How does a snake in a biology class, a beloved Hollywood movie, and a skinny kid from Speedway, Indiana with self image issues figure into a story that has become a Hoosier classic?
I must go back to the fall of 1966. I was in my sophomore year at Arlington High School and like most of the sophomores, I was assigned a first year biology class, BIO1 as it said on my slip. While I was lukewarm on the subject, I was told that my instructor, Mr. Blase, was a cool guy who could make the classroom tedium a bit more tolerable because of his approach to conducting the class. Most of the class was aware of his reputation as a champion cyclist but I did not know the details of his bicycling exploits at the time. I found him to be an engaging personality with a ready wit and knowledgeable about a lot more than just biology. I learned a little about the feeding habits of snakes, something about the insect life of Indianapolis, and that there was a great deal more activity going on in my back yard than just the grass growing. I even managed a “C” for the course. I continued my high school career and Mr. Blase continued his teaching career. I certainly got the best of our semester relationship.
David Blase grew up in Speedway, Indiana. He was a skinny, nerdy kid, as he says, out of the old Charles Atlas muscle ads. Cursed with low self-esteem and no self-confidence, he saw himself as the ultimate outsider. When he was a freshman at Indiana University, he kept to himself and stood back from student activity. He also had an old balloon tire bicycle that was rusty from lack of use. He had no interest in biking because he didn’t feel that he would be any good at it. His dorm mates tried to interest him in joining their bicycle racing team, and in the spring he reluctantly joined the group. He thought he wasn’t strong enough to ride all day, and hid in the bathroom to keep from going. However, to his surprise, he saw that his teammates, who were bigger and more muscular than he was, were having a difficult time keeping up with him. That’s when he realized that big muscles were not the best for competitive biking. His smallish frame was ideal for his chosen sport. In his first Little 500, Blase distinguished himself and his dorm team. Blase said “Maybe for the first time, I was beginning to like me. I learned that the real competition in life is not against others but against yourself…… to be able to reach down into myself and find that little extra something I didn’t know that I had.”
He rode for his fraternity Phi Kappa Psi, but the student foundation came up with a new rule that seemed to be directed toward him — any student transfer would have to sit out a year before he competed in the student union-sanctioned racing activities. Blase understood this and accepted it. He competed in some off-campus raves. The next year the student union really screwed him. They came up with a new rule designed specifically to keep Blase from competing. The rule stated that no student could participate in the Little 500 who had ridden in races outside the university. The rule was made retroactive. Once again he was on the sidelines.
Blase dropped out of school and returned to Indianapolis and worked at the Riley Research Center. Surrounded by Italian doctors at the center, he began to love all things Italian. He affected an Italian accent, sang opera, and became a fan of the Italian racing cyclist who had dominated the 1960 Rome Olympics. He reinvented himself to look and act like them. Upon returning to school in the spring to complete his education, he became friends with a freshman named Steve Tesich who was a frat brother and on the house bicycle team. Tesich was a competitor after Dave’s own heart. Tesich admitted the reason he pledged Phi Kappa Psi was because of David Blase. Tesich admired the way Blase could pedal up a hill while singing an Italian opera.
submitted photo
David Blase at IU.
The 1962 IU Little 500 came up, and David Blase couldn’t be denied this time. That particular Little 500 race has passed into legend, as Blase dominated the event. Riding 138 of the 200 laps, Blase set records and paced his team to victory. It was probably the greatest Little 500 in school history. Blase was finally able to claim his victory laurels. Along the way he dropped his Italian persona. ”I didn’t have to be anybody else,” he said “I could be myself.”
After graduation, Blase still continued to race competitively. There was occasional prize money from his racing, but not enough to support him. He needed to find a job. He thought teaching would work for him because it would give him the summers off, so he could compete in bicycle racing events. He had Olympic aspirations at the time. He also discovered that he had a knack for connecting with his students. He was the guy who rode bikes and kept snakes.
His life was going along but he was by himself. On a bicycling trip to Germany, he met a lovely young Dutch girl. Her father liked Americans, so he allowed Yolande to talk to David. Blase apparently said the right things, because a year or so later they were married in Holland. Forty-four years later they are still sweethearts. They have a son and a daughter (who lives in Germany with her husband and children and is an opera singer).
Blase taught at Arlington in the early 1960s, and continued to race in cycle events. From 1977-1979 he taught at Howe High School. “They asked me to transfer so that they could have room for a new assistant football coach,” said Blase ”The thing is, the guy never coached. He seriously injured himself and was never able to coach a down.”
Blase was able to return to Arlington and teach again. It was during this time that he heard that his old friend Steve Tesich had written a screenplay about him. Tesich had gotten a BA in Russian at Indiana and then gone from IU to Columbia University where he received an MA in Russian Literature. Tesich also wrote his first plays while at Colombia. He went to New York City to become a playwright, but he worked as a welfare caseworker. In 1973, Tesich won the Drama Desk Award as the Most Promising New Playwright. Little did Blase and Tesich know that the most fruitful part of their friendship was yet to come. (Part II Next Week)
