Actors aren't heroes. Paul Newman and Steve McQueen were

For the record, American heroes are those who hit the beach at Normandy and Tarawa, froze at Valley Forge and the Chosin Reservoir, who served on the gun decks of the Constellation and the flight deck of the Lexington, who flew over Hamburg and Hanoi, who today sweat in Iraq and, from my generation, at Khe Sahn.

Acting doesn’t make heroes, and racers may be daring, but it’s for no purpose.

If I had known that Steve McQueen had been rewarded for heroism for jumping into freezing Arctic waters to save five fellow Marines from drowning during a training exercise, or that Paul Newman, as a Navy radioman-tailgunner for in Avenger torpedo bomber missed transfer—by the fluke of his pilot being ill—missed transfer the aircraft carrier, USS Hollandia (CVE-97), that would be hit by a kamikaze that killed many in his squadron, if I had known all that, I would have thought more of them than just two actors whom I often confused for each other. But I didn’t know all that until just now.

I had envied Newman who was able—thanks to movie fame and money—to walk into racing, driving Datsuns and Nissans with team owner Bob Sharp, from whom I had bought a front spoiler and fiberglass fenders for my own Datsun 510. I had raced motorcycles, even rode a Husqvarna like McQueen in On Any Sunday. But as of 1985 I had not strapped into a real race car.

It was that July when I met Paul Newman.

As a freelance automotive writer, I had yielded to entreaties from the local SCCA Region newsletter to cover the Trans Am/GT-1 SCCA weekend at Summit Point Raceway, gratis, naturally. But still I put myself into the job, interviewing those I could, including Porsche-Audi dealer Paul Miller, driving a Porsche, and Mustang racer Tom Gloy, who to me looked like Steve Martin. I talked with Jack Roush, back when he was just another team owner and not yet famous nor selling Mustangs with his name on them. I interviewed Jim Fitzgerald, one of the winningest drivers in SCCA history at the time and driver that weekend of a Bob Sharp Nissan 300ZX Turbo. And a member of the Geritol Gang.

That’s what younger drivers called “Fitzy” and his teammate Paul Newman, the actor. Newman was then 60 years old, Fitzgerald a few years older, and no doubt to the chagrin of forty year old kids, both were still winning national championships. You could say Fitzgerald wasn’t “the nicest guy in racing,” but anyone who knew him would know that you didn’t.
I knew that he was friendly enough with me.

Then there was his teammate, that guy Newman who was not to be seen, holed up in his motorhome when not actually on the track. He was one of the favorites to win the race so I should interview him. It was Fitzgerald who got me into the motorhome but only after Newman was convinced I wasn’t a gawker or autograph hound.

The interview wasn’t long. I remember asking about the competition, the condition of the track, all mundane racer stuff. Done, I thanked him, shook his hand and left. Somewhere I have that newsletter. I saved it—like everything else—and I can’t find it now.

At first it seemed that Newman was a bit of a snob, hiding from everyone in the motorhome. Later, however, I saw why it was necessary. As the cars line up on the grid, photographers crowded around Newman’s, trying to get that one special shot to add to their portfolio.

I too took a picture, not of Newman but of the media swarm. I stepped over to Fitzgerald who had qualified on the front row, ahead of Newman, and asked how it was that this guy who had qualified behind him was getting all the attention. He grinned and answered with something witty I now don’t remember.

Fitzgerald died in a racing accident several years later.

I don’t remember who won the races at Summit Point that weekend. I don’t remember it being Newman or Fitzy. It could have been, but it really doesn’t matter now.

So now the newspapers say Paul Newman is dead. Someone should enter the date on the Navy Log where he’s listed with his shipmates.

There are your heroes, tailgunner Paul Newman and some Marine named McQueen.