Car Crash Mythology 

Part I

The Allegory Of Fame 

by Kenneth Kendall

By Warren Beath

How did the legalese of inquest  and the thin contemporary newspaper accounts of the James Dean accident become transformed within a few short years into legend with motifs and sacramental elements that have been portrayed and depicted countless times in painting, movies, television documentaries and innumerable books and magazines articles?

James Dean was speeding on a California highway as he passed a car ahead of him, running a car coming in the opposite direction off the road, before slamming into a 1950 Ford that had violated his lane as it turned left in front of him. But the event as embedded in the popular con-sciousness is far different.

What has evolved is a cultural myth fashioned by the collective unconscious and formed to fulfill the dream-needs of the people who identified with who they thought Dean was and who wanted to participate in an orgasmic fantasy of his final day. What emerged was a romance and a tragedy, the descent of a popular God into the underworld. Dean gives the gift of a ring to his darkly handsome co-pilot. They are crossing through a desert and the heat is intense and the highway is shimmering. They are alone on the highway and lulled by the peaceful monotony. 

Dean is endearing in his concerns with his "baby"--"How's the tach?" he asks nervously of his mechanic. A hulk of death looms in front of them and Dean cries "That guys gotta stop!"

They crash and the ring is lost somewhere in the desert. The driver of the Ford is sobbing and repentant on the roadside over what he has wrought..

Dean is blameless in the accident and if he was speeding on the highway, it is to be chalked up to an expression of the hard-charging American virtues that were exalted in the Nineteen Fifties. Dean was not cavalier, he was a  cavalier caught in an exhuberant dance along a California highway and the moral is that celestial beings shall always be in collision with the leaden and earthbound.

Before the myth there was the dream, and it was born in the teenage mind totally under the sway of the cultural phenomenon James Dean became upon his death.

Notice the tachometer in the very center of the dash. The red sideways triangle is the "red-line" area. The "red-line" indicates the maximum engine revolutions per minute (RPM) that the engine should be turning to maintain a safe margin. Exceeding that margin puts enormous stress on a weak engine and could lead to a blown engine part. Drivers routinely reach the red-line range in a race because that is where the maximum horsepower of the engine is achieved.

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Fans obsessed with him felt a yearning to participate in the almost pornographically intimate moments of his death.

Hadn't he already seduced them along on his eerie and prefiguring chickie-run in Rebel Without A Cause?

In the movie, Dean wins a race with death--narrowly. After his death the internal emotional soundtrack slid down a half-note to an ominous minor key as teenagers saw Dean in the speeding car and behind the wheel--where he would die. Really die. His highway death was important because it was a prefiguring death and would recast his earthly elements into a god form.

The popular movie magazine writers sensed this need and they aimed to please and fulfill their wishes. It is interesting to watch the developments of the legend of Dean's car accident and see how the layers of tradition grew until they metastasized into an undislodgeable kernel of myth embedded in popular culture. There were many stories about Dean published in the wake of his death in the Nineteen Fifties but several major accounts of the accident in books and popular magazines trace the subordination of the inquest facts and the ascension of the legend.

The automobile is today acknowledged as a central symbol if not the instigator of the massive cultural transformation of the 20th Century with the phenomenon of the celebrity car crashes elevated to the status of the technocultural ruins that mark sites of what Mikita Brottman calls "instant constellation(s) of tragedy, sacrifice, mass fantasy, and monumental Comeuppance". (Car Crash Culture XV).

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Part II 

The Synoptic Gospels of the death drive mythology are two articles that claim to have the direct involvement of Rolf Wuetherich, who should have known what happened. The first was "Death Drive" which appeared in the October, 1957, issue of Modern Screen under Wuetherich's own name. The second was a very similar article rewritten by John Lindahl (who may have ghostwritten the first article) and which appeared in Pix Annual in the fall of 1958.

Bill Bast wrote in his 1956, biography of Dean, James Dean, "An hour later (after the ticketing), as they sped east on Highway 41 near Paso Robles, the sun was beginning to set just over the brink of the hills behind the dull silver-gray racer.

The road was clear and the traffic was light."

Elsewhere Bast has the accident happening near San Bernardino and he has Dean driving east rather than west and places the accident at the junction of 41 and 66.

More important to the evolution of a crash myth is a story Aljean Meltsir wrote in a September, 1956, Red Book article entitled "James Dean--His Life and Loves, "Highway 466 was empty except for their car. Jimmy let the Porsche go a little faster. It was 5:15. They were heading west, toward the ocean. The sun, hanging a little above the peaks of the mountains, was in their eyes. It was still very hot and heat rays shimmered on the sand-colored road ahead, looking like pools of water.

The Porsche hugged the road, its silver color blending with the gray desert.

