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The Fastest Man on Wheels Posted - Jan 19, 2019
If you were a hot rodder, Southern California was the place to be in the 1950s. Gasoline was cheap, the junkyards were flush with all the basics (pre-war Fords were a particular favorite), and the roads that connected the scattered towns were flat, open and straight—perfect for drag racing. Kids with pluck and imagination were turning scrap metal into hot rods, sports cars, and lakebed roadsters that competed on the Bonneville salt flats. And Detroit auto makers were paying attention.

Enter Marian Lee “Mickey” Thompson. While Thompson was very much a part of the scene, he was not just another hot rodder. He was a natural born promoter and entrepreneur. While he lacked a degree in engineering, he had a knack for innovation that enabled him to see the possibilities that others missed.

About the time drag racing moved from public roads to purpose-built quarter-mile drag strips, Thompson was putting the finishing touches on the world’s first slingshot dragster. It was the first of many innovations he would bring to the world of motorsports. Soon, he was hitting speeds of 150 m.p.h. in the standing quarter mile—unheard of at the time. No one could beat him. Promoters labeled him, “The Fastest Man on Wheels.”

Having conquered drag racing, Thompson turned his attention to the Bonneville salt flats in Utah, and built a variety of lakebed machines that all told set 295 international speed records. The most ambitious was a super-charged four-engine streamliner he called “Challenger I”. It was built with one idea in mind—to break the world land speed record, at the time a tick under 400 mph.


Enter Semon “Bunkie” Knudsen, president of the Pontiac Division of General Motors. Like Thompson, Knudsen had been a hot rodder–before he earned an engineering degree from MIT. After college, he joined General Motors and, like his contemporary at Ford—another engineer, named Lee Iacocca—switched to sales, because that’s where the opportunities were. He moved up the ranks rapidly and in 1956 was appointed head of the ailing Pontiac Division, which was making stodgy “old-man” cars and losing money. Knudsen sized up the problem. “I can get old men to buy a young man’s car, but I can’t get young men to buy an old-man’s car.” How to reach the youth market? With a face-lift that included clean lines, and high-performance options to stir the imaginations of hot rodders everywhere. In two years, he turned the Pontiac Division around. Sales skyrocketed and Pontiac joined Chevrolet as GM’s sexiest and fastest-selling cars.

When Knudsen got wind of Thompson’s plan to break the world land speed record, he saw an opportunity to further bolster Pontiac’s high-performance image. He supplied Thompson with four Pontiac V8 engines to power Challenger I, plus funding. Thompson also struck a deal with the Goodyear Tire and Rubber Company to build special tires to withstand speeds of 400-plus mph, and with the Mobil Oil Company. With Pontiac, Goodyear, and Mobil as sponsors, Thompson built his innovative machine. Compared with the competition, Thompson’s car was relatively small and low, and therefore less resistant to the wind, a decided aerodynamic advantage.

In 1960, Thompson delivered with a record run across the Bonneville salt flats of 406 m.p.h. To make the record official, he had to make a return run at similar speed. The run was never completed, due to a broken drive-shaft. Or so it was reported at the time. In fact, one of the Pontiac engines had thrown a rod. But Thompson wasn’t about to tell reporters that one of the engines of his biggest sponsor had failed. Thompson replaced the engine and made another attempt but could not match his earlier speed. No matter. The big news from Bonneville was Thompson’s one-way record run, which further enhanced his reputation as “The Fastest Man On Wheels.” Pontiac shared in the glory, with the newly-minted Pontiac Bonneville.


Having conquered Bonneville, Thompson set his eyes on America’s biggest race—the Indianapolis 500. Surely, with his gift for innovation, he would triumph there too. Unlike European Formula I cars, which were high-tech, agile, and rear-engined, the average Indy car at the time hadn’t changed much since the Great Depression. It was refined, of course, but comparatively low tech, front-engined and, at 1600 pounds, heavy. Thompson reasoned that a car built along the lines of Formula I, and powered by the same highly-tweaked American V8 he used in his dragsters and land speed machine, coupled with a 400-pound weight reduction, would make him a serious contender at the Indianapolis Motor Speedway. What he didn’t consider was that at heart he was a hot-rodder, with a great deal of experience with racing machines that accelerated in a straight line. That he was attempting something at which he lacked experience did not faze him in the slightest.


Thompson was in trouble from the start. He started late and was without his two biggest sponsors. Bunkie Knudsen had been reassigned to the Chevrolet Division, and was not yet in a position to help him, and Goodyear opted out because it wasn’t ready to challenge Firestone’s dominance at the Speedway. Thompson turned to the Harvey Aluminum Company for sponsorship, a Southern California manufacturing firm that produced Thompson’s line-up of speed equipment: intake manifolds, forged pistons and connecting rods, mag wheels, and the like. Thompson’s car would be dubbed, “The Harvey Aluminum Special.”

