In this special Tales from the Tower, legendary track announcer Greg Rickes looks back on the history of the Skip Barber Tower, an iconic fixture of Lime Rock Park through it’s iterations. Photos via Greg Rickes unless otherwise noted.

When your connection with Lime Rock Park is measured in decades you can lose your perspective on the passage of time.

Take for example the Sam Posey-designed Race Control building. Architecturally appealing  and efficiently functional, I still refer to it as “the new building” even though it has been a fixture for more than 25 years. For a generation, or more, of the Lime Rock Faithful it’s the only Race Control building they’ve ever known.  But its predecessor had a character all of its own.

Commissioned with the track’s opening in 1957, the original Race Control served for a solid  40 years.

In its original iteration it was bare bones. At ground level was a  room which handled various race administration functions including registration and steward’s deliberations.

The upper level  barely provided basic shelter for the platoon of volunteers who performed the essential task of timing and scoring the races, using only pencils, paper, and stop watches.

Over the years the footprint and profile of the building would change. At various times the crucial function of Timing & Scoring would relocate. For a period in the 1960s it occupied a separate single-story along pit lane.

In the earliest years the incomparable Art Peck, the original “Voice of Lime Rock Park” would occasionally clamber onto the roof for a more panoramic view. Working in that open-air environment with just a wood railing had to be challenging.

It was Art’s professional expertise as director of operations for the CBS Radio Network that spearheaded the construction of an actual Public Address booth which would transform the building to a three story structure in the mid- 1960s.

Just getting to the PA booth could be a precarious proposition. First you had to climb a ladder and pass through a small hatch.  You’d emerge onto a sloped roof covered with asphalt shingles. At the top of the incline was another irregular step up into the booth.

That PA Booth always had the feel of an improvised structure. It was just about big enough for three people.  It’s plexiglass windows offered a broad field of vision, but I swear you could feel it sway in a strong wind, and the vast window area had a hothouse effect.

With both a steel flagpole and a radio mast attached it could be an exciting place during one of northwestern Connecticut’s not-infrequent summer thunderstorms. Pelting rain would often seep in at random locations.

(Randy McKee photo)

In what seemed like a good idea at the time Timing & Scoring was briefly relocated  on a thin strip of land between the race track pavement and Salmon Creek.

(Greg Rickes photo)

Over time the building developed various appendages and annexes. After a near-disastrous incident the starter’s perch was relocated from track level to an elevated stand connected via a walkway that spanned over pit lane. More than once this catwalk bore the brunt of an oversized vehicle miscalculating the clearance. (Greg Rickes photo)

Though it may not capture the full aura, this is an exceedingly rare photo of LRP’s first scoreboard. Patterned after the manual scoreboards typical of old baseball stadiums, this structure was located alongside the race control building.  It consisted of two steel poles which supported an elevated platform that matched the third level where we worked. On either side of the platform (one side facing the infield spectator area, the other at least theoretically visible from the outfield) there were slots that would hold numbered panels for 1st, 2nd and 3rd place, plus laps remaining in the race. So, eight slots per side. There were panels, Masonite I think, with single digits numbered 0-9. Doing the math that meant 80 panels per side, or 160 total. The panels were roughly two feet by three feet in size so they could be seen from some distance. These panels were stored in a slotted container on the third level of the tower, outside the PA Booth.

Two sturdy lads were assigned the task of shuffling the appropriately numbered panels in and out of the slots as the top 3 leading positions changed in each race. To keep them up-to-date there was another person, a runner, who would monitor the lap chart being kept by statistician Craig Robertson. The runner would shuttle back and forth between the PA booth and back edge of the third level.  The two guys on the scoring platform had their hands full, so there was fourth person who would fetch the number panels from the storage unit and exchange panels  as needed. Does this sound cumbersome?  Sketchy?  The scoring platform was adjacent to the race control building but not attached to it, so to get to and from their perch (which swayed ever so slightly)  they had to get up on the perimeter railing and make a small leap of faith.

What could possibly go wrong?  Over time the number panels absorbed moisture and warped. They got heavier, and  wouldn’t readily slide in and out of the slots. Also, keep in mind this structure extended above the back part of the pit area, with people and their equipment traversing underneath it throughout  each race. It quickly became apparent this was an accident waiting to happen, and almost as quickly as it appeared on the scene it was gone without a trace.  (Jim McCarthy photo)

The upper deck also offered a unique photo vantage point. (Greg Rickes photos)

Sometime along the way a railing was added around the perimeter of the third story. In spite of the need to scale the infamous ladder and stand on angled decking the vista occasionally drew the great and the good. One vivid memory regrettably pre-dates these modern times when cameras incorporated into cellphones have become ubiquitous. It was some time in the ‘90s, when a Barber Pro Series formula-car  race was a support event for the Fall NASCAR Busch North stock car feature event. One notable participant was Derek Hill, son of America’s first Formula One World Champion (in 1961) Phil Hill.  Observant father was joined by another of America’s sports car racing icons, former Mercedes factory driver and Lime Rock Park architect John Fitch. The tales the two would have shared would be nothing short of epic.

Finally after 40 years the wear and tear was showing; relentless use and harsh New England winters extracted their toll.  Condensation from the wheezing air-conditioner in the PA Booth would trickle down the sloped roof until it found a soft spot, then it would drip down onto the precious paperwork in Timing & Scoring.  Every so often, at the most inopportune time, the over-stressed electrical system would go dark. As time passed the whole building seemed to sag under its own weight.  (Greg Rickes photo)

On a crisp November night in 1997 the staid, faithful,  old structure went out in a blaze of glory. 

It was time for Lime Rock Park to take a step into the future. (Stephanie Funk photo)