Fast Cars and Bootleggers

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Desperate times call for desperate measures.

It's a phrase we've all heard at different times of our lives and different circumstances.

It speaks to the fact that when people's backs are against the wall, sometimes they have to take extreme actions in order to succeed or even survive.

This was the case in the late 1920s and 30s for the entire country because the U.S.

definitely faced desperate times.

The Great Depression had hit, jobs were scarce, and millions of people struggled to put food on the table.

In order to get by, many turned to a life of crime.

This was the era of prohibition, bootleggers, and famous mobsters like Al Capone.

But there was another criminal element at work in the country, too.

A small group of people in the South who didn't get the same kind of headlines as Capone, and the desperate law-breaking measures they took and the technological innovations they came up with in order to survive and succeed can still be seen almost a hundred years later in the form of one of America's favorite pastimes.

On today's episode, Fast Cars and Bootleggers.

This is a twist of history.

It's almost 10.30 a.m.

on February 14th, 1929, Valentine's Day in Chicago, Illinois.

41-year-old Albert Kochalik, alias Jim Clark, sits in a tightly packed black Cadillac with five other men as it drives through a quiet residential neighborhood on Chicago's north side.

Jim Clark goes by this alias and hides his true identity for one simple reason.

He's a big-time mobster.

In fact, he's a high-ranking deputy in one of the largest criminal organizations in Chicago, the Northside Gang.

Jim glances out the window.

A light layer of snow covers the ground, and it's already shaping up to be an overcast, cold Chicago winter day.

But Clark isn't scanning the street to take in the weather.

He's on the lookout for anything suspicious because he and his crew are on their way to collect a large shipment of the illegal product that fuels their criminal enterprise, whiskey.

In 1929 America, prohibition is in full effect.

This means alcohol has been outlawed across the country, except in cases of certain medical treatments at the time that still use prescription liquor.

And this has been the case for a decade.

Back in 1919, the United States Congress ratified the 18th Amendment and passed the Volstead Act, which made prohibition federal law and gave multiple agencies the resources to enforce it.

And by that point, the government had already been under pressure for years to ban alcohol from powerful morality groups like the Woman's Christian Temperance Union and the Anti-Saloon League.

Major American church leaders and business tycoons like Henry Ford, the man who'd revolutionized automobile production, had also thrown their considerable weight behind the fight.

The morality groups and their supporters believed alcohol was the root cause of a range of sins in the country, and that it was responsible for what they saw as the decay of American society.

When these groups won the fight and prohibition officially took hold in all 48 states that existed at the time, they believed they'd set America on a Christian moral path.

But what these morality groups failed to see, or maybe just ignored, was that a large part of the American population enjoyed drinking and did it regularly.

And a lot of people had no intention of giving up alcohol just because the government and some lobbyist groups told them to.

But how would they get it?

Well, prohibition, this push for a moral nation, ended up causing a significant rise in organized crime across the country.

Criminal gangs that had once made the bulk of their money by controlling illegal activities like gambling and prostitution were now making millions of dollars producing and distributing illegal liquor, a practice commonly known as bootlegging.

Over time, a lot of everyday people started actively rooting for these bootleggers to succeed.

And with help from the national press, gangsters in cities like Chicago, New York, and Cincinnati have grown into folk heroes who, like Robin Hood, are seen to be standing up to those in power to fight for the rights of the common man.

Back in the Cadillac, Jim Clark and his crew continued to scan the neighborhood looking for anything out of place as they turn onto a street lined with shops and small businesses.

Their tensions are high because they're about to receive a large supply of Canadian whiskey and they know it's worth a lot to their gang.

Most small-time bootleggers make their money by selling liquor they make in their own illegal stills or even in their bathtubs.

This type of alcohol, which is especially popular in southern states, is called moonshine.

But powerful mobsters like Jim prefer not to deal in moonshine whenever possible.

Instead, they want the best professionally distilled liquor out there.

And that means turning to Canada for help.

Because unlike America, Canada isn't going through prohibition.

