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A Close Call with Broadway Freddy
By David Hapgood
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| The "Broadway Freddy" DeName Monza at New England Dragway, September 1979. Photo by James Morgan, used with permission. |
Rewind the clock to September 1979 and New England Dragway’s annual 32 car FC Nationals, one of the premiere funny car races in the nation. Kicking off the opening round were Chuck Etchells in the “Future Force” against Harlan Thompson moonlighting in “Broadway Freddy” DeName’s “Saturday Night Fever.” They rolled into their burnouts, Etchells aimed straight down-track and Thompson aimed impossibly-straight at the guardrail. What was most alarming about this was that while the car was fully perpendicular to the wall the rear slicks were still churning in full burnout mode! It was an unusual sight and a disaster in the making, obviously the result of a stuck throttle. But Thompson was a seasoned driver, and he somehow managed swing the ass end of the car around at the last moment. The rear bumper bounced along the top of the guardrail posts before spinning completely around, the car coming to a stop facing the starting line with its damaged body sitting awkwardly on the chassis, cocked to one side. Thompson had already hit the fuel shutoff. It was a brilliant save and the crowd roared in approval. I ran down to the spectator fence and snapped a photo.
As it turned out, I would never see this photo because my camera was stolen later that evening. Looking back I can see that this incidental detail ties in nicely with the theme of criminality that runs through the rest of this story.
At the conclusion of that opening round I toured the pits with my pal John. We were fifteen years old, and he was the only other kid I’d ever met who knew the stats on obscure funny car teams across the country, teams that neither of us would ever see at tracks neither of us would ever visit. Needless to say, we quickly located the “Broadway Freddy” Monza , which was already lashed down to the back of its ramp truck and ready to depart for Brooklyn . Nobody was around. On closer inspection I could see that the rear end of the car was in fact pretty badly mangled, and I also couldn’t take my eyes off the many brightly-painted shreds of purple fiberglass hanging off the bumper: I discreetly snagged a piece that was about half the size of a matchbook.
But my friend John, for reasons known only to him, decided to go for a much larger piece, and to get at it he had to reach through a gaping hole in the bumper. The next thing I knew he was in up to his elbow, trying to yank the piece loose, and the funny car was literally shaking on the ramp truck. I looked around, more than a little nervous -- this was somebody’s race car, after all! But nobody was paying any attention to us. He finally succeeded, with a big smile: his catch was about half the size of a magazine cover. We fled the scene, delighted with our souvenirs and then proceeded to tour the pit area, showing them off to our many friends in the funny car biz, until a well known driver took us aside and said, “You better not show those souvenirs to anyone else.”
That was how I first learned about “Broadway Freddy.” I had heard many stories about racers living on the proverbial wrong side of the tracks, and considering that I was on first name basis with about half the funny car drivers in the Northeast, it surprised me that this was the first time I’d heard anything about Freddy. Especially given what I would learn about him in the years to come.
Yes, in the years that followed, at what seemed like opportune moments, I would ask my racing friends about Freddy DeName. The typical response was nervous shrugs, and once in a while a few tidbits about things such as ‘a huge stolen car outfit’ operating out of Brooklyn . Yet when I pressed for details everyone clammed up. I could sense that there was much more to this story, and little by little I was able to fill in most of the blanks.
Many of today’s drag racing fans consider John Force to be the most colorful funny car driver of all time, and I have this to say about it: not even close. Others would pick “Jungle Jim,” and I would say, ‘quite a bit closer, but still far off the mark.’ Nope, in regards to colorful drivers who lived up to their legends not a single one of them was more faithful to the plot than “Broadway Freddy” DeName. If his on-track persona was wild, his off-track persona was entirely unparalleled in the history of drag racing. Much of it is detailed, blow by blow, in the True Crime paperback, “Murder Machine,” by Gene Mustain and Jerry Capeci. Freddy plays a supporting role and the book’s title says it all.
It took me many years to finally get around to reading this pulp masterpiece, and I have to admit that it was a little unsettling to grasp the full scope what Freddy and his associates were all about. Especially that their murder spree was peaking at the exact same year and month that my friend and I tore the pieces off Freddy’s car. These men had no qualms about killing on a whim, and it is not unfathomable that, in the heat of the moment, my friend and I could have wound up like so many others, in the trunk of a car, heading for the Canarsie dump in Brooklyn . We were just a couple of teenagers who didn’t know what the hell we were doing.
By the way, I’ve long since misplaced my “Broadway Freddy” souvenir. It would be fitting if someone actually stole it.
-- David Hapgood
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