Cycle News

VOLUME 57 ISSUE 20 MAY 19, 2020 P97 man. His name was Art Parker." On the day of the jump, it all came together. The front of Caesar's was jammed with people. They lined the streets, and they climbed on top of other casinos' marquis signs—all to get a glimpse at the emerging hero. Conservative estimates had the crowd at over 15,000. No way, says Knievel. "It was a lot more than that," Kniev- el claims. "The Vegas newspapers were reporting 50,000 to 100,000 people. They just showed up by the thousands to be a part of it." And Knievel was not surprised in the least. "Not really," he says. "I expect- ed it." The short account is that Knievel fired up his Triumph, made a few warm-up runs, and then sailed into history. He cleared the gap, but he lost the handlebars as he careened down the landing ramp. The ensu- ing crash remains one of the most devastating motorcycle wrecks ever filmed. Much of the throng was horrified, but others got exactly what they came for. "That really doesn't bother me," Knievel says when thinking about those who wanted to see him fail. "Back then, those distances were so far, and nobody had ever done them. Today, there are several of them doing it now. This stunt jump- ing, with all the tricks that they do on the motorcycles, is just spectacular to watch. The first Harleys I ever jumped had rigid frames and cast- iron heads. I don't know how I ever jumped them." The aftermath: They didn't think that Knievel was going to live. His pel- vis was smashed, his hip broken, and he was unconscious for 29 days. Yet he pulled through, his legend even stronger than his body, cause for speculation that had he not crashed, he might not have been so "lucky." "I've have always wondered about that," Knievel says. "You know, I had signed the deal to jump the fountains three times. I was the first performer that ever-represented Caesar's Palace outdoors. We had hired a great public relations firm [before the jump], and we really thought that they would make some- thing out of it. But I don't think that the press would have come out of it nearly as much if I hadn't been hurt so bad. But who's to say?" It's a moot point. After Caesar's, Knievel went on to become one of the greatest showmen of the 20th century, grossing some $350 mil- lion as he checkered success with bone-crunching failure until hanging up his leathers for good in 1976. Today, he says he has no regrets. "I really made it in life, and in the motorcycle business that I chose, because of my love for motorcycling and being the best in the world at riding the way that I could," he said. "I know they say that Kenny Roberts was a lot greater rider and that there were other guys that could out- ride Evel Knievel. There were. I was a fan of guys like Gene Romero, Skip Van Leeuwen, Sammy Tanner, Roger Reiman—any one of those guys from that era. We all had a special respect for each other, and we still do to this day. We all kind of lived a certain life together that was special." Today, although Knievel no longer does his thing on two wheels, he still gets around. "I feel good about my life and the way that things are going," he says. "I go to different motorcycle stores. Some of the stores in the South get together and have an Evel Knievel day. And in Butte, Montana, they have 'Evel Knievel Days' in recogni- tion of things I did as a young kid there and later on in life when I tried to help out the town. I just recently worked with Clear Channel, help- ing them with some promotions that they were doing in the Dallas area. There was never a minute that went by where there weren't 100 people standing in line, waiting for an auto- graph. I was so pleased to see that." And these days, the only thing that Evel Knievel asks is that he be respected for the respectability that he brought to other motorcyclists. "I did a lot for motorcyclists all around the world as far getting them respected," Knievel says. ''And I did it without wearing greasy boots and dirty gloves and a black jacket that stunk like hell. I wore a white jacket, with the red, white and blue on it. And I tried to be number one." After December 31, 1967, Evel Knievel was number one. CN This Archives edition is reprinted from issue #4, February 2004. CN has hundreds of past Archives editions in our files, too many destined to be archives themselves. So, to prevent that from happening, in the future, we will be revisiting past Archives articles while still planning to keep fresh ones coming down the road. -Editor Subscribe to nearly 50 years of Cycle News Archive issues: www.CycleNews.com/Archives

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