Family of Monroeville man says he 'died happy' on raceway

James “Big Jim” Baker’s death at Keystone Raceway last week was exactly the way he’d have wanted to go out. For this, his family said, they are grateful.

“He’d say, ‘If I die in that car, I’ll die happy,’ ” his daughter, Nichole Baker, said of her father. “He died happy. He died doing what he loved.”

Baker, of Monroeville, began racing when he was 16 and died behind the wheel of his 1936 Ford Roadster on Friday at the Derry Township racetrack, suddenly veering to the right as he crossed the line, hitting a rail and utility pole. He was 69.

“I’d say, ‘Jim, what are you going to do, race til you die?’ ” said his sister, Linda Moorehead. “And that’s exactly what he did.”

While an autopsy has not yet been completed, Moorehead said conversations with the Westmoreland County coroner lead the family to believe he might have suffered a cardiac issue that caused the crash.

“This is exactly what he wanted, and very few people get to die exactly how they want to,” his daughter said. “He made it across the finish line the final time. They were waving the checkered flag for him.”

He started racing in his Dodge Charger as a teenager after a friend goaded him into bringing the car to the drag strip. Baker lost, but he kept going back — losing and learning, over and over, until he finally won.

“He was hooked,” said Carole Hall, Jim Baker’s other sister.

Moorehead and Hall live next door to each other in Apollo, and they remember their brother as a dedicated racer who loved the adrenaline.

“It was the speed, the feeling he’d get — the rush,” Moorehead said. “He loved that rush.”

He also knew the risks.

“We all knew, including him, that it was dangerous,” she said. “It never stopped him. We also know the safety that is involved in every race car. He was safer in his race car than I would be in my street car.”

Racing became a family affair. Baker’s sisters, their children and his children would head to the track each Saturday to cheer him on and hold a cookout in the pits of the track.

“That was what our Saturdays were,” Moorehead said.

Nichole Baker said that while her father was gruff man who didn’t always express his feelings, he softened when she had her daughter, Jocelynn, his only grandchild.

“When she was born, he changed,” she said. “He softened up. She was it for him.” Grandfather and granddaughter had frequent breakfast dates, and she liked to dress him up and paint his nails.

He frequented restaurants throughout the Murrysville area, striking up friendships with waitresses from Eat‘n Park to Dick’s Diner and Hoss’s to the Creekside Diner.

He was known as the “old man” at the raceway and commanded respect without even trying from the younger racers, his family said. His daughter said he taught her responsibility, what the inside of a motor looks like and how to change a set of brakes with a full set of acrylic nails. He taught his granddaughter independence and the importance of hard work.

“Who am I going to call when I don’t know what size wrench to use?” Nichole Baker asked.

Back and heart problems were catching up with him, Nichole Baker said, and he was hard-pressed to walk across a room without holding on to something for support. Still, she said, he raced.

“As far as it goes for me, knowing my dad, he went out exactly how he wanted to,” she said. “And he left a helluva story.”