the need to break from the Batman/Robin mold, accepted a seat on the Ecurie
Escargot team of Dr. Dave Helmick and John Graves. Maybe Helmick had
picked up on the pattern; if it was an odd numbered year, it was a year that
Haywood was scheduled to win.
In 1977, the odds-on favorite for Daytona was the factory-entered Porsche
935 Turbo with drivers Jacky Ickx and Jochen Mass. Haywood’s choice of not
going with the new, unproven turbo technology proved to be a good one. He
won Daytona with the Ecurie Escargot team’s Porsche Carrera 911 RSR, to
tie Gregg’s three wins. In June of that year, Haywood would achieve his highest level yet by becoming the first man to win both the 24 Hours of Daytona
and the 24 Hours of Le Mans in the same year. Without question, Haywood
had broken out of Gregg’s shadow and had entered the top echelon of international road racing.
For the 1978 Daytona, Gregg entered a factory-backed Porsche 935-77A
with world-class FIA graded co-drivers Rolf Stommelen and Toine Hezemans.
Once again, Gregg produced a winning combination and, once again, he
found himself all alone in the top position with four Daytona wins.
But the pattern was set for the ‘70s and since 1979 was an odd year, if
the pattern held, this would be a Haywood year. Ted Field capitalized on this
by hiring Haywood to drive for his Interscope team. It was the right move,
and 1979 became a Haywood year once again as he pulled up beside Gregg
in Daytona wins with four. Haywood had gone from being Gregg’s protégé to
being his nemesis.
The old saying, “if you can’t beat ‘em, join ‘em” comes to mind for 1980,
when the dynamic duo got back together in a Brumos Porsche for the 24
Hours of Daytona. They finished 11th, but keep in mind that it was an evennumbered year.
In June, on his way to the track at Le Mans, Haywood passed a bad road
accident. He did not know that it was Gregg. This accident would mark the
beginning of the end for Gregg and the end of the competition between the
two. Gregg suffered a head injury, and on December 15, 1980, he ended his
own life with a .38 Special. He was 40 years old. As I printed the photo used
by Porsche in his tribute, I remember thinking, “Damn, what a waste.”
As difficult as he was, we all felt a loss, and the closest person Gregg had
for a friend, Hurley Haywood, lost his mentor as well.
In February of 1981, Haywood and I sat on a pit wall talking before the
first practice for Daytona. Down pit lane, an attractive lady with a young boy
of about nine or 10 was talking to other drivers as she made her way toward
us. The young boy had a program that all the drivers were signing. When she
got to us she, introduced herself and the young boy. She was with the Make a
Wish Foundation.
Haywood engaged the lad in conversation and in no time the boy was
in the cockpit of Haywood’s car learning about all the gauges and knobs. I
decided to take a couple of photos and as I composed a photo of the boy in
Haywood’s seat, my eyes started to water and I could not focus. My perspective gave me a view of the back of his neck and I instantly knew that I was
looking at radiation burns. As they left, we could not make eye contact or
speak. I want to think that the kid made it. If not,I hope he took with him a
memory of a special moment with Haywood.
In August of ‘83, just weeks after winning Le Mans
for the second time in a Rothmans factory Porsche 956,
it happened, the fear of all drivers, a crash that you don’t
walk away from.
Haywood was driving Preston Henn’s Porsche 935 in
the rain at Mosport, Canada, when a slower car that he
was about to lap moved over on him. Haywood took to
the grass to avoid hitting the culprit. If done in the dry,
it was a maneuver with a low risk factor, but in the wet,
everything took on a different set of dynamics.
Haywood was stabilized in a Toronto hospital. His
mangled left leg was put in a cast, but the cast was not
bivalved (split longitudinally) to accommodate for swelling, something that a U.S. Army medic knows to do. Haywood was within hours of losing his leg when his father
rescued him from medical incompetence by laying on a
team that air-evacuated him back to the University of Chicago Medical Center.
“My leg was so screwed up, I couldn’t push the clutch,”
Haywood recalls. “As hard as I tried, I just couldn’t do it. I
was looking at being out of racing for two years.”
Bob Tullius phoned Haywood in January of 1984. Tullius, owner of Group 44, a professional racing operation,
had a new GTP XJR-7 Jaguar racer with a Hewland gearbox. Tullius, also a driver of note, suspected that Haywood
could drive his car because of the Hewland, a pure racing
transmission that didn’t require use of a clutch to shift. Tullius offered Haywood a tryout in the new car. This was the
start of a five-year racing program with Tullius. Not only
could Haywood drive the Jaguar, but he won in it.
“Bob had a way of motivating me in a good way,”
Haywood says. “He was like a good coach. We understood
each other. We got along great. I loved driving for him.”
When I think about this relationship, one incident
comes to mind that brings a smile to my face. I was working for Jaguar public relations doing race photography at
an IMSA race in West Palm Beach, Florida. Haywood was
leading the race with three laps to go when he was blocked
by a backmarker. Chip Robinson, an ex-Group 44 driver,
was running on Haywood’s tail. Chip took advantage of
the situation and went inside of Haywood in the Holbert
Porsche 962 to take the lead. I was standing next to Tullius
at the time. With the cold flint face of a high-stakes poker
player, he keyed the mike on his headset and said, “I don’t
want to hear any excuses.”
On the next lap, Haywood returned the favor to Chip
right in front of one of the main grandstands for the win.
Haywood told me, “It was great because I could see the
whole grandstand come to their feet as I made the pass.”
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