Ray Haywood, San Francisco Examiner, May 31, 1955

Through no fault of his own, a man who lived the calculated risk is dead - killed by a risk which couldn't be calculated.

And, because of the sensational nature of the fatal accident, much criticism will be focused on the sport - auto racing - which clamed the life of Billy Vukovich.

We don't intend to enter into the controversy - either to castigate racing as a pointless Roman Holiday or build a positive case based on its contribution to automotive development.

Our interest is in the man, a man who sat beside our desk for two hours not long ago and talked frankly and freely about racing as a way of life…a man who, in our personal opinion, combined courage, strength and skill in such a degree he was the world's greatest athlete.

Always a realist - and an outspoken one - Vukovich summed it up this way:

"Naturally it's dangerous. But they don't twist your arm and make you race. It's strictly optional." That statement was typical of Vukovich and his desire to get to the heart of any subject immediately.

That same night Vukovich provided the terse analysis of the Indianapolis race which he repeated last Monday at the track. It was:

"All these cars turn to the left. If you don't turn to the right, you don't get into trouble.

And Vukie certainly would have avoided the fatal right turn if he hadn't been forced wide by the risk which couldn't be calculated.

Out in the lead and apparently well on his way to his third consecutive victory - it would have been a marvel of modern sports achievement - Vukovich's Offenhauser came snarling out of a turn at some 150 m.p.h.

He was intent on lapping a group of inferior drivers - inferior to Vukie, at any rate - for the fourth time when for unknown reasons one of the cars ahead went into a spin and the track was blocked by the ensuing snarl.

Obviously there is no way of knowing what went through Vukovich's mind. But, knowing the man, it is possible to make two guesses.

Perhaps he thought he could sneak through between the stalled smashed cars and the wall, save his mount from damage and go on to the victory which seemed certain.

Perhaps he decided to turn right and risk his own life instead of colliding with s stalled car and thus risk two lives.

Although he had been battered while driving midgets, Vukovich had never been as much as scratched in a big car. Perhaps he felt indomitable and accident-proof at Indianapolis.

At any rate, even his super reflexes and unique combination of iron grip and velvet touch were insufficient. The right turn led to the rail. The Offenhaser and its powerful fuel changed from a tool with which to build security into a funeral pyre.

Racing drivers will continue to come and go along the straightaways, but it is doubtful there soon will be another who equals Vukie in the courage of his convictions.

Although a controversial figure in racing, Vukie essentially was the most conventional of family men.

"I'm building security," he said.

And it was that desire for security - for himself and his wife and two children - which caused much of the controversy.

Vukovich was almost scornful in his refusal to drive on the national dirt-track circuit where he could have made ten times the money he preferred to earn the hard way in the small Fresno service station he hoped to develop into a chain operation.

"I'm satisfied with winning the Big One," he said. "They know what they can do with rest of racing. There isn't enough money in the world to get me on the circuit. On that grind pretty soon either you or the machine gets tired - or both. One slip and you are through."

"Maybe I'm not popular with the promoters," Vukovich admitted, "but the reason for that is that I don't help them make money."

Vukovich was one of eight children born to Serbian emigrant parents. At the age of 14, he was a field hand for Hindu cotton grower near Fresno. Except for racing and its regards, he might never have worked his his way out of the fields.

That, in short is something of the background of the man who grabbed the rabbit's foot he always wore on the track and headed for Indianapolis and one more calculated risk before he retired.

But neither the talisman nor a great a great athlete's skill was sufficient - because of a risk which couldn't be calculated.