Above: Postcard showing the layout of the 2-mile track and the Atlanta city skyline.
First, an oversimplified history of auto racing.
Just before the turn of the 20th century, automobiles roared into existence and captured the imaginations of gear-heads around the globe. But because these early machines were hand-made, bespoke feats of engineering, which made them unaffordable for the average person, their very nature made them impractical playthings of the wealthy. When you hear apocryphal stories about people shouting, “get a horse!” at early drivers, just remember that Henry Ford’s consumer-friendly Model T didn’t come along until 1908. Before that, your average Joe wasn’t in the market for an automobile.
In the earliest days, pitting cars against each other in competition was a pretty obvious and exciting use for the technology. How else could manufacturers and wealthy gadabouts prove their superiority over each other? Besides, by all accounts it was a heck of a lot of fun. Auto racing gained popularity in Europe first, typically over bumpy rural roads on cross-country courses. In 1895 the first true automobile race ran from Paris to Bordeaux, France. That same year, the United States held its first automobile race in Chicago, but the European racing community coordinated better and pulled together many competitions before the U.S. became a real contender.
In 1904, William K. Vanderbilt decided the United States was well overdue for a trophy run of its own. He established the Vanderbilt Cup on Long Island, NY, which was open to international competitors. American auto manufacturers jumped at the chance to demonstrate their viability against their European counterparts. But try as they might, they couldn’t grab a win. In fact, they wouldn’t grab a win until 1908, when George Robertson took the cup in a Locomobile known as Old 16.
Want to hear her start up? Give a listen at 0:30:
The Vanderbilt Cup was a massive sports event, pulling record attendance numbers and inspiring wealthy men across the country to travel to New York just to watch. Prior to Old 16’s race, in February of 1908, a round-the-world race from New York to Paris captured imaginations and made headlines. Only three of the six participants made the full run, and an American, a Thomas Flyer, came in first on July 30th. So when George Robertson’s Locomobile clinched the Vanderbilt Cup in the autumn of 1908, proving America’s mechanical might, the victory became a watershed moment for auto racing.
Due to the hazards of driving on country roads, which resulted in both driver and spectator deaths, the idea of specially dedicated racetracks gained popularity. Controlled conditions, spectator barriers, and consolidated action certainly sounded more appealing than sitting idle on the side of a road, waiting for competitors to roar into view and disappear in a cloud of dust. While many regions kicked off race track projects, the most notable one for the purpose of this story was Indianapolis, Indiana. Immediately following Old 16’s win, planning began for the Indianapolis Motor Speedway, better known today as the home of the Indy 500 and the United States Grand Prix. Construction broke ground in March of 1909 and the 2-mile course opened in June with a balloon race with over 40,000 attendees.
What does this have to do with Asa Candler, Jr.?
Travel timing gleaned from personal correspondences suggests a strong likelihood that Buddie Candler attended the 1908 Vanderbilt Cup. He was already infatuated with automobiles, having purchased his first car during his time in Hartwell, GA, and having participated in automobile-themed events in Atlanta. He had gotten his big brother Howard interested in automobiles, who in turn convinced their father, Asa, Sr., to buy a Locomobile for the NYC Coca Cola office in 1902. By his own admission in a letter to Howard, Asa, Sr., believed cars to be a passing fancy, nothing worth investing in. But a few years later Buddie moved home, got Asa, Sr., swept up in his enthusiasm, and they both became vocal supporters of local automobile events. So when racing fever swept the nation, both Asas were game.
Here’s how the timeline plays out:
In 1907, Buddie moves back to Atlanta and settles into the city’s business community. In June of that year he participates in the city’s largest automobile event to date, which features 104 machines in a parade supporting local orphanages.
In July of 1908, he attends a political event thrown by a nominee for the Governor’s office, where he rides in the car of honor with the candidate and another man named Edward Durant.
Also in July of 1908, an American-made Thomas Flyer driven by George Schuster takes first place in the 1908 New York to Paris Race.
In October of 1908, George Robertson takes the Vanderbilt Cup for the U.S., marking the nation’s first Vandy win.
In November of 1908,, just thirteen days after Old 16’s win, Edward Inman establishes the Atlanta Automobile Club, with Buddie as one of the club’s officers. The stated goal of the club is to promote automobile events in the city and build a fancy clubhouse. They later change their name to the Fulton County Automobile Club to avoid sharing initials with the Atlanta Athletic Club.
