Читать книгу The Corvette Hunter - Tyler Greenblatt - Страница 12
Оглавление1969 John Paul Lightweight L88
In 1955, after Mercedes’s famous accident at Le Mans that led to the deaths of 83 spectators, the major automakers formed a gentlemen’s agreement that they would no longer participate in racing. It wasn’t that they suddenly realized the danger and wanted to shy away, they feared congressional action that would start with the removal of factory racing. So the major OEMs decided that they would have no official involvement going forward. Independent shops popped up staffed by former employees almost immediately and, with silent factory support, turned out high-level competition racers to bear the moniker’s flag.
John Paul Sr. (right) leans up against his Corvette. His son, successful racer John Paul Jr., has his back to the camera. The father-son duo would go on to race together in the coming years. (Photo Courtesy Kevin Mackay Collection)
This underground support continued with great success until General Motors ordered all its brands to cease racing operations, public and clandestine. The problem this time was that General Motors was selling too many cars; it had cornered approximately 53 percent of the U.S. market. As it neared 60 percent, government trust busters would be forced to break up the firm under monopoly laws.
As with the previous pullback from racing, GM execs were pulled back in just a few years later when development of the high-performance Mark IV race engine began in 1965 and first saw track use in 1966. Only 13 Corvettes were Heavy-Duty Mark IV equipped in 1966, each one ordered through Zora Arkus-Duntov.
By 1969, factory L88 cars had become a popular starting point for both professional and amateur sportsmen, with 116 being produced that year. They were available through Chevrolet dealerships and, in theory, anyone with the money and desire to drive a bare-bones automobile that required high-octane fuel could buy and drive one. Arkus-Duntov wanted to build more than just a “showroom” amateur race car and decided to build four special lightweight L88s to be given to certain race teams that could bring high-value wins to the Corvette brand.
The four lightweight Corvettes were given special treatment right from the assembly line. Usually, every car was given a water test, which showed any leaks in the body that would have to be fixed before shipping. The lightweight cars were noted “No Water Test” on their build sheets because they were meant for racing only. The cars had no carpets or any other “luxury” features of the other 112 L88s built that year.
Each lightweight was a different color. The white one went to Owens/Corning, the yellow went to the Rebel team, the blue one went to Herb Caplan in California (who ended up being the Northwest Champion in 1970), and the burgundy one went to 1964 BP National Champion Frank Dominianni.
Yard Sale
Frank Dominianni’s shop, High Speed & Power, had been in business in Valley Stream, New York, since 1946. He became and remained friends with many of the GM engineers and managers in those early days, including Zora Arkus-Duntov. In addition to being the B Production national champion in 1964, he led many race teams to many victories until his death in 2012. His shop also happened to be four blocks away from Corvette Repair.
In 1987, Frank walked into Corvette Repair and said, “You know, Kevin, I’ve been there a long time, I’m not getting any younger. I’ve got a lot of stuff and since I know you’re into Corvettes, maybe you’d be interested in buying some things from me.”
Kevin followed him back to his shop to look around and possibly grab anything Corvette related. He started by putting together piles of parts such as brake shoes, calipers, transmission parts, and cylinder heads; anything that would have been used on a Corvette. He figured that by making a nice pile, he’d be able to get a better deal on everything. Frank just wanted to get rid of the mass collection of parts that he’d been building for 41 years.
“It’s like a shrine in there,” Kevin says. “He’s got stuff everywhere, you name it, since 1946! You can imagine what it looks like in there. You couldn’t even walk in the place there was so much stuff in there.”
Once Frank Dominianni spoke with Arkus-Duntov about his special racing Corvette, he ordered the car through Bast Chevrolet in Seaford, New York. This shipping report shows every special option that was fitted to the car along with its cost and RPO number. The option that caught Kevin’s eye was fourth from the bottom: 2L88AA SPECIAL TURBO JET 427 V-8 for $1,032.15. Other notable options to Corvette enthusiasts are the M22 transmission, J56 brakes, and F41 suspension. The whole car cost Robert Essex $6,464.80.
The amount of documentation that Frank Dominianni had kept over the years was astounding and made finding the original car that much more special. This document is called “Copy Number Seven,” which is a duplicate of the original gas tank sticker that holds every bit of information about a car. All the serial numbers are noted along with the list of options and ordering information. Copy Number Seven is vital to identifying the car’s original components when the gas tank and sticker are gone.
With four decades of significant racing history in one spot, Kevin asked Frank if he could “snoop around a little bit.” Frank allowed it, so Kevin went back into his office to find plaques, trophies, awards, and photographs on the walls of Corvettes that Frank had been involved with. “That was back when I was young and wild,” Frank told Kevin. “I was pretty good at it. I won the National Championship in 1964, beat out Don Yenko in the points.”
Kevin asked if he could look through his cabinets for anything of interest. Frank replied, “Go ahead. I can’t take this stuff with me.”
As he went through the file cabinets, Kevin spied a folder named “Sebring Corvettes.” He opened it to find a car shipper report, which is a carbon copy of a car’s window sticker. The car it was attached to was ordered through Bast Chevrolet in Seaford, New York, and included the car’s serial number and list of options.
“So I go down the list and there it is. Bingo!” Kevin says. “L88 Special Turbo-Jet 427. Son of a gun! That’s one of 116 cars produced. Even back then those cars were bringing close to $100,000.”
He continued going through the paperwork, finding it remarkably complete. Frank had “Copy Number Seven,” which is a copy of the gas tank sticker that’s on the car. He had key numbers, engine numbers, the complete auto transit report, everything. The car was originally ordered from Bast Chevrolet, but it was shipped to Gene Jantzen Chevrolet, which is right across the street from the St. Louis plant. Because General Motors frowned upon race teams picking up cars at the plant, they used Gene Jantzen Chevrolet as a cover for what would have otherwise been factory pickups.
