Remembering Denise McCluggage (1927-2015)

By Christopher A. Sawyer
The Virtual Driver

(May 8, 2015) It came as something of a surprise that Denise McCluggage passed away Wednesday, March 6, at the age of 88. Not because she was immortal or even ever-present; like McArthur’s old soldier she had faded away over the past decade, and was not present on many new car launches. It was, in fact, her absence that caused each of us in this business to file her away in our memories only to dredge them up when someone would mention that they had seen or talked to her.

In no time, the stories would flow, each not a maudlin recollection of someone no longer with us, but a retelling of the fables surrounding a person still in the present. As long as she was alive and safe in New Mexico, they would remain fresh, and there was the possibility that new tales would be added to those already told.

I, too, had my stories of Denise, and few were related to our days on staff at AutoWeek. She lived in Santa Fe. The editorial offices were in Detroit. Other than  the time she spent helping us put together the 30th Anniversary issue in 1988, her visits to Detroit were rare. It was more likely that we would speak to each other over the telephone, and these conversations were rarer still.

One of the shortest and most productive coming when I was tasked with getting a quote from former F1 World Champion Phil Hill for a story regarding the fatalities that occurred on the Silver State Challenge. Almost before I could finish the sentence asking if she could provide me the number, Denise was asking if I had pen and paper at hand to take the number down.



However, it was while driving together on the launch of the latest Audi A4 that I learned the most about her. This trip took us through the Shiloh National Military Park where we spent a lot of time touring the battlefield, visiting the monuments, and staring in quiet reverence at the graves of those who fought this pivotal battle of the Civil War.

She was a history buff, as well as a daughter of Kansas, who had memories of that cold last day of March in 1931 when the plane carrying legendary Notre Dame coach Knute Rockne fell from the sky. As we stood in the shade looking down upon a mass grave of Confederate soldiers outlined by submerged cannon balls, a chill ran up each of our spines.

“It’s almost like they are talking to us,” she said quietly. One day later, as we were driven back to the Memphis airport, past the hospital in which Elvis Presley was declared dead, the driver pointed out the room with the drawn shade on one of the upper floors. “See that?,” he said. “That’s the room where Elvis died. We never expected it would be him. We always thought it would be Lisa Marie.” As his voice trailed off, Denise and I shared a glance that was part surprise and part silent laughter at the bare honesty of his remark.


Top row, left to right: Juan Manuel Fangio, Stirling Moss, Denise McCluggage, Pedro Rodriguez, Innes Ireland, Ronnie Bucknam. Lower row, left to right: Rodger Ward, unknown, Dan Gurney.

Years later, while sitting at lunch during another new car launch, Denise told the story of how, while doing 120 mph in an AMG Mercedes, she was able to pass a cop and not get a ticket. “I crested a rise and saw the police car going the opposite direction,” she began, “looked down and saw that I was doing 120. He buried the nose of his car as he tried to slow down in order to cross the median at the turnarounds they put in for just this reason, but he was going too fast and had to accelerate to the next one.

"I knew it would take a little while before he could get turned around, and continued on at speed until I crested the next rise, knowing that he was too far away to get radar lock. That’s when I eased off the throttle and costed down to the posted limit, not touching the brakes in case he could see me in the distance.”

The group at the table was riveted, wanting to know how it was that Denise had blown by the cop at speed so blatantly, but never got a ticket.

“The highway has a number of rises and falls in that area, and I would see him coming over the top of one of the crests behind as I was heading into the valley of one of the ones ahead of him,” she recounted. “It seemed like ages before he finally was close enough to even consider waving me over, and I dutifully pulled off the road and waited for him to catch up to me.”

Here, on the highway into Santa Fe, the trooper got the surprise of his life. He came up to the car with his hand on his holster, and spotted a gray-haired older woman (Denise was in her late 70s at this time) driving an AMG Mercedes.

“I rolled down the window and said, ‘Hello officer,’ when he asked I question I hadn’t expected,” she said with a big smile. “Before I could say anything else, he took his hand off his holster, visibly relaxed and asked, ‘Ma’am, did you see a car that looks like yours speed past you a few minutes ago?’”

Those gathered around the table burst into laughter. “Without cracking a smile I said, ‘Yes I did, officer, and I hope you can catch him. He’s a real menace!’ He ran to his car and sped off in pursuit.” It is one of my favorite stories, and one that sums up the woman perfectly. Godspeed, Denise McCluggage. Godspeed.

The Virtual Driver

EDITOR'S NOTE:  Denise McCluggage (January 20, 1927 – May 6, 2015) was an American auto racing driver, journalist, author and photographer. McCluggage was a pioneer of equality for women in the U.S., both in motorsports and in journalism.