Cycle News - Archive Issues - 1970's

Joe Leonard: Natural GhampiQD "We started out·1954 and boy, everything was excellent." Leonard won eight NatIonal Championship races that year. set numerous records, -..d Number One plate for the first time. . By Carol Sims Ashworth Photos by w.e. Downing, Dave G~oley, Walt Mahony, Jack Mercer and Boyd Reynolds The season ended and a new AMA Grand National Champion was crowned - a young man from San Jose, California, riding a Harley-Davidson. Steve Eklund? No, this was exactly 25 years ago, and the man was Joe Leonard, one of the most versatile competitors our sport has ever seen. A natural born racer, Leonard's two-wheeled exploits spanned a decade before he switched to cars. Then he ICOI'ed in midgets, modifieds, stocks, Championship cars, Indy cars, and twice became USAC National Auto Racing Champion before a llevere foot injury forced his retirement. He is the only man ever to win National Championshipe on two wheels and four. Monetarily, however, there is no comparison between Leonard's and Eklund's motorcycle racing accomplishments. Eklund gained $26,000 in points fund money alone during 1979, while the mOlt Leonard ever earned as National Number One was $ll,OOO to $12,000 a season. "You have to consider it a hobby," he said at the time. SinCe money obviously wasn't the incentive, let's lee exacdy what it was that propelled Leonard to three hard-fought Grand National Championship tides. . Joe Leonard's professional motorcycle racing career began at the age of 15, in 1950. In those days, California racers had broken away from the AMA and formed their own organization, the California Racing AIlIoc:iation. It was under CRA jurisdiction that the champion-to-be received his Novice number (2lx) and ran his first race - a half-mile dirt track event at Corona, California, on an Indian Scout. "It was an old bike that Bobby Hill was supposed to have ridden," says Joe. "Sort of like the Leonardi Tom Sifton Harleys that kept turning up 10 years later:' He raced the machine three times 'and all three times the crankpin broke. But he soon switched to BSA and began to run at Carrell Speedway in Gardena, California, pl'Ogl'elling to Amateur No. 98% in three months. No waiting around for a fullileason to advance back then. The competition at Carrell Speedway's dirt half-mile was formidable indeed. "Jimmy Phillipe, National Number 8, was my idol," says Joe. Among the top-runners were Bert Brundage, later an AMA Regional Referee, Floyd Emde, father of Daytona-winning Don Emde, Bud Hogan, Bobby Turner, and Johnny Gibson. "They were the hotdogs of those days." As Leonard recalls the memorable points of his motorcycle racing career, it's interesting to note that the victories are acknowledged, but the defeats are even more vivid. It's as if, for him, winning is the natural state. So, since this is Joe's story, let's hear it in his words. . . . I bike didn't have any steam. I had to get tremendous starts, but the put a big tiremark up my back, and I couldn't wait to beat him. But that didn't come for a year. Between races 1 was home. in San Diego, and 1 crashed doing a wheelie on a Whiner, and got a llerious concussion. So that ended my 1950 season after seven or eight races. The next year, 1951, the AMA took over from· the CRA, and there 1 was, fully recovered and without a rid~. 1 watched National Number One Larry Headrick, Charlie West and Kenny Eggers battle it out and dominate .the races on these northern California Tom Sifton-tuned Harley-Davidsons. That's when fate stepped in for the first time. 1 took off and ran away from home. I went with my so-called "manager" George Maletich, leaving Guy Urquhart. the San Diego Triumph! Ariel dealer that I'd been working and riding sporting events for, suppolledly for bigger and better things: the promise from San Francisco dealer Frank Servetti of a brand-new Triumph Trophy model· that· ·I·'d UIIed 12- switched to BSA for a very nice guy and a hard worker, but he didn't have the financial backing. About the second or third night I fell, and that's when I learned a good lesson. Bobby Tunler came along and'

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