The Northside Gang and other large criminal organizations work with contacts across the border to get a hold of Canadian alcohol shipments.

Sometimes they deal directly with inside men in the whiskey or shipping business in Canada to make that happen.

Other times, they just carry out violent raids and steal Canadian alcohol.

And once the mobsters have this real liquor, they distribute it to be sold in secret illegal bars known as speakeasies, many of which the gangs themselves own.

Jim and his crew are tense not because they're about to receive a truckload of Canadian whiskey, but because that truck had been hijacked from their biggest rivals, a gang from the city's south side called the Chicago Outfit.

And the guys who hijacked the truck are now going to drop it off for Jim and his crew, who will then start distributing the whiskey.

But Jim fully understands that a major shipment like this, especially one that was meant for another gang, is impossible to keep under wraps.

That's why his eyes keep darting from one side of the street to the other.

He wants to make sure there aren't any cops hiding out.

More importantly, he wants to make sure their rivals aren't waiting to ambush them.

Because the Chicago outfit is dangerous and it's led by the most feared mobster in America, Al Capone.

Jim scans the street one more time and finally feels confident that it's all clear.

He tells the driver to head to their destination, and they soon arrive at an automobile repair shop that the gang owns.

Jim steps out of the Cadillac, and he feels the cold wind cut through his tailored three-piece suit.

The other five men are dressed in expensive suits and hats, and one of them even wears a pink carnation in his lapel in honor of St.

Valentine's Day.

Jim opens the front door of the repair shop, which is next to a closed garage door.

He and his men walk into a small garage that has brick walls and a single light bulb dangling from the ceiling.

In the center of the room, Jim sees a mechanic's leg sticking out from under a car.

He greets the mechanic, checks his watch, and says the hijacked truck should arrive at any minute.

The men talk a while.

and then they hear tires screech to a stop outside.

Jim tells his men to get ready to unload the goods quickly.

The mechanic slides out from under the car and joins the other men.

But before they can make a move, the front door flies open, four men walk in, and Jim just hangs his head.

He must have missed something out on the streets.

Because these men aren't the fellow gang members who hijacked the whiskey truck.

They're cops.

Two plainclothes detectives in trench coats flash their badges and step into the garage, while two uniformed officers linger by the door.

One of the detectives tells Jim and his men to drop any weapons they have.

Jim says no problem.

After all, he says they're not doing anything illegal.

They're just hanging out at the garage, so they're happy to cooperate.

Jim nods to his men, who pull out revolvers from under their suit jackets and lay them on the ground.

Then, the detective tells them to stand next to each other, turn, and face the wall.

Jim figures the quicker they oblige, the quicker this will be over.

So, he and and his men follow the cops' orders.

But as Jim turns towards the wall, something catches his eye, and he realizes this isn't a police raid, because he sees the two men in uniform pull out machine guns from behind their backs.

Jim shouts to his men, but it's too late.

A hail of bullets rips through them.

They fall to the ground, and blood sprays across the brick walls.

The attackers unload their machine guns into Jim and his crew.

To finish the job, the two men dressed as detectives pull shotguns from under their long coats and open fire.

When the actual police arrive at the scene minutes later, the shooters are already gone.

And Jim and five of his men lay dead on the floor in a thick pool of blood.

One member of the Northside gang is still alive, but he's riddled with bullets and gasping for air.

But he doesn't give the police any information about the shooters.

As far as the cops are concerned, it's obvious who put out the hit on these Northside gangsters.

Their Southside rival, Al Capone.

In the weeks following what the press calls the St.

Valentine's Day massacre, public opinion towards organized crime and prohibition undergoes a significant shift.

Images from the aftermath of the Chicago attack run in newspapers across the country.

and the sheer brutality of it leaves the public stunned.

Many who'd viewed these gangsters as folk heroes start to see things differently.

People across the country, as well as the press, call for a stop to this horrible violence and for a crackdown on bootlegging.

And there's one man who's eager to answer that call.

Newly elected President of the United States, Herbert Hoover.

