Frank's Loose Lugnuts
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05/02/2016 Frank Buhrman |
In an article earlier this week, I said that NASCAR’s top touring series would benefit from rules that enabled local racers to compete with the visiting “big boys” when they came to town. This is NOT what I meant:
In July of 1958, NASCAR’s Grand National (Sprint Cup) division raced at Stateline Speedway in Busti, N.Y., and only four of the 23 starters were from below the Mason-Dixon Line and could be characterized as series regulars. Lee Petty led two-thirds of the 150-lap race but broke down with a dozen laps to go, giving the win to another Southerner, Shorty Rollins. Twelve starters were from New York, Pennsylvania or adjacent states, as probably were five others for whom the race results recorded no hometown. A couple of Midwesterners rounded out the field. (In all fairness, the race was part of a northern swing that also included Toronto, Buffalo, Rochester, Belmar, N.J., and the Bridgehampton, N.Y., road course, and only the latter seems to have had the majority of its racers – 10 of 17 – from the South. Also of interest, the Toronto race a couple of nights after Stateline marked Richard Petty’s first GN start.)
A Wikipedia article explains the poor turnout: “most of the top drivers didn’t make it because of a long rain delay at the previous race.” Given that the previous race (in North Carolina) was four days earlier, that seems debatable, but it still meant the fans didn’t see much in the way of Grand National drivers at their Grand National race, which may explain why the track didn’t book NASCAR in 1959.
A handful of locals would make a nice addition to a visiting NASCAR contingent; the majority of the field might not be a good idea.
In another recent piece, I suggested some novelty or gimmick additions to NASCAR races to help with broader fan interest. I’m sure a lot of people think gimmicks have no place in professional auto racing, but after today’s Talladega race, I’m not sure racing two or three cars chained together or having the driver put a bag over his/her head is all that much more bizarre than what passes for racing at NASCAR’s biggest oval.
I’m not one of those who believe that drivers have somehow lost their interest in interacting with fans. I just believe that there are a lot more fans now – even with the downturn in attendance/interest – and a driver just can’t spend as much time being personal and personable with a crowd of hundreds as when the “crowd” was only a handful . . . like Dave Fulton and me when we came over to talk with J.T. Putney or Roy Tyner after a race decades ago.
Still, it would be nice to have opportunities to at least feel more connected. For years, Pennsylvania fans lined the bridges over I-81 to see the haulers pass on their way to and from Pocono – they may still do that – and back when most races were run-and-done in a single day, everybody got to see the arrival and preparation. We could check area motel parking lots the night before to see who was in town.
In the early years of the old Grand American division, Joie Chitwood (before he became an International Speedway Corp. honcho) ran some in that series, and when they came to Richmond, his car was carried in one of the Chitwood thrill show trucks, which had a tubular cover on the back and a large, rocket-type fin on top. Unfortunately, the fin got stuck under the cable across the track’s front stretch crossover gate. They finally got into the infield via the backstretch gate, but something like that humanizes the people involved, and gives fans a little entertainment, too. Seeing Tiny Lund driving around the Richmond fairgrounds parking lot looking for a ditch he could back his truck into so the car could be removed without proper ramps was similarly humanizing.
In July of 1958, NASCAR’s Grand National (Sprint Cup) division raced at Stateline Speedway in Busti, N.Y., and only four of the 23 starters were from below the Mason-Dixon Line and could be characterized as series regulars. Lee Petty led two-thirds of the 150-lap race but broke down with a dozen laps to go, giving the win to another Southerner, Shorty Rollins. Twelve starters were from New York, Pennsylvania or adjacent states, as probably were five others for whom the race results recorded no hometown. A couple of Midwesterners rounded out the field. (In all fairness, the race was part of a northern swing that also included Toronto, Buffalo, Rochester, Belmar, N.J., and the Bridgehampton, N.Y., road course, and only the latter seems to have had the majority of its racers – 10 of 17 – from the South. Also of interest, the Toronto race a couple of nights after Stateline marked Richard Petty’s first GN start.)
A Wikipedia article explains the poor turnout: “most of the top drivers didn’t make it because of a long rain delay at the previous race.” Given that the previous race (in North Carolina) was four days earlier, that seems debatable, but it still meant the fans didn’t see much in the way of Grand National drivers at their Grand National race, which may explain why the track didn’t book NASCAR in 1959.
