Race drivers, if they are lucky, get to race in the right era for them. One such guy was Al DeAngelo.               

Al was one piece of work. Make no mistake about it. On the track, he may have been the most intimidating racer I ever saw. He made the late Dale Earnhardt seem like your Aunt Fritzie.

Al was one piece of work. Make no mistake about it. On the track, he may have been the most intimidating racer I ever saw. He made the late Dale Earnhardt seem like your Aunt Fritzie.
Off the track, Al was a real character. His mannerisms, sense of humor and foul language made him stand out. Al seemed to have a copyright on the “f” word. Most who talk like that seem vulgar. Al had so much style and panache, few were offended. Needless to say, if Al raced on television, he’d be broke from all the fines.
Al was an early pioneer in Long Island stock-car racing. When Islip Speedway started running them in 1949, he was track champion the first two years. He was the track’s biggest winner right after it opened and he had never relinquished that honor when it closed in 1984.
Always starting in the back, Al would bang his way through the field. It was never pretty. He was one of the first drivers I remember getting booed. Many wins and championships later, Al retired in the mid-70s with a suitcase full of victories.
In 1955, Al won the All-State Club championship at Freeport (N.Y.) in one of the best efforts I can recall. It was certainly more dramatic than the false bravado we get in NASCAR’s Chase.
Al held a very slim lead going into the last race. In his heat, his Sal Franzese Liberty Auto Wrecking modified blew its engine. What to do? His teammate, Johnny Rocco, was involved in the title battle. Borrowing a car was out of the question because Al probably alienated everybody he ever raced against. The only solution left was the team’s non-Ford. However, it was parked in a garage in Queens 20 miles away and had a six-cylinder engine.
A tow truck was sent to pick up the car. I imagine Al chain smoking and cursing to himself, hoping the spare car could make the consolation in time. Somehow, the mission was accomplished.
Al started at the back of the consi and made it into the feature. The main was just 25 laps on the fifth-mile Freeport oval. Al had a difficult task. He had to start nearly last in a field of all V-8 modifieds. This called for mad abandon.
Al squeezed all the torque out of that six banger Chrysler spitfire and tore through the field. With sparks flying, he passed more than 20 cars, got second in the feature and won the title by two points.
Al was a fine TQ racer, too. One night at Island Garden, his Bob Poulesen roadster flipped wildly in the air — the worst TQ flip in my memory. Al wasn’t hurt much, just banged his finger. The rest of the night, Al was seen yelling “who needs it?” to anyone who was passing. He was back the next week.
He was hilarious. After a good finish at an indoor show at Rochester, I congratulated him the next week on a good drive. “Are you (bleeping) kidding?” he said. “They had a banana nosed scorer and every time someone wrecked, she’d throw her pencil in the air. I think I was really 15th.”
One night at Old Bridge, Al was holding court after the races. It was funny, as there were women in his “audience” and every time he let “the word” slip out, he’d apologize. One of them finally said, “we know, Al, we know.” Everybody laughed and Al appreciated the fact he didn’t have to excuse himself.
I was glad I got to be friends with him. All you had to ask him was what’s new and he’d tell you. He really was a good guy.
In this day of cardboard cutout politically correct racers, Al DeAngelo in comparison, was as real as one could ever be. He died in 1984, but his storied past lives on.