NASCAR’s colorful lore is littered with characters, charlatans, fakes and tricksters who ingratiated themselves into the stock car racing fraternity to personally gain as much as they could – or wanted.
They came from the ranks of competition, spectators and elsewhere.
Some individuals sold themselves as master mechanics and thus gained, sometimes, significant positions within teams.
Some fans utilized multiple methods to convince those necessary that they deserved preferential treatment.
Then there were others who, perhaps, were the most influential and powerful. They were not criminals (depending on your definition) nor outright dishonest.
They spent money; lots of money, and in so doing, they became sponsors, team and track co-owners. They achieved a sizable amount of influence and notoriety.
As strange as it may sound, in some ways, they altered the course of NASCAR history before they disappeared.
At a time when my NASCAR experience was just being cultivated, I learned of a guy who called himself “the world’s greatest NASCAR fan.” Of course, I didn’t know him, but I saw a lot of his portly, smiling self at races, touring pit road with a wide smile.
Later, I found out why he was such a prominent sight, despite the fact that someone knew what the heck he was supposed to be doing.
He used his guile and personality to attend races. He had a wealth of sponsor products or self-made promotional material that he would use to help convince the right people – I don’t know how he met them – that he was supporting them and thus deserved free entry to races. He tried to ingratiate himself with the media and didn’t shy from showing them his promotional creations.
Suffice it to say they weren’t professional. One was a Polaroid of a young, rather homely woman in a bikini holding a bottle of a sponsor’s energy drink.
Many in the press proclaimed him “the world’s biggest freeloader.” He soon disappeared.
Another had a more interesting method. Seen at many races, he was known as “Billy the Hex.” At least that’s what I called him.
During a race, the jumbo-sized Billy would scoot around carrying a clipboard. He would suddenly stop, write furiously and then drop everything to look into the distance and cross his arms and fingers curiously. He was casting a bad luck hex aimed at a certain driver or team.
As ridiculous as this sounds, Bill became a familiar figure at some tracks. The question was, how did that happen?
Turns out Billy was given free entry by several NASCAR Cup Series teams. He convinced them he could be a special service with his ability to cast voodoo but would only be effective if he could be at an event personally.
Now, it may not be so today, but superstition was a sizable part of NASCAR in the past. Drivers wanted to avoid bad luck caused by objects or circumstances.
For example, for a long time, the color green and peanuts were regarded by competitors as strictly to be avoided. Both had been associated with fatal incidents.
In time, green faded as evil, as evidenced by its use on Harry Gant’s Skoal Bandit team and others throughout the 1980s.
Not sure about peanuts.
It doesn’t matter. Almost every driver and crewman has a ritual he follows to assure he will not befall misfortune if at all possible.
For many drivers, it’s the routine they follow each race morning, which can range from how they dress to what they will eat. Additionally, many will accept tokens and small gifts designed to thwart evil.
I’m not sure, but I would bet that if many crewmen emptied their pockets for me on race morning even today, more than a few “talismans” would be revealed.
In Billy’s case, long ago, I began to firm up my belief that he wasn’t what he said when I saw him drinking beer and eating snacks in a station wagon while a race roared.
I thought it might be his lunch. However, I saw him there four times that day.
Soon, teams rid themselves of Billy and his services. I asked one member if it was because Billy was a loafer who wanted to attend races free of charge.
“Yeah, that.” He answered, “and the fact that his so-called hexes didn’t work.”
When it came to competitors not being what they claimed to be, or otherwise using shady means to become working members of a Cup team, the examples are far fewer.
I know of two.
The first came early in the ‘70s when a noted team, admittedly not as financially secure as some others of the day, started working with an individual who was virtually unknown in NASCAR but appeared to be skilled.
For a couple of seasons, he was part of the team, seemingly a productive member, which he might well have been.
But in time, he promoted himself to his team as its future crew chief. The idea didn’t get much attention until the time came when the team needed one and pickings were few. It was decided that if this particular individual wanted to be a crew chief, let’s make him one and see what happens.
What happened was nothing good. Car preparation was insufficient, pit stops were subpar, and race strategy was insufficient. It was apparent that it was all due to the new crew chief.
It all lasted less than one season. Then the crew chief was gone.
Before that, I asked the driver – a polite sort who did not speak ill of anyone- what the team was going to do. He said, “Reckon we’ll go on without him. Should help.”
There was one individual who got himself onto a team because of his ebullient personality, friendliness and ability to influence. He was popular among team members and made it clear he wanted to be one of them. He knew he could do whatever they asked.
One team accepted him. It knew he didn’t have the skills needed to do an important job, so he was given tasks like carrying and transporting tires, cleaning parts, pieces and tools and running errands. He also got a uniform.
His personality didn’t change, but apparently, that overruled his sense of responsibility. It wasn’t too long before the crew chief decided that a good time was one thing, but doing your job correctly was another. The guy was never seen again.
There are at least a couple of others who appeared to be conmen and tricksters to a majority of the NASCAR fraternity, but they were not.
They were outsized individuals who reveled in attention and their sense of power.
Indeed, they were in racing for themselves. But there was a major difference: they made their place in NASCAR history.
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.