A handful of locals would make a nice addition to a visiting NASCAR contingent; the majority of the field might not be a good idea.
In another recent piece, I suggested some novelty or gimmick additions to NASCAR races to help with broader fan interest. I’m sure a lot of people think gimmicks have no place in professional auto racing, but after today’s Talladega race, I’m not sure racing two or three cars chained together or having the driver put a bag over his/her head is all that much more bizarre than what passes for racing at NASCAR’s biggest oval.
I’m not one of those who believe that drivers have somehow lost their interest in interacting with fans. I just believe that there are a lot more fans now – even with the downturn in attendance/interest – and a driver just can’t spend as much time being personal and personable with a crowd of hundreds as when the “crowd” was only a handful . . . like Dave Fulton and me when we came over to talk with J.T. Putney or Roy Tyner after a race decades ago.
Still, it would be nice to have opportunities to at least feel more connected. For years, Pennsylvania fans lined the bridges over I-81 to see the haulers pass on their way to and from Pocono – they may still do that – and back when most races were run-and-done in a single day, everybody got to see the arrival and preparation. We could check area motel parking lots the night before to see who was in town.
In the early years of the old Grand American division, Joie Chitwood (before he became an International Speedway Corp. honcho) ran some in that series, and when they came to Richmond, his car was carried in one of the Chitwood thrill show trucks, which had a tubular cover on the back and a large, rocket-type fin on top. Unfortunately, the fin got stuck under the cable across the track’s front stretch crossover gate. They finally got into the infield via the backstretch gate, but something like that humanizes the people involved, and gives fans a little entertainment, too. Seeing Tiny Lund driving around the Richmond fairgrounds parking lot looking for a ditch he could back his truck into so the car could be removed without proper ramps was similarly humanizing.
Joie Chitwood
It was good to see Tony Stewart make his return at Richmond. I was working there in 1999 the night he won his first race, and I think that remains to this day the longest victory lane party NASCAR’s ever seen.
In those days, the post-race routine was to have the winner go up to the press box for an interview, and as Stewart’s party continued, the assembled press – some on deadline – began to grumble. Eventually, they began to leave. Occasionally, somebody from the press box would call the infield media center and ask us to find out how much longer it would be before Tony worked his way up, and we’d go out and try to take a guess. I think I went out somewhere between 90 and 120 minutes after the race ended, and Tony was tossing hats from the infamous victory lane “hat dance” over the frontstretch fence to fans. I don’t remember him ever making it to the interview, but in those days you didn’t get fined for that sort of thing.
Anyway, it’s pretty nice to see somebody enjoy “the thrill of victory” that much.
In those days, the post-race routine was to have the winner go up to the press box for an interview, and as Stewart’s party continued, the assembled press – some on deadline – began to grumble. Eventually, they began to leave. Occasionally, somebody from the press box would call the infield media center and ask us to find out how much longer it would be before Tony worked his way up, and we’d go out and try to take a guess. I think I went out somewhere between 90 and 120 minutes after the race ended, and Tony was tossing hats from the infamous victory lane “hat dance” over the frontstretch fence to fans. I don’t remember him ever making it to the interview, but in those days you didn’t get fined for that sort of thing.
Anyway, it’s pretty nice to see somebody enjoy “the thrill of victory” that much.
Some of my suggestions seem kind of goofy, but that’s just because you need to entertain people to keep ‘em coming back, and entertainment sometimes means having people involved who don’t exactly fit the marketing or public relations director’s idea of the perfect driver for a sponsorship. Could Joe Weatherly play his practical jokes on other drivers today? (He didn’t exactly look the matinee idol part, either.) Could a driver take a monkey along in his car as Tim Flock did with Jocko Flocko?
Tim Flock
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Jocko Flocko
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For that matter, could we even have drivers today with nicknames? Not only did Shorty Rollins win that 1958 Stateline Speedway race in New York, but the early leader – one of the local racers – was named Squirt Johns. “Bud” and “Jug” also were in the field.
We could use a few of those today.
We could use a few of those today.
Shorty Rollins