A mere 120 days was all the time Thompson and his team of loyal mechanics had to fabricate a completely new racing machine that resembled a rear-engine Formula 1. The car looked intriguing, but it wasn’t completely finished when it arrived at the Speedway on May 1. When the car took to the track at last, it suffered a myriad of small problems as all new race cars do, all easily remedied. One problem persisted, however, and it stumped everyone. The car simply wouldn’t handle.


Had Mickey Thompson been praying for an angel to intervene, it arrived in the form of Dan Gurney. Gurney was tall, blonde, and gifted as a driver and mechanic. Being a Formula I driver, he saw the logic of Thompson’s car immediately. When Thompson asked him to give the car a try, Gurney jumped at the chance. After a few laps, he knew exactly what was wrong. He made a number of adjustments to the suspension, and posted lap times that caught everyone’s attention. In the right hands, the Harvey Aluminum Special was impressively fast. Gurney qualified ninth fastest (in a field of 33 cars). On race day, he stayed within sight of the leaders until sidelined by a failed transmission seal. Thompson was ecstatic. In four months he’d created an Indy car from scratch that had shaken up the Indy establishment and, with a little luck, might have won the race. Imagine what he could do given an entire year?

Thompson let his imagination run wild, and dreamed up a low squat car on four 12-inch wide-treaded tires that reminded everyone of a roller skate. Now president of the Chevrolet Division, Bunkie Knudsen was back on board, supplying Thompson with special aluminum Chevrolet V8 engines. While Goodyear still had cold feet, Firestone warmed up to Thompson’s latest creation and agreed to custom-make the small, wide-tread tires his design called for.

The only fly in the ointment was Dan Gurney. He would be back, but not driving for Mickey Thompson. He liked Thompson’s idea so much that he arranged a big-buck deal with Formula I builder Colin Chapman of Lotus to build a rear-engine Indy car, and with the Ford Motor Company to supply an engine.


The race had all the earmarks of a showdown, not just between rear-engine cars and front-engine cars, but between Chevrolet and Ford, with Thompson in the thick of it.

Thompson arrived at the Speedway loaded for bear, with five cars: two 1962 machines, and three of the new low-profile “roller skates” with the super-wide 12-inch tires. Heading up his stable of five cars was 1962 world champion Graham Hill. The handling of the roller-skate cars was diabolical, however, and after one near crash Hill booked passage on the next flight back to his home in London. The handling improved as the month progressed, but by the first weekend of qualifying, not one of the original drivers was still around.

The Lotus-Fords of Gurney and teammate Jim Clark, meanwhile, were lapping at near-record speed. On Pole Day, the Lotus Fords qualified easily, in a position to win, while only two of Thompson’s five cars qualified, well back in the field. On race day, Jim Clark finished second after leading at one point, while Gurney finished seventh, slowed by a botched pit stop. Only one of Thompson’s car finished the race, two laps down.

The 1963 Indy 500 had indeed been a showdown, but without Thompson figuring in the outcome. His radical car missed the mark completely. Going forward, Colin Chapman of Lotus—not Mickey Thompson—would be the trendsetter, and Lotus-Ford the car to beat.


Indy 1963 was a disaster for Thompson, in more ways than one. He had failed to deliver at the Speedway and his reputation as a visionary had taken a severe hit, so much so that Chevrolet, Firestone, and Harvey Aluminum would not be back as sponsors. On top of that, the rules committee outlawed Thompson’s radical 12-inch tires as unsafe. In the future, all cars would race on 15-inch tires, or not at all. Thompson would return to the Speedway in the coming years, but never again be a factor.

What went wrong? For one, Thompson badly underestimated the Indy establishment. Thompson had triumphed on drag strips and on salt flats competing against enthusiastic amateurs. The Indy regulars, on the other hand, were hardened pros, with their livelihood at stake. Thompson was a hot-rodder at heart. While General Motors had supplied special aluminum Chevrolet V8s, Thompson had the task of race-developing the engines himself. Ford, on the other hand, developed their engines in-house, spending a great deal of time and money. Both Ford and Chevy Indy engines produced about the same horsepower, but the difference was in reliability. The Ford Indy engine never missed a beat, while Thompson’s Chevies suffered repeated blow-ups in practice, and one in the race.

