Words, Mere Words • Eulogies

Vern Jaques Remembered

Copyright © 1998 John P M Dillon

Here's my latest column, still titled "Stand". It's dedicated to Katie.

In my mind, I'm standing at a pit rail. Vern Jaques is standing next to me, timing a friend in a Formula Ford, while sharing his ideas about the latest flagging rule changes. We laugh together about some travesty or other, and he reminds me again of the relative sizes of rulebooks between the two organizations he supports, the SCCA and VARA. I recall how, at a Round Table several years ago, he held up a VARA pamphlet, then compared it to the SCCA's phonebook known as the GCR. We chuckle some more while he continues to jot down lap times.

In my mind, I'm talking with Vern at a pit rail. The conversation shifts when he points out the line of a rookie, running a Formula Mazda. "He's turning in too early," Vern says. "It's a classic beginner's mistake." I point out how much better the lone Atlantic pilot is driving. He nods in agreement, then adds "Yeah, but you'd expect a flagger or an emergency worker to understand clean lines--they're watching the track constantly."

In my mind, I'm talking with Vern at Holtville, watching the formula car field go out for their pace lap. I point to his wife Katie, working Race Control, and tell him how much I've enjoyed working with her all these years. He smiles a little secret smile, a smile ripe with happiness and years of great memories, a smile of knowledge and wisdom. He beams when he thinks about her, and he tells me of the many miles and back roads he drove to be with her when they were courting. "It's not every girl you meet that reads Road and Track," he laughs. Calling her "his bride," the affection in his heart shows clearly on his face.

In my mind, Vern and Katie's daughters Barbara and Valerie are working the race course as flaggers. Vern is in the starter stand while Katie is in the tower. Directly across from him at Turn 6, Barbara's husband Michael is keeping a vigilant eye open for shortcuts and other driver errors. Valerie's husband has soldered the insolderable, wired the unwirable, connected the incommunicable, and is standing by should the commo system ever fail again. And the grandkids have grown up too, at least old enough to be helping the scoring crew and grid team. At times it seems like half the workers are Jaques blood; even nephew TJ has come down for a weekend to wear his observer's stripes at "The Safe" at Turn 3.

In my mind, times are happy and adventurous, with exciting racing surrounded by friends and family. Sadly, these events are only in my mind, some as memories, some as simple imaginings.

Vern Jaques passed away yesterday. I don't yet know the reasons, nor are they important now. What matters is that a glowing light of reason, a personality in amateur racing circles that goes 40 years or more, a friend, a wonderful writer, will no longer entertain us at the pit rail with his wit, his insight, his sense of humor.

I first "met" Vern about 10 years ago when he edited Gridlines, the San Diego Region's club magazine. His column "From the Pit Rail" was the first article I'd read each month, a tradition that continued when he joined John Kelly's MotoRacing magazine. He published some of my pieces and we corresponded for a while before I finally got to shake his hand at Holtville in 1989. Later, when he announced his retirement as editor and began searching for a replacement, he encouraged me to continue writing, which I did several years. He also taught me several tricks and techniques in the starter stand, improving my skills on the corners as well as when handling checkers.

The San Diego Region, like many regions across the country, has highly-dedicated families that contribute heavily to the success of their racing programs. SDR is fortunate to have several such families, including the Binks, the Bakers, the Hanelines, and the Jaques clan. Vern, Katie, Barbara and Michael, and Valerie have been an integral part of SCCA racing for many years. Vern and Katie made everyone feel welcome, made everyone a member of their family.

There's no tidy way to end this column; there's no pat answers, nor platitudes, nor elegant phrases that will bring our loss, the family's loss, into perspective. We simply have to accept the void where Vern used to stand and fill it with our personal memories.

In my mind, Vern Jaques is standing beside me at the pit rail. We're laughing together about inconsequentials. In my mind, Vern and I are enjoying the sunny day, the friends around us, the roar of racing cars. In my mind, Vern and Katie are swapping stories together after the last race. In my mind, Vern us still with us. Sadly, it's only in my mind.

(Page last updated: Sun, Sep 11 2005)