Hoover had taken office just a few weeks after the massacre on March 4th, 1929, which was still the traditional inauguration date at the time.

He quickly visited city leaders in Chicago and declared that his people would get Capone.

Hoover didn't care that Al Capone had been in Florida at the time of the shooting or that there was no definitive proof he'd organized the hit.

Hoover knew Capone served as a symbol of organized crime in the country, so he needed to bring him down.

Moreover, Hoover would use this war on Capone and crime syndicates in major cities to compel police forces across the nation to severely crack down on all bootleggers, regardless of their level of power.

The president believed it was time for the government to regain control and to recommit to enforcing prohibition.

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It's a morning in 1931, two years after the St.

Valentine's Day massacre.

16-year-old Raymond Parks drives down an old dirt highway in his convertible Ford Model T just outside Atlanta, Georgia.

Raymond grips the steering wheel, hits the gas, and speeds into a sharp turn.

He laughs as he feels the wind whip against his face.

Then he quickly glances into the rearview mirror, which he installed himself, to make sure the blanket that's concealing what's in his back seat hasn't flown off.

Raymond Parks is a whiskey runner, and under that blanket is a dozen gallons of illegal homemade corn whiskey in his car.

Raymond works for his uncle and a local businessman delivering illegal moonshine to clients all around the Atlanta area and he's good at it.

He works fast, but he also works smart because Raymond is keenly aware of his surroundings at all times.

And a a skill like that has become increasingly important in the moonshining business.

In the two years since the St.

Valentine's Day massacre, President Hoover and law enforcement have waged war against bootleggers and organized crime syndicates across the country.

The increased pressure from authorities on famous gangsters like Al Capone has trickled down, even to small-time southern whiskey runners like Raymond.

Prohibition took effect when Raymond was a little boy, so it's all he's ever known.

But now, at at just 16, he thinks the law is downright cruel.

Because in October of 1929, the same year as the St.

Valentine's Day massacre, the stock market crashed and sent the United States spiraling into the Great Depression.

Jobs are scarce, poverty is rampant, and workers and farmers are struggling to survive, especially in the South.

Raymond can't stand that amidst all of the hardship in the country, the government continues to take away people's small pleasures, like having a drink at the end of a long, difficult day.

Of course, Prohibition has been good to Raymond.

The men he runs Moonshine for are making a lot of money.

They've taken inspiration from large criminal operations like Capone's Chicago outfit and started to organize and to expand their bootlegging operation across the state of Georgia.

Raymond's one of their most skilled whiskey runners and he's getting a cut of $150 a week, almost $3,000 in today's money.

And they're giving giving him all that cash because the kid can flat out drive.

Back on the dirt road, Raymond hears the sound of a car picking up speed behind him.

He glances in the rearview mirror again and sees a large brand new Ford Model A gaining on him.

Raymond starts to panic.

As talented a driver as he is, he knows his Model T can't outrun the latest car from Ford.

He also knows there's really only one group in Atlanta that drives this expensive top-of-the-line Model A, the cops.

Because as part of law enforcement's commitment to putting a stop to bootlegging, police forces across the country have been outfitted with the best and fastest cars on the market.

Raymond presses his foot down on the gas and his car shoots off down the road.

He quickly hits 60 miles per hour, which isn't only way above the speed limit, it's 15 miles an hour faster than the standard Model T is designed to go.

But Raymond's not driving a standard Model T.

He souped up his engine, adding a dual carburetor and high compression head, so he'd at least have a fighting chance against the cops in situations like these.

Raymond leans on the gas as hard as he can and heads into another curve.

But when he hits the next straightaway, he looks in the rear view and sees the cops are still on him.

The Model A can top out at 65, which is faster than Raymond's souped up car.

So no matter what he does, he knows the cops will catch him eventually.

Raymond feels his palms sweating on the steering wheel.

He looks out and takes in his surroundings as fast as he can.

On his right, he spots a freshly plowed cornfield that leads into surrounding dense woods, and he instantly makes a decision.

