September 8, 1974, 50 years ago: Evel Knievel tries to jump over the Snake River Canyon in Idaho, on a "sky-cycle."
For people too young to remember Knievel (pronounced Keh-NEE-vil), he was the kind of figure who defies description. He was a 1970s phenomenon, a proper coming together of man and moment, hero and hype level. He was the King of the Daredevils, wearing star-spangled jumpsuits, big collars, big belts with big buckles, and making a fool of himself in Las Vegas. Which makes him sound like the King of Rock and Roll, Elvis Presley, except Elvis also had some great shows in Vegas.
Robert Craig Knievel was born on October 17, 1938 in Butte, Montana. He claimed he'd adopted the stage name "Evel Knievel" after being arrested for, no joke, reckless driving, and sharing a cell with a man known as William "Awful" Knofel. He made it "Evel" instead of "Evil," and wore white instead of black, because he didn't want anyone to think he was associated with motorcycle gangs like the Hell's Angels.
He participated in rodeos, ski jumping events, and served in the U.S. Army before marrying Linda Joan Bork and starting a semi-pro hockey team. To support his family, Knievel started the Sur-Kill Guide Service, and later worked as an insurance salesman.
Eventually, he opened a Honda motorcycle dealership in Washington, D.C., but faced difficulties promoting Japanese imports. After the dealership closed, Knievel worked at a motorcycle shop where he learned motocross stunts that would later contribute to his daredevil career.
He put together a show featuring other bikers, and called it Evel Knievel and His Motorcycle Daredevils. He gradually increased the number of cars he could jump over, until June 19, 1966, in Missoula, in his home State of Montana: He tried to jump 12 cars and a cargo van, but his back wheel hit the top of the van, he fell, and he ended up with a broken arm and several broke ribs. But he survived, and that began his legend.
On March 25, 1967, he cleared 15 cars at Ascot Park in Gardena, California. He tried that again on July 28, 1967, in Graham, Washington. He landed his cycle on the last vehicle, a panel truck, was thrown from his bike, and suffered a serious concussion. He went back there on August 18, and his injuries were more serious.
He recovered and, on New Year's Eve, December 31, 1967, the same day that CBS broadcast the NFL Championship Game -- the Ice Bowl in Green Bay -- Knievel tried to jump 140 feet, over the fountains at Caesars Palace in Las Vegas. He wanted it broadcast live on ABC Wide World of Sports. ABC said no: They told him to film it, and, if they thought it worthwhile, they would buy it, would broadcast it later. So Knievel got two friends to film it: Actor-director John Derek, and Derek's then-wife Linda Evans.
He did the jump, but he couldn't stick the landing, and was thrown over the handlebars. This was his worst set of injuries yet. But he didn't die. He lived to jump again, and was doing so by March 25, 1968. ABC refused to buy the Caesars film. As his legend grew, his production company rented the film to ABC, which would, eventually broadcast it -- many times.
On January 7 and 8, 1971, he sold out the Astrodome in Houston on back-to-back days. On the following February 28, he jumped 19 cars at the Ontario Motor Speedway in the Los Angeles suburb of Ontario, California. Doug Senecal was then 10 years old and living in Massachusetts, and was fascinated. In 2015, using the name Doug Danger, he wore the same costume and drove the same cycle that Knievel used in the Ontario jump, and set a new record, jumping 22 cars in Sturgis, South Dakota.
On March 3, 1972, at the Cow Palace outside San Francisco, Knievel made a successful jump, but, because of a short landing area, tried to stop short, and got hurt. He didn't get back to jumping until November 10, 1973. It was on this occasion that ABC finally agreed to put him on Wide World live, for what would be the 1st of 6 such appearances. There were 50 cars stacked at the Los Angeles Memorial Coliseum, and he got over them successfully, and landed successfully.
As far back as 1968, Knievel told the media that his dream was to jump from one side of the Grand Canyon in Arizona to the other. But the Canyon is included in the National Park system, controlled by the U.S. Department of the Interior, which denied him every time he asked, no matter what safety precautions he suggested. In 1971, while flying from one stunt to another, he was over the Snake River Canyon in Idaho, and he was struck by its natural beauty. Since the federal government had no control over that, that's what he set his mind on.
ABC refused to broadcast this one, fearing that he was finally going to be killed. Of course, they were already set to broadcast the Heavyweight Championship fight between Muhammad Ali and George Foreman, which had people thinking that Foreman might actually kill Ali in the ring. (Instead, Ali knocked Foreman out.) And Wide World of Sports broadcast all kinds of dangerous events, from cliff diving in Mexico to all kinds of auto races: The Indianapolis 500, the 24 Hours of Le Mans, Formula 1 and Grand Prix in Europe and South America. So who was kidding who?
So Knievel hired boxing promoter Bob Arum's company, Top Rank Productions, to put the event on closed-circuit television, and broadcast it to movie theaters, as if it were a major prizefight.
By this point, Knievel had learned that you couldn't just guess, or do it "by feel." He had accepted that he had to embrace the science of it -- which meant hiring people smarter than himself to figure it out. An ordinary motorcycle wasn't going to be able to do it. He hired aeronautical engineers Doug Malewicki and Robert Truax to build him a rocket-powered vehicle to jump across the Snake River.