In March of 1909, Indianapolis announces that they will build the world’s greatest automobile racing track, and that Indianapolis will be the undisputed center of the automobile industry. They break ground on the Indianapolis Motor Speedway.
That same spring Buddie and Ed Durant stir up rumors in the Atlanta business community when they start spending lots of time in Hapeville, GA, just south of downtown Atlanta. Leveraging assets available to him as manager of his father’s Candler Investment, Co., Buddie buys up parcels of farmland from Hapeville residents. He and Durant respond evasively when asked publicly about their intentions., even claiming when pressed that they’re planning to establish a very large cemetery (foreshadowing Westview?). Behind the scenes, however, they take a proposal to Asa, Sr., who agrees to partially fund construction of their secret project.
In April of 1909, Asa Candler, Sr., rallies the business community around the idea of hosting a week-long automobile industry national event in November.
On May 23, 1909, Buddie and Durant announce their plans: they will build a $225k (well over $6mm today) world-class racing track that will establish Atlanta as a dominant force in automobile greatness.
Atlanta was now in a race with Indianapolis. Other regional tracks had already been built in the South, such as the one in Savannah. In fact, Birmingham, Alabama, started hosting auto racing events as early as 1906. But in 1909, Indianapolis was the project to beat. Throughout Buddie’s life he demonstrated a tendency to rise to the challenge when another metropolitan area claimed greatness. He couldn’t abide by another city suggesting it was better than Atlanta. He looked at Savannah and Birmingham and said, “Why not Atlanta?” But he looked at Indianapolis and said, “Oh, no you don’t!”
The day after their announcement, Buddie and Durant participated in a Pathfinder tour sponsored by the Atlanta Constitution. The purpose of the tour was to find and map the best, smoothest, fastest roads for automobiles between Atlanta and Macon. Buddie convinced Asa, Sr., to come along for the ride, and they started their route with purpose down Stewart Avenue (now Metropolitan Parkway), which was a long stretch of road that ran directly between downtown and Hapeville. Evidence suggests that they used the Constitution’s pathfinder tour to finalize their plans for the track, which included identifying exactly how race attendees would get from the more populated city center to the outskirts where the track would stand.
In June the two Asas and Ed Durant accepted bids from construction companies who were willing to work within their budget against an aggressive timeline. The goal was to build a 2-mile track, on par with the revised Indianapolis plan, in five months. They knew that at a minimum it had to have a state-of-the-art racing surface, grandstands, mechanic sheds, and a clubhouse. And they knew they wanted their first event to take place in early November. Since Indianapolis was aiming for their first auto race in August, they would have shortened the timeline if they could. But November was their best shot, and even that was asking a lot of their workforce.
By the end of June they had their construction contract in place. The crew—mostly comprised of unpaid prison labor—broke ground and began leveling the farmland and routing drainage of the various waterways that threaded through the landscape. The two-mile oval was designed with banked sides, enabling cars to take curves faster than they could on flat ground, similar to the Indianapolis plan.
At the same time, Asa, Sr., continued to coordinate with the Atlanta business community to ensure the success of Auto Week, now scheduled for November 6-13, which would host a roster of automobile-themed events throughout downtown Atlanta while the races were running. This would include welcoming the arrival of participants in the New York to Atlanta Good Roads tour, a massive auto show, and parties galore. It would be, he claimed, a huge boon to Atlanta businesses. A sure-fire money maker for all.
Because Asa, Sr., was putting so much on the line he expected to control the decisions that went into the track’s costly construction and operation. But he also didn’t want to be personally liable for the potential losses if his son’s far-fetched scheme went awry. That meant he needed to form a new automobile club, his own business entity through which he could arrange the financing and management. In July of 1909, with a combined majority of shares, the two Asas launched the Atlanta Automobile Association, borrowing 2/3 of Ed Inman’s club’s original name.