Raymond pulls his brake lever, spins the steering wheel, and skids off the road into the cornfield.

He releases the brake and grips the wheel tight as his car bounces over the plowed dirt until it sputters out and just stops dead.

Without thinking, Raymond leaps out of his car and takes off running through the field towards the woods.

Behind him, he hears the cop car come to a stop on the road.

He hears an officer shouting at him and then a loud bang echoes in the air.

Raymond keeps running.

His chest feels tight and his legs burn, but he pushes himself until he makes it into the woods.

He finds some trees massed by a thicket of bramble.

He dives into the bramble and lies down flat on the dirt.

He holds his breath as he hears the officer's footsteps approaching him through the woods.

Then, the footsteps stop, and everything goes silent.

After a minute, it seems like it'll never end, Raymond hears the officer turn and walk back out of the woods.

Raymond exhales, but he doesn't move.

In fact, he hides in the bramble for hours.

listening carefully for more footsteps the entire time.

But as the sun starts to set, he hears a very different sound, like metal scraping against metal.

He drags himself out of the bramble, stays low, and finds a spot where he can see the cornfield.

He watches as a tow truck driver hooks up his beloved Model T and then sees the truck and the cops drive away.

Raymond knows his car and all that moonshine are gone.

He gets up, dusts himself off, and starts the long walk back home in the dark.

Raymond's still only a teenager, but he's already starting to feel worn out.

In days like this, trying to outrun the cops and laying in the dirt just makes him feel old.

He knows that famous gangsters or even the low-level bootleggers he works for aren't the ones out there on the road risking getting caught and doing jail time.

It seems to him the smart thing to do and how to make some real money is to run things behind the scenes while others actually run the whiskey.

As he walks, Raymond realizes this is just the beginning of an idea.

He'll need time and planning to pull something off like starting a successful bootlegging operation of his own.

But he knows where to start.

He needs to find a driver who's as good as him and a car that can leave the cops and their Model A Fords in the dust.

It's late at night in 1933, two years after Raymond Park's police chase.

Raymond drives down a dark secluded road in Atlanta, and for once, he doesn't have bottles of illegal corn whiskey stashed in his Model Tea.

But that doesn't mean he isn't working.

Tonight, he's just on a different kind of mission.

He's come to see the man that whiskey runners across Georgia call, the Wizard.

Raymond sees a bright neon sign that says, Open 24 Hours hanging on an automobile repair shop at the end of the road.

He parks in front of the shop, walks through the open garage door, and sees a couple of cars, but not the shop's owner.

He shouts, You awake, Red?

Raymond knows it was a foolish question.

The person he's come to see is always awake.

And sure enough, a man holding a bottle of Coca-Cola with a lit cigarette dangling from his mouth steps out of a small office.

This is Red Vogt, aka the wizard.

The two men shake hands, and Raymond can't help but laugh.

He and Red have known each other for a while, but Red's appearance always takes him by surprise.

Because Red's like a complete contradiction.

He's a mechanic, one of the best in the country, but he always wears pristine white pants and a clean white t-shirt like grease doesn't get on him.

And the red hair that gives him his nickname is styled in a way that's more common for a banker than a man who works on cars all day every day.

But as clean-cut and professional as Red looks, his fingertips are stained yellow from the cigarettes he chain smokes, and he continually taps his feet or bounces around like he can't stop moving.

Signs of his seemingly boundless energy, or at least his Coca-Cola addiction.

Raymond and Red catch up for a few minutes and then they get down to business.

Red closes the garage door and Raymond follows him to the back wall.

Raymond watches Red slip his fingers into an almost imperceptible crack and slide the back wall, which is a false wall, out of the way.

and the two men step into the secret room where Red exclusively works on bootleggers cars.

Sitting in that room is Raymond's brand new Ford V8 sedan, the fastest and most powerful Ford out there.

Raymond spent the past two years starting his own bootlegging business, and now, at just 18 years old, he's already one of the most successful whiskey runners in Georgia.

But he's ready for his business to take the next step.

