“Isn’t there someone around here who would have the authority to pass us into the grounds?” Flash asked.
The gateman shrugged. Then his gaze fastened upon a dignified man who was walking toward the gate.
“Mr. Hartman could do it,” he said. “You might talk with him.”
Flash approached the man, and quickly explained the difficulty. His straightforward manner impressed the official. He took a quick glance at the News-Vue truck and called to the gateman.
“It’s all right. Let them through.”
Doyle had no word of praise as Flash slid into the seat beside him.
“It’s almost time for the race to start,” he grumbled. “All the good places will be gone.”
While rival newsreel companies had had first choice for positions, Flash and Doyle still were able to park their truck so as to obtain an unobstructed view of Dead Man’s turn. Hurriedly they arranged their camera and sound equipment, having everything in readiness for the drop of the starter’s flag.
With a few minutes still to spare, Flash shot several pictures with his Graphic. He photographed a number of well known racers as they warmed up their cars in preparation for the five hundred mile grind.
Observing the previous year’s winner talking with a dark, foreign looking man who stood beside car 29, he snapped the pair together.