32 Hours 7 Minutes

(photo taken by Michael Hollander at the US Express)

US Express and Cannonball photographer, Michael Hollander, has passed away from cancer. Included is footage from the ‘75 Cannonball, the finish of the ‘83 US Express, and a recent interview Cory did with him for 32 Hours 7 Minutes. Although the time had not been officially calculated (Hollander tells Diem and Turner their time was 32:15), Hollander is the one to announce in ‘83 that a new record had been set, which turned out to be the impetus for this film. I’ve included some words from Rick Doherty, US Express organizer and Cannonball participant, as well as Davey Johnson, a friend of Michael’s: 

From Rick Doherty:

"Darn. So upsetting! He was the KEY to the finish for 1980 Express, Cory. He also arranged Wes Dawn to be at the 1980 dinner, Wes was a 1975 Cannonballer and star in Gumball Rally movie."

From Davey Johnson:

"The world is sorely lacking in honest-to-God, capital-C characters. Southern California automotive journalist/PR guy Mike Hollander absolutely was one; a scene fixture in motorsports and one of the earliest in the automotive sector to realize the power of online communications. He also lent his time, insight, knowledge and archives to the 32 Hours, 7 Minutes project.

My first visit to Pebble Beach was a short-notice trip offered by a reader. Apparently, my screwball sense of “Screw it, I’ll get in a car with people I don’t know and travel long distances” adventure — as evidenced by my adventures on the ‘06 Bullrun — led him to invite me as a tagalong to the Monterey orgy in his strong-running, ratty-ass ‘76 308 GTB. Pen had spent his life in Southern California advertising after a short punk rock career in Tucson and had been rather successful — the 308 wasn’t the only vintage Ferrari he owned. We didn’t have a plan or any credentials; we snuck or blagged our way into every event over the weekend. When we arrived at Pebble Beach on Sunday morning, I was prepared to offer Pen cover as my photographer. Mike Hollander was standing at the door of the media center. Hollander had taken an interest in me a year prior, when I’d first moved to Los Angeles and had been one of my sponsors for Motor Press Guild membership. I figured I was in, but I was a little worried about Pen. My concern was misplaced. Mike and Pen were old pals, having worked together at Chiat/Day. And that was thing about Hollander. Somehow, the guy knew everybody worth knowing.

So I wasn’t exactly surprised when he popped up in 32 Hours, 7 Minutes, having been the US Express finish-line photographer. And in typical Hollander fashion, masked his reverence for the goings-on with his patented gruff, zero-bullshit attitude.

Less than a year ago, a mutual friend mentioned to me that Mike had cancer. What we didn’t know at the time was that he was suffering from mesothelioma, brought on by exposure to asbestos when he was in the Navy. In fact, I didn’t know it until I showed up at the Media Center seven weeks ago looking for Concours credentials. Die-hard that he was, Mike was there. He looked small. He was suffering. But his wife Sandy was by his side and he’d muster up the energy to talk for a few minutes before being overcome by nausea.

When Alex arrived the morning of the show, we chatted with him for awhile; he lit up like I hadn’t seen in the couple of days I’d been around him — for a few minutes, he was back to his old jovial, cantankerous self. We promised we’d come to his house in Redondo Beach and screen the film for him before the end of the year. He was matter-of-fact that his prognosis left him under a year’s time on this earth, but knowing Mike, I was shocked that the tough old bastard slipped away so quickly. Godspeed, Mr. Hollander. The world lost the sort of character that it sorely needs more of."