He's made enough money to buy this top-of-the-line Ford V8, and he has plans to bring on other drivers so he can step back from making whiskey runs himself.

Raymond and Red walk over to the V8 and Red tells him about all of the modifications he could have made to the car.

He's installed tanks on bootleggers cars that with a push of a button emit a thick smokescreen to blind the cops.

He's added tubes that spew oil slicks and he's rigged cars with buckets that drop tacks that tear apart the cops' tires.

But Red didn't do any of that to the V8 because he knows that he and Raymond share a common belief.

They'll take speed over tricks any day.

Red pops the hood, and Raymond leans down and looks at the engine.

He can already see Red's made changes to it like Raymond did on his own Model T.

But Raymond's smart enough to know that even he can't compete with Red when it comes to engine work.

So he asks what Red's modifications will do.

And Red beams.

He says that this V8, which is already one of the fastest cars on the road, will now hit 100 miles per hour and still drive smoothly.

Raymond can't believe it.

Hitting 100 miles per hour is unheard of at this time, and it's easily 30 miles an hour faster than any cop car he's come up against.

Red tells him to leave the car at the garage with him for a few more days, but after some minor tweaks, it'll be ready to go.

Raymond heads out, but he can't wait to get the Ford V8 back from Red because he believes he's about to take his bootlegging business to a whole new level.

It's several months later, on a dirt road outside of Raymond Parks' house in Dawsonville, Georgia, about 60 miles north of Atlanta.

Raymond stands with his 14-year-old cousin, Lloyd C.,

and Lloyd can't take his eyes off Raymond's Ford V8 that's parked in front of the house.

Raymond reaches into his pocket, pulls out a key and hands it to Lloyd.

The boy's face lights up.

Raymond's never considered himself humble when it comes to his driving skills, but in the short time Lloyd's been running whiskey for him, Raymond's been blown away by the natural gifts his young cousin possesses behind the wheel.

And Raymond has to admit that Lloyd will soon be a better driver than he ever was if he isn't already.

So Raymond's decided it's time to give Lloyd a go in his fastest car.

Raymond opens the car door, lifts up a blanket in the back seat, and makes sure the bottles of homemade corn whiskey are secure.

Once he's satisfied, He tells Lloyd to be careful on the road, because local and state police have been sending out an increased number of patrols looking for moonshiners.

In 1933, four years after the St.

Valentine's Day massacre, the majority of the country has once again turned against prohibition.

And the press and many government leaders now say it's only a matter of months before the federal ban on alcohol gets lifted.

Two years earlier, President Herbert Hoover made good on his claim that he'd get Capone.

A group of agents from the United States Treasury Department, known as the Untouchables, and led by a man man named Elliot Ness, busted Capone for tax evasion and he was sent to prison.

But Hoover's victory was short-lived.

Putting Capone behind bars didn't curb organized crime or gang violence.

Others just filled Capone's shoes.

And Capone going away hasn't changed the fact that a lot of people just want to drink.

Still, Hoover's true downfall has been the Great Depression.

Now, in its fourth year, the Depression has ravaged the country and the unemployment rate is nearing 25%.

That means almost 15 million people are out of work.

So to most people, it makes sense to restore alcohol production, which offers good jobs across the country in the manufacturing, shipping, and service industries.

The final nail in Hoover's coffin came when his opponent in the recent presidential election, Franklin Delano Roosevelt, campaigned on repealing prohibition and then beat Hoover in a landslide.

But despite FDR's promise to repeal prohibition, a few states, including Georgia, have made it clear they have no intention of following the rest of the country, if and when that happens.

Instead, they'll keep their state prohibition laws on the books, alcohol will remain illegal, and they'll continue to increase police patrols to show how serious they are.

Raymond has mixed feelings about the coming federal repeal of prohibition.

He's always been opposed to the law, but over the past several months, his bootlegging operation has started to to grow into a lucrative criminal empire.

A small-scale, less violent version of the mob-related organizations that have thrived in cities like Chicago for so long.

Raymond now has a large list of private clients that he sells moonshine to.

