Just after the Legendtorial was done last week I was asked would I really like it if NASCAR was the same today as it was in the 50s and 60s. A legitimate question and one, which I have given considerable thought about since last week. So, let me venture into my world of thoughts on that subject.
I was introduced to the sport in the late summer of 1952, just before I would have turned six in October. I do have memories of those early races although many of the names of the drivers escape me as the time has passed. I have knowledge of the sport before my first visit to a race track thanks most of all to such people as Bill Blair, Jr. and Jim Streeter, as well as some books I have enjoyed and some documentaries I have seen. I have watched “Red Dirt Rising” several times and what makes that so poignant to me is that the folks represented in that movie are the parents of the Lewallens and Blairs I have the honor of hanging around with these days. Others of that era are friends of mine as well and I have heard, first hand, the stories of those who participated or who watched as their dads, uncles, brothers, and acquaintances participated.
I have often opined that my favorite years of racing were the 50s and 60s with part of the 70s thrown in as well. I have, in previous Legendtorials offered by reasons for the selection of those decades as my favorites. As sure as God made little green apples, there will be those who point out that so many drivers were killed in those decades while stock car racing was in its infancy and for that reason alone, those days were not the best of times. But I would offer that racing is everything it should be today because of those days and those sacrifices. In my opinion, to hold such a position as that, takes much away from those pioneers who gave us the pathway to what we have before us today.
In the 1950s, cars were pretty close to stock and it was, without a doubt, easy for the fan to identify with the car on the track and the car in his or her driveway. Darlington was the only superspeedway and fans flocked to that sun-baked field outside the small South Carolina town to watch the cars, drivers, and crews take on that oddly shaped ribbon of asphalt on a Labor Day afternoon. Tires would blow, engines would blow and the crowd would be sunburned badly before the afternoon was over, but someone would earn the right to celebrate the win. I can never forget my first Darlington race, the very first spring race at Darlington for the convertibles. I can still see the rows of three coming by the fourth turn fence and feel the ground shake under my feet as the rumble of the race cars shook the earth much like a 6.0 magnitude earth quake.
I never did get to see a race on the beach at Daytona, but I have heard the stories first hand from Tim Flock, Buck Baker, Fireball Roberts and others. I have seen the grainy 8 mm films of those races and I know there was something special about racing there that can’t be reborn on the high banks of the Daytona International Speedway only a few miles away. I have watched as Daytona went from the wide ribbon of asphalt with a limited grandstand to the mammoth facility it is today. To have dreamed, in the sixties, that they would ever race under the lights at Daytona would have been truly a dream on marijuana induced sleep. Yet, today, that track sparkles under the lights.
The 1960s were special to me because I was able to be at the first World 600 and watch a race that was anything but usual. Made my first trip to Daytona in 1962, first to Atlanta in 1963. Rockingham opened in 1965 and I was there to see Curtis Turner return to Victory Lane. I did not go to the first race at ‘Dega in September of 1969 because my driver led the Professional Drivers Association in a boycott of that event. It seemed that my world of stock car racing was wide open as we made all of the events anywhere close by. I am well aware that we lost Fireball Roberts, Jimmy Pardue, Joe Weatherly, Bobby and Billy Myers, Larry Thomas and others during the 50s and the 60s and I regret each and every death among our family of drivers as do each of you. But I think that to dwell on the losses of those decades in some respect, belittles the efforts those men gave to making the sport a viable part of American Culture, or at the time, the Southern Culture. I will not even begin to list those we have lost in the 70s, 80s, 90s, and in this century. The first to come to mind is, of course, Dale Earnhardt, and by comparison, his contributions, while appearing to be more than some of the others, are no more, or less, than so many of the independents who gave it their all week after week. First one who comes to mind there is J.D. McDuffie. But, as I said, I don’t want to throw names about tonight.