Asa, Jr., was made President of the AAA, of course. He was the face of the organization and its speedway project, and rightfully the face of its success or failure. The board of directors, all men within Asa, Sr.’s inner circle, appointed an executive committee with complete authority in all things related to the track. This maneuver gave Asa, Sr., absolute control over the project. On the surface it appeared that Asa, Jr., was in charge, and evidence suggests that he was given a long lead to make decisions and guide the project. But at the end of the day it was Asa, Sr’s money, and since he’d been burned by his son’s poor business instinct before, he arranged things so that he would retain oversight. After all, Asa Griggs Candler, Sr., didn’t get rich by playing fast and loose with investments.
Through the end of May and beginning of June, Buddie and Ed Durant rallied for subscriptions to fully fund the track project. Once the AAA was established, they offered shares of the venture In exchange for investments, and donors received a certificate that specified their value.
In the meantime, details emerged about all of the speedway’s planned features:
Location: 7 miles from the city center.
Total size: 290 acres.
Crowd capacity: 30,000 grandstand seats + open air viewing
Dimensions: 2-mile circumference, 100-foot width on the home stretch, 60-foot width on the banks and back stretch.
Banks: 10-foot rise to the outer edge, or 6 degrees, “shaped scientifically.”
Speedway village: Eleven farmhouses removed from the center of the oval to accommodate living and working quarters for racing teams and management, twelve or more fireproof garages, and a machine shop with power.
Additional buildings: clubhouse, groundskeeper quarters, complete waterworks and lighting plant, restaurant beneath the grandstand, ticket gates.
Garage details: For four cars each: two in the front, two in the rear. Drivers housed in rooms directly above.
Safety: Track bed built on a red earth base and covered in Augusta chert mixed with a special oil. No fences or rails necessary to protect spectators due to elevated grandstands. Safe passage for track officials provided by an overhead wire suspension bridge with a single walk that passed above the racing surface.
Of course, these details varied depending on the publication, and not all came to fruition. For example, the garage paddock was reduced and the units ultimately omitted the second floor apartments.
The details were made public well before the construction crews made any significant progress. This was the PR machine ramping up, building the necessary excitement to drive ticket sales to recoup the cost of the build. Another PR opportunity arose in July when automobile manufacturer Pope-Toledo gifted Buddie with a custom racer named The Merry Widow. Built for speed, the company claimed it would go two miles a minute without breaking a sweat. As one writer opined, “this car goes some.”
The first official Indianapolis automobile event ran in August of 1909, but safety concerns arising from the integrity of the compacted, oiled track surface cut the races short. A few days later another automobile race was held and made dramatic headlines when the track surface broke up, striking famed driver Louis Chevrolet in the face, and killing driver Wilfred Bourque and mechanician Harry Halcomb. On day three of the event a car careened into the crowd of spectators, killing two attendees and mechanic Claude Kellum. Then driver Bruce Keen hit a pothole and crashed into a bridge support.
The Atlanta Automobile Association leapt at the opportunity to use Indianapolis’ failures to its benefit. They promoted their scientifically designed track surface, safe spectator distance and banked turns in a promise that its first races would be nothing like the disastrous Indy event.
In September the AAA threw a barbecue at the still incomplete track and invited 500 of the wealthiest, most important members of the Atlanta community to attend. This wasn’t just any barbecue, this was a fundraiser. Word had gotten out that the project was well over budget and needed more funds. Rumors circulated that perhaps the AAA generally, and Buddie specifically, were in over their heads. To push back on this growing public perception, they completed their luxurious clubhouse and invited their guests to take the new track for a spin, or at least the section that was complete. They could tour the grandstands and see the concessions area, which of course served Coca Cola and absolutely no alcohol. Near-beer only, which one journalist noted was “not too near but near enough.” Another journalist noted wryly that the hard stuff wan’t too hard to come by, if one knew who to ask.
Of critical importance was the solicitation of subscriptions to help finish the paving of Stewart Avenue from the city center all the way out to the track. While the AAA had managed to lay an oiled bitumen surface up to the edge of the city, promising a dustless drive, the stretch of road from the city limits into the center of town was still unimproved. Many of Atlanta’s streets at that time were Belgium block from locally quarried granite. Better than dirt or macadam but not as smooth and modern as Auto Week deserved. The AAA needed funds to finish construction and rallied support for the route that would reach the track from in-town hotels and rail stations.
