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September 15, 2007
OFFICIAL OVERPOPULATION
For various reasons, I have been to a
whole bunch of race tracks in the last couple of years.
Superspeedways, quarter-milers, West Coast to East, and everything
in between.
There is no question that we are in
troubling economic times and that keeping the racing going in some
places is pretty darn challenging. However, I have also been
impressed at how just plain nice a lot of track owners and promoters
actually are. People like Sherry Clifton at Hickory, NC; the
Mattiolis at Pocono and South Boston, VA; and Lanny and Beverly
Edwards at Devils Bowl in Texas are a special breed. Wonderful
folks, very much dedicated to keeping the traditions of oval racing
alive.
Curiously, though, at many tracks
there seems to be a growing number of lower-level race officials who
just don’t get it. It’s as though something psychologically happens
to guys and gals who wear white shirts on Saturday night. They put
on an air of inflated authority. They become village Napoleons,
stomping around shouting directions, impressing no one but
themselves. It has become remarkably common.
Even aside from probably costing
struggling promoters far more than they are worth, these weekend
bureaucrats are horrible for the show. If anything, racing has
become too buttoned down. It just might be a good idea to lighten up
a bit and to let the "sport of the people" breathe a little. It just
might be time to bring back a little of the color and excitement
rather than to kill it both purposefully and unpleasantly.
I realize that racing is too serious
and too dangerous to be run by libertarians, but consider for a
minute that good officiating might be minimal officiating. One of my
favorite memories from 40-plus years of driving was towing into
Canaan Speedway in New Hampshire for the first time. We had a wild
car and were worried about whether we could run. I walked up to the
promoter, Charlie Elliott, and asked him what the rules were in
Class A. He smiled. "You’ll have no problem, Lew. We have just two
rules. The driver has to be behind the engine and the driver can’t
be drunk. But, then again, this is New Hampshire, and we have had a
little trouble enforcing that second one sometimes."
I told Charlie of an amazingly
un-regulatory way that an old-time upstate New York track owner had
dealt with that second one in the past. Check out the following
story from our book FONDA! A
Documented and Illustrated History of the Legendary Fonda Speedway.
DON HENDENBERG – A CHAMPION’S
SAD TALE
They say he was perfectly
built to drive old time dirt cars. "Don Hendenberg had the
biggest arms I’ve ever seen," recalls master photographer
John Grady, while in Jeep Herbert’s words, "He was the bear
that walked like a man." When the burly truck driver came to
Fonda in 1954, he and rival Cliff Kotary were already heroes
in the Rome, New York, area, each with credentialed win
lists. And Hendenberg caused a particular stir as the
appointed chauffeur of the famous red, black, and white S/33
sportsman owned by Dave McCredy, the Chevrolet dealer from
Sherburne.
Hendenberg would not
disappoint Montgomery County railbirds. He immediately began
copping top-five finishes. In fact, in 1956 his enviable
consistency earned him the track championship without
winning a single feature.
Very much a man of the ’50s,
Hendenberg lived to race, to joke – and to party. One
Saturday night he tooled into Fonda straight from a wedding,
and no small number of folks took notice of his condition.
Several drivers marched up to the Tower, demanding that they
not race against an inebriated competitor. Quickly and
profoundly the officials responded that they could not
possibly police the drivers but that they would support any
reasonable action the drivers wished to take themselves. The
competitors went off, huddled, and came back with the
following request: let Hendenberg go out and run five hot
laps by himself. If he does okay, okay. The officials
agreed. Hendenberg went out, ran three laps, and crashed
through the fence…
Early on, 1957 had the look
of a good year for the fun-loving Roman. In June he snagged
a fourth, a second, and his only two Fonda feature wins,
back to back. However, fate was to have its own sad and
unexpected twist. Delivering papers one morning, Don slammed
a tree at the sharp bend in the middle of Lee Center, New
York.
The popular bear man, driving
his tiny early Volkswagen bug, was dead.
© 2007 Lew
Boyd, Coastal 181
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