By all accounts, Jimmy Murphy was the kind of guy
you wanted to smash in the face on the race track, but buy him a beer
afterwards. A helluva competitor, and a heckuva nice guy. He was also
one of the evolutionary links between the eras of spectacle events and
the dawning of the Golden Age of motor racing.
His is the story of
racing itself...
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| Jimmy Murphy, at the peak of his powers, and soon to be dead. This was taken the year before he died in his Miller Special. |
The Duesenberg Brothers had been early advocates of Jimmy's. After a matter of months, he had been paid to be team-driver, and then promoted to number one when Duesenberg decided to take on the great Europeans. They entered three cars in the French Grand Prix, and Jimmy was to be the point man.
Then disaster struck.
As
Murphy was running a practice lap with Louis Inghibert, he crashed the
car, flipping end over end into a ditch. He was confined to a hospital
bed with internal injuries until two-hours before race-time. But that
was just a minor obstacle. After being helped into the cockpit, the
Thundering Irishman smashed the speed record, and won the race,
finishing with a flat tire and a destroyed radiator.
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| Jimmy Murphy's grave in Calvary Cemetary, East Los Angeles. |































