*
“Mad Max” Bubeck made a name for himself dominating the enduro scene from the 1930s to the 1970s. Bubeck was also a speed racer & builder who in June of 1948 rode his Indian “Chout” (an Indian Chief 80 c.i. engine jammed into the smaller & lighter Scout frame) to a record speed of 135.58 mph on the Rosamond Dry Lake north of Los Angeles. It’s a record that still stands for an unstreamlined, normally aspirated 80 cubic inch displacement Indian motorycle. After retiring from competition in the late-1970s, Bubeck continued to be active in motorcycling, doing everything from restoring classic Indian motorcycles to sponsoring antique motorcycle meetings.
*
*
One of Bubeck’s most popular wins came in 1950 aboard the new Indian Warrior. That year, he won the Cactus Derby, a long-distance desert race and mountain race originated in Riverside, California. The race was unique in that it started at midnight. That year, Bubeck’s bike lost its lighting barely an hour into the race. He managed to continue by riding with other riders and using their lights. A few times he lost touch with the other riders and rode in complete darkness. In that same event, a long, slow-moving freight train was blocking a crossing. Bubeck sped ahead of the train and crossed the tracks so as to not lose too much time. Despite the darkness, the trains and riding a supposedly uncompetitive bike, Bubeck still managed to win the event. It went down as one of the most memorable victories in his career.
*
*
Being born in the LA area was a very fortunate happening for me. By 1933 at age 15, I already had my first motorcycle, a 1930 101 Scout. It wasn’t long before I got acquainted with the local “hounds,” as we were known then, and every week end we would be off to some event, usually a TT race, field event, or beer bust.
One of the favorite spots was about 15 miles east of LA at Sam Parriots’ in Puente Ranch. The LA 45 Club put on steak feeds and field meets at least twice a year and one of the big attractions was a straight, blacktop road that ran for a mile, then made a dogleg turn to the right, then left and up a hill. This was known as the Puente Strip.
By 1937, we would convene our motorcycles in “drag outs” or speed runs at least once a month on early Saturday mornings before there was any traffic. By 1939, Frank Christian had built an electric-eye timing clock so we could get accurate times. This was a great help to the local racers and speed-trialers to check their machines for performance. It was in October of 1941 and I left home early Saturday morning on my ’39 Indian Four, headed for Puente. The route was east on Valley Blvd to Fifth Street, in Puente, a right turn across some railroad tracks, then a left turn onto the strip.
As I came around the corner at about 30mph, I saw three machines just starting on a run. The one on the left was Ed Kretz on his #38 Sport Scout race bike, and the others were a couple of Harleys. I thought, why not see if I could catch them, so I pulled the Four back into second gear and got on it. I was gaining on all three, and soon passed the Harleys but Kretz was still ahead. I was slightly to the left of him and my front wheel was along side his rear wheel, both of us still in second at 75mph. Ed looked over his right shoulder, saw the Harleys behind him, snapped into high gear and laid down on the Scout. I did the same on my Four and the Scout started to pull away at 90mph. So I edged into his draft about three feet behind and managed to stay there at over 100mph. The immediate reaction after clearing the timing traps was to sit up and get on the brakes because that dogleg was pretty sharp at that speed.
So Kretz did the usual and turned around to see how far ahead he was of the Harleys. I still laugh when I think of the look on his face when he saw me three feet behind him! His eyes bugged out and almost pushed his goggles off! As we slowed, I came alongside of him and he said, :Where did you come from?” I said, “I was there all the time.” My speedometer stop-hand read 114mph and when we got back to the timer, we found out we had hit 112.50mph.
I later took the Four through at 108.43mph, without the benefit of the draft—this was just as I rode it on the streets—headlights, fenders, saddlebags, the works. Sam Parriot tried to talk me into talking off the extra garbage and trying again, but I was happy with that speed. Remember—this was 1941, when few machines would clock an honest 100mph.
Kretz asked me to take his Scout through and see what I could get out of it, as I was about 40 pounds lighter. It clocked exactly 112.50mph with me on it, too. This was the week before the big 200 mile race at Oakland. Kretz had the best qualifying time at 94mph on the very rough one mile track, paved with a low bank on the turns. Kretz, of course, had the pole and at the end of the first lap had a 200 foot lead, which kept increasing every lap until he lapped the second-place rider on the 32nd lap.
Soon after that, there was a very bad accident in the south turn, which resulted in two deaths and several others taken out of the race. How Ed didn’t go down is a miracle of some sort. Movies taken of the accident make you shake your head in wonder that Kretz didn’t end up in the pile of motorcycles sliding into the fence. Later, when asked how he got through, Ed said he closed his eyes and held on. Anyway, Ed managed to get through the mess without going down and lead until the 117th lap, when his front chain broke and put him out of the race. Front chains weren’t supposed to break on Indians with the oil bath but his did. I guess Indian must’ve gotten a batch of bad chains, improperly heat-treated.
