MEANWHILE, BACK IN '77...

Recently, I searched through some old photos to find one I had taken several years ago of the U.S. Constitution. I had wadded it up and placed it against the fence like it had blown there after being tossed aside, and was going to run it with a feature I was doing on how our Secretary of Defense (Dick Cheney) was pissing on the First Amendment by controlling the packaged news that we fed to the media during Desert Storm -- but my editor killed both the photo and the feature -- and threatened to kill me if I didn't get back into sports, where I belonged...

Anyway, I ran across photos of the Indy 500, which I covered for our local newspaper and the Army paper in 1977. I was the first photographer to catch A.J. Foyt driving into Victory Lane. I strutted and preened when folks praised me for getting in there ahead of the national media. I never did tell them that I had been wandering around in the infield, trying to find out why Gordie Johncock had pulled out with just a lap to go, when the media all came thundering toward me and -- to keep from getting run over -- I ran ahead of them, until I was brought up short against a rope. I looked around, and here came Foyt, pulling into Victory Lane -- so I took a picture....

James Garner drove the pace car that year -- one of the nicest people I ever met. Janet Guthrie was also press-friendly. She qualified for the first time in '77, drove car 27, managed to stay in the race for only 27 laps that year -- but in 1978, she not only qualified, but finished in the top 10 (I think she was 9th).

And then there's the way-yonder-far-too-sexy Evel Kneivel that I followed around like a puppy. Stayed so close to him that he backed up once, knocked my sunglasses off, stepped on them and broke them. I kept those boogers for years...

I was free to wander in and out of every single garage that year but one -- Foyt's. I got interview after interview with anybody I wanted, except for one -- Foyt.

Since 1977 was the last year Foyt won, I like to think I put my mojo on that farging bastage.