He's opened several secret illegal liquor stores across the Atlanta area, and he's even experimented with selling alcohol out of vending machines.

Raymond's plans have paid off, and he's becoming a very wealthy man.

Some people who run in the same circles as him have even started calling him the Moonshine Kingpin.

And with his young cousin, Lloyd C.

as his primary whiskey runner, Raymond continues to expand his business quickly.

Out in front of the house, Raymond warns Lloyd to be careful again, and Lloyd slides into the driver's seat.

Raymond listens to the engine purr, and a wide grin comes across his face.

That sound still makes him happier than most things in life.

He watches Lloyd peel away from the house, whip down the road, and head out towards the nearby highway.

While Raymond's happy to be the man behind the Empire, there are times he misses the thrill of the chase.

But all he can do now is wait and pray that his young cousin comes back safe.

Less than an hour later, Raymond sits on his front porch when he hears the roar of the V8 in the distance.

He springs up and rushes to the dirt road in front of his house.

He feels his heart pounding because he knows something's wrong.

Lloyd might be fast behind the wheel, but there's no way he can already be finished with his whiskey run.

The sound of the engine gets louder and Raymond stares off towards the highway in the distance.

Suddenly he sees the V8 flying down the road.

Raymond desperately tries to see if anyone is on Lloyd's tail, but he doesn't see any other cars.

He watches as Lloyd effortlessly swerves off the highway, hits the dirt road that leads to the house at top speed, slows down, and comes to a stop right where Raymond's waiting.

Lloyd shouts like he's celebrating something, but Raymond can't stop staring at the thick layer of dirt and dust caked all over the car.

Raymond follows as Lloyd pulls the car around the house and parks it out of sight.

Lloyd hops out and the boy can't stop laughing.

But Raymond just wants to know what's going on.

Lloyd launches into a story that'd be hard to believe if Raymond didn't know him so well.

Lloyd says that he was flying down the highway and making great time.

But as he got closer to Atlanta, he saw multiple cop cars lined up across the road.

It was a blockade, so he had to act fast.

He tells Raymond that he eased down to about 50 miles per hour, threw the emergency brake, sent the car into a perfect 180 spin, released the brake, and hit the gas.

He says he was close to reaching 100 miles per hour going the other direction before the cops even knew what had happened.

They tried to pursue, but it was no use.

The V8's just too fast.

Raymond stands there in awe of his cousin.

He knows the souped-up V8 is top of the line, but this kid, who's only 14 years old, just did something most experienced drivers wouldn't have the skill or the guts to do.

And just thinking about the future with Lloyd behind the wheel gets Raymond excited because he's confident that as long as Georgia keeps Prohibition on the books, he and Lloyd can absolutely rule the moonshine business across the state.

On December 5th, 1933, the United States Congress ratifies the 21st Amendment, which undoes the 18th Amendment and repeals prohibition at the federal level.

But the state of Georgia stays true to its word and remains dry, which means alcohol is still illegal.

Raymond Parks takes full advantage.

While most of the country celebrates the end of prohibition, Raymond continues continues to build his bootlegging empire.

By the age of 20, he's already well on his way to becoming a millionaire.

And that was in 1930s money.

And at a time when a huge part of the country was struggling to make ends meet.

Over time, he adds more cars to his fleet and hires a slew of talented young drivers to join his cousin Lloyd as whiskey runners.

With these drivers and the automotive genius of Red Vote, Raymond's able to create a team of moonshiners who can elude the police like no others.

And that just means more business and more money.

But Raymond has always prided himself on being an astute observer of the world around him.

And as 1934 ends, he comes to believe that even Georgia won't keep liquor illegal forever.

The call for the state to join the majority of the country in repeal prohibition is especially growing across its biggest city, Atlanta.

People believe there's too much money to be made and too many good jobs to be had from the alcohol business to keep it down forever.

So, for the first time since he was a kid, Raymond starts to plan for a future without bootlegging.

And it just so happens that his cousin Lloyd is starting to think about the same thing.

