George Everett receives a trophy from Floyd Emde.
George Everett had it pretty good in his hometown of Baton Rouge, Louisiana. He took up motorcycling in high school and riding year-round he got good fast. He started racing while still a teenager and proved to be a natural, winning races not long after he started his racing career.
A lot of people in Everett’s position would have been satisfied. Living in familiar environs around friends and family, quickly becoming one of the top dogs in the local racing scene with plenty of backing from local dealers. It was all good. But Everett’s taste of success on the local level only whetted his appetite. Maybe it all came too easy for him, or maybe there was just a desire to see if he could win against the very best. Whatever the case Everett made a move that most men only dream of. He chucked it all, and set out for California. He had no prospects, no promise of a job or any realistic idea of how he might fare in the ultra-competitive world of Southern California motorcycle racing.
All he knew was that he had a dream and he was going to pursue it. His dream-fueled journey would ultimately see him become one of the leading racers in the country, but while Everett was on a path to greatness his story did not have a storybook ending. Motorcycle racing in the 1950s was many things, but one thing it was not was safe. In fact, it was a brutal sport which claimed many who dared to face the challenge of racing in the era of rapidly increasing speeds brought on by improving engine and chassis technology. Riding gear and track safety measures lagged way behind the curve and ultimately Everett became a casualty of the one most perilous eras of the sport at one of the most lethal tracks in the country. Racing lost a great talent.
Everett (No. 84) at the Peoria TT.
Everett was born on August 19, 1930 in Baton Rouge. He rode a motor scooter in high school and later went through a variety of motorcycles and got his first taste of racing. In and around his home in Baton Rouge, Everett began winning enduro and other off-road events. He also participated in flat-track racing, but quickly realized that even though he loved the sport, there weren’t enough big races near his home to satisfy his competitive urges.
At the age of 21, Everett made a momentous decision – he would leave Baton Rouge and move to Los Angeles to try to become a professional racer. It was a great leap of faith, but he was a young man on a mission. He’d been competitive in Louisiana, but he had no idea if he could contend in the white-hot racing scene of Southern California.
Everett settled in Pasadena. He was methodical in his approach to becoming a pro. At first, he participated in familiar scrambles races, where he continued to hone his skills. He then began riding short track and TT events.
Everett steadily climbed the ranks and by 1954 he was the top novice riders in Southern California. That year, in fact, he was the high-point novice rider in all of the AMA. Shortly thereafter he picked up sponsorship from the famous Milne Bros. (former speedway champs) motorcycle dealership.
Everett (84) on the cover of American Motorcyclist.
Everett was an outgoing person. He loved to promote the sport of motorcycle racing and made a point to stop by newspaper offices in the area he was racing just to introduce himself to the sports editors and answer any questions they had about racing. Pasadena Independent Sports Editor Bob Shafer became a good friend and followed Everett’s racing career in his column.
By 1955, Everett’s talent really began to show. He high-pointed in the amateur class, as he had in the novice ranks, and more importantly made some great showings against the pros. In the 1955 Pacific Coast TT championship, Everett finished second to Brad Andres. The kid from Louisiana was for real.
Everett got his expert license in 1956. He made the trek to Daytona Beach, Florida, and finished an amazing third in the Daytona 200, his very first AMA national race. Everett’s dream of becoming one of the best in the sport was coming true much faster than even he had imagined. After his outstanding Daytona debut he name was now known throughout the country to fans of motorcycle raicing.
For the rest of the 1956 season, Everett stayed close to his adopted home of Los Angeles to participate in the lucrative local weekly races, but he did go cross-country once again to race in the famous Peoria TT Nationals. At Peoria, he was every bit as impressive as he’d been at Daytona, taking second and third in the two nationals at Peoria’s Clubgrounds. Competing in just three nationals, Everett managed to finish tied for fourth in the final 1956 AMA Grand National point standings.
Everett came back in 1957 to Peoria, riding a BSA, and earned his first AMA national victory. Again, he finished ranked in the top 10 in the national championships despite racing in only half of the events.
In 1958, Everett solidified his reputation as one of the all-time greats at Peoria by winning for a second straight year. He also proved his versatility that year by winning the Dodge City Grand Prix road race (a non-AMA national, but a race that attracted most of the country’s top riders) and earning another top-10 result in the Daytona 200. Back home in Los Angeles, Everett won the Pacific Coast TT title and was the high-point rider at Ascot Park. He also found time to race in and win speedway races in Northern California. He was really coming into his own.
Everett was entering his fourth year in the pro ranks in 1959. He seemed to be on the verge of making even a bigger impact on the national scene when he was sadly struck down in a multiple-bike accident on June 19 during the weekly Friday night program at Ascot Park. Everett lingered for three days before succumbing to his injuries on June 22. He was 28. Everett’s death struck the racing community very hard, especially in Southern California. Described by those who knew him as a fine, humble, soft-spoken and humorous man, Everett was generally considered to be the best-liked rider by both fans and fellow competitors in his home district.
In just over three years of professional racing, Everett had earned a solid reputation as a true professional in every sense of the word. His old friend, Bob Shafer, wrote a fitting eulogy to Everett in his newspaper column.
“It is not easy to say goodbye to a friend. The only measure of solace is found in the notion that George went out doing what he liked best; living life, as he saw it, to its fullest. He is beyond hurt. It is those he leaves behind who suffer the deep ache now. His was an occupation whose dangers he fully realized and oft-times freely discussed. Were it to be done over again he undoubtedly would chose the same kind of life. “
We really have no kick coming. We are all better off for having known him.”
