BoatBanter.com - Hydro Fever

Quaint tale about kids and hydroplanes.

Anybody do this same silly bicycle thing elsewhere in the country?

Hydro Fever

Seattle was a great place to grow up in the 1950's and 60's. Kids
in most neighborhoods could play in the parks, the streets, and the
schoolyards with little or no adult supervision. Few parents were
seriously worried about child-raping sexual predators or other
criminals accosting children in a public place during daylight hours,
and we all rode second-hand single speed bikes or high-tech,
three-speed, "English racers" around our local communities and
beyond. Youngsters in Seattle had a common tradition that the current
majority of Pacific NW adults (who were raised elsewhere and have
immigrated to our little slice of heaven) almost certainly missed.
During the summer months in Seattle, no red-blooded boy (or adventurous
girl) would dare venture down the driveway and into the street astride
a mere bicycle- no, we all were hydroplane drivers.

Our hydroplanes consisted of scraps of wood, cobbled together with a
few nails, and trailed behind our bikes on a few purloined feet of
Mom's clothesline. Our wooden craft skidded and bounced along the
pavement, fueled by pedal power and unbridled imaginations. The
backyard "solar-powered" dryer also contributed suitable engine
noise. Clothespins were snagged from laundry baskets and used to secure
playing cards where they would flap and snap in the front spokes as we
coasted through those Norman Rockwell times. The most skillful riders
could manage a sharp bike maneuver that would send the attached hydro
through a high speed, sweeping turn (hopefully without snagging an
unlucky pebble that would send the tiny craft spinning flipping and
spinning out of control). Even at that young age, I think we
appreciated that real hydro drivers were striving to achieve the same
result on a larger scale.

The race associated with SeaFair in those days was frequently the
prestigious Gold Cup. In a community where the only other professional
sports event was the Pacific Coast League Seattle Rainiers minor league
baseball team, Seattle's annual hydroplane race was our brief moment
in the national sports limelight. Youngsters today wouldn't recognize
"rabbit ears" or an outdoor TV antenna, and some would assume their
family's 42" plasma video monitor needed to be rebooted if the
image on the screen were only black and white. During the glory days of
hydroplane racing in Seattle, groups of friends unable to get down to
the shoreline near Stan Sayre's pits would gather around the
still-novel appliance known as television. We'd fiddle with the
rabbit ears, (hope a plane wouldn't fly through the signal), and
watch the flipping, flickering, images on tiny "picture tubes" as
the time trials and preliminary heats narrowed the field for the final
race. It wouldn't be the least surprising to learn that the Gold Cup
races in Seattle during those years enjoyed a broadcast audience share
greater than does the Super Bowl in the present day.

During SeaFair week, there would be a parade down Lake City Way. We'd
marvel at the floats, laugh at the clowns, and only the youngest kids
would admit to being uncertain about the intentions of the SeaFair
Pirates. I was to young to shave, but Lake City men who failed to grow
a beard during SeaFair or spend $1 for a "shaver's permit" lapel
button were subject to being thrown in the Lake City Vigilantes'
paddy wagon and hauled through the parade in deadbeat shame. Overriding
all the happy events and goofy celebrations was the hydroplane race.
The WWII surplus Allison aircraft piston engines roared as the boats
flew around the course, and the "thunder" resonating off the
surface of Lake Washington could be heard throughout most of Seattle.
(Any complaints about excess noise seemed to take a low political
priority until sometime after the race was over).

We had our share of local heroes and favorite boats in those days. Many
of the boats were campaigned by businesses headquartered in the Pacific
NW. There was a Miss Bardahl, Miss Thriftway, Miss Pay 'N Pak, Miss
Burien and more. Some extremely successful boats were built at Jensen
Motor Boat Company on Portage Bay, with the Slo Mo Shun IV coming most
immediately to mind. It was the Slo Mo Shun IV, driven by Stan Sayres
in 1951 that shocked the eastern establishment by winning the Gold Cup
in Detroit and moving the race to the "backwater" known as Seattle.
The hydroplane drivers weren't at all like the pampered, overpaid
stars now associated with most professional sports. Bill Muncey, Russ
Schleeh, Mira Slovak, Billy Schumacher, and other colorful
personalities were portrayed as "a lot like the regular guy next
door, but probably a whole lot braver (or at least a little
crazier)."

Like NASCAR racers, most hydroplane drivers have survived a series of
accidents or close calls. Like NASCAR racers, some of the most
respected champions in the sport have perished in competition.

It seems that Settle may be suffering a new epidemic of hydro fever. A
hydroplane and race boat museum is attracting race boat fans to south
Seattle. A new movie, "Madison", relates how hydroplane racing
galvanized the community of Madison, IN, in the early 1970's. (The
boats used for the race scenes in the movie were provided by the
hydroplane museum). Most importantly, there is a resurgence of local
interest in hydroplane racing and several events are scheduled on
regional waters this coming summer.

Look for "Miss Boat Electric", campaigned by one of the businesses
that brings you this publication every month. We hope you will need to
look extremely quickly to notice this magazine's logo on both tails
when "Miss Boat Electric" flies past; as we are among the local
sponsors for this craft.

Hydro racing is an activity particularly associated with the Pacific
Northwest. While it is strictly a spectator sport for most, it serves
to remind us all that our local waters are a spectacular recreational
resource for many types of boating activity. I think I'll enjoy
following the races this year, and rooting, (of course) for the boat
with our logo on the tails. For the first time since I began
masquerading as an adult, I'm infected with hydro fever. Being
involved as an associated sponsor will sure beat heck out of hunting up
a rusty old single-speed, a clothespin and a playing card, and dragging
a chunk of plywood down the street. And that's a good thing. Only
those neighbors who were Seattle kids in the 50's and 60's would
even begin to understand the weird spectacle as Crazy Old Man Gould
thundered (Ok, wobbled) around the corner with a "hydro" in tow.