I think, in my mind, the decades of the 50s and 60s were the decades of the coming of age of the sport. I can think of the many half-mile dirt tracks where I would watch all the teams come in, work on their cars, qualify, and race, then load up and on to the next one. Most times, the race driver was either driving the tow vehicle or was riding it the tow vehicle with the crew. I watched many a night at short track events as the driver and crew used flashlights to work on the car to ready it for the track because the lighting in the pits was abysmal. I watched many a crew work on cars in the broiling sun at Darlington, or either under the tin covered garage where the temperature, even in the shade had to be well over 100.
In the 50s and 60s, we traveled down the highway often passing, or being passed, by the teams who had just raced before our eyes. The cars were on open trailers and the drivers, our heroes, were right there in the tow vehicle. Often when we stopped to eat, it was where several of the teams had stopped to eat. It was a personal thing of us and appeared to be the same for the driver. I truly don’t believe any fan today can identify with what it’s like to have pushed a Grand National car to the starting line for an event, which I did many times. I do not believe any fan today can identify with having one on one conversation with their favorite driver as we did all the time back then.
NASCAR has come a long way over the 60 plus years of its existence. The stories and the legends across the board of the early days are colorful and exciting and true. What was truth in those days far outweighs the manufactured hype of today. But, even so, that was not intended to be a statement critical of NASCAR.
When I was in high school, and stock car racing was a sport not to be talked about in certain circles, I obsessed with making sure everyone who knew me knew of my love for the sport. I would predict that NASCAR would someday be a major force in the world of sports. Used to make me swell with pride when the figures would come out showing NASCAR to be the number two spectator sport behind the NFL. I am, today, proud of what NASCAR has accomplished and continue to wish it the very best. But I would temper those wishes with a reminder seen most prominently on the vintage cars of Billy Biscoe: “Don’t forget your roots”.
I do believe that the success of the Bell & Bell series is due in no small part to the longing of many old fans to see what we grew up with and many new fans to learn about the origins of the sport. There are other vintage series that are enjoying success for the very same reasons. Yet, as we all know, present day NASCAR is fighting a battle for fans. Granted attendance has improved at some tracks this year, but the fight still remains. We all know about the television ratings which have continued to slip in spite of the bump up given by the Pocono event. Will be interesting to see what Sonoma brings about as I am writing this before the Sonoma race.
As for the title of this Legendtorial, “Tomorrow is Yesterday” the Star Trek episode which used that title is far-fetched and absurd to think about, yet I felt it appropriate for tonight as I like to think that “Tomorrow for NASCAR will be somewhat of a return to some of the ways of yesterday. Let me give you an example.
Of the many events I am privileged to attend through RacersReunion I hang around the true pioneers and heroes of the sport. When each of those men or women talk, there is always a sparkle in their eyes. A magic way of letting you know that as they are telling the stories, they are reliving it in their mind as if it were happening again. Today, when the driver takes off his or her sunglasses long enough to see the eyes, IF in fact they take them off, about all you really see is the darting eyes looking around to make sure they cover all the sponsors who have decals on their cars. The essence of the win is the money. The essence of everything in the sport today is money. But over the weekend, a group of us got together for breakfast and had the honor to include one Jim Streeter. Jim, for those of you who don’t know, was an early pioneer who raced against some of the best. He has stories that keep you on the edge of your seat and his memory is flawless. As he was telling the stories of his early days of racing, even before NASCAR, you could see the sparkle in his eyes as he talked of his adventures on the race track. Even today, so many, many years after the fact, his heart must surely race as he relives that part of his past. I know it makes my heart race to listen to the stories.
Whether tomorrow will recognize yesterday is up to us all to decide. I know I keep beating this same drum, week after week, and while I hope you all are not tiring of the subject, fair warning is that I am likely to continue. Technology is a great thing, just ask my grandsons. However, can you truly honestly say that the technology of today could beat out the savvy of Smokey Yunick, Ray Fox, Bud Moore, The Wood Brothers, Maurice Petty, or Cotton Owens? Maybe we should say tomorrow is possible ONLY because of yesterday.
