n Part 1 we looked at the influences that helped shape the Gejeian driving wheel: his family, love of farming, life on the ranch, and racing hardtops. Here, we look at his showmanship, his daring and innovative show rods, and his Armenian racing brotherhood in Fresno, as well as his honored contributions to the history and cultural life in Fresno.
“There’ll never be another Blackie,” Fresno’s late Kenny Takeuchi, the dean of Central Valley track announcer, said. In an earlier interview before his death in 2019 at 92, “Tak” recalled his four decades as track announcer, historian, media manager, and statistician as well as his respect for Blackie’s diligence and attention to detail. “We had a four-track modified circuit. Friday night we’d race at Kearney Bowl, Saturday at San Jose, a Sunday day race at Altamont, and then close the series Sunday night at Clovis.
“We had 60 cars, enough for A, B, and C main events,” he said. “Blackie’s biggest fear was that there wouldn’t be enough cars and drivers left after three races; we raced the same cars, pavement, dirt, didn’t matter. Officials from San Jose and Altamont would have to high tail for Clovis. But we were good. We arrived on time and Blackie’s show was well run, well officiated, everyone in and out on time. The track was well prepared when we got there—no waitin’ around. But when he was upset his voice would carry a mile. It was time to clear out.”
Blackie was giving with counsel to anyone who loved cars as much as he did. “He was a teacher and mentor for Rick (Perry) and I after we took over the SF and Oakland events after Don’s (Tognotti) [death],” show manager, promoter, announcer, video, and voice impresario George Hague says.
Writer-historian and Pebble Beach judge Ken Gross remembers, “Blackie was unique. He was a perfectionist in every way. I can’t name too many people who had that perseverance, influence, and sheer energy.”
In 1997 Gross guided the Pebble Beach Concours judging committee to a show class for American hot rods and in 2001 Blackie entered the fully restored “Shish Kebab Special.”
“He wanted to win,” Gross recalls, “but got Third. He was hurt, always the quintessential competitor. But he’d taken liberties by reinstating some flaws. He’d even recreated some crooked seams in the T’s original leather.”
NHRA historian and curator Greg Sharp knew Blackie more than four decades. “He was bigger than life. He loved it all, racing, roadsters, shows. He was irrepressible, but he suffered a lot of medial setbacks in later years.”
There is no national or ethnic handle on motorsport excellence. But in Fresno in the late ’40s and ’50s, there was an all-consuming Armenian commitment to speed, the motoring arts, competition, and thriving automotive businesses.
Blackie set the pace on the streets of downtown Fresno. He idolized USAC promoter J.C. Agajanian and was a feted guest at “Aggie’s” 100-mile invitational Open Championship at Ascot Speedway. Ed Iskenderian was born in Cutler over a century ago, but his dad went broke farming and they moved to L.A. Freddie Agabashian, from nearby Parlier, went to Oakland to be nearer the big car action. Harold Bagdasarian left Fresno to orchestrate his own car shows in Sacramento and Oakland.
Eugene “Clean Gene” Sadoian remembers the racing brotherhood. “Blackie’s cousin, Richard Shirinian, had a Candy Orange A roadster, a channeled show and drag car. He bought the body and frame from Paul Soligian, who supplied orange paint for Blackie’s racing hardtops. Smokey Hanonian was the local Bowes Seal Fast distributor and was Blackie’s sponsor as well as a flagman at Clovis and Kearney Bowl. Mike Garabedian painted my ’34 and Blackie’s roadster. Sammy Arakelian was always hanging out at Blackie’s with his severely chopped blue ’36 Ford sedan, chrome dash, blue instruments. Ed “Shrimp” Koomjian ran Eddie’s Speed Shop. Joe Boghosian is now retired. He built most of Dan Gurney’s DOHC Ford engines for winning Coyote teams. His race engines powered everything fast–drag boats included.
“Joe called Blackie sev shun, Armenian for ‘black dog.’ There was no word we knew for fox; he just became black dog,” Sadoian says. “Fred DeOrian was Vukie’s mechanic. John Siroonian, owner of Western Wheels, had a beautiful collection of deuces. Won the big trophy at Oakland.”
Why did so many young Armenian men in Fresno get involved with hot cars, performance, and showmanship?
Dr. Barlow Der Mugrdechian, head of Armenian Studies at California State University, Fresno, didn’t have a specific answer about motor racing, but said, “Armenians will take a challenge. They’re bold and daring. It’s a cultural thing. They’ve heard about the old country and built this into their American identity. William Saroyan wrote about their willingness to take chances.”
Blackie took chances—on the tables, on the track, and in life.
“The competitive spirit is in the Armenian DNA,” John Alkire, former CEO of the Big Fresno Fair and now curator of the Fair’s history museum, says. He engineered a permanent exhibit in the museum about Blackie’s life in Fresno. The Gejeian diorama is crowned by a bronze bust of Blackie, one created by Fresno’s Debbie Stevenson.
“This was racing at a different level,” Alkire continues. “They had rough beginnings; they’re survivors. I was the CEO at King Speedway in Hanford (California), and the Armenian drivers were the most competitive, the most aggressive.”
Hoss! Blackie knew thousands but remembered few names. Hence, you were ‘Hoss.’ “Blackie, what was her name?” “Hoss!” And the golden tiger eyes would crinkle with joy.
When this reporter helped produce the Oakland Museum of California’s “Hot Rods and Customs” exhibition in 1996, Blackie generously loaned his Emperor roadster as a center stage feature car along with other AMBR winners in the museum’s Great Hall—plus, of course, the AMBR trophy itself. Midway through the press gathering at show’s opening, Blackie sidled up, “Hoss, it’s too quiet in here.” I knew what he was up to and knew there’d be no stopping him. He returned with a battery, hooked it up, and fired the Caddy, open chrome headers, and raw petrol fumes. The roar was deafening; it set off fire alarms downtown. A museum lady came running down the stairs, crying, “Make it stop! Make it stop!”
She never knew, of course, that there was no stop in Blackie’s life.