In Respect of MLK Day…

In early 2000, the 4-speed in my ‘38 was in desperate need of a rebuild. The catch, however, was that I was broke and prospects were slim. Desperate times called for desperate measures and I took a freelance job from Street Rodder Magazine to make one end meet another. The assignment?

”Give us 1500 words on Kong Jackson.”

Now, I knew who Kong Jackson was in as far as I knew a lot of early hot rodders ran Kong Ignitions at the lakes. But other than that, I had no idea of who Kong really was. I remember struggling desperately to find anything at all on him, but I did read that he had a close relationship with Alex Xydias and So Cal Speedshop. At the time, I wasn’t confident enough to cold call Alex… But, I was just dumb enough to drop a note to Pete Chapouris.

”Why don’t you just call Kong and ask him what you want to know?”

And so I did… Three hours on the line with Kong – a barrage of questions firing from my naive mind, notes scribbled like the ravings of a madman. The resulting article? A literary disaster, unpaid and probably unread. Yet, amidst the wreckage, a gem emerged – a tidbit that lingered in my memory.

For some reason, I had it in my mind that Kong was a Japanese American. I wasn’t certain, but I thought “Kong” was a nickname and since I had never seen a picture of the man, I thought I would just ask him. “Are you Japanese?”

I remember him laughing for longer than it took me to ask the question before finally saying, “No. I’m white as rice.”

In turn, Kong began to explain what it was like on the scene back in the day. “It was one place where race or religion didn’t really matter. There were certainly some ignorant people around, probably more than I care to admit to, but when it came to competition, even these people overlooked their own prejudices.”

“In the early days of racing… and I’m talking pre-war here… one of my best friends was a black man named Mel Leyton. I used to joke that he was a Black Beacon in the middle of a White Lake on the weekends, but he really is the only black guy I can remember seeing out there until well into the 1960’s. And he was so universally liked and trusted, that he was unanimously voted to run the starting line – a job he ran until the SCTA and other organizations got more organized with timing standards.”

And then, my notes faltered, a casualty of youthful ignorance. No follow-up questions, no exploration of the punk rock narrative of a black dude steering a legion of white race car drivers. A missed opportunity in the annals of rebellious storytelling.

A decade later, a flicker of redemption. A project with the AHRF unveiled a photo – LA Gopher roadsters flanked by police cars, and a note on the back: “M. Leyton looks on.” The lone reference to Mel Leyton in my two-decade quest.

So, on this MLK day, a call to the tribe – anyone caught wind of Mel and his duties on the lakes? The enigma persists, and the hunt for Mel Leyton’s story goes on.