The annual summer NASCAR Cup Series event at Daytona International Speedway is on Aug. 24 and, once again, it will be a night race and the next-to-last contest prior to the beginning of the playoffs.
Now that is certainly far removed from what Daytona’s summer race used to be.
For decades, it was always scheduled for July 4, the national holiday that routinely saw thousands of vacationers – and seemingly just as many race fans – fill the motels along A1A in Daytona Beach.
The 400-mile race, known as the Firecracker 400 for many years, always began at 11 a.m., which was in consideration of the often intense July heat in Daytona. Competitors, fans and media could come to the event in the relatively cool morning and in the late afternoon be seated by the motel pool.
Make no mistake, that was hugely appealing to everyone. Fans could enjoy a race that seldom lasted more than 2.5 hours, which meant they could be back on the beach with their families by 3 in the afternoon. Traffic wasn’t nearly as heavy as it was for the Daytona 500 in February.
Competitors enjoyed a similar situation. Race week schedules were compacted so they spent as little time at the track as possible. The fact was, by around 2 in the afternoon, any team still working in the nearly deserted garage area had problems of some sort.
All of this suited the media as well. Most NASCAR races usually meant filing stories into the night – sometimes well into the night.
But at Daytona in July, that was not the case. Like competitors and fans, they too could take advantage of the schedule and be sipping on a cold one by the pool in the late afternoon.
Speaking of sitting by the pool, for years at Daytona that was a rather rowdy experience. Believe it or not, there was at least one motel where fans, several competitors and media members had rooms. It was as if they were one happy family.
To be by the pool was to be at a party. Loud music, sharing beverages from coolers and raucous splashing in the pool were the orders of the day.
Often, everyone was treated to an exhibition staged by noted crew chief Buddy Parrott, a skilled diver.
I trust you can understand the appeal of a July 4 race at Daytona.
Now for the media, there was an additional appeal.
Being able to complete work and leave the track early was a bonus, for sure. But it was particularly rewarding to do so on July 3, the day before the race.
That was the day the media tried, in every way possible, to leave the track earlier than any other day. It meant much more time for relaxation before the often-rigorous task of race coverage.
As such, the media established its own holiday tradition. On July 3, they would all leave the speedway by 1 p.m. Of course, that didn’t mean that anything newsworthy would disappear at the same time.
So, the media devised a plan to ensure they would not miss any news after 1 p.m. They would appoint a “pool” reporter; an individual who would remain at the track to be able to relay any important information by phone to a designated source.
There was one problem: Who the heck was going to agree to stay at the track? To do so wasn’t exactly appealing.
It was determined that it would be a “rookie” reporter, particularly one who had not previously covered the Firecracker 400. He was the low man on the totem pole who could be manipulated by the seasoned veterans. He would be subjected to an “initiation.”
In 1975, it was me.
Now, I covered many races since 1971, but never the summer event at Daytona. Reckon there was, finally, enough money in The Roanoke Times’ budget to let me do so.
I knew about the so-called media tradition. But I didn’t say a word about it. I found out I was selected when I walked into the near-empty media center around 1 p.m. on July 3 to find a written note at my seat.
It said: “It’s you. Call if there’s anything we need to know.”
One part of me said I should take it seriously and remain vigilant until the garage area was closed. Another part said this was all nonsense and just return to the motel.
While I pondered the situation, the late Harvey Duck, the public relations official for STP, the long-time sponsor for Petty Enterprises, sat down next to me.
“What are you doing here?” he asked.
I told him of my dilemma.
“You mean you fell for that stunt?” he asked.
I knew then what I was going to do: Swimming pool and a cold one, here I come!
“There might be something,” Duck said. “I hear that things may change at DiGard. Maybe you could check that out.”
DiGard Racing Co. had been formed in 1973 in Florida and had retained Donnie Allison as its driver. It was a competent team that at the time did not pursue the entire Cup schedule.
While winless, Allison did achieve some decent finishes and there had not been even a slight rumble over imminent changes.
If I did pursue the rumor, where would I start? I knew Bobby Allison well but had never had the opportunity to interview his brother. Nor had I spoken with team owner Bill Gardner or exchanged a word with the crew chief, the reticent Mario Rossi.
Besides, DiGard had left the speedway – along with just about every other team.
I decided to do something diabolical; something that would let the vets know I was onto their game.
Against journalistic policy, I would speculate on DiGard. I would print a rumor over fact – which, obviously, is frowned upon.
I added one sentence to my report that said something like, “There are rumors that several changes may take place at DiGard Racing Co. very soon.” Perhaps that would jolt the vets – but my journalistic neck was stuck out.
Thankfully, it wasn’t cut off.
After the race, which was won by Richard Petty (to Duck’s delight, I’m sure), Gardner announced that indeed, there would be changes at DiGard.
“A reorganization is underway and people will be terminated,” he said. “That includes Allison.”
Sure enough, the younger Allison ran his last race with DiGard at Talladega Superspeedway on Aug. 17, where he finished third.
Newcomer Darrell Waltrip also drove for DiGard in that race and finished 42nd. He drove in 11 events for the team that year and together they would go on to win 30 races the next five seasons.
I admit I was lucky. My gambit gave me a measure of satisfaction when things might well have gone very differently.
As for the media’s July 4 Daytona gambit, while it became increasingly obvious it was nothing but a practical joke, it remained in practice and a part of tradition.
Given my experience in 1975, it should come as no surprise if I didn’t take any part in it.
But of course, I did.
About the author
Steve Waid has been in journalism since 1972, when he began his newspaper career at the Martinsville (Va.) Bulletin. He has spent over 40 years in motorsports journalism, first with the Roanoke Times-World News and later as publisher and vice president for NASCAR Scene and NASCAR Illustrated.
Steve has won numerous state sports writing awards and several more from the National Motorsports Press Association for his motorsports coverage, feature and column writing. For several years, Steve was a regular on “NASCAR This Morning” on FOX Sports Net and he is the co-author, with Tom Higgins, of the biography “Junior Johnson: Brave In Life.”
In January 2014, Steve was inducted into the NMPA Hall of Fame. And in 2019 he was presented the Squier-Hall Award by the NASCAR Hall of Fame for lifetime excellence in motorsports journalism. In addition to writing for Frontstretch, Steve is also the co-host of The Scene Vault Podcast.
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I’m surprised they could get a 400 mile race done in 2 hours, 11am to 1pm. That’s the most shocking part to me.
Actually most races WERE complete in 2 1/2 hours, but not all, of course. Usually we all were back at the pool around 4-4:30, sometimes earler.
1975, you’ve come a long way since your rookie year. I have been reading your columns for many of those years. Thanks for another gem.