SIX VIEWS OF DIONNE WARWICK'S "PROMISES, PROMISES" (LP, Scepter Records, produced by Bacharach-David, year unlisted)
II.
I was in the pit crew at Indianapolis on May 30, 1953. It was hot enough to fry an egg on the sidewalk. We knew it had to be even hotter for Carl, there in the car, pouring his blood and sweat into making the turns. And then he swung wide and came toward the pit and we knew something was wrong. When he pulled up his face was pale and he couldn't speak. We hosed him down with water but it was too late. He died of heat exhaustion before the race was even over. Most guys who die during the Indy 500 go up in flames or get smashed to pieces, but Carl just pulled over and gave up the ghost; if you'd been standing nearby at the time, you'd have sworn you saw all that heat just going up from him like a puff of steam. And then Dionne Warwick and a small orchestra of guys dressed like mechanics pulled up in a Chevy Bel-Air convertible, and they set up real quick and sang "Promises, Promises" to us. We'd just lost a friend. You wouldn't think that show tunes would be the thing for a moment like that, would you? But Dionne is a special person, isn't she, and she knew what was called for. She sang it so sweet. We cried like babies.