tribute to Swede. Brought back a lot of memories.
By Discpad

8/15/08 at 12:18 p.m.

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Ron, this story brings back the nightmare of the 1973 Indy 500, when I was 12 years old. Don't forget that Art Pollard was killed in practice on May 12th; and a pit crewman for Johncock was also killed when he stepped over the wall to look north to Turn 4 when Savage crashed, being hit by a tow truck going in the opposite direction.

My memories of the `73 500 were different, though: The Salt Walther wreck was right in front of us (in Paddock Box 10); and when his car flipped up into the catchfence there was a HUGE ball of fire exploding into the track boxes and grandstand, seriously burning several spectators. Then, within a few minutes, down came a huge downpour as the grounds crew was welding the fence poles.

We stayed in town for Monday; but then with the forecast showing more rain, my father decided for us to head back to NJ: He said "Why stay for rain?" ... and I was disappointed.

My cousins were at the track on that fateful Wednesday in our seats, on the front straight about across from the entrance to Gasoline Alley; and they witnessed the crewman getting hit right in front of them.

My hero growing up was Mark Donohue, and I was really looking forward to seeing him repeat his win in 1972.

Dan Schwartz
Sayreville, NJ
By kcalabro

8/15/08 at 6:42 p.m.

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Ron, I grew up 5 miles from the track on west 10th. I could see the smoke from Eddie Sachs and Dave MacDonalds crash in 4. It was 64 I was 8 at the time. I still remember the somber tones of Sid Collins " Sachs exits this earth in a race car". A number of my friends were there for the whole fiasco in 73. I went to school instead. This year I took my 12 year old son to his first Indy race he missed two days of school. Even though it was a long race due to yellow, we thoroughly enjoyed the greatest spectacle in racing. And thank God there were no red flags. Thanks for the memories. Kevin Calabro
By Ron Kantowski (Staff)

8/18/08 at 12:49 p.m.

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Thanks to all you guys (and so many others who replied directly to my e-mail) for the kind words. It's really touching that so many remember Swede after all these years.
By wildman

8/19/08 at 9:18 p.m.

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Thanks for an exceptional piece of writing. I was 12 when Savage had his crash. I'd followed his career since he'd been a teammate of my favorite driver, Dan Gurney, in the Trans-Am series, and was driving a Gurney-built Eagle in the '73 500. I was crushed when I heard he'd died several weeks after the crash. That hurt returned a few years ago when I learned from Steve Olvey's book, "Rapid Response," that Savage died due to a medical error, not as a direct result of his injuries. So needless and tragic.
By Ron Kantowski (Staff)

8/19/08 at 10:24 p.m.

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Wildman:

I interviewed Dan Gurney for a story on the old Stardust Raceway in Las Vegas I wrote several years ago. When I brought up Swede's name, you could still hear the emotion in his voice. Class act, that Gurney. I also read about the tainted blood Swede received, and how it shut down his kidneys. What can you say? Fate can be so very cruel, and I guess all you can do is pick up what's left and try to move on. Thanks for the kind words. I'm still getting e-mail from Swede's fans a week later. The response has been pretty overwhelming.

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