Jim McElreath, 1928-2017

Above: Jim McElreath, 1980. McElreath made 15 Indy 500 starts.

Jim McElreath, who started his Indianapolis 500 career as rookie of the year in a roadster back in 1962 and finished it 20 years later in the ground-effects era as his own chief mechanic, passed away Thursday at the age of 89.

In a life spiced with racing successes and personal tragedies, McElreath was thought of as one of the toughest drivers – mentally and physically – ever to buckle up a helmet.

The man who cut his teeth on IMCA sprint cars captured the inaugural California 500 at Ontario, scored four other IndyCar wins and finished second and third in the USAC national championship in addition to being a fierce competitor in dirt cars.

"He was a helluva lot better than people thought he was," said A.J. Foyt, who owned McElreath's winning car at Ontario. "He was hard to beat; he was tough but he was a good guy."

Three-time Indy 500 winner Johnny Rutherford went one better in his praise. "If Jim had equal equipment to A.J. he'd have given him all he wanted," said Lone Star J.R. "He was really good in a champ dirt car too.

"Not sure the general public knew much about Jim, but all the guys that raced with him knew how good he was."

McElreath wasn't much for small talk and didn't suffer fools – or people messing with his livelihood.

"Jim didn't talk much but if he or Rube [Lloyd Ruby] stood up in a drivers meeting we all shut up," Bobby Unser said with a laugh. "He was a nice man but you didn't want to get Jim mad at you."

But the Arlington, Texas native's off-track life was full of sorrow.

His son, James, was killed in a sprint car in 1977 at Winchester, and on Valentine's Day 2000 his daughter, Shirley Ann, lost her life in a private airplane crash with her husband, Tony Bettenhausen Jr., and two other friends.

Shortly after his daughter's death, Jim's wife Shirley suffered a debilitating stroke that affected her speech and left her in a wheelchair, where she remains today.

During the last few years McElreath's health deteriorated to the point where he could no longer take care of his wife and required constant care himself.

"Jim was as tough and strong as they made 'em but James' death really hit home and he literally cried on my shoulder," recalled Rutherford, who came up through the IMCA ranks under McElreath's guidance.

But McElreath kept racing, even though it was quickly becoming a rich man's sport. He bought an old Penske chassis in 1980, worked on it himself and qualified 11th for his 15th and final start at IMS. His best finishes were third in 1966 and fifth in 1970 – driving for Foyt.

If the deaths of his two children weren't enough, his wife's stroke turned him into a permanent caregiver. He never left her side the past 17 years.

Foyt said it best: “Jimmy was a helluva man.”