Last of the Beach Boys: racing on the Daytona sand

Hershel McGriff can recall how much his ’53 Oldsmobile cost when he picked it up from the factory in Lansing, Michigan: $1800. He can remember how much he was paid for finishing third at Darlington in 1951 ($1500) and how much he should have been paid because he actually finished fourth ($1210).

But McGriff, at 91 years old, is possibly the only living driver who can recall racing on Daytona Beach as well as the fast and vast banks of Daytona International Speedway, which took over hosting the races in 1959.

Ask about the difference in speed between sand and concrete and he laughs: “That’s like me racing you across the state; with you on a bicycle and me in a Lamborghini.” No prizes for guessing which one is faster.

Daytona Beach racing has worked its way into folklore, and its legacy laid the foundations for the formation of NASCAR, now one of the world’s biggest sporting enterprises. Originally used as a site for land-speed record attempts, Daytona Beach first hosted a circuit race in 1936, when local motorcycle race promoter, Norwegian-born Sig Haugdahl was tasked with designing a 3.2-mile oval course taking in a drag along the sand and the adjacent A1A two-lane coastal road. That first event was largely a disaster. Despite thousands of spectators and a $5,000 prize purse put up by the city, the sandy turns rutted so badly the race had to be stopped after 75 of the 78 laps. The event was a financial drain, not helped by many of those spectators arriving at the beach early to avoid the ticket charge.

It was only when future NASCAR founder and regular stock car racer William (Bill) France Sr stepped in to help Haugdahl for 1937 that the event finally made some progress. After further financial losses, Haugdahl stepped back, leaving France in sole charge for 1938, when he organised two much more successful open-invite events, which finally turned a substantial profit.

It marked the first organisational success for France, who revolutionised American racing during a time of swindling, banditry and smuggling. Moonshine running was still rife, and many early race promoters carved unscrupulous reputations for themselves by promising to pay drivers, only to disappear from their own events early, taking all of the cash with them.

One reason that France was so popular, especially compared to other racing promoters around the country, was that he guaranteed a prize purse; other promoters would sometimes find excuses not to pay the drivers. France guaranteed the purses, and even in the early days he had a $4000 purse – he paid $1000 for a win, $750 for second and $500 for third.

With entries flooding in, Daytona Beach often played host to large packs of powerful cars, all going door to door in front of big crowds. One report from Sports Illustrated captured the atmosphere during a race in 1955. It read: “A giant cloud of sand mushroomed into the blue Florida sky like dust from an exploding bomb. Perched on sand dunes, on grandstands, on the tops of thousands of parked cars, 28,000 spectators strained eyes and ears as the low rumble of 10,000 horsepower pushing 48 of America’s newest and fastest production automobiles swelled to a roar on the backstretch. In double rows, their brightwork masked in heavy tape, windows closed to the brine-filled ocean breeze, the massed cars swept across the starting line”

“Moonshine running was rife and many promoters stole cash”

McGriff’s story really begins in May 1950, when he caught the eye of France when he won the inaugural Carrera Panamerica alongside Ray Elliott. That’s Mexico’s equivalent to the Targa Florio, and McGriff beat the likes of Formula 1 drivers Piero Taruffi and Felice Bonetto to win it.

As a result of meeting France, McGriff began his NASCAR career that same year, when he was invited to compete at Darlington. It was a one-race cameo, but in 1954 he managed to find the funds to compete in the full season – all 24 races. His first race of the season? Daytona Beach.

“Thousands of spectators flocked to this small town to enjoy sun, sea and sand… but holiday could quickly turn to horror,” says McGriff.

“The cars could easily run over those people on the backstretch. They’d go on over the sand dune banks [where people were watching]. I don’t know how they controlled that many people – they charged a couple of bucks to get in, but people would still sneak in from here and there.

“The front stretch was a narrow two-lane asphalt road, where the start/finish line was. The hard part was that, when you came off the sand onto the blacktop, it would dig up the sand so badly – around two-three feet deep. You’d really have to be careful not to get stuck or roll over.”

The danger was clear from the early days. Korean war veteran-turned-racer Dick Kaufman was the first NASCAR fatality on the Beach, succumbing to head injuries sustained after crashing in 1954. His car was reported to have rolled multiple times having hit one of those three-foot-deep ruts.

Tragedy also struck in 1955 when three spectators were injured in an accident during a Modified Series race for powerful, reworked pre-war coupés. Regular driver Al Briggs was killed in the fiery crash. There were many grave dangers to be found on the beach.

“One of the keys was to know where the sand was hardest – where the waterline was – because you couldn’t go where the sand was too soft as it would slow you down,” McGriff explains. “That was kind of an art, to learn how to do that.