Fats and the flag man

At Sayre, James Layfield remembered, “Go up there and fight and hope a car race would break out.”

In black and white photos, the multitudes surrounded the tracks despite the blistering sun. There were farmers in overalls and straw hats, men in heat-wilted white shirts and sweaty felt fedoras, wives and children and seemingly enough picnic baskets to feed the 5,000.

Layfield and Garrison were there in the center of it.

James Layfield never saw his Dad race. He was a big man who looked like “Hoss” Cartwright from the TV series, Bonanza After his son came into the world, “Fats” raffled off his race car, the Number 13 “Black Cat” Ford. When he tried to give the proceeds to a local church for a new floor, he was turned away.

“They said it was like gambling. He gave it to the preacher and told him to buy himself a new suit,” James recalled.

Tears come quickly when he talks about his Dad. He still remembers that once he took up the sport, his Dad never missed a race, even after work-related back injuries confined “Fats” to a wheelchair.

“He worked hard all his life, and age just caught up with him,” the younger Layfield remembered.

The elder Layfield could tell if an engine was right just by the sound. “I’d be out there working, and he’d yell from the house, ‘You better go back to where you was at. It sounded better before.’ He was my pit crew and my crew chief.”

“Fats” was a big man with a big heart, his son recalled. He checked on his neighbors, giving rides when needed.

“If there was somebody broke down on the side of the road, he’d stop to help them,” James said. “He’d either help ‘em fix it or tell them how to fix it. Or, if they could get it pulled to the house, he’d have the car waiting on me, so I could fix it for the folks.”

His voice quivered as he talked about his Dad. “He could be kind, and he could be rough,” James said. “He was at the race track every time I went. He was crippled up, but every time I’d go to the track, he was there. He’d say, ‘Boy, you need to quit this. But he was always there.

“After he passed away, and my son started racing, I’d look up to see (Dad’s) truck, and it wasn’t there. It just wasn’t the same.”