CHIP HANAUER : Driving On the Fragile Line Between Life and Death : He’s Mr. Calm, Cool and Collected in the Most Dangerous Game of Hydroplane Racing

The deaths of boat racers Jerry Bangs and Bill Muncey gave Chip Hanauer the opportunity he needed to become the No. 1 driver of unlimited hydroplanes.

When Bangs was killed on Lake Washington in 1977, Hanauer was chosen to replace him. He was 22, a weekend racer, a schoolteacher with a degree in psychology from Washington State University.

When Muncey, the winingest driver in hydroplane history, was killed at Acapulco, Mexico, in 1981, Hanauer was chosen to replace him in the famed Blue Blaster that Muncey had driven to four national championships. Since then Hanauer has won two national championships and four straight Gold Cups.

A win Sunday on San Diego’s Mission Bay in the Thunderboat Regatta would give Hanauer yet another national championship.

Hydroplanes are considered the most dangerous form of motorized racing--huge 6,000-pound missiles, nearly 30 feet long and built like jet airplane wings. They skitter across choppy water at 180 m.p.h., their tiny props churning at 12,000 revolutions per minute, putting out 3,000 to 4,000 horsepower. Going through tight turns, with 40-foot-high roostertails hurling tons of water behind them, the big boats are constantly on the ragged edge of flipping.

“A survey of the most dangerous professions rated unlimited hydroplane drivers second only to astronauts, but if the astronauts keep coming back without incident the way they have been, we may be No. 1,” the 31-year-old Hanauer said, his blue eyes sparkling at his little joke.

The deaths of Bangs and Muncey--and others in the volatile sport--are constant reminders to Hanauer of the fragile line between life and death. As if the memory of seeing his friends perish in high-speed accidents wasn’t enough reminder, two of Hanauer’s most cherished relationships are with Edward Muncey, Bill’s 13-year-old son, and Tiffany Bangs, Jerry’s 12-year-old daughter. Tiffany was the last person to give Chip a hug before he climbed into his boat to win his fourth Gold Cup last month on Lake Washington, and Edward was the first to greet him when he returned to the dock with the win.

“They are very special to me, very special,” Hanauer said. “Especially Tiffany. She not only lost her father; last year she had aplastic anemia (a 90% terminal illness) and she beat it.” Although Hanauer is not married, children have had a special place in his life. Before becoming a full-time boat racer in 1978, he taught emotionally disturbed and handicapped children in Port Townsend, a ferry ride across Puget Sound from here.

Hanauer does not like to dwell on the morbid side of boat racing, but he is pragmatic enough to use his experiences to his advantage. And the deaths of Bangs, Muncey and Dean Chenoweth are among those experiences. Chenoweth, the 1981 national champion, was killed nine months after Muncey’s accident on the Columbia River near Pasco, Wash.

“They were all frustrated at the time, frustrated at not being able to go faster, at not being able to beat their biggest rival,” Hanauer said. “That frustration led them to take chances they probably knew they shouldn’t take.

“Jerry (Bangs) was a prominent Seattle attorney and he knew the risks he was taking, but he was frustrated at not getting more out of the Squire (Bangs’ boat). It was an ill-handling boat and he asked it for more that it was capable of giving. He drove it too hard into the corner and it bit him. Bill (Muncey) was frustrated at not being able to beat Dean (Chenoweth) and Miss Budweiser. Dean had the best equipment at that time. Bill pushed his boat beyond its limits to try and make up the difference.

“When we started to beat Dean in ‘82, he wanted to win so bad he did the same thing. Ultimately, all of the drivers learned lessons from that. It certainly left me with an important lesson: If the equipment is not up to it, don’t push it. You always want to go as fast as you are capable, but when that isn’t fast enough you must not allow your frustrations to push you further.

“I am very blessed to be with Jim Lucero and Fran Muncey (co-owners of his Miller American team). Jim always tells me not to try anything that isn’t comfortable. He and Fran tell me to feel free to pull in at any time I think the boat is not working properly, not to take any foolish chances. Not every driver has that latitude. Naturally, no owner or sponsor tells a driver to go over the line, but in some camps you can feel the subtle pressures to go faster, no matter the risk.”

Hanauer has felt the sting of a blowover, but he was one of the lucky ones. He survived. A blowover is caused by the same principle of physics that allows a 747 to take off--only instead of flying when it gets airborne, a boat tips over backward and lands upside down.

Hanauer’s blowover occurred in 1981 during a test run on Lake Washington, shortly before leaving for a race in San Diego. It was only about a month before Muncey was killed.

“When I felt it start to go over, I thought, ‘Uh-oh, this is it.’ I was going 168 miles per hour and when I looked down and saw the lake I knew I had had it. I was in the air so long I actually remember getting mad because I thought I would never get back down. I felt if I was going to die I wanted to get it done quickly. The next thing I knew I was floating in the water. I’d been thrown clear and got out of it with a punctured kidney.”