The Indy establishment was resentful of Thompson and Lotus for upsetting the status quo, but in the end had no choice but to accept the new technology imposed on them. The car they copied would not be Mickey Thompson’s roller skate, but Colin Chapman’s Lotus. The engine of choice would be Ford.

Thompson’s Indy effort did make one lasting contribution, however. The low and wide 12-inch tires he employed had performance advantages that Firestone carried forward to their next-generation 15-inch Indy tires—tires with a lower profile and wider tread that resulted in longer wear and significantly better grip. The design even carried over to Firestone passenger car tires, in the form of their trademark Wide Ovals. Today, virtually all passenger tires feature a low profile and wide tread.

In the seventies, Thompson began promoting indoor motocross and off-road vehicle racing events. In 1988, while leaving for work, he and his wife were gunned down on their driveway. It wasn’t until 2001 that a former business associate was charged with their murders. He was found guilty in a court of law and sentenced to life in prison.

Two companies Thompson started, Mickey Thompson Enterprises (an aftermarket parts supplier) and Mickey Thompson Performance Tires, are still in business.

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Alexander Hamilton on his birthday
Posted - Jan 11, 2019
Alexander Hamilton’s birthday is January 11.

His contributions to our nation’s founding are considerable. So much so, that Thomas Jefferson referred to him as “a host unto himself.” Not only did Hamilton serve as aid-de-camp to General George Washington during the Revolutionary War, he helped frame the U.S. Constitution, and wrote 51 of the 85 essays that comprise the Federalist Papers. As Treasury Secretary, his imaginative and far-reaching Funding and Assumption Bills made provision for the massive war debt and, combined with another of his creations, the United States Bank, jumpstarted American capitalism.

His Federalist essays—particularly No. 78—laid the groundwork for judicial review, which Marbury v. Madison, the Supreme Court case, created by setting a legal precedent. If that weren’t enough there’s more, according to historian Kate Elizabeth Brown, which is the subject of her book, “Alexander Hamilton and the Development of American Law.”

Historians generally portray Hamilton as the "archnationalist" of the early American republic—to wit, as a large-F Federalist. Brown makes a very compelling case that Hamilton was, in fact, a small-f federalist, dedicated to balancing robust federal and state sovereignty. She writes: “Hamilton’s most profound influence on American law—and his greatest debt to British constitutionalism—is concurrence.” As Hamilton applied it, concurrence sought to harmonize the combined executive and judicial authority concurrently exercised by the national and state governments. "It was Hamilton’s broadest, most far-reaching influence over American law," writes Brown, "and it is evidenced by the judges and lawyers who continually cited Hamilton as the authority on the matter. By enacting functional and federal concurrence, Hamilton quite literally wrote the rules and set the precedents that configured the American legal system. Concurrence rendered Hamilton . . . as a true, small-f federalist.”

That, in effect, is the book’s thesis, and the author supplies a mountain of evidence—all amply foot-noted—that supports her argument. Indeed, Hamilton first sketched out a model for concurrence in Federalist Nos. 32 and 82, where he described how the national and state governments could simultaneously exercise their overlapping powers yet still coexist with minimal interference.

In the closing chapter—“Litigation, Liberty, and the Law: Hamilton’s Common Law Rights Strategies”—she makes an equally compelling case that Hamilton was at heart an advocate of individual liberties and a free press. “What scholars and biographers have missed,” she writes, “is that Hamilton was always a common lawyer at heart; therefore, he held a deep reverence for the rights and liberties provided and protected by the Anglo-American common law. . . . (T)hroughout his career, Hamilton fiercely and consistently fought to preserve common law rights for all Americans.”

“Alexander Hamilton and the Development of American Law” is Professor Brown’s first book. At times, it is not an easy read. While the writing is reasonably clear, she presents a great deal of case law and legalese that at times is repetitive and sometimes a bit overwhelming. In the intro, the author admits as much: “. . . if you are willing to endure the occasional technical parts of the narrative, I will make clear the significance to be threaded from those legal details and complexities.” I underlined significant passages and took notes (as if back in college preparing for an exam). In the end, I came away deeply impressed with Hamilton as the supreme administrator of the Washington Administration, while learning exactly why for 16 years he was one of the best—if not the best—attorney in the nation. Throughout the nineteenth century, he was the legal authority of American law, cited again and again, even by his rival and fellow attorney, Thomas Jefferson.

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Posted - Jan 04, 2019
You hear the word "tribalism" a lot these days, referring to extreme elements on the far right. The term is not new, and may have been coined by Václav Havel (pronounced Vatslave Hah’vel). Havel led the movement in 1977 to free Czechoslovakia from the Soviet iron grip.