Behind the scenes Asa, Sr., was working with the Central-Georgia Railway Company to lay down tracks from Terminal Station in downtown Atlanta to the Speedway, promising that the investment would pay off nicely during Auto Week. Business correspondences on file at the Emory University Rare Papers Archive reveal a tense, dubious relationship between the rail company and the AAA, suggesting that while local businesses got on board with the plans for Automobile Week, they weren’t all necessarily convinced that it would be a success.
In spite of this, Asa, Sr., continued to gather as much support as he could from the community, raising donations to build up the city’s infrastructure to support the influx of tourists. As the founder of the city’s Chamber of Commerce, the man had a knack for bringing businessmen together and pooling money to make more money. It’s said that for every dollar Asa Candler, Sr., made, he made another dollar for someone else. Plenty of Atlantans had profited by going along with the elder Asa in other endeavors, so the community put itself on the line to follow him toward big tourism dollars.
In September, Vanderbilt Cup race planning went into full swing, and Buddie Candler and Ed Durant traveled to New York to do some networking. They spread the word about the Atlanta Speedway, and they cozied up to famous drivers in the hopes of recruiting the best men for their inaugural race. They also announced that the Atlanta races would offer up to $25,000 in prizes, as well as a trophy worth $10,000. On October 19, 1909, the Indianapolis News reported the following:
While this was going on, newspapers were starting to spread the word that the racetrack project had gone $5,000 over budget (more than $130k in 2019 dollars).
And then more gossip emerged. Rumors spread that Ed Inman’s Fulton County Automobile Club and the Atlanta Automobile Association would merge. In fact, the primary rumor was that the AAA asked FCAC to absorb them. This was, of course, anathema to Buddie’s sense of superiority. He insisted that there was no way the two clubs would merge. And besides, he claimed the FCAC approached the AAA, not the other way around. Ed Inman gave an even-handed statement, claiming he didn’t care either way, and if the club members voted to merge he would not block the move. Buddie, on the other hand, emphatically insisted that the FCAC made “repeated” appeals for the AAA to merge with them. He also claimed to be a member of both clubs, and as such saw no point in the merger. Finally, in a pattern that played out later in his life, he claimed the premature press soured the whole deal anyway, which was a bit contradictory. If there was no deal, how could the papers sour it? This logic arose again in the mid-1920s during the great Mule Mart drama, which is covered in the Real Estate section.
On October 23, 1909, the AAA declared the track complete and celebrated with an exhibition race. They recruited big names to participate, including legendary driver Barney Oldfield and George Robertson. And given what’s known about Barney Oldfield’s rates, they surely paid top dollar for his participation. Buddie’s pal Ed Durant set the state-wide amateur speed record in his Renault. Buddie’s Pope Toledo, The Merry Widow, was driven by a young man named Florence Michael, who adopted the stage name Louis Cliquot for his racing debut.
On October 30, the Vanderbilt Cup race drew big crowds and the biggest names in auto racing. When the race was over those same big-name racers turned right back around and headed south to Atlanta once again. Auto Week was about to begin. On November 5 an exhibition race entertained the early birds who arrived in Atlanta a week before the festivities kicked off on the 9th. Famed female driver Joan Cuneo took her car out onto the track and handily defeated the competition as she ran the 2-mile circuit in 1 minute, 45 seconds. On November 6th the first cars in the New York to Atlanta Good Roads Tour arrived, and were greeted by an exuberant welcome party who threw a celebration in their honor. The crowd was growing every day, and the stakes were so high that Buddie and Ed Durant took out a $100k insurance policy to protect their investment in case of rain.
And finally, on November 9th, the races began. The Atlanta Speedway was open for business. More than 150,000 racing enthusiasts attended the inaugural event, and the auto show in downtown went off without a hitch. When the week of festivities wrapped, the Atlanta Journal had this to say:
With such high praise and big turn-out, it seems like a given that the event was a rousing success. Asa, Jr.,’s vision paid off and Asa, Sr.’s investment was well placed.
Right?
Well, not exactly. Trouble loomed from the very start, and although on the surface the endeavor was a successful one, the Atlanta Speedway’s failure was an inevitability. For all of the efforts to bury Indianapolis, Indy’s track still exists and Atlanta’s track barely survived two seasons. Under scrutiny, the reason from the failure becomes quite apparent, and it all leads back to Buddie Candler.