Like racers everywhere, Hanauer couldn’t wait to get back into the boat--and couldn’t understand questions from friends and reporters as to why he was going back.

“I learned how valuable life was at that moment,” he said. “And when you realize how valuable it is, you’ve got to go back and live with what you enjoy. There’s nothing I enjoy more than driving a racing boat.”

Despite his being saved by being thrown clear, Hanauer is the leader of a safety crusade to have unlimited hydroplane cockpits constructed so that the driver stays with the boat--the way an Indy car driver stays in his roll cage when his car crashes.

“When I replaced Bill in 1981, the season was over and Lucero decided to build a new boat for me,” he said. “We were concerned with how Bill was killed, how the boat came down on top of him. When Chenoweth was killed in a similar blowover, we began seriously studying new ideas. In both cases, we felt if the driver had stayed in the cockpit, he probably would have survived.”

The idea was revolutionary. Since the time boats first raced, the first rule of safety has been to have the driver sitting up high where he could be thrown clear in case of an flip. Drivers wore parachutes to cushion their fall before hitting the water.

“After studying all the hydroplane accidents, and how the deaths actually occurred, we concluded that the best place to keep the driver in a blowover was in the cockpit, down low and as secure as possible,” Hanauer said.

“Basically, we copied the way the driver is protected in a race car. We lowered the cockpit 17 inches and I am strapped into the driver’s compartment with a five-point harness, just like an Indy car driver. You have to leave it to God to throw you clear but if you’re strapped inside the boat, your only worry is drowning.” Hanauer wears a helmet that will provide breathing air in case he is trapped underwater.

Bernie Little, one of the sport’s staunchest supporters, carried the idea a little farther when he built his latest boat. His driver, Jim Kropfeld, is inside a waterproof glass canopy.

“The philosophy of the idea is good but we aren’t sure if it is fully protective,” Hanauer said. “The canopy has to be strong enough to withstand a tremendous impact, yet it must be built so that it can open easily to allow the driver to get out. We’re not sure those two concepts are compatible yet.”

Hanauer admits being afraid when he is in a boat.

“My biggest fear is not an accident, or maybe being killed. My fear is not doing well, embarrassing myself and my team. We embarrassed ourselves in Syracuse (N.Y.) in the second race this year. Miller sponsored the race and we didn’t even make the show. That was a terrible feeling.”

Since the Syracuse failure, caused when a turbine engine blew during practice, Hanauer has dominated the water. He won four of the next five races, broke the 150 m.p.h. barrier for the first time with a 153.061-m.p.h. lap at Tri-Cities, Wash., and when he won the Gold Cup, moved into the series lead for the first time.

The San Diego race is the last of the Unlimited Racing Commission’s 9-race season.

Bill Muncey was killed Oct. 18, 1981, in Acapulco when his boat crashed while he was leading in the final race of the season. When Hanauer learned that Fran Muncey, Bill’s widow, and O.H. Frisbie, president of Atlas Van Lines, the boat’s sponsor, were planning to continue in racing, he wrote Mrs. Muncey asking to be considered as the driver.

“It was like magic,” Fran recalled. “I knew that if Bill had ever retired, he would have wanted Chip to drive for him. He was Bill’s favorite driver. I had no idea Chip would consider shifting teams at that time. I was so happy when I read that letter. No one else was considered.

“Chip was such a shy boy when he was younger and Bill had helped him in dealing with the media and making public appearances. Bill always admired him for the way he paid his dues, working his way up through the classes. He knew Chip was totally dedicated. And Chip is such a fine person, sensitive, honest and always ready to do his best.

“I knew in my heart that Bill would have wanted the team to continue. That’s why Jim and I and Mr. Frisbie kept the team intact. Atlas had a policy of not contacting someone already employed, so when Chip sent me that letter, it was like magic. That’s the only way I can describe it.”

Chip Hanauer says he was destined from birth to be a race driver.

“As far back as I can remember, that was all I thought about. Jimmy Clark (former Formula One auto racing champion from Scotland) was my first idol. I had pictures of him all over my bedroom wall.

“I wanted to race so badly, I took the first opportunity that presented itself. It happened to be in a boat. It could just as well have been a race car. But racing is racing. It doesn’t matter if you race a boat, a car or a motorcycle, you have to have the same drive, the same dedication. The only difference is the vehicle, really.”

Hanauer likens the feeling of driving an unlimited hydroplane more to that of a dirt-track sprint car than an Indianapolis car.

“On asphalt, like Indy, the drivers find a groove and except for traffic, it’s the same, lap after lap. In a boat, there is no groove. Every time around is different. I hot-lapped a sprint car once and it was a lot like racing a boat. Every time I got in a corner, the dirt was different, the ruts changed and the car reacted differently. I had to constantly adjust. You have to get hooked up (with the track), or you’re in trouble.

