October 9, 2008

In Memoriam: Phil Hill

An American Champion 1927-2008

By Gary Luke
Special to the Times

As a child I watched the international races that were covered on TV with my father, and soon became aware of the celebrity named Phil Hill. As a seven-year-old, I watched Hill dominate the Can Am race held at Laguna Seca driving the Flipper-Winged Chaparral. As a ten-year-old I read books about the racing record of the Ferrari Team where the photographs of Phil Hill were abundant. It was clear to me that Phil Hill was no average talent.

As twenty-year-olds Pat Olsen and I got to shake his hand and tell him how much he was a hero of ours at the Long Beach Grand Prix. As forty-something-year-olds Pat, my wife Karen and I had a chance to talk at length to him at an Indianapolis Grand Prix charity dinner where he was a guest speaker. He had just given a speech about his still-intense interest in watching Formula One racing. At the end, he felt compelled to emphatically state that he was left without superlatives to describe Michael Schumacher's ability.

How unusual for a past champion to be in complete awe of a more recent champion. Many past Champions resent that the fact that today that the skill needed to win have change, that drivers get so much money, and that they do not have to deal with losing a dozen friends to the sport every year. Not Phil Hill. He was first and foremost a fan of racing and all it represents. He was introspective enough to realize that he would do it all over again in this vintage if he were given the opportunity. He also recognized the qualities of the absolute best talents in the world (after all, he knew and was a member of that elite club).

But mostly he was a gentleman of the highest order. I can attest to the courtesy he showed me as a lowly kid/fan. Dad and I talked to him in the pits at Laguna Seca in '66. He became a statesman for sports car racing, grand prix racing, historic racing and a participant in the effort to preserve fine automobiles for the future through his involvement with Pebble Beach Concours over the years, and his partnership in Hill & Vaughn a top-level restoration service that was in Southern California. He had all the qualities you could want from a champion/celebrity. At the end of our conversation at the charity event at Indianapolis he was even kind enough to be the final autograph on my helmet that I had brought along. The autograph shows the unmistakable signs of Parkinson's disease. I knew what lay ahead. But I will treasure the memories that his autograph lets me relive. Until his signed his name, I had no indication that he was afflicted. He was a kind enough and big enough man to take the forty seconds it took to sign such an awkward thing as a helmet where his secret would be revealed. Although I had a sinking feeling in the pit of my stomach, I appreciated the noble gesture of poise and grace. I cried then and I cried tonight writing about it.

Farewell Mr. Hill. You are missed.