Missoula News

Evel Knievel Days

Butte America, the Axis of Evel

By Seonaid Campbell, 7-31-06

ABOVE: Justin Homan freestylin.' BELOW: Ryan Capes, who holds the wold recond ramp-to-dirt jump waves to the crowd. He broke a rib this weekend trying to break the ramp-to-ramp jump record. Photos by Seonaid Campbell

I saw Batman take Evel away. Literally. Batman, aka Clint Young from Billings, drove off with Evel Knievel in a replica 1966 Batmobile as a crowd of us packed the front of the Finlen Hotel in Uptown Butte Friday night. Several hundred riders on motorcycles, including senatorial candidate Jon Tester, cruised the Evel Knievel Loop to kick off the second night of a three day bacchanalian festival in honor of the "godfather" of motorcycle stunts, Robert Craig Knievel.

Butte's prodigal -- and historically not so nice -- son, Evel Knievel, had come home, maybe for the last time.

Evel Knievel Days was developed to boost Butte's economy. But it has also resulted in a truce between Butte's most notorious badboy, his stuntman son, Kaptain Robbie Knievel, and the locals, who've had a love/hate relationship with both men. It has also made a hero, once again, of a man whose full throttle life is coasting to a stop under the strain of debilitating disease. Evel has suffered from 40 broken bones, Hepatitis C, a stroke, diabetes, and worst of all, idiopathic pulmonary fibrosis.

From Batman to Evel, this convergence of heroes, real and imagined, epitomized my experience at the fifth annual Evel Knievel Days.

The festival is loud and proud -- think rumbling Harley Davidson motorcycle engines, accompanied by multitudinous 250 cc dirt bikes, pyrotechnic explosions, rock and roll, and roaring crowds fueled by testosterone and taurine. This so-called family event is raw and rowdy and illustrates just how far we're willing to stretch our imaginations to create an American hero.

"This is my dream come true!" said Clint Young. Evel had phoned Clint to invite him to act as chauffeur. "Both Batman and Evel wore costumes with capes, both of them rode motorcycles, and rockets, and both of them were ordinary men, without superpowers."

For British photographer Katinka it was an exciting opportunity, too. She had flown to Butte on short notice with hopes of capturing Evel on film. "I'm doing an exhibit about American heroes of the 1970s," she explained, adding, "like Wonder Woman."

Fantasy characters like Batman and Wonder Woman aside, Evel is flesh and blood. He's also an iconic, star-spangled American folk hero. Clint and Katinka's enthusiasm led me to wonder, as I pondered Evel's red, white, and blue leather costume, Is riding a motorcycle patriotic?

"Stunt guys aren't heroes. The heroes are on this wall," said Spanky Spangler, a Vietnam veteran and long-time stunt buddy of Bob and Robbie Knievel, who choked back tears as he spoke in front of a replica of the Vietnam War Memorial Friday night. The wall, which holds the names of many Butte natives, has been touring the country.

As I stood amidst the crowd of people holding candles with mini Dixie Cups sheltering the flame, I couldn't help but be seduced by the flickering lights, the crowd's genuine outpouring of national pride, and the presence of the WWII color guard. These men and women had fought for our country. Whether the wars were just or not, they had died. The men on the wall were heroes in death, while the men on motorcycles were heroes because they avoided death. Evel was surely the king survivor.

As for the red, white, and blue: "Evel had had a hard time with the Hell's Angels back in the 60s," Spanky explained. Evel's original costume was yellow and black. The Angels wear black and Evel wanted to represent something different. "He wanted to represent freedom," Spanky said, "‘cause what we do is about freedom. It's free spirited. It's a free country."

Evel's son-in-law Matt Vincent, who is authoring Evel's autobiography, clarified, "At the time Evel chose his getup the country was in serious state of unrest." Meaning the Vietnam war. "What he was doing was American."

But why is jumping a Harley Davidson motorcycle over the fountains at Caesar's Palace uniquely American? Wasn't Evel's use of old glory just good marketing?

Twenty-six-year-old motorcycle jumper Ryan Capes cut to the chase. "The difference is, I can get corporate sponsorship," he said. "They were breaking new ground." Capes, who holds the world record ramp-to-dirt jump of 310 feet, came to Butte, as he put it, to "honor the man!" and break the ramp-to-ramp record of 253 feet. Wind plagued Capes' effort, and on his third attempt he landed seven feet short. His hands slipped, his chest hit the handlebars, and he broke a rib. But as Spanky Spangler has often proclaimed, "Any jump you survive is a good jump."

Capes rides a Honda 250cc. It's light, springy, and made for the sport. It's nothing like the Harley Davidson Evel rode. When I asked Capes if he would attempt jumps on a bike like that he replied, "Fuck no! You couldn't ever pay me enough to do that."

But get paid he does, in large part to Evel's pioneering efforts. "I'm here to carry on the legacy and the legend of Evel," said Capes. "We wouldn't be here if it wasn't for Evel making it happen back in the day." Inevitably, Capes also thanked his sponsors. Instead of rides fueled by whiskey, like those of their forebearers, these young riders juice up on Monster Energy drink, one of the major sponsors of the affair.

Showmanship abounds, and it was clear at this year's Evel Days that the torch of daredevil spirit was passed from one generation of motorcycle hero to the next. After all, next year Evel may be dead. So Evel introduced Robbie's 180 foot flame-jump and Robbie, who is near retirement, introduced the jumps by Capes and 12-year-old Tyrone Gilks. When Gilks landed a new world record jump of 169-feet on a 85cc bike, the thousands in attendance went wild.

But it was the phenomenally acrobatic and athletic punks of freestyle jumping that really got the crowd fired up. They weren't fighting for the country, they were just doing what they loved, flirting with death and dancing through the sky, performing tricks with names like "switch blade," "rock solid," "dead body," and "cliff hanger," and looking like joy incarnate doing it.

At the Wall of Death I met Wahl E. Walker and Jay Lightnin, two tattooed and weathered but handsome men whose conversation brought me back to ground. In a two hour story session that encompassed the history of motorcycle riding, trick riding, and, of course, the motor drome in which we stood, Jay and Wahl E. described riding in the drome on a 1928 Indian Scout and a 1975 Harley Davidson motorcycle. Unfortunately absent was their fellow rider Samantha Morgan, the only professional woman rider at Evel Days. For their talents as a drome riders, Samantha and her father will be inducted into the Sturgis Hall of Fame.

"In the military you live with a real threat of death. It puts the rest of life into perspective," said Wahl E., a Vietnam veteran, who routinely risks his life in the drome. "Riding's about a frame of mind. You can't go in there with today's problems," he said. "You've got to focus. Your mind clears."

"Live Life Full Throttle" reads the lettering on the red, white, and blue wrist bands being sold by Kneivel's granddaughters to raise money for research into the lung disease killing their grandfather. Full throttle, indeed.

Evel Days might be about ego, bravado, showmanship, and more than a little myth-making, but it's also about people who do what they love and face the very real prospect of death in doing so.

Like some twisted mantra, I can't get the high revved gear shifting din of dirtbikes out of my head.

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