A TRIBUTE TO JOE JONES
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(this is a poem written by Jay Jones and Jodie Brown's mother about her beloved son)
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A TRIBUTE TO JOE JONES
(Written by : Virginia Jones)

WHEN THE RACES START WITHOUT ME
AND I'M NOT THERE TO SEE
JUST REMEMBER ALL THE HAPPY TIMES
THAT YOU HAVE HAD WITH ME

WHEN THE RACES START WITHOUT ME
AND I'M NOT THERE TO HEAR
THEN THINK OF ALL THE OTHER TIMES
WHEN I WAS THERE TO CHEER.

WHEN THE RACES START WITHOUT ME
AND THE MOTORS REV AND ROAR
YOU'LL KNOW DAD AND I ARE WATCHING
LIKE HE ALWAYS DID BEFORE

WHEN THE RACES START WITHOUT ME
AND THE GREEN FLAG DROPS TO GO
JUST PROMISE ME YOU WON'T FORGET
YOUR OLD ANNOUNCER JOE

WHEN THE RACES END WITHOUT ME
AND THE CHECKERED FLAG FLIES HIGH
JUST REMEMBER THAT I LOVED YOU ALL
THOUGH I COULDN'T SAY GOODBYE

Joe Jones
(January 13, 1951 - October 13, 2000

ARTICLE WRITTEN BY JOE JONES
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DAILY MAIL..OLNEY, ILLINOIS, FRIDAY, JUNE 22, 1984
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by Joe Jones

"GOLDEN AGE" FOR RACING WAS BACK IN THE 50"S

Climb into a time warp and take a journey back to the early days of racing. Back to the days when the "big cars" had just recently evolved into sprint cars and the men who drove them laughed at the Devil as they blasted the cageless firebrethers around unforgiving dirt "bullrings" on skinny, knobby tires. It was a time when stock cars were early 1930"s vintage coupes and sedans powered by the venerable old flathead engine.
The Kurtis-Kraft roadster with Offenhauser power was the scourge of Indy. It was the 1950"s and racing was in a "gGolden Age"- before the cars were fiberglass, plastic and aluminum. The days when the cars were made of steel - and the men were made of iron.
Racing's big time drivers of the Fifties were brave to a fault. Safety at that time was an afterthought at best and many of the decades best met the Grip Reaper with a steering wheel clutched in his hands. Though each man was unique in his own way, they were all poured from the same master-mold of iron wills and courage.
Tony Bettenhausen, Bill Vukovich, Jimmy Bryan, Johnny White, Jud Larson, Pat O'Connor, Pat Flaherty, Bob Sweikert, Joe James, Roger Ward, the list could go on and on. They all lived for a fickle mistress - and many died for her.
Vuky, "the Mad Russian," gunning for his third straight win at Indy, leading the pack before a date with the fourth turn wall ended the dream in 1955. Who could forget? That hellish first turn debacle in 1958 at the Brickyard took Pat O'Connor and Jerry Unser. Bettenhausen checked out in an Indy practice session. Bryan left in the bloody dust of a sprint crash. So did Joe James. Each was taken in the prime of his career, doing what he loved best.
But they won't be forgotten. Wherever the thirst for speed and competition needs quenched, the legacy lives on.
Local race fans of the 1950's were treated to a diet of mainly stock cars with occasional midget shows thrown in. The locals ran for a time on a quarter mile track just east of the old Shell truck stop and also on the Fairgrounds falf-mile. They raced weekly at Robinson in the late fifties and rand special county fair races at Paris, Greenup and other fairgrounds tracks.
Some of the drivers of that era were Vern Wyatt, Stormy Wilson, Wayne Bateman, Charlie and Bob Jones, Bob Butler and Harry McPheron. These drivers along with others from surrounding towns gave many exciting shows throughout the decade. These "Weekend Warriors," held down full-time jobs during the week, worked on the race cars at night and raced on the weekends. They were the prototypes of the men who would bring back racing locally in the Sixties after several years absence.
It would be remiss to speak of racing on the local level without special mention of a man who probably had the most input into the sport than anyone else locally: the late Harry McPheron. Harry was involved in just about every aspect of racing available. Driver, car owner, flagman. Harry did it all. A terrible midget crash ended his first racing career so he took up flagging and was acknowledged as one of the best in the two state area. Through his encouragements many local people became involved in the sport.
Harry was a prime force in the constrction of the White Squirrel Speedway and even came out of retirement for a couple of years to get behind the wheel once more.
He never knew a stranger and always had time for the young and young at heart. If there is ever a local racing Hall of Fame, Harry McPheron will be a charter member.

IN MEMORY OF JOE JONES


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PICTURES FROM JULIO McPHERON'S COLLECTION