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Chapter 23 We Hit Every S.O.B. in the Country Book: The Indomitable Tin Goose Subtitle: The True Story of Preston Tucker and His Car Author: Charles T. Pearson Publisher: Abelard-Schuman Year: 1960 |
23 WE HIT EVERY S.O.B. IN THE COUNTRY
WITH THE SQUEEZE for money getting tighter by the hour, as the government's leisurely investigation continued, Tucker decided to try again for private financing until the investigation cleared him. His best chance for success, he believed, was to prove beyond any possible doubt to the government, the public and possible financial angels that he had a product, and a good one.
To do this he sent seven Tuckers to Indianapolis, where Speedway officials gave him permission to use the track and barred the public during the tests. The two-and-one-half-mile oval was the toughest testing ground Tucker knew of, and he believed if the cars survived the tests they planned, even SEC might realize—and admit—that the Tucker car was a reality.
Eddie Offutt headed the test crew, and with him were some of Tucker's best men—Haustein, an experienced race driver; Leabu, whom Tucker had appointed general production manager a short time before; a crew of expert mechanics and drivers; and men from engineering to observe and report on mechanical performance.
Taking over some of the track service buildings, Offutt's men went to work with stop watches and charts to record speed, mileage, gas and oil consumption, engine temperature, tire wear and the many other factors which determine performance. Drivers reported on roadability, maneuverability, riding qualities, steering and general handling. The cars were there for two weeks, some of them driven continuously, twenty-four hours a day by drivers working in relays.
It was rather a grim experience riding around the track, going into turns at 90 or 95 miles an hour, with some of the old timers who knew the Speedway better than their own homes.
“That's where Bill got it,” a driver would say, pointing to marks on the retaining wall as he casually wheeled the car into a turn. On the track I saw skid marks which apparently had stayed there for years, and on the walls I saw chipped or broken concrete where someone had crashed.
Only one accident occurred during the entire tests, which covered thousands of miles at speeds often well over 100 miles an hour. Offutt was driving about 5 o'clock one morning when he noticed that tires on the right side were badly worn. On the Speedway cars go counter-clockwise and tires on the outside get the most wear. Offutt didn't want to stop to change tires so he decided to reverse direction instead—driving clockwise to shift wear to the other side.
It may have been a combination of changing direction and being tired, but whatever the reason, it happened almost at the same place Hepburn was killed and in very nearly the same way. Going into a turn about 90 Offutt got too close to the lower apron and went off into the infield. The car skidded on the grass, wet from the early morning dew, and hit a bump. One of the worn tires blew out. The car rolled over three times and stopped right side up. Offutt stepped out, his only injury a bump on one knee which had hit the gearshift bracket when the car rolled over. The windshield popped out just as the advertisements said it would, and after changing one tire the car was driven back to the service area.
Offutt said later that he thought he heard the engine backfire and he didn't think he could get through the turn without power if the engine failed. When the tire blew a rear door flew open and the dome light went on, and he couldn't see through the windshield. Then he hit the brakes, and the car rolled. He said he thought he was doing around 112 miles an hour shortly before he went into the turn.
Few problems showed up during the entire two weeks. A couple of shifting forks broke in the manual transmissions, due to bad materials. With better material and a slight change in design there was no further trouble. The automatic transmission proved even more efficient than had been expected; mileage was about equal to the manual shift, due largely to being in positive drive above idling speed.
Except for the shifting forks the only design change resulting from the tests was in the steering geometry, to give better control at high speeds.
Haustein said they tried to hold the cars to a 75-miles-an-hour average for testing the new tubeless tires, which they found to be reasonably satisfactory but still in need of im-provement. Tubeless tires were not yet standard equipment.
“There was no real attempt to see how fast the cars would go,” Haustein said. “We had no trouble averaging 90 for the laps and we consistently did well over 100 on the straightaway. The fastest lap clocked was 104 miles an hour.”
As late as 1956 a Tucker was clocked at 119 miles an hour during the Grand Prix at Sebring, Florida, at night on one of the back stretch straightaways.
When Offutt believed they had all the information they could get from driving on the Speedway they drove the cars back to Chicago, except the one that rolled over which was hauled back in a truck. If Tucker had hoped to impress either SEC or the Justice Department by proving the cars would actually run and back up, he had wasted his time. When Offutt was later called before the grand jury one of the lawyers in the U.S. Attorney's office asked him:
“How were the cars taken to Indianapolis—trucked down or driven down?”