“Oh yeah, I went there,” Frank recalled after Kevin asked him about what he had discovered. “This guy named Bob Essex, very wealthy guy in New York City, big into real estate, hired me to build him a race car. I told him the best way to build a race car is to get one of these L88s. ‘Let’s fly out to Detroit and meet with the engineers there and maybe we can get a special car built.’”
Frank and Bob flew to Detroit to meet privately with Arkus-Duntov and a few other engineers, who told them about the four special lightweight L88s. Only certain teams would be given the cars and because Frank had been a national champion, Arkus-Duntov would give one to him as long as he promised to build it and race it. Frank told them how Bob wanted to get into racing and was financing the operation, but reiterated that he was 100 percent in charge.
Only one question remained: “What color do you want?”
Frank wanted a red car, but Bob told him that he was colorblind and red appeared to him as maroon. So they decided on a burgundy car.
On the car’s build sheet that Kevin held in his hand appeared the words, “No Water Test.” Kevin knew that the car was something special and was “shaking like a leaf” as he put it with his pile of parts.
Not only was it a documented L88, there were secret letters from General Motors in the folder about how to run the oil lines and set up the car, telegrams about ordering special brake pads and Sylvania lighting for racing. There was a letter from Ed Lowther, a driver who was involved with Don Yenko. There was documentation from the car having raced at Sebring. Frank Dominianni had saved everything.
After agreeing on prices for the parts in his pile, Kevin turned to Frank and asked how much the folder and its contents would cost. Frank wanted $50, a more than fair price, Kevin thought. He paid him and left, taking the folder with him, and planning to return later to pick up the parts.
“I can’t believe it,” Kevin remembers thinking when he got back to his shop and sorted through the Sebring Corvette’s folder. “I have all this paperwork. I have to go find this car; it’s got to be worth a fortune!
“This car started my hunt for rare cars. I could never afford an L88 at the time. I was a young guy, just turned 30 years old, and this would be a dream come true if I could find an L88 car that went to Sebring, Daytona, and was one of four lightweights.”
How Do You Spell “Essex”?
After he secured all the paperwork and did as much background research as he could, Kevin returned to Frank Dominianni to ask him more about his partnership with Bob Essex and how he could find him to begin tracing the car. “Yes, Kevin, the guy is just a rich ***hole. I don’t like the guy; we had a big fallout.”
“Frankie’s a bit of a hothead also,” according to Kevin. “But this guy Bob Essex was also a hothead, so that’s probably where those guys clashed. I asked where Bob Essex lived.”
“I don’t know, Kevin, the guy’s some rich guy, I don’t know much about him. I was with him for not even a year. We raced at Daytona, raced at Sebring, then we had a big fallout. We were supposed to go to The Glen, but he did his own thing and I cut ties with him. That’s all I can tell you.”
“How do you spell Essex?” Kevin asked.
“I don’t know, E-S-S-E-X?”
Kevin started by going through all the phone books in the area looking for Robert Essex. He went to the library for more phone books once his local ones turned into dead ends. He repeated “E-S-S-E-X” every time he ran his finger down the page. Nothing.
Then an idea popped into his head. “To race at Sebring or Daytona you gotta have a special racing license through the SCCA. I contacted the SCCA, and the guy who ran the archives department was a guy named Harry Hanley. I told him I was looking for a guy named Robert Essex, E-S-S-E-X; he raced a 1969 Corvette.”
A week later Harry Hanley called him back, asking if he was sure he had the right spelling. Kevin said that he wasn’t sure; he’s a very bad speller. Hanley told him he had found a Robert Esseks, spelled E-S-S-E-K-S, and gave him an old address.
“E-S-S-E-K-S!” Kevin shouted when he got off the phone. “A K instead of an X, goddammit!”
Kevin found out that Esseks had moved nine times since then. As he went through telephone books all over again, he still couldn’t find anything. Finally, he discovered a woman in Queens, New York, named Patricia Esseks. He called her and said he was looking for Robert Esseks.
“What do you want with that jerk?” came the woman’s voice on the other end.
Although he assumed he had the right guy, Kevin asked if he used to race Corvettes.
“Oh yeah,” she replied. “He raced Corvettes and Cobras. Look, we had a bad marriage, and I don’t like the guy. He’s alive somewhere in Connecticut. Don’t call here ever again. I don’t want to hear that name ever again. Now I’m all upset.”
She hung up the phone, but at least Kevin learned that Bob Esseks was alive and in Connecticut. After months of searching, he turned up nothing, and asked a law enforcement customer of his to help him run the name Robert Esseks. E-S-S-E-K-S.
Esseks, as it turned out, was living on a boat, had a Connecticut driver’s license, and a P.O. Box. Kevin wrote him a letter.
“I had to lie and tell him I had the car,” Kevin says. “I knew where the car came from, who drove the car, who had the car, and who worked on the car. I was afraid that if I told him I was looking for it, he’d clam right up. I couldn’t take that chance with all this documentation. I knew that Corvette better than anybody, and after all the research and collecting I had done on it, I had to find out who had the car. So I told him I had the car already.”
It didn’t take Esseks long to call Kevin back after receiving his letter. “So you got my old race car, huh?” he said. Kevin points out that he was very nice over the phone, hardly living up to the reputation of those closest to him. He then relayed the same story that Frank had already told Kevin about the trip to Engineering in Detroit, wanting a burgundy car instead of a red one, and how Frank picked it up and drove it back from Gene Jantzen Chevrolet to break in the engine. He said that when they campaigned the car at Daytona a wheel fell off and they were disqualified.
