The Voice of the Kearney Bowl

The San Joaquin Valley in central California has an exceptionally rich, and deep motorsports culture. Many of today’s racing drivers come from a long line of wheel men, reaching back to the early years of IndyCar, and even further back than the origins of NASCAR. In a history of incredible personalities that reads like a “Who’s Who” of vintage motorsports, one of the icons that plants himself deeply into the center of everyone’s hearts and who has has created vast treasures of wonderful memories for anyone who’s ever met him is racing announcer Kenny Takeuchi.

I attend racing throughout the central valley all summer long, and on any given weekend, as I stroll through the pits and mingle with the teams and drivers, there’s a strong possibility, even an expectation, that Takeuchi’s name will be brought up with the utmost respect and awe. Takeuchi is known for being an absolute treasure trove of motorsports information with a mind like a steel trap for remembering seemingly every possible statistic over the more than 60 years he’s been announcing racing. I can’t count how many times I’ve been told about times when racers would test his memory, asking him completely obscure information. “Kenny, who was the third fastest qualifier for the hardtops in May 1962, and what was his qualifying time?” As the stories go, Takeuchi always knew.

Even more impressive is his genuine love and interest in every human he meets. Even as I shared this simple portrait to social media today, the comments came flooding with words like genuine, welcoming, respectful, loving, encouraging, honor, gentleman…. Takeuchi makes himself at home in your heart, and he makes a space for you in his own, as well. If you’re especially fortunate, you may even earn a nickname. “The Campbell Comet,” “Quick Nick,” “The Caruthers Cannonball,” “Mombo Pombo.”

Takeuchi has been asked many times to write a book, or to help put together a biography or memoirs. Born in 1927, he’s now 91 years old, with even more stories to tell than his age would suggest. I’ve personally asked him for the opportunity to sit down and archive some of his thoughts. He’s always reluctant. Even with his induction into the West Coast Stock Car Hall of Fame last year, he doesn’t seem to recognize what a legend he truly has become!

I pray one day, soon, he’ll open the doors to his story. Starting from losing family in Hiroshima, to growing up in internment camps, to when he first began announcing racing at the legendary Kearney Bowl in the 1950’s, to announcing vintage racing just yesterday at Madera Speedway… and all the many, many steps in between. I would consider it beyond all the greatest privilege to be able to hear these stories from him directly, and to save them for the betterment of us all.

Back to the simple portrait, my goal was to photograph an icon in his element. I’d never seen a photo of Kenny in the booth. He was so kind to let me work, and he continued doing what he does best as if I wasn’t even there, affording me the most genuine and true images. As I was making these photographs, one of the things I was struggling with was the reflections and glare in his glasses. In the end, I decided I wasn’t going to be able to overcome them, and maintain any level of sincerity in the portraits, so I “let it be.” When I started looking through the photos full screen this morning, I realized the reflections were meant to be. They’re reflections of Madera Speedway’s front straightaway, with supermodifieds on the track. How perfectly appropriate.