“We drove them,” Offutt said.
“Are you sure you drove them down, or did you truck them?”
"We drove them down there,” said Offutt.
Even after Offutt had testified on the cars' performance during the Indianapolis tests, the U.S. Attorney's office seemingly refused to believe that Tucker cars could actually be driven.
“How did the cars come back to Chicago?” demanded Robert Downing, Assistant U. S. Attorney.
“Drove them back,” answered Offutt.
“All of them?” persisted Downing.
All but one, Offutt told him, the one that rolled over.
“What condition is the car in—it was wrecked, wasn't it?”
“No, I'd say it was damaged,” Offutt said. “The car is out at the plant for your inspection. I should think you and the jury would like to go out and see the car, how it went through the accident and there was no more damage to it.”
Downing wasn't interested, nor was anybody else in the U.S. Attorney's office.
While the cars were at Indianapolis, Tucker scoured the country trying to find new backing, but the safari after money still hadn't brought any results. Negotiations were started with Howard Hughes, West Coast multimillionaire, and a Tucker was flown out in the Conestoga for Hughes to see and drive. Hughes was more interested in airplanes and movies. Tucker went to see Ed Pauley, oil millionaire, and Winthrop Rockefeller. Many people with money listened to him. At one time Glenn McCarthy, the fabulous oil tycoon from Texas, was reported to be the new Tucker angel. Tucker talked with him several times and finally got the brushoff in the Pump Room at the Ambassador Hotel, where McCarthy was having a party and wouldn't even talk to him again. As reported by Newsweek, Tucker said:
“We hit every S.O.B. in the country for money.”
At the plant Offutt and his men kept working, hoping somehow to show both the public and the government that their faith in Tucker hadn't been misplaced. Cars were driven to dealers' meetings around the country, where people from the sales department tried desperately to offset the continuing bad publicity that resulted from the investigation.
Around Thanksgiving a dealers' meeting was scheduled for Kansas City, and the Conestoga made its last flight for Tucker. Two cars were to be there; Haustein drove one and the other was loaded on the Conestoga. At Kansas City they ran into a snowstorm and couldn't land, so they turned back and made an emergency landing at Kirksville, Missouri. They unloaded the car, taxied the Conestoga off the blacktop runway onto the sod field and drove the car to Kansas City, where Haustein had beat them in by six hours.
After the dealers meeting there wasn't time to worry about the Conestoga, which had settled up to its belly in mud by the time Denehie and another pilot went after it the following March. Snow on the control surfaces had weighted down the tail and the front end was sticking up in the air. They jacked it up and put timbers under the wheels, and lined up a row of planks to get back on the runway.
They held the brakes while they revved up the engines, and when they started the wheels ran off the planks and again sank into the mud. It finally took two tractors and a truck with a power winch to get it on the runway, which Denehie said looked like a canal. About the middle of the afternoon they finally got into the air, stopped at Burlington, Iowa, for gas and went on to Chicago, where the Conestoga—along with the Beechcraft—was later sold at auction.
Late in October Newsweek reported that forty FBI agents “were inquiring into the activities of the corporation and its officers,” and Kup's column in the Chicago Sun-Times said “The FBI had stepped into the 'Tucker Case' in order to determine if the mails were used to defraud.” Similar reports continued and increased on radio and in newspapers and magazines.
In answer to receivership and bankruptcy suits which were piling up, Tucker made a report to the Federal court in Chicago showing the company still had more than $8,000,000 in assets, including something under $4,000,000 in dealers' notes. Early in December he called a dealers meeting at the plant in hopes of collecting enough money to keep the company going until SEC and the Justice Department either killed it or gave it a clean bill of health. Neither agency seemed to be in any hurry and time was running out. Some dealers paid their notes, but not enough to be of any real help.
The Reconstruction Finance Corporation had turned Tucker down flat on his application for a loan, even while continuing loans to Kaiser, which were estimated to reach $200,000,000. About the only government agency that maintained any connection with Tucker without squawking was War Assets, which revealed that $125,000 for three months rent had been paid on the dot November 1.