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Chuck Etchells and the Fate of the Underdogs
by David Hapgood
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| Chuck Etchells' 1989 Beretta in 2007. Photo by Richard Hernandez. This car is in the Denver area, and is for sale. Interested buyers contact the author via the e-mail address at the end of the article. |
Last month a friend of mine sent me photographs of his new altered under construction at a chassis shop. I was delighted to see that the car is shaping up nicely. But then, in the middle of the batch, I found an unrelated photo that really jumped out -- a shot of Chuck Etchells' 1989 Beretta shell in original paint, as it exists today. I hadn't given this particular car much thought since the last time I saw it, in the late 1980s.
The photo was more unsettling than I wanted it to be. You see, for the longest time I have ridiculed 1980s funny car body styles as the worst of all time. From the early Omnis to the late Berettas, in my estimation the decade was a stylistic low point. I was sure that I could never feel even an inkling of sentimentality for any 1980s shell. And yet here it was, this Beretta, staring me in the face and looking unbelievably good. How was it that the car had at least ten times the presence as in its prime?
To find the answer I had to analyze the photo, detail by detail. To begin with, the setback cockpit looked great, and so did its streamlined nose. The paint layout was exceptional. And how about the blower cowling, which almost resembles sculpture? Perfectly beautiful, all of it. This, I thought, is what a funny car is supposed to look like.
As for my sudden change of heart, I attributed it to the FC body styles of today -- those butt-ugly Chargers, Mustangs and Impalas. But how about the names on the side of this 1980s Beretta: Paul Smith and Chuck Etchells. Pure magic.
The thing is that I knew Chuck Etchells and his brother Gary, way back in the days when they were just starting out in funny car. In 1979/80 their "Future Force" Monza traveled on the back of a ramp truck and their handout photos were printed in simple black and white on cardstock. Their Tee Shirts featured a crude two-color image of the Monza with the declaration that it was "New England's most exciting funny car!" Well, what else could they say about it? They were newcomers to the game.
It was easy to like this team. Gary Etchells would talk at length with any fan who expressed an interest in the car, and Chuck impressed me as perhaps the least egotistical driver I'd ever met. I'll never forget one day at Epping in 1981 when another's FC racer's wife asked him, "Chuck, didn't you hear the fans cheering for you on the return road?" and he replied with a matter-of-fact, "Yeah, but they cheer for everyone." Or another day when he was giving me a ride back from the shutdown area and I made the youthful comment that there were too many bracket cars in the world and he told me that, "I was racing bracket cars just three years ago," and, "That's how I got my start."
Being a funny car driver just never seemed to go to his head. It was as if he had an instinctive resistance to fame, a trait that would stick with him throughout the years.
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| The debris of history: a torched Etchells shell in front of the Don Garlits Motorsports Museum, circa 2001. |
By the mid 1980's, just as Chuck was getting serious about his racing career, I was off to college in Chicago. I'd go down to Indy and drop by his pit, but in my mind the sport's greatest era was over. Still, I thought it was pretty cool that the guy who had started out with the ramp truck was now operating out of a semi rig and was on his way to becoming a national contender. By the time the early 90's rolled around, John Force (already a world champ but not yet a celebrity) was telling everyone who would listen that Etchells' Kendall Daytona was the car he feared the most.
How cool!!
During the later stages of Chuck's career I became tired of the National Event circus and had stopped visiting all of my old friends in the pit area. At that stage I preferred to look on from a distance. And sometimes that distance could be quite far: I remember being cooped up in a tiny Paris hotel room in the fall of 1993, and drag racing (that most-American of sports) could not have been much further from my surroundings. And yet, what was on my mind that night? Not fancy dining or Bordeaux wines, not the pretty French girls studying at the nearby Sorbonne Institute, or even my favorite artist, Chaime Soutine whose grave lay within walking distance of the hotel. No, all I could think about was the six hour time difference between France and Kansas and that the Topeka event was underway at that very moment. Everyone in the racing world was expecting the first ever 4 second funny car pass that weekend, and the thought intrigued me: what if Etchells was the one to pull it off?
The internet wasn't yet a reality in those days, and it would be several weeks before I got home to find out that Etchells had actually done it. I still get an adrenalin rush whenever I think that Chuck beat all the big shot drivers into the 'fours.'
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| Chuck Etchells: grassroots nitro, circa 1980. |
It's been six years now since Etchells retired, and these days I can probably count the nitro drivers I actively cheer for on one hand. Sure, I have minor preferences in just about any TF or FC pairing, but to really get excited about the outcome? Almost never.
When I get down in the dumps about this, my racing buddies tell me that, “Just be thankful that you saw it when it was good," and, "You've always got the memories."
This is all just fine, but I've always felt that memories are too fragile and that time has a way of devouring them. I think about all the legendary race cars that will never be restored, destined to fade into oblivion along with the memories of the drivers who campaigned them. After all, how often does one hear the name 'David Pace' mentioned anymore? What about Rob Bruins? Kelly Brown? Al Bergler? It happens, but less and less often.
I remember a time when these guys ruled a little slice of the planet, and when they pulled to the starting line it was as if the entire universe was on 'pause.'
I guess that's why it makes me happier than ever that it was Chuck Etchells and not some big name celebrity driver who ran the first 'four.' Such a monumental feat can never be unwritten from the history books. In a way it was the ultimate victory for the underdogs.
Wherever you are, Chuckie, you did well.
David Hapgood
hapgood_d@hotmail.com
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