TACH's Purdy Remembers David E Davis Jr.

Mr. David E. Davis

The Auto Channel David E Davis Story Archive

R.I.P. DAVID E. DAVIS, JR.
My Remembrances
By Steve Purdy
TheAutoChannel.com
Detroit Bureau

Lansing MI, March 28. 2011; David E. Davis, Jr. led a charmed life. At least that’s the way it appeared to those of us who idolized and admired him. He had a way of living life to its fullest and sharing it with readers that made us feel a part of his amazing adventures.

After selling cars (always European or luxury cars) in his younger days in and around Detroit he tried his hand at racing, but found his calling writing about motor sports, about automobiles and all the aesthetic elements surrounding them. He ended up writing for and editing some of the best enthusiast magazines – Road & Track and Car & Driver - and creating from scratch another - Automobile.

In his book, Thus Spake David E., he talks about his writing style being conversational, that is, writing stories just the way you would tell them to your friends. He grew up in a culture (Southeasten Ohio) where story telling was an art form so I suppose that came naturally to him. It sure felt natural, comfortable and enlivening to read anything he wrote.

One of the things he’s credited with writing is the Chevrolet ad line “Baseball, hot dogs, apple pie and Chevrolet” when he worked as a copywriter early in his career. Another tag line I always appreciated was the one he wrote as the title for his column in Automobile Magazine – “Cogito Ergo Zoom – I Think, Therefore I Go Fast!”

When he created Automobile Magazine in the 1980s, with essentially a blank check from Rupert Murdock, he promised no boring cars, and focused the magazine not just on the automobiles themselves but on the places we go in them and the fascinating people we meet along the way. He also paid more attention to the aesthetics of automobiles than anyone before him.

A stroll through his expansive offices, where his archives and artifacts are on display, is testament to all of that. I have been fortunate to have had the narrated tour and to have gotten many of those stories on video tape.

The philosophy that he so thoroughly personified has been the single greatest influence on me with everything I’ve done in automotive journalism.

David E. was scheduled to be on my radio program a few months ago and he was to drive to Lansing, about an hour from his Ann Arbor home, and join me in the studio. We could have done it by phone but we both thought it would be much more fun face-to-face. I got at least three calls on my cell phone from both David E. and his dedicated wife, Jeannie, as he missed the exit repeatedly and finally gave up. He, of course, was one of the world’s foremost roadies and would breeze to a new location in normal conditions.

They were both amazingly gracious and apologetic explaining that he has been in a bit of a “chemo fog” resulting from his ongoing fight with bladder cancer.

He made perhaps his last public utterance at the seminar on women in racing presented at the Amelia Island Concours d’Elegance a few weeks ago. His contemporary and friend, Denise McCluggage, was on the panel and during the Q&A David E. piped up to credit her - a founder of Competition Press which later became AutoWeek - for being the first writer to transform auto and racing journalism into literature. There is no question that he did the same.

Later I found him out on the show field with clipboard in hand looking pale but chipper. I snagged my last photo of him perusing some beautiful old car. That photo leads this story.

His signature waxed mustache seemed always in the shape of a wry smile. I once asked him to smile for a photo and he reminded me that most of the muscles in his face didn’t work because of the racing accident early in his career that convinced him he might be a better writer than racer. He flipped his racing MG., with no roll bar of course, and skidded along the pavement tearing most of his face off. Many months in the hospital resulted in a mostly repaired face but without the usual flexibility.

Those hundreds, if not thousands, of artifacts collected throughout his life populate every wall and surface of his office. I was in there often and always commented that someone ought to be recording him telling of all those stories. If transcribed that certainly would result in volumes and volumes of stories. Many of those stories are in the book and many more have been in his columns over the years – but many more are not. If there were a 20-pound, foot-thick book of these, I would be reading them for years to come.

David E. Davis, Jr. passed away Sunday, March 27, 2011 a few days after surgery for bladder cancer.