Indy’s First Visionary

Public-domain image of Carl G. Fisher (1909), Library of Congress / Wikimedia Commons

I’ve loved the Indianapolis 500 for as long as I can remember. I’m an IndyCar fan who never misses the race — the sound, the speed, the traditions, the feeling that for one day every year, Indianapolis becomes the center of the racing world.

I grew up in Southeastern Indiana. Close enough that the 500 always felt like ours, even before I really understood why. What I didn’t fully grasp until adulthood was just how much of that tradition traces back to one man from my own part of the state.

For a long time, the name Carl Fisher didn’t mean much to me. As I got older, that changed.

A recent WRBI story about Carl Fisher being honored in Speedway served as a timely reminder of why his story matters, and why it’s worth revisiting. Especially now, when the Indianapolis 500 continues to evolve but still depends on the same foundation it always has.

Carl G. Fisher was born in Greensburg. A Southeastern Indiana kid who grew up in a time when automobiles were still a novelty. While most people were just figuring out how to drive them, Fisher was already thinking bigger — about speed, about roads, and about what cars could mean for the future.

That thinking helped lead to the creation of the Indianapolis Motor Speedway.

The place that hosts the Indianapolis 500. The track that generations of fans, drivers, and teams treat as sacred ground. The place where legends are made every May.

The honor Fisher is receiving is in Speedway — the very place most closely tied to his legacy. There’s something fitting about that. A full-circle moment that underscores how far his influence still reaches.

Fisher didn’t see racing as just spectacle. He saw it as a proving ground. A way to push technology forward. A place where innovation could be tested under extreme conditions. Early on, the Speedway wasn’t even intended solely as a fan venue — it was meant to improve the automobile itself.

When the original track surface proved dangerous, Fisher didn’t walk away. He paved it with millions of bricks, creating the Brickyard — a name that still carries weight more than a century later.

The first Indianapolis 500 was run in 1911. What began as an experiment became a tradition. A tradition that has survived wars, economic downturns, technological revolutions, and generations of change.

Fisher’s vision went well beyond the track. He championed better roads, promoted the Lincoln Highway, helped shape how Americans traveled, and later played a role in developing Miami Beach. Movement, progress, and ambition tied all of it together.

Like a lot of fans, my appreciation for the 500 deepened with age. Not just for the race itself, but for the history behind it. When you start asking “why does this matter,” Carl Fisher’s name keeps appearing.

And what really resonates is that he was from here. From Southeastern Indiana. From a place that doesn’t always get credit for producing world-changing ideas.

That’s something we should embrace.

Indiana prides itself on tradition, but tradition only exists because someone had the vision to start it. Carl Fisher was one of those people.

So if you’re an IndyCar fan. If you never miss the Indianapolis 500. If you grew up in this part of the state and always felt like the race belonged to you — even before you knew why — take a moment to remember the man who helped make it possible.

Because understanding where something comes from doesn’t make it smaller.

It makes it matter more.