On September 8, 1974, at 3:36 PM Mountain Time -- 5:36 Eastern -- the Skycycle was launched at the south rim of the Snake River Canyon, west of Shoshone Falls, Idaho. But the launch caused the drogue parachute to prematurely deploy, resulting in too much drag. The vehicle did reach a point over the north rim, but the wind caught the parachute, and blew it back to the south side of the canyon. The Skycycle crashed into the rock wall, and viewers were sure that Knievel had been killed.
Instead, at that point, crashing into the rock wall was the better option. He survived with only minor injuries. But he couldn't get out of the vehicle himself: His harness had malfunctioned. Had he landed in the water, he would have drowned before the rescue crew could get to him.
He had failed. But he had lived. The spectacle mattered more than the result. And, with Watergate reaching a climax that day with President Ford pardoning former President Nixon, America needed this kind of distraction. Evel Knievel had become the biggest thing in America.
On May 26, 1975, Wide World of Sports broadcast his attempt to jump over 13 buses at Wembley Stadium in London. These were not the "double-decker buses" that London is known for, but they were certainly taller than the kind of cars he was used to jumping. Frank Gifford, who was part of CBS' broadcast crew for the Ice Bowl, and wasn't there at Caesars, had since come to ABC, and had become friends with Knievel, and was the lead broadcaster for this event.
Over 90,000 people saw Knievel take off with not enough speed, and he hit the landing ramp with his front wheel, causing the bike to "trampoline" up, throwing him. His landing would have been bad enough, but the bike, with its wheels still spinning, kept going, and landed on top of him. The spinning of the wheel burned through his jumpsuit, extending his injuries.
He never lost consciousness. Gifford was among those who rushed to help him. They got him to a standing position, and he took a microphone, and said, "Ladies and gentlemen of this wonderful country, I've got to tell you that you are the last people in the world who will ever see me jump. Because I will never, ever, ever jump again. I'm through."
Gifford begged him to get on a stretcher for his ride to the hospital. Despite knowing his injuries included a broken pelvis -- because he'd done that before -- he said, "I came in walking, I went out walking!"
Like a great boxer, of course he couldn't stay retired. Just 5 months later, on October 25, he jumped 14 Greyhound buses at the Kings Island amusement part outside Cincinnati. At 133 feet, it was his longest successful jump. And it was Wide World of Sports' highest-rated broadcast ever. Again, he retired. Again, he lied, and came back, with a successful jump at Seattle's new Kingdome.
Inspired by the film Jaws, he wanted to jump a tank full of live sharks. On January 31, 1977, he rehearsed the jump at the International Amphitheatre in Chicago. He lost control of the motorcycle, and hit a cameraman, Thomas Geren, and a wall. He broke both of his arms, but heard that Geren had sustained a permanent eye injury. That was it: He was willing to risk his own life and limb, but not someone else's. He never jumped again. As it turned out, though, Geren regained his full vision. Though relieved, this time, Knievel kept his word, and never jumped again.
The Guinness Book of World Records listed him as having suffered 433 separate breakings of bones. He said he had broken 35 different bones over his career. It all left him in terrible pain, especially in his back.
He turned to painting, a much calmer pastime -- and one he shared with another famous Wide World of Sports crasher, Slovenian ski jumper Vinko Bogataj, victim of the 1970 "agony of defeat" fall. He supported his son Robbie Knievel's daredevil career, addressing the crowds at Robbie's events. He did safety-themed commercials, telling kids to wear helmets while riding their bicycles, to stay away from drugs, and one on radio for the New York City Transit Authority, telling people not to try "stunts" on Subway trains or buses: "Take it from a daredevil, me, Evel Knievel: Some stunts are just plain stupid."
But his health declined. His many surgeries required blood transfusions that led to Hepatitis C, and needed a liver transplant. It looked like he wouldn't get one, and, in 1999, he was told that he only had a few days to live. He decided to leave the hospital, and die at his home. On the car ride home, he got a call that a liver was available. Take a wild guess as to how the donor died: In a motorcycle accident. (On the NBC hospital drama ER, the characters called motorcycles "donorcycles.")
In 2005, to raise relief funds for Hurricane Katrina in New Orleans, he worked with Harley-Davidson, makers of all his motorcycles, to lead a group of cyclists on a fundraising ride around Harley's hometown of Milwaukee. But he suffered a stroke shortly before the event, and had to limit his effort to an autograph-signing session.
Evel Knievel may have been on ABC Wide World of Sports 6 times, but what he did was not a sport. He died on November 30, 2007, outside Tampa in Clearwater, Florida -- not due to the effects of any or all of his crashes, but due to lung disease and diabetes.
Maxim, a magazine geared toward men, always with a scantily clad woman on the cover, printed his last interview. He said, "You can't ask a guy like me why I performed. I really wanted to fly through the air. I was a daredevil, a performer. I loved the thrill, the money, the whole macho thing. All those things made me Evel Knievel. Sure, I was scared. You gotta be an ass not to be scared. But I beat the hell out of death."
In 1999, Robbie Knievel jumped a portion of the Grand Canyon owned by the Hualapai Indian Reservation, out of the federal government's jurisdiction. In 2016, stuntman Eddie Braun, working with Evel's son Kelly and Ronald Truax's son Scott, successfully piloted a replica of the 1974 Skycycle over the Snake River Canyon. Braun idolized Evel, and had insisted that the jump would have worked if the parachute hadn't deployed too soon. He proved himself right.
It took me until 2024 to think of this, but the 1970s were Schrödinger's Decade. There were too many ridiculous distractions from the rotten things going on in the world; and, at the same time, not enough of them.
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