They aren't quite sure how they can transition their illegal whiskey business into something legitimate, but they know whatever they do, it should take advantage of Lloyd's true talent, driving faster than anyone around.

It's November 11, 1938, five years after the federal repeal of Prohibition.

24-year-old Raymond Parks sits in the stands at the Lakewood Speedway in Atlanta, a circular red dirt track originally designed for horse racing.

And Raymond hasn't felt this nervous since trying to outrun the police when he was a teenager.

Because as he looks across the small lake that lies in the center of the track, He sees a row of 30 drivers standing next to their cars.

And right there in the middle of it all is his now 18-year-old cousin, Lloyd C., standing next to a Ford V8 that Raymond owns.

Three years earlier in 1935, Georgia finally repealed prohibition in the state.

While some people, including Lloyd, still love making and drinking moonshine, Raymond's whiskey-running business fell out of demand.

Of course, Raymond had seen that coming, so he'd planned accordingly.

In just a few years of bootlegging, he'd ended up making millions of dollars, and he successfully invested a chunk of that in several legal business ventures.

In short, money would never be an issue for him for the rest of his life.

But Raymond didn't want to just retire, and he still loved being around cars, so he started a new business of his own.

Raymond is now the owner of an automobile racing team.

He supplies Lloyd and a few other drivers with the best cars, pays their expenses, and takes a cut of any winnings as they compete in amateur races in the region.

That's why Raymond has come to the Lakewood Speedway.

Over the last few years, as cars have gotten faster and started handling better, amateur races have popped up across the country.

And these races have slowly grown into a form of cheap entertainment for people who are still reeling from the Great Depression, which is about to enter its 10th year.

Some of these races, especially in cities like Indianapolis and Detroit, have started to attract a few thousand fans.

But this event in Atlanta is unlike any race that's taken place before, because for the first time, former whiskey runners from throughout the South are going to compete against each other on the track.

Raymond knows a few people worked hard to promote this event across the South, and they must have done a great job, because this is by far the biggest race he and Lloyd have taken part in.

In fact, it's the biggest American car race anyone's ever seen.

Almost 20,000 people have come to the speedway in Atlanta to witness these southern bootleggers show off their skills.

That's over four times the number of people who attended the latest major race in Daytona, Florida.

In the stands, Raymond tenses up as he watches the drivers prepare for the start of the race.

Unlike the smaller races Lloyd's driven in, races with more drivers like this have already gotten famous for leading to spectacular crashes on the track.

But that's not the only reason Raymond's nervous.

Lloyd recently broke his arm and it's in a sling.

Instead of bowing out of the race, he's decided he'll just drive one-handed.

And that seems absolutely reckless to Raymond.

Suddenly, a shot from the starter's gun rings out.

The drivers hop into their cars and take off.

Raymond watches red dirt spew from under their tires as he leans forward and tries to stay focused on Lloyd.

Even though Raymond knows the race is 150 miles long and will take hours, he's gripped by it the entire time.

He's never seen so many drivers with this level of skill in one place.

Despite Lloyd only having the use of one hand, he's right in the mix with the leaders.

Raymond's sure if Lloyd could use both of his hands, he'd easily pull away from the pack, or at least from everyone except one other driver.

As Raymond watches Lloyd whip through turn after turn, he keeps his eye on another young man who's right there with Lloyd.

Raymond doesn't know the driver personally, but he knows he's a friend of the mechanic Red Vote and that his name's Bill France.

Raymond stays fixed on the battle shaping up between Lloyd and Bill, until out of nowhere, two other cars slam into each other and one goes sliding across the track into a wall.

The crowd gasps and members of the driver's crew run out into the track and help the driver to safety.

But the race just keeps going.

Raymond tries to see through the smoke and he finally spots Lloyd's car flying past the wreckage.

He sits back down, exhales, and watches the rest of the race.

And finally, after three grueling hours, Lloyd outduels Bill France and everyone else on the track and crosses the finish line first.

The crowd erupts and cheers as Raymond gets out of his seat and heads down to the track to celebrate with his cousin.

