Lee's car stunting days started with a bang. Driving through Muleshoe, Texas, in a new Airflow DeSoto, the brothers stopped to watch the Tommy Gordon Thrill Show, involving some airplane barnstorming and "an auto daredevil show.” The air show was okay, but the car show sucked. The daredevils had a bunch of old cars but they didn't know what to do with them. The Lott brothers told Tommy Gordon what they thought of his auto show, and Tommy naturally asked them if they could do better. Could they? "Give us a couple of cars and we'll show you!"
The Lotts took two cars and proceeded to do a full throttle head-on crash. The way this was done back then, was to stand on the running board, steer through the window and operate the throttle with a wire attached to the carburetor. Then, as the cars approached the point of impact, both drivers would bail, tucking their leg underneath them and sliding on their butt. Remember, this was the days before safety helmets and seat belts. The only protection available were football helmets. Lee pioneered the technique of staying inside the car during a crash, bracing himself on the floor behind the front seat.
 The head-on roadster/motorcycle stunt. The bike rider would jump off the bike and land on his feet in the rear of the car. Now, that’s cool. |
A mindbender variation was to head-on a roadster and a motorcycle. The combined closing speed was 50 mph, and about eight feet before impact, the guy on the bike would leap up from the saddle and land, in running position, in the back of the car. Go try that at home!
The car stunts came so naturally to the Lotts, that they rented a farmer's field, and put on their own show, charging admission. They netted $980, which was a whole lot of cashola back then. For the next 20 years, Lee played fairs and stadiums all over the country, even packing 'em in to the tune of 106,000 spectators in 1939 at the Los Angeles Coliseum. Jumps were a big part of the act. Lee would drive up a ramp and sail through the air, clearing a bus parked lengthwise or a row of cars. The faster you hit the ramp, the higher you went, the easier the landing (to a point) as the car came down in a gentler slope. The trick was to land with the rear wheels about 8 inches lower than the fronts for the optimum impact. Catch cars--junkers--parked in the landing zone, would cushion the crunch.
Lee's longest jump took him 169 feet through the air—at a peak altitude of 35 feet. This jump was longer than Lee had expected for the simple reason that the accelerator stuck on the '34 Ford he was driving, and he hit the ramp at 70 mph instead of 50. He was in the air so long that he relaxed his body instead of bracing for the impact. The jump not only cleared the bus and cars he was supposed to fly over, but he also cleared the catch cars, landing flat on the track. The impact compressed two discs in his spine (everyone thought he had broken his back). He was taken to the hospital and put in a body cast from chin to knees. Lee's contract for his next show, 2 weeks later, called for doing the same jump. With a contract, it was either show or blow. So, Lee had a special ramp seat built into the car, and they tied him on the ramp, body cast and all, using furniture straps. And that's the way he made the jump. The record of 169 feet stood for years until another stunt driver sailed 172 feet through the air. Unfortunately, that poor soul was killed on impact.
Before Lee turned "respectable," with his traveling thrill shows, he was doing stunts like crashing airplanes into barns. This had an added bit of excitement aside from the crash, as crashing airplanes was a federal offense, and Lee had to run from the feds after every crash. One time he got away by disguising himself as an ambulance driver. Another stunt Lee pulled for fun was driving a sportscar 13 blocks up Detroit's Woodward Ave. Oh yeah, he did it all the way on the two right wheels!
The stories go on and on without end, but I’ll leave you with this last one. File it under “Murphy's Law.” Lee was playing the Polo Grounds in New York City (home turf of the old New York Giants) back in '42. There was a 9 p.m. blackout in effect because of the war. One of Lee's drivers was getting ready to do the last act (a jump) of the last show. They had it timed to the second--just before 9. Well, they had a little trouble with the car, which they quickly sorted out. The driver nailed the throttle up the ramp and was just about to get airborne, when...instant blackness. Nine pee em. They pulled the lights. Lee's man completed the jump in total darkness. Ever the considerate show honcho, Lee made it up to his driver, by presenting him with a clean change of underwear.
That’s it for this month. I’m now off to see if they will be raising the bar at the Loudest Horn Nationals. I can hardly wait.
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