For ’72, Jones made the unusual move of forming a “super team,” retaining Leonard and Unser while adding Andretti. The result was anything but super, according to Unser, who hated the weird and not-so-wonderful VPJ-1 design from Maurice Philippe, who had initially replaced the rear wing with a pair of dihedral devices mounted mid-ship. It was one of those occasions where thinking outside the box made one realize why the box existed.
Once converted to more standard form, the car gained a lot of speed, and Leonard would actually retain his championship, taking three wins and a clutch of other top-five finishes, when neither of his superstar teammates Unser and Andretti seemed able to buy even a finish. They had to be content with earning the USAC National Dirt Car championship for the team in 1973 and ’74 respectively.
VPJ Racing briefly ventured into Formula 1 with a single car for Andretti, from the tail end of ’74 to the start of ’76, but Philippe’s VPJ-4 design showed a clear resemblance to the by-now six-year-old Lotus 72, which he had also penned. While in 1975 Andretti scored a fourth place finish at the Swedish Grand Prix, a fifth place in France and third in Silverstone’s non-championship International Trophy, the car never showed any inclination of allowing Mario to regularly threaten Ferrari and McLaren; only talent and chutzpah enabled him to tackle the Brabhams, Tyrrells and Shadows. Having been unable to find a replacement for Firestone as the car’s primary sponsor over the previous 18 months, Jones and Miletich grew disillusioned with this branch of the sport and departed F1 just a couple of races into the ’76 season.
Thanks to the efforts of Unser, Danny Ongais and some neat designs and updates from the impressive youngster John Barnard, Vel’s Parnelli Jones Racing stayed prominent through the mid- to late ’70s. But struggles with the early turbocharged Cosworth DFX, built at VPJ’s facility in Torrance (no one could accuse Parnelli of lacking ambition!), meant the gaps between wins seemed to mainly fill with DNFs – not conducive to winning championships. For example, in 1978 driving the sole Parnelli, Ongais, the Flyin’ Hawaiian, scored eight poles and five wins… yet finished the year a mere eighth in points. Still, VPJ had made a big enough impression on the good days that Cosworth itself would take over the project.
In the background, and occasionally the foreground, VPJ also earned wins in Formula 5000, drag racing and SCORE off-road racing. Parnelli’s business had been an extension of him — far-reaching, forward thinking and successful — but now it was time to move on to other business opportunities. He formed a partnership with Foyt late in the 1978 season — A.J. was eager to get his mitts on a VPJ-6 — and gradually the deal morphed into a takeover by Super Tex. Vel’s Parnelli Jones Racing as an independent racing entity was done after 53 Indy car wins and 47 poles.
As a driver, Parnelli’s talent continued infrequently but apparently undiminished. As late as 1991 he was winning the Pro Celebrity Race at Long Beach (for the third time), and into the 21st century he was defining new track limits at Laguna Seca during historic events. He made finding the outer threshold of a race car’s dynamics look oh so easy as he drove races oh so hard. And fast. It was a pleasure to watch his son PJ find success in IMSA sports cars in the 1990s driving in a very similar manner for one of the other American greats, Gurney. His other son, Page, looked as if he, too, was on his way to stardom before suffering a life-threatening shunt in a USAC sprint car at Eldora in 1994.
Parnelli was a true enthusiast to the very end, commending another versatile maestro, Kyle Larson, for his excellent performance at the Speedway in the run-up to last week’s Indy 500. If he could have, Parnelli would have been there and driving the pace car, as he did back in 1994 and ’98. On both those occasions, it seemed reasonable to wonder if he might end up providing the field of 33 a chance to warm up their tires by setting the fastest pace laps in Indy history. Behind any steering wheel, he just couldn’t stop being that Parnelli Jones.
Jones was a remarkable driver even in an era chock-full of them. He became an Indy 500 legend by not only winning the 1963 edition, but also by leading a 492 laps in just seven starts. In short, when he was on track, he was the benchmark, and anyone who beat him could dine out on it forever. But few could, fewer did.
When BorgWarner started its practice of creating retrospective “Baby Borgs” for Indy 500 victors who missed out on the keepsake (the tradition of a miniature Borg-Warner Trophy for the winner didn’t begin until 1988), it was only right that Parnelli was the first recipient, in 2013. Heck, his status was (and remains) such that on the wall of his office, he had personal letters from three U.S. presidents.
Also on the wall was a picture of he and Foyt, which both had signed and shared. Neither man was going to inflate the other’s ego, but like champion boxers after a grueling fight, there was respect. “To P.J.,” wrote Foyt, “You were hard to beat.” Jones’s response: “To Foyt, you are one of the best.”
Jones had also framed and displayed a printed comment by former rival and later employee Andretti. Inevitably, Mario had summed it up perfectly. The statement reads: “As far as I’m concerned, Parnelli Jones was the greatest driver of his era. Whether he was racing sprint cars, Indy cars, sports cars, Can-Am or stock cars, he exhibited a flair that was all his own. He had aggressiveness but also a finesse that no one else possessed. And he won with everything he put his hands on, including off-road.
“I certainly looked up to him, and I won my first championship in 1965 only because Parnelli retired after Indy that year. And for that, I say thank you. Had he continued racing, PJ would have amassed a record that would have been the envy of everyone.
“So if you want to describe a total winner, there you have it — Parnelli Jones.”
Jones had the respect of his peers not just because of his skills, however: he was also big-hearted and self-confident enough to encourage talent, even while knowing said driver could become a thorn in his side somewhere up the road. At Pikes Peak in 1962, Bobby Unser and Parnelli “officially” met and bonded for the first time, and Bobby, already a five-time winner of the contest, showed his new buddy “the fast way up my mountain.” Jones appreciated that, and 10 months later at Indianapolis, when the shoestring team with whom Unser passed his 500 rookie test ran out of money for tires, Parnelli was instrumental in getting Bobby in Granatelli’s Novi for the race. Thus from this Jones-nurtured seedling another legendary career grew. And, sure enough, the combo of Bobby Unser and Dan Gurney’s Eagles would go on to beat the VPJ team to race wins and championships.
Parnelli’s generosity would also bite him in a different way decades later, when Robin Miller and BorgWarner PR guru Steve Shunck were dining with the pair of them. Bobby — “The Preacher” as Parnelli dubbed him — would be making multiple, haphazard points that could last a couple of courses, to the entertainment but glaze-eyed disbelief of the others. Finally, the mad monologue would be interrupted by Miller, who would look across at an amused Parnelli and yell, “You’re the one responsible for this man! It’s all your fault, Rufus!”
It’s painful to realize that such happy, bench-racing, edifying and trash-talking meet-ups won’t happen again, and that Parnelli, like Bobby, Big Al and Miller, has been proven mortal. This author had long been convinced otherwise. On the few occasions I met Parnelli, it felt as if I should be standing to attention and saluting, despite his friendly demeanor, much mellowed by age. In fact, it was only in our last couple of conversations (sadly, a few years ago) that I felt comfortable to address him by his first name; until then it had been “Mr. Jones” or “Sir.” That was just the kind of mystique he possessed and aura he projected, quite unwittingly, and though Parnelli has now gone the way of all flesh, his legend is immortal.
To Parnelli’s wife Judy, sons PJ and Page, and grandchildren Jagger, Jace, Jimmy, Joie, Jet and Moxie, we extend our deepest sympathy. To his friends and rivals and leagues of fans, we stand beside you in mourning a fallen legend.
There was only one Parnelli. There will only ever be one Parnelli.