Lloyd waves to the crowd with his one good hand and then wraps his arm around Raymond.

Lloyd will get $100 for his win, a little over $2,000 today.

But he and Raymond don't care about the money.

They're just happy they've shown the fans that former Georgia bootleggers are the best drivers out there and that they've put their young racing team on the map.

Amidst the noise and celebration, Raymond spots his old friend, Red Vogt, waving him over.

Raymond joins Red and the mechanic introduces him to the young driver Bill France.

Raymond shakes Bill's hand.

Raymond hadn't thought about it during the race, but now Bill's name really registers with him.

and he asks if Bill was one of the few people who did all the promotion around the South for this event.

Bill nods, and he admits that Red had to convince him to get behind the wheel because he's starting to like promoting races even more than driving in them.

Raymond can't argue with that.

It's never a bad idea to be the man behind the scenes instead of the man out on the road.

The meeting is a brief one, but as Raymond, Lloyd, Bill, and Red stand there listening to 20,000 fans cheer for these southern drivers, they all have the same idea.

Racing cars could change the face of American entertainment.

Following the event in Atlanta, races across the country, especially in the South and Midwest, started to garner a loyal following, and Lloyd C.

became one of the first famous stock car drivers in the United States.

But in 1941, when Lloyd was just 21 years old, one of his cousins shot and killed him.

At the time of the murder, the two men had been arguing about the ingredients for a batch of moonshine.

Following Lloyd's death, Bill France, who Lloyd had beaten in the Atlanta race, said publicly, Lloyd was the best pure race driver I ever saw.

Throughout the 1940s, despite Lloyd being gone, Bill remained close with Raymond Parks.

And in February of 1948, Bill, with a significant financial investment from Raymond, officially started the National Association for Stock Car Auto Racing, better known as NASCAR.

In its early years, NASCAR struggled to gain a foothold in a country that was still dealing with the aftermath of World War II.

During those lean times, Raymond kept NASCAR afloat by lending Bill money and even providing a fleet of pace cars for major races.

But with Bill's skill for promotion, Raymond's cash, and a crop of talented flashy drivers, many of whom had their roots in bootlegging, NASCAR started to catch on.

First in the South, and eventually across the United States.

And over time, NASCAR grew into a major force in sports and entertainment.

Today, after almost 80 years in existence, NASCAR has tens of millions of devoted fans.

And in 2024, the racing league signed a series of TV deals worth roughly $1.1 billion a year.

The big money NASCAR races of today might seem like something completely different from those first amateur events held on red dirt horse racing tracks.

And of course, it's taken a range of different leaders and legions of people over the decades to help the league grow into the phenomenon it's become.

But at its core, NASCAR has never strayed too far from its roots.

At the end of the day, it's still about highly skilled drivers and automotive geniuses continually trying to find new ways to go faster.

Which was the case over 90 years ago when a ban on alcohol and a violent Chicago mob hit led law enforcement to crack down on the illegal whiskey trade.

And in order to deal with that, a handful of bootleggers decided to make the fastest cars and to become the best drivers the country had ever seen.

From Balin Studios, this is a twist of history.

A quick note about our stories.

They're all heavily researched, but some details and scenes are dramatized.

A Twist of History is hosted by me, Joel Blackwell.

Executive produced by Mr.

Bollin and Zach Levin.

Our head of writing is Evan Allen.

Produced by Perry Kroll.

This episode was written by Mike Federico and Sarah Batchelor.

Story editing by Mike Federico.

Sound design and audio mixing by Colin Lester Fleming.

Post-production supervision by Jeremy Bone and Cole LaCasio.

Research and fact-checking by Abigail Shumway, Camille Callahan, Evan Beamer, Alex Paul, Patricia Nicole Florentino, Calvin Riley-Holgate, Matt Gilligan.

Production coordination by Samantha Collins and Avery Siegel.

Artwork by Jessica Cloxton-Kiner and Robin Vane.

Thank you for listening to A Twist of History.