Havel (1936-2011) saw the best and worst in mankind, but never lost faith in the goodness of people. When he was born Europe was fast falling under the evil spell of Nazism. At its core was venomous hatred for all that did not conform to its corrupt vision of mankind. In his prime, as one of the world’s foremost playwrights, essayist and dissidents, Eastern Europe was in the death-grip of Soviet Communism.

Havel pointed out a connection between the two “isms” which he called “tribal togetherness” or "tribalism." The people who comprise such groups, he said, are “people who are weak . . . who prefer dissolving in the anonymity of the crowd, where a leader does all the thinking for them, who accept the identity of the pack rather than engage in the difficult process of seeking, building, and defending their identity as individuals—such people made possible the emergence of Nazism in Europe. Communist collectivism had a similar background. Both inevitably produced totalitarian systems that trampled the very foundation of humanity . . . ."

Obviously: tribalism cannot countenance democracy or free thought, or, for that matter, simple human decency.

- END -
Letting Go
Posted - Dec 24, 2018
One cold winter evening, I drove from New Hampshire to a small town in northern Maine. On my way back at about midnight, I skidded on an icy curve and spun my Volkswagen gently but firmly off the road and into a snowbank.

As I sat in the car getting colder by the second, the gravity of my situation struck me. It was twenty degrees below zero outside, and I had nothing other than the sports jacket I was wearing. There was no hope of keeping warm in the car while it was stationary, and there was little hope of being picked up by another car. It had been twenty minutes since I had passed through a town, and not a single automobile had passed me in that time. There were no farmhouses, no cultivated land, not even telephone poles to remind me of civilization. I had no map and no idea how far ahead the next town might be.

I was faced with an interesting existential choice. I would freeze if I remained in the car, so I had to decide wether to walk forward into the unknown in the hope that a town might be around the next corner, or to walk back in the direction from which I had come, knowing that there was certain help at least fifteen miles back. After deliberating for a moment, I decided to take my chances with the unknown. After all, isn’t that what they do in the movies? I walked forward for about ten steps and then, without thinking, pivoted decisively and walked back the other way.

After three minutes, my ears were freezing and felt as if they were about to chip off, so I started to run. But cold drained my energy quickly, and soon I had to slow again to a walk. This time I walked for only two minutes before becoming too cold. Again I ran, but again grew fatigued quickly. The periods of running began to grow shorter, as did the periods of walking, and I soon realized what the outcome of these decreasing cycles would be. I could see myself by the side of the road covered with snow, frozen to death. At that moment, what had first appeared to be merely a difficult situation began to look as if it was going to be my FINAL situation. Awareness of the very real possibility of death slowed me to a stop.

After a minute of reflection I found myself saying aloud, “Okay, if now is the time, so be it. I’m ready.” I really meant it. With that I stopped thinking about it and began walking calmly down the road, suddenly aware of the beauty of the night. I became absorbed in the silence of the stars and in the loveliness of the dimly lit forms around me; everything was beautiful. Then without thinking, I started running. To my surprise I didn’t stop for a full forty minutes, and then only because I spotted a light burning in the window of a distant house.

Where had this energy come from which allowed me to run so far without stopping? I hadn’t felt frightened; I simply didn’t get tired. As I relate this story now, it seems that saying, “I accepted death” is ambiguous. I didn’t give up in the sense of quitting. In one sense I gave up caring; in another I seemed to care more. Apparently, letting go of my grip on life released an energy which paradoxically made it possible for me to run with utter abandon toward life.

From “The Inner Game of Tennis” by W. Timothy Gallwey (copyright 1974). Despite exposure to temperatures twenty degrees below and wearing only a light jacket (and without hat and gloves), he suffered none of the ill effects of frostbite.

- END -
Work of My Sons

Morning Softly - Water Echoes Movement
-Released in 2014. Bill made guitar riffs and synth tracks at home, got Lya Finston to write some lyrics and sing, and got Scott to provide some bass.

Morning Softly - Early Eerie Feeling
-Recorded in 2014. Songs written by Bill, at home. Synthesizers were added later. Some drumming done by Brendan Lenihan.

Scott Nisley - Brick City Skies
-Released in 2014. With his piano melodies and vocals, Scott entrusted the production of his album to several studio musicians.

The 45's - Roof-Hopping
-Recorded in 2010. A collaborative effort between Scott and Bill Nisley, Adam Sherman, and Zach Belka.

Oh, Yeah...

Richard Nisley's Brothers in Cars
Thanksgiving Day, 1967. From L to R: my brothers David, Charles, and Rob. Photo by John Nisley.
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