"Head Lolling against the seat, Rolf dozed. He had worked most of the night getting the car into shape for the races, and he was very tired.

"Rolf?"

"He opened his eyes. Jimmy was pointing at the tachometer. 'Is it all right? A little fast?' The safety belt brushed loosely against his thighs. He pushed it away.

"No, it's fine." Rolf closed his eyes again. *

"Half a mile ahead of them, going east on 466, Donald Turnupseed, 23 years old, driving a black and white 1950 Ford, thinking about his pregnant wife, slowed to make a turn at the intersection with highway 41. Scanning the road ahead of him, he saw nothing, so he began to make his turn.

"Faintly, Jimmy cried out. The sound was almost lost in the crunch of aluminum ripping like paper. Rolf was thrown 19 feet from the crumpled car, his left hip broken, his jaw fractured in two places. As he landed the ring was ripped from his finger, leaving an inch-deep scar. The ring must still be buried in the desert that surrounds the highway.

"Rolf lay on the borders of consciousness, waking intermittantly to groan and mumble, 'Jimmy. Jimmy. 'But his mouth was full of blood and the words were indistinguishable.

"White-faced and crying, leaning across the fender of his car, Donald Turnupseed kept repeating, in a toneless unbelieving voice, never stopping to brush away the tears that trickled down his cheeks, 'I didn't see him. I swear....I swear.....I didn't see him.'

Sprawled across the front seat of the Porsche, one foot still caught in the brake pedal he had not had time to press, his neck broken, his jaw fractured in a dozen places, both arms broken, his ribs crushed, was James Byron Dean."

This article seems to be an early if not the first to mention of the issue of Jimmy Dean giving Rolf a ring as they are stopped at a roadside diner.

"Jimmy hesitated for a moment, then pulled a ring off his finger. It was an inexpensive ring with a Pan American Airlines crest. He handed the ring to Rolf.

"Here,'He said.

"Why?'

"I want to give you a present. It makes us friends."

"It is difficult to do mechanical work on an automobile when you are wearing a ring, but--because it was Jimmy who had offered it--Rolf accepted it. His hands are a little bigger than Jimmy's and it only fits his little finger."

The business of the ring is so bizarre--rings are usually gifts given to women--that it could have basis in fact and perhaps Meltsir interviewed Wuetherich as many of the themes introduced here will be repeated in Wuetherich's ghostwritten accounts of the accident. The alternative is that Wuetherich's ghostwriters borrowed from Meltsir to stir into the broth the thin gruel of Wuetherich's actual recollections. But it is an uncomfortable moment which is eased by the fact the ring is inexpensive and a trifle. But it does supply the one element lacking in the legend being born--the whiff of romance. It is not a man-woman romance but it is a sort of love troth. 

The motif of the hot sun is in place here though the heat of the day only climbed to 82 degrees--temporate by California standards. The landscape is described as a desert though it is more an agricultural plain. But the desert is reminiscent of the Fisher King wasteland and foreshadows the revitalizing death of the young hero in mythology that will restore the land to greeness. The mention of the ocean is one that will reappear with Dean heading west, the direction of the setting sun that is associated with death and the end of things. There is an uncomfortable mixed metaphor as crunching aluminum rips like paper, and Rolf's friendship ring is ripped from his finger symbolizing the severing by death of his friendship/love affair with James Dean.

The emptiness of the road is a major fudge, since it was quite busy with Friday-night traffic and coast-bound racers heading north and east-bound families going to the football game in Bakersfield. It is the stress on the emptiness of the highway that will be repeated in subsequent versions that belies the facts of Dean's last ride, that were brought out at the inquest, that he drove people off the road and endangered innocent lives, passing cars at high speed.

Jimmy cries out before the crash, a tentative feint in the direction of last words that will be supplied in subsequent accounts and rectify the lack of drama in Dean's dying wordless. The driver of the other car is disconsolate and repentant and assumes full responsibility for the crash, exonerating Dean totally so the hero-sacrifice dies stainless.

"A few hours later they were speeding along highway 41 a few miles from Salinas when they saw a car ahead about to enter the intersection of highways 66(sic) and 41. Jimmy, who beieved he had the right of way said to Rolph (sic), 'That guy up there has gotta stop.' They were his last words.

The hard-pressing Dean now has his last words and they will be repeated in subsequent articles and biographies for fifty years.

At the inquest Rolf-- the only person who would possibly know--did not recall Dean saying anything and said it all went by so fast. A notable error is that the site of the accident is actually over one-hundred mies from Salinas.  

The next month, Dean was on the cover of a more sober-sided publication--Look magazine. George Scullin recounted the accident for the October 1956 issue in an article "James Dean", the legend and the facts."