Those were great days! As well as riding my ’39 Four on the streets and on trips, I also rode the Four in cross-country events like the Greenhorn 500-miler. I had the privilege of travelling with Ed Kretz, and sometimes Jimmy Kelly another good Indian rider. We usually piled into the car late on Saturday, and drove long, hard, and late at night to make some Sunday racemeet at some distance from LA. Many were the pranks and jokes. The world was our playground and we would never grow old.
*
–Max Bubeck as told to Jerry Hatfield in 2000.
*
[…] Beach and Highway A1A over a 4.1-mile course. With no fences and just a few simple rules, some truly gutsy racers chased each other at speeds approaching 100 mph. Kretz won the first Daytona 200 on Jan. 24, 1937, […]
Just back from Eddie Kretz home in Sedalia Co. June 24, 2009. I brought along the Indian scout Eddie first raced at Carrell Speedway when he was 16, in 1948. One of two pre war big base scouts Ed Sr. got in 1942. We played for two days with the scouts, Ed riding mine, and I riding his dad’s. It had been 57 years since Eddie had been on the bike, and the first reunion of the scouts since 1952. Unfortunately I went down on Ed Sr’s blue and white machine. We were riding on a marbled gravel road and I down shifted to first gear. I was letting the foot clutch out while reaching back for the left handlebar. The clutch grabbed, and locked up the back wheel before I got my hand on the bar. The rearend kicked out and threw me off the bike. My eyes focused as I was rapidly approaching the ground. The impact almost knocked me out. The bike was laying on it’s side and still running. I jumped up, grabbed the handlebars, and started to right the bike. It was still in first gear, and started to take off on me. I leaned it back over, and hit the kill button. Eddie was filming the ride, but I went down behind some trees, so the actual crash didn’t make the film. Ed drove down to the crash site, and asked me if I could get it back to the house. I was bleeding from the nose, my jeans were torn, and the front of me was covered in yellow powdered dust. I said I could, fired up the scout, and rode it back to the house. Ed pulled up and was still filming. I looked up at the sky and said Ed, i’m sorry, i’m sorry Ed. Eddie looked up with the camera and said yeah dad we didn’t mean to. Ed played nurse, and drown my leg and arm wounds with hydrogen peroxide. I think he’s had plenty of practice before. The bike rear fender and racing plates got scratched up a bit. Ed said don’t worry about it, it’s a racer, just gives it more character. The next day I told Ed, thanks for not yelling at me. A couple days later Ed called to see how I was healing. I asked him how many people had ridden his dad’s bike since it was retired in 1952. He replied, I guess your it, and you will probably be the last. I will try to attach some pictures, and later the film. My scout FDB381 is pictured on the back cover, and title page of THE HARLEY_DAVIDSON AND INDIAN WARS book by Allan Girdler. Don Hawley #88 riding for Shell Thuet at Ascot 1956. The bike was raced through 1967 on the west coast, with Bob Fleckenstein owning it. I think it’s the last Indian to qualify for a national. Gary Landeen
[…] “Indian Wrecking Crew” of the 1940s & ’50s) Ed Kretz, Burt Munro, and Mad Max Bubeck were motorcycling Hellcats in their respective days, and their exploits and success became […]
Ed Kretz told me of having the Scout with him at the Pomona Fairgrounds when he was stationed there in WWII to instruct in a course for military dispatch riders. He said when VIPs were present the C.O. would ask him to put on a demo around the 1/2 mile horse track. After the war as racing recommenced, at Pomona, Ed said his several years of practice on the track made him pretty much unbeatable. He was probably among the very few G.I.s who stayed at home during his military ‘hitch.
My good buddy Bobby Fleckenstein purchased the Scout from Shell Thuett. Shell had tuned for Ed Kretz and kept the bike when Ed moved on to Triumph.
Bob and I took the Scout, in it’s last appearance at a Class C event, to Tulare, for a Saturday night 1/2 mile event prior to the Sunday race at the Sacramento Mile, in I recall, 1968. Our rider almost transferred to the Main but a quick Harley rider who had slid out earlier came back to get him at the finish wire. By that time the Scout was not capable of winning against bikes of twenty years newer vintage but it was a great ‘crowd pleaser’.
Bob sold the bike as a ‘collectible’ more or less, to a nice couple, Bob and Maria Novotna~ they were a professional musical duo who lost their lives in a street bike accident. Apparently, from their estate the bike went into a museum and then into private ownership. Nice to encounter the little jewel again. Bobby did some interesting work on it including use of lightened (drilled) H.D rods with the requisite larger crank pin, et al.
The outstanding Harley tuner Tom Sifton has been quoted as saying there were three Scouts with power output he “never could match” with his WLR;s~ One was that of Bill Tuman~ the others were no doubt also members of ‘The Indian Wrecking Crew’ of the post-WWII years. Interestingly, Tuman worked at a Harley agency during racing’s ‘off season’ I’ve often wondered what features of engineering gave one 45″ flathead more potential than could be developed in the competing but quite similar, lesser engine~ Possibly Shell Thuett would be knowledgeable on the topic. Few others are with us who actually were heavily involved in the ‘Class C’ racing of the earlier decades. I gather he, approaching 100 is living in the High Desert area of So. Calif.
Nice to see your wonderful site. Continue in good health and spirits.
Lee Branch