“In a boat, you have the same problems. You have to get hooked up with the water, you’ve got to develop a rhythm. It’s kind of like skiing on rough snow. If you can get in the right rhythm, you can ski easily over the moguls.

“In a boat, you get in the rhythm of the waves and you’re on your way. You can’t fight the skis and you can’t fight the boat, but you’ve got to be alert. Every turn, every corner, is different and you have to read the attitude of the water. It changes all the time from the wake of other boats, the wind, the chop, the swells, the position of the boat.

“A. J. Foyt once told me I should try driving a race car, an Indy car. ‘You can do it,’ he said, but I remembered what my father told me once, ‘If you’re going to pick a fight, do it in your own backyard.’

“Guys like A. J. and the Indy drivers have been racing cars since childhood. Most of them started out with karts or motorcycles and they have all that experience. I have been racing boats since I was 9 and that’s my backyard. If I could turn back the clock, I might try racing cars, but not now. I’ll stick with boats.”

Hanauer’s first boat, when he was 7, was make-believe. It was a piece of wood with a nail on it. He tied it to the back of his bicycle and pretended two manhole covers were buoys. Two years later, he saved enough money from his paper route to buy a 3-class outboard for $250. In his first year he ranked fifth nationally in the class for boys 9-12 years old. His little boat went 30 m.p.h.

From then on it was a rapid climb, moving from one national championship into a larger and faster boat and winning another championship, on and on until he reached the pinnacle of the sport--the unlimiteds. Hanauer was only 18 when he won the American Power Boat Assn.’s high-point championship in the highly competitive 145 class. The next year he won three more national championships and ended up with nine overall.

“I was fortunate to be blessed with parents who were involved in all types of things, who were always supportive of me and my brother,” Hanauer said.

“My mother died about the time I bought my first boat and my dad was kind of lost. One day he wandered into the garage where I was working on my boat and said, ‘That boat’s pretty heavy. I’ll build you a lighter one that will work better.’

“From that time on, until I moved into the higher horsepower classes, he built all the boats I raced. After he retired as West Coast sales manager from North American Rockwell, he moved to Hawaii, but last year he came back and did all the assembly work for Jim Lucero on our turbine engines.

“This year he retired again, but his influence has been very important to me. He told me when I was very young that the biggest sin in life was in not trying. He also taught my brother, Scott, and me the importance of being competitive. Scott (four years older and a look-alike) was a fine long distance runner.”

In 1976, at 22, the youngest driver in the unlimited fleet, Hanauer made his debut in Tad Dean’s aged U-22, with a hull as old as its driver. He scored his first victory in an unlimited in 1978 at Ogden, Utah. His 1985 Gold Cup win was his 17th, making him the winningest living driver and the fourth-best overall.

“I think the most nervous I’ve ever been was on Lake Washington for the Gold Cup. Everyone kept telling me I was going for history, that if I won my fourth, I would be doing something even Bill (Muncey) never did. I can’t imagine how an Olympic athlete must feel, coming up to one single moment in their life and having to produce their ultimate performance. I don’t know if I could handle it.”

Hanauer won his fourth Gold Cup with a perfect day, setting the fastest time during qualifying, winning both heats and the championship race. He averaged 120.705 m.p.h. for 60 miles, breaking the cup record by nearly 8 m.p.h.

Eddie Arcaro was once asked what made him a great jockey. He countered by asking, “What makes a great piano player.”

Chip Hanauer, asked what made him a great boat racer, also countered with a question.

“What makes Larry Bird such a great basketball player. He isn’t fast, he can’t jump very well, but it’s all there. It’s some intangible quality, some God-given ability, a blend of a lot of things.

“Take Wayne Gretzky. He’s no bigger and no faster than most hockey players, but he’s the best. Why? You tell me.

“If there is any one thing I could put my finger on, it’s how I feel when I’m on. There are certain times when I’m in a tight situation, going into a corner with two or three other boats, or setting up for the start, when it seems like everything is in slow motion to me. The boat may be running 180 miles an hour, but it’s as if I had all the time in the world.

“I’ve heard Reggie Jackson say that at times a baseball, even a fastball, looks as big to him as a beach ball and all he has to do is swing and he knows it’ll be gone. That’s as close as I can come to answering the question.”

The change in sponsorship this year for Hanauer’s boat from Atlas Van Lines to Miller American meant more to Hanauer than merely a change in colors, from blue to red, and a different signature on the checks.

“I always felt I was in the Atlas boat in Muncey’s absence, that it was still Bill’s boat, even though when I joined them, the Atlas people bent over backwards to make me feel comfortable,” he said. “They said they hired me for what I am, and to be my own person and not to worry about being in Bill’s image.

“At the time, I said I didn’t take the spot to be the second Bill Muncey, that I wanted to be the first Chip Hanauer. When Atlas dropped its racing program last year and we changed over to Miller American sponsorship this year, I finally felt like that. They never knew Bill, except by reputation, and I was their guy. Now I want to build a legacy for Miller the way Bill did for Atlas.”