"Dean turned west out of Bakersfield to get over to highway 101 that runs through Salinas. Roth caught up to him about an hour later at a stand where several sports-car drivers had pulled up. They were there possibly fifteen-minutes, and then Dean roared out, with Roth following at a more leisurely pace.

"AT 5:58 p.m., Dean was heading into the setting sun on an apparent empty highway. His low, white car was almost invisible as it streaked along at eighty-miles an hour along the white highway. Then a mile ahead, he saw a Ford approaching. There were no highway markers, no warning signs, no evidence of any crossroads, so he held his foot steady on the gas. But there was a crossroad. Highway 41 was just ahead, forking off to the northeast. In the past, three accidents had ended fatally at the unmarked intersection.

"Donald Turnupseed, the 24-year-old driver of the Ford had to turn onto highway 41. He was driving leisurely, the turn was a slight one to the left, and with no one apparently visable, he turned.

"The crash fatally injured Jimmy..."

The motifs are more subdued  but they are present in a ghostly form, and there are some interesting additions that reinforce the developing themes. The highway is empty again and there are no signs marking the crossroads. The silver Porsche is white, the color of the horse of the stainless knight. Dean has a steady foot and he is streaking and the highway is white, a strange color for a highway unless it is leading to heaven. Dean is dead on a forking road.

William F. Nolan wrote in a Modern Screen story called "His Love Destroyed Him" in February of 1957, "Highway 466 was long and straight and empty. Jim let out the Spyder a bit, squinting his eyes against the setting sun. They were headed west towards the Pacific and the day's heat was still intense.

"Suddenly, at a narrow intersection of Highways 466 and 41, a black and white 1950 Ford sedan began to turn into Jimmy's path.

"Dean saw that the Ford was not going to stop; He cried out and darted for the brake. Too late. The cars met almost head-on at the intersection.

"The ripping, tearing impact threw Rolf Wuetherich nineteen feet into the road-side grass, breaking his hip.

"The driver of the Ford, Don Turnipseed (sic) received only minor scratches. After the accident, he kept shaking his head and murmuring: 'I didn't see him. I swear I just didn't see him."

The ocean is mentioned again--the motherless Dean--Little Boy Lost, as he would be cast in Joe Hyam's biography--is headed toward the maternal element. The heat is still intense and there are no encounters with other vehicles full of football-game bound families and Dean does not run them off the road. There is the satisfying image of the other driver swearing he didn't see him and tacitly assuming responsibility for the tragedy. As in the Meltsir story from 1956, Rolf is thrown 19 feet--from what, we are not sure. The measurement does not appear in any highway report nor in the inquest so Nolan may have been drawing from the Red Book story published six months earlier and that may also have been the source for the entrenching story of Turnupseed remorseful after the crash.

T.T. Thomas wrote in the paperback biography "I James Dean" published three months later in April of 1957 and hastily and recklessly written to cash in on the posthumous craze, "Near Paso Robles, as night was coming on, he began to fly, testing the speed of his seven-thousand-dollar Spyder. The speedometer needle went up steadily and the rushing wind was a force of nature baffled by the silver projectile. This was living! This was the frantic, furious way to handle things--with your own strong hands."

"They were near Paso Robles now. The traffic was still light, the road clear. Far ahead a small speck appeared heading toward them coming west on highway 41. Jimmy spotted the car instantly, and casually dismissed it as harmless. He pressed down harder on the gas pedal."

"The oncoming car approached like a small black beetle."

"Now the Spyder was coming to the intersection of Highways 41 and 66 (sic). The sun was setting; the light was beginning to fade."

Thomas has Dean saying "He's gotta stop" as in Hyam's September 1956 Red Book article and continues "Now the Ford was no longer a small black beetle; it was a huge black hulk of death--and Jimmy's mother was riding it, beckoning to him...beakoning..as he swerved to the right to avoid the crash."

It was the October 1957 issue of Modern Screen that saw the publication of "Death Drive" by Rolf Wuetherich. In Memorium--this second year since Jimmy's death--Modern Screen prints this story by the man who was with him at the end. Interestingly, over a year earlier--on August 20, 1956--attorneys for Rolf Wuetherich had filed a claim against Dean's estate for injuries their client sustained in the accident claiming Dean drove recklessly and with wanton disregard. The claim was dismissed, but perhaps this left Rolf looking for other ways to be recompensed for the accident and this may be why he participated in the magazine stories.

Rolf (or his ghostwriter) since Rolf had a shakey mastery of the English language and probably shakier command of written English, says he met Dean at one of his road races. He says Dean took off for a win, which if true would indicate the Bakersfield or Palm Springs race.

Recounting the fatal day he repeats the story of Dean giving him an inexpensive ring--"just some little souvenir he had picked up"--and then describes the highway.

