| By Frank G. Hetishee
MOTOR AGE Magazine
January, 1937
Mocking death for a living, and experiencing more thrills in an hour than the average individual has in a lifetime; such has been the life of Ralph De Palma, the grand old man of a thousand speed wars, who today, at 54, is as popular a driver as ever put a gloved hand to a steering wheel. Twenty-six years of strenuous competition, figuring in only three bad accidents, just one of which was a near fatality, find this naturalized Italian hale and hearty both in mind and body.
From 1907 through 1933, De Palma campaigned the road races both here and abroad, as well as the rough bricks at Indianapolis, the timber saucers, and the dirt tracks. Today as he sits in his office at Lafayette, Ind., where he is a car dealer, the silver fox will tell you, “I’d do it all over again if it were possible; however, not all the boys were as fortunate to come through the game like I have.
“Yes, a lot of the old timers have left us. When the first 500-mile race was staged at Indianapolis, back in 1911, David Bruce Brown, Spencer Wishart, Bob Burman, Teddy Tetzlaff, and Howdy Wilcox were the high lights of the day, but that old man with the scythe waved the checkered flag on them. Unless you young fellows review your racing history those names won’t mean much to you, but take it from me those boys were as good as they come.
“I never figured in any spills where I got a crack over the head. Only in the last few years have crash helmets come into vogue, and we didn’t use to have those steel football headgears. You know, there are a few of the old timers that haven’t all their marbles together, and to me that is the most pathetic aspect of our racing game.”
Ralph De Palma believes that drivers in general do not take their business as seriously today as formerly. The reason for this is partly because the various factories used to finance a team of cars which campaigned the major races during the season, and drivers were required to train and take their racing seriously. According to Ralph, there are only a half a dozen drivers today who conscientiously make their racing activites a business enterprise.
The veteran wheel twister still believes there is money to be made in racing providing a young man can finance his own car, but splitting prize money two or three ways with a car owner is not a paying proposition. However, the ever-smiling Ralph will tell his youthful confidants that auto racing is not a path of roses but a game of give-and-take, and always there is only one driver who can win any race even though every starter feels he is a sure fire winner.
De Palma ranks as one of the top flight race drivers of all time, and his Indianapolis achievements have still to be equalled, as he has traveled 4161 miles over the rough bricks. Louis Meyer, next in line, has 3885 miles to his credit, and Tony Gulotta has 3630 miles of driving on the Hoosier speedway. Both Meyer and Gulotta have a chance to surpass De Palma’s record.
De Palma’s triumphs on the early day road racing circuits, such as the Vanderbilt Cup, the Savannah road race, the Santa Monica and the Elgin National, make him one of the masters of those thrilling hectic days prior to the World War. On the Continent, America’s good-will racing ambassador is still remembered for his spectacular driving, and although he never won a Grand Prix he proved himself worthy as the New World’s Speed King.
Likewise, intrepid Ralph was equally at home broadsliding on the dirt tracks at the various fairs and expositions throughout the land. During the early twenties, when the short lived board speedways were at their height, De Palma could always be found out front early in the melee setting his habitual blistering pace. Ralph recently said that he never enjoyed driving on those wooden bowls, as it required no real skill. All that was necessary was a heavy right foot to open up and to hold her on that methodical groove. In fact, it struck him a bit boresome to negotiate those lightning fast boards, when anybody with a lead foot could sit in a cock pit and hold her down to 130 m.p.h. for a couple of hundred miles.
In spite of De Palma’s enviable records, it is at Indianapolis that amiable Ralph will also be remembered for his gallantry in defeat. Back in 1912, De Palma immediately took command of the lead when the pacemaker set the field off to a flying start for the second 500-mile sweepstakes. For 198 laps he led the pack, breaking every existing speedway record up to 450 miles, when he settled down with a comfortable eight-lap lead. With victory in his grasp, his Mercedes broke a piston and went dead on the back stretch, and the tantalizing fortune vanished in thin air.
Lady Luck was with Hard-luck Ralph in 1915, in spite of a connecting rod that went through the crankcase of his Mercedes with two laps to go. Had Darior Resta realized De Palma’s plight, the results might have been different; but, broken down, unnerved and outdriven by the spectacular De Palma throughout the race, Resta was content to glide in for second money. De Palma won and his record of 89.84 m.p.h. stood unbroken for seven years.
The 1919 “500” dound Ralph setting the pace in his big Packard for the first half of the race, but after a lengthy pit delay the idol of the day fell back to tenth place. What was De Palma’s loss was Howdy Wilcox’s gain, for Wilcox snatched the race after trailing the leaders, and the best Ralph could annex was sixth. Fire played havoc with De Palma’s car in the 1920 race, when flames enveloped his Ballot within the last 30 miles of a well-deserved victory. Such was DePalma’s luck, but a lack of alibis was Ralph’s outstanding characteristic.
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