When we last left our hero he had secured his first sweet deal as a full time professional driver for Mercury’s factory A/FX program. Filling in for the defecting Arnie Beswick during the 1966 season, he found himself in a conundrum the following year. You see, the Vietnam War was in full swing and as a young man Rossi would undoubtedly be called upon to serve in the jungle. He was offered a repeat season in the Mercury, but it would be hard to race if he were face down in a rice paddy. The situation left him pondering “what’s a boy to do?’
He had completed the Henry Ford Community College program as a union pipefitter, but still had hundreds of hours to go before he would advance past his apprentice status, which wouldn’t do anything to change his military eligibility anyway. The smart thing would be to pursue a four year university degree to avoid the draft, but he really wasn’t excited about a college major. Through sheer luck, Rossi found out from a friend that there was a strong demand for airline pilots, since there was no glut of retired military pilots like there was during peacetime or like there would be after the Clinton-era military budget cuts. “You mean anyone can become a pilot? And get paid to go fast? And get chicks?” So Rossi applies and is accepted to flight school in Florida. Within an amazingly short year he was plucked from school early by TWA and told California is the place you ought to be, so he loaded up the car and he head for Beverly.
For the next four years, Paul Rossi was your Flight Engineer, and full throttle launches replaced the wheel standing G-forces of a Hemi. And yes, he did end up receiving that letter from Uncle Sam, but he was deferred because TWA was an official MCA – military cargo airline – and his work there was considered “service.” All was good with his world until Vietnam began to wind down. It seemed all those pilots were returning home and looking for their old jobs back. As a young buck, Rossi couldn’t compete with the flight hours logged by the military pilots and began to get fewer and fewer assignments. Looking to stay busy and increase his earning potential, he began offering his services to “super tune” the hopped-up cars of other airline employees. One day while working on a Corvette for a recently laid off aerospace engineer, he was informed that the Mobil service station, across the street from the Torrance Airport, was for sale.
So here it is, 1970 and Rossi goes back to his old ways. He goes in partners with the engineer, Doug Siemer, on another Mobil service station in Costa Mesa, California. It seems the airport location was spoken for, but Rossi talked his way into a brand new station, on the assurance that he would be responsible for fully outfitting the new franchise on his Mobil credit account. Located on the main drag between the 405 and Newport Beach, with multiple full service bays and ten pumps, it was a license to print money. Soon a NAPA parts and paint store was added to the mix and Rossi and Siemer became the area experts for carburetor, fuel injection and automotive electrical service. Every promotional and Mobil program opportunity was taken advantage of to the fullest, and by maintaining the lowest gas prices, it eventually becoming the largest volume station on the west coast. Mobil delivered a full tanker truck every day, with 25 employees resplendent in their crisp white shirts and black ties, providing nothing but full service.
For example, while working the parts counter, Rossi meets a local line mechanic who wants to order some high performance valves for a big block Chevy. The shop made its money by only stocking the highest volume merchandise and steering customers towards it. Wanting to build relationships with local businesses, Rossi gladly orders a set and delivers them at cost. He paid no attention when the guy walks in two weeks later to order another set. He becomes baffled when the guy returns the following month for a third set. “How many engines are you building?!” “Umm, one.” Rossi refuses to order another expensive set and offers to visit the guy’s house to do some trouble shooting. Sure enough, the cam was walking and bending the valves, so an order is placed for a timing chain, valves and other needed accessories. Problem solved.
Then something happened. Rossi hadn’t read about, watched or attended a drag race in years, when this new found friend suggested they check out the action at Orange County International Raceway. What’s the worst that could happen? He quit flying to become a Pro racer? Well, yeah-uh. So here’s Paul Rossi sitting in the grandstands, something he’s never done, and begins thinking “This could be cool.” Cool, indeed.
With a new home base for a racing operation secured, coincidently, the following week Rossi picks up a copy of National Dragster. In it he spies an ad for an original BO23 Hemi powered Barracuda offered by its original owner, Wisconsin’s Jim Wick. Rossi recognized Wick as a Mopar racing stalwart and knew that anything in his stable would be first class, so he pays the stout sum of $10,000 and has the car shipped west. Obviously the engine is removed immediately for an inspection, freshening, and to receive some in-house tricks. All in all, it was a good car and it hit the Division 7 tracks immediately. A chance meeting with nitro funny car pilot Jim Adolph, who also worked at B&M, resulted in free transmissions, “J” torque convertors, ratchet shifters and all the T-shirts he could carry. By now, Rossi was fully laid off from TWA and worked a deal with his partner, Doug Siemer, to split the management of the business. Siemer was off in the winter, because he was a skier and Rossi was off in the summer, because, well you know.