"It was late afternoon. The road was one gray line cutting through monotonous landscape--here and there a very slight bend, otherwise straight ahead. It felt like driving on an endless ruler. The only breakin the monotony was Blackweels Corners (sic)--a service station with a small store attached to it, in the middle of nowhere."

 He says Jimmy jammed down the accelerator as they left and did not fasten his safety belt. 

"We had been on highway 46 ever since we went through Bakersfield and now it was deserted. No car except our Spyder and the station wagon as far as we could see. Jimmy went faster now--a very natural thing to do when you are all alone on a good road in a racing car. It was just past five in the afternoon. The sun, a ball of fire, shone directly in our eyes, it was still very hot and the heat flickered and danced on the sandy brown road. To the right and left of us was desert; in  front of us, an endless ribbon of road...The monotonous hum of the engine was like a soft cradle song.

He does not give Dean any last words but said prior to the crash "The only thing that I can remember is the soft cry that escaped from Jimmy...the little whimpering cry of a boy wanting his mother--or of a man facing his God..."

As for the ring, "The ring Jimmy gave Rolf at the Ridge Route was torn from  Rolf's finger when he was thrown out of the car. He still has a scar where the ring was. This ring--Jimmy's gift of friendship to him--lies buried somewhere in the desert where Jimmy died.

Part III

Because this story seemed to have the imprimatur of Rolf Wuetherich it was the source of many subsequent biographies despite the fact it appeared in a Hollywood fan magazine--a dubious source of information for a serious researcher. The ring that had appeared in the Meltsir article about a year earlier has reappeared and it will assume canonical status in the legend.

The drive is monotonous with none of the excitement of passing motorists at high speed and averting oncoming traffic by a hair's-breath only because the happy eastbound family is forced to leave the road. The only car on the road is the Spyder and the station wagon "As far as we can see". The fatal mistake Dean makes is not his speed, but the ominous neglecting of his seat belt as he takes off. The "soft cradle song" reintroduces Dean's ghostly absent mother in his last moments a lot more subtly than the "whimpering cry" Rolf puts in his friends mouth at the end.

The second article appeared in Pix in the fall of 1958 while Wuetherich was suing Turnupseed for damages sustained in the crash and Turnupseed's attorneys were defending with the claim that James dean was the proximate cause of the accident due to his negligence of which Wuetherich had full knowledge. Entitled "My Death Drive With James Dean" it claims erroneously Jimmy's Mechanic, Who Rode with Him, Has Told for the First Time the Complete Story of the Hours Before the Tragic Crash .

Rolf's memory has improved in the third person and he recalls September 18, 1955 as the day he ran into Jimmy on Hollywood Boulevard when he walked along Hollywood Boulevard "sniffing the fragrant air and stealing a glance at a trim movie starlet" and ran into a car-shopping James Dean. The article repeats the story about the flight ring and again the sun flickers and dances on the endless ribbon of road.

"I didn't see him, by God, I really didn't see him,' Turnupseed protests later. He cried when he was found guilty of causing the collision." Which is patently untrue as Rolf well knew since he was involved in litigation that would have been made much simpler had the inquest jury not exonerated him of the responsibility for Dean's death .

Of the ambulance ride he remembers, "I was in the upper berth...I had no idea what happened. What had happened to Jimmy? Where was he? In great pain I turned my bandaged head and tried to look down to the other stretcher. Through a leaden haze I saw him. There he was, my friend Jimmy, covered with blood. He was beyond help. He was dead."

Turnupseed's "I didn't see him" is re-introduced even though Rolf could not have known what if anything the Ford's driver commented after the crash. The reader is left again with the poignant image of the ring missing in the desert.

Warren Beath

A Footnote by Tim Black

* It is difficult to believe Jimmy would need to refer to Rolf about his tachometer. A tachometer is designed for the driver to see and measures engine revolutions per minute (RPM) and the Porsche 550 Spyder had a maximum rpm of 6200 and a top speed of 137 miles per hour. Dean was experienced enough with the car to know by the sound of the engine when he was pushing it to the limits of its rpm range and if he was not going through the gears on a peformance drive, he would have been required to reach the Porsche's top speed of 137 miles per hour in fourth gear before he would need to consider his RPM reading. Even at top speed, the gear ratio would not necessarily have the engine pegged to red-line at 6200 rpms if Dean was in high gear. Indeed at 6200 rpms the Fuhrman 547 engine reaches its peak horsepower rating and racers often achieve their full power potential at the peak rpm engine speed. This is not necessarily a cause for nervousness or alarm and Jimmy would have known that, even with a new engine that was not "broke-in" yet.

 The only thing that rings true is that at the moment he asked Rolf about his tach, Rolf was driving.

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