During the 1973 season on an eastern racing jaunt between the NHRA Spring and Summer Nationals, a visit was paid to an old high school friend in Detroit, who just happened to be a custom painter. The Barracuda was still wearing Wick’s red, white and blue scheme, sans his trademark “Matchmaker” moniker. The decision was made to leave the car in Motown, with the instructions to “paint it outrageous.” A month later Rossi got his wish as he was shocked to find a pearl white atrocity that faded into yellow and culminated in full frontal pink with flames. “You said you wanted something no one will forget…”
The 1974 season was a time to refine both driver skills and the Hemi’s combination, which continued to successfully rely on nothing but Part #002 and #003 Super Stock leaf springs and a pinion snubber for the rear suspension. It was also a time to replace the rapidly fading pink front end with an all-new day-glo orange paint scheme. For 1975 Chrysler stepped up sponsorship of Rossi through its relatively new Direct Connection program, so an all-out assault was made on the National Event trail, beginning with the Winternationals near Rossi’s home base in Pomona, California.
Among the many innovations he was working on was a variable-plenum intake manifold - basically a stock A990 magnesium cross ram fitted with a movable divider. Old school racers are familiar with the Chrysler Race Group’s concept of modifying intake plenums with epoxied popsicle sticks, but this took it a step further. NHRA Super Stock rules allowed unlimited intake manifold modifications as long as the carburetors maintained their original centerline location. For well-to-do racers, Diamond Racing Engines even offered an off-the-shelf intake, heavily modified right out of the box, also NHRA legal. The popular modification was to enlarge the opening between the left and right halves of the intake, which made more horsepower as the opening got larger. Conversely, this began to kill bottom end. By incorporating a spring loaded, full length butterfly operated by a vacuum module, the Hemi’s torque increased significantly – closed with vacuum, open at wide open throttle. This innovation is now commonplace in today’s street cars.
The Barracuda’s success netted him an invitation to the 1975 NHRA World Finals in Ontario, California. The NHRA points system, which began in 1965, worked differently than today, which awards championships based on the driver’s yearlong total points accumulation. In 1975 the top Sportsman points earners in all seven divisions were automatically qualified for the World Finals to actually RACE for the championship. (Remember, the Rod Shop’s Mike Fons won the 1971 Pro Stock Championship event though Sox & Martin won the majority of races – Pro racers ended up switching to the modern format in 1974.)
Racing at the still-new Ontario Motor Speedway, Rossi was able to test the final version of his new manifold, resulting in a top qualifying position among all the Hemi cars. Confused, angry or just vindictive, the other drivers quickly filed a protest, citing that there was no way Rossi could all of a sudden be faster than all the big boys. An inspection by the NHRA technical officials revealed the inner workings of the intake manifold, which was declared legal. With that advantage, Rossi made it all the way to the final round in Super Stock, poised to be the new World Champion. Up against Bernie Agaman in a big block 1970 Corvette running in SS/CA, the quicker Hemi had the starting line advantage. Unfortunately, the now massive torque increase of the Hemi would wreak havoc on the tired Barracuda. Upon launching the car, the passenger side A-pillar literally split apart and by the time the finish line rolled around, the roof was flapping two inches above the windshield.
Disappointing to say the least, to runner up as an NHRA World Champion is quite an accomplishment for any racer. Stopping at the weigh scales Rossi grabbed National Tech Director, Bill “Farmer” Dismuke. “Look at this” he declared while pressing up on the roof like a sardine can. At the time, in Stock and Super Stock, the roll bar or cage had to be removable and could not be used to strengthen the chassis. Consequently, Farmer changed that rule for the following season. While all of this was happening, an anonymous racer slipped Rossi a note. It said “You’re the World Champion…” Because Paul Rossi is a gentleman, the contents of that note remain secret to this day.
Photos from the Paul Rossi collection and Bob Boudreau
1. Rossi’s freshly painted Hemi Barracuda at the 1973 Summernationals in Englishtown, New Jersey.
2. Wheels up in Montreal on nothing but S/S leaf springs and a pinion snubber.
3. (TITLE IMAGE) Paul Rossi, now with full Mopar sponsorship at the 1975 U.S. Nationals in Indianapolis
4. (I DON”T LIKE THE COLOR ON THIS PHOTO, BUT USE IT IF YOU WANT TO) The 1975 NHRA Championship season opener
5. In 1976 the Hemi Barracuda went to its third owner, Norm Carson of Canada. Rossi continued to assist in maintenance and with occasional driving duty.
6. Sold to the late George Wejbe in the mid 1980s it finished #3 in NHRA Super Stock points for the season with DeFrank & Cohen team driver Rick Houser.
7. In the early 1990s Rossi’s original BO23 was still being campaigned on the NHRA trail in Super Stock/A Automatic, this time owned by John Mountjoy with another DeFrank & Cohen team driver, Rick Johnson.
8. Here’s Mopar Pro Stock die-hard Jim Wick and the brand new BO23 Hemi shortly after delivery and before its now familiar “Matchmaker” paint job.
9. Here’s Rossi’s Hemi today, in the hands of current caretaker Danny Smith of Columbus, Ohio. Purchased in 1995 it was briefly campaigned in IHRA Super Stock, and is now maintained for rare outings. Note the Chrysler Power license plate.
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