Imagine That: Over 45 Years of Auto Racing Experiences

By Don Finke and Nikki Finke

Co-authors of “Imagine That”, Don and Nikki celebrated their 50th anniversary in 2009. Together, through a unique combination of corporate merger, corporate sponsorships and their close relationship with persons of influence, they were placed in a position, which afforded them both the timely, once in a lifetime opportunity to witness a period of rapid growth in the “Sport of Auto Racing”. Their story covers a broad spectrum of some little known events. A range of “heartfelt”, “heartbreak”, “accomplishment”, “failure”, “uses”, “abuses”, “tragedy”, “glory”. “Imagine That,” recounts, “how it was”, in realm of activities encircling NASCAR, USAC, NHRA and SCCA. The personal experiences Don and Nikki share are truly amazing. Reading it will cause you numerous moments of “awe”, concluding simply, “Imagine That”!

• Language: English
• Publisher: AuthorHouse
• Release date: Mar 25, 2010
• ISBN: 9781449087517

Don Finke

Don and Nikki met in Pasadena 53 years ago, she from a prominent San Marino family, daughter of an Oil Company Vice President, he was a high school drop out. Nevertheless, together they achieved an incredible life experience of exciting diversity. Their combined personalities and charismatic people skills carried them to the center of the rapidly emerging Sport of Auto Racing. They founded Motion Control Industries Corporation in 1986 and transformed their racing interest into a prosperous business venture. In recent years, Don experienced age related loss of eye site. God set him down at a computer where he began to reflect on the life they shared. “Imagine That” came forth, one key at a time. Thankfully, Nikki is at his side to contribute and to edit the progress. The “book” is “well written”, as Don so humbly characterizes it. Nikki and Don now live in Mooresville, NC, the heart of NASCAR Country. They remain well connected to friends in NASCAR and the special people that make Stock Car Racing GREAT!

Book preview

© 2010 Don & Nikki Finke. All rights reserved.

No part of this book may be reproduced, stored in a retrieval system, or transmitted by any means without the written permission of the author.

Published by AuthorHouse 08/26/2023

ISBN: 978-1-4490-8752-4 (sc)

ISBN: 978-1-4490-8750-0 (hc)

ISBN: 978-1-4490-8751-7 (e)

Library of Congress Control Number: 2010902115

Any people depicted in stock imagery provided by Getty Images are models,

and such images are being used for illustrative purposes only.

Certain stock imagery © Getty Images.

Because of the dynamic nature of the Internet, any web addresses or links contained in this book may have changed since publication and may no longer be valid. The views expressed in this work are solely those of the author and do not necessarily reflect the views of the publisher, and the publisher hereby disclaims any responsibility for them.

Contents

Acknowledgement

Introduction

1. Started

2. Graffiti

3. My Early Days

4. Louie Unser

5. The Path to NASCAR

6. Fraudulent Advertising

7. Cape Kennedy

8. Big D-Grand Daddy-The Rock

9. Firebird

10. Performance Trials

11. Around Daytona Beach

Pictorial of a few Special Ones

12. Southern Hospitality – Jane

13. Dale – The Intimidator

14. Chris Economaki – Speed Sport News

15. The Goodyear Tower

16. Little Brother

17. Winning

18. Ford GT-40, J-Cars – Sebring

19. Track Management-The Dark Side

20. Reporting to Atlanta

21. Rebirth of the South

22. Alf – The American Redneck

23. The Bottom Line

24. Drivers Complaints

25. Writing Georgia Law with Governor Maddox

26. The Professional and the Buffoon

27. The Steering Wheel

28. Goodbye to A.I.R.

29. Mickey –Speed Master of Unconventionalism

30. Wally’s World – NHRA

31. Johnny Lightning – The 89 cent Toy

32. Al Unser and Indy Memories

33. FDI – The Conglomerate

34. GNB – They Said We Couldn’t Do It!

35. Give AJ a Brake?

36. Super Trapp

37. MCIC

38. Track 9

39. Off & On Lug Nut Shooter

40. Currie Enterprises

41. Fan Respect and Appreciation

42. The Parent POLL

43. Jaws of Life

44. Thanks for the Ride, We had the Time of our Lives!

This book is

dedicated to

Coach Les Richter

1.jpg

The Architect – The Man of Influence

The very Impetus of

NASCAR Achievement of Success

Acknowledgement

I wish to thank everyone mentioned in this book for touching our lives in a special way that fills our memories with 45 years of extremes, from pleasurable excitement to the depths of discontent and every emotion between.

My personal admiration of some and my displeasure of others is clearly identified and above all

my deepest love and admiration

for

My Ever Loving Partner, Nikki.

Thank You All!

Introduction

We have been afforded the best seat in the arena of auto racing, on the bench, on the sideline of the playing field. The perspective from that vantage point often offers insights not apparent at a casual glance. I have taken the liberty of being critical, good and bad, and let the chips fall as they may.

The events take place between the years of 1965 and 2005. The subject matter is a personal accounting of my participation in the sport in several areas of responsibility. It reflects a lot of the little known goings-on that transpired in the growth of the sport as viewed from where I was seated.

"There aren’t but three true sports, Bullfighting,

Mountain Climbing and Auto Racing".

The rest are but mire games.

Ernest Hemingway

A Race Car Driver is akin to the Matador.

"Forever Seeking the Moment of Excellence,

without going beyond."

Donald R. Finke

NASCAR Newsletter, 1967

"Evokes Imaginary Mental Images

Of Unimaginable Truths"

Imagine That!

1

Getting Started

B ack in the day, I guess that would be before half of ya’ll were even born, when six full size adults loaded into a 1969 Ford Station Wagon, equipped with two bucket seats in the front, the sixth person in the party unavoidably was given the distinct privilege of riding in the miserably small, facing the wrong-way, rear fold out seat, along with several other ergonomically murderous features, like ingress and egress through a duel hinged tailgate. Perhaps you have been there at some time. I am sure you would remember the experience. The rear-facing seat provided virtually no leg room or adequate space on the tiny seat to move your posterior about in search of the illusory comfortable situs. The silly little seats must have been the creation of Ford’s marketing department in an effort to advertise an added feature, Special accommodations for children and their pets.

Why am I writing about this stuff? Well, to be honest, I had to begin this book someplace in 45 years, so what’s wrong with the middle? Anyway, if you do enjoy privacy, while traveling on the road, with serenity of a panoramic view, interrupted occasional by a passing car or busload of seniors or a political activists group, compromised with the need to gaze through an inward sloping window, positioned less than a foot in front of your face, it is the price you must pay. An acoustically soundproof chamber for your added seclusion, totally shutting off your ability to communicate with fellow voyagers, is assured by means of a systematically, uniformly stacked wall of luggage.

Whenever I encountered one of these Dearborn atrocities, which was frequent, as several were included in the Ford NASCAR Pace Car program, I began to question in my mind, how such an abomination of laughable desolation, and potentially dangerous seating configuration ever received endorsement from Advocates for Humane Treatment of People or the D.O.T. Perhaps the Nobel Peace Prize would be equally appropriate. Well, since an important event had recently developed, placing me in a mental state of uncertainty, on this occasion, the much-dreaded seat was the perfect position for me. In fact, I willingly volunteered, though reluctantly, to crouch up in the undesirable, prenatal position for what would be a four hour trip up Interstate 15.

Oh, something I almost forgot to point out, the furthest, most rear location in any vehicle is like riding on the end of a whip or in the last row of a jumbo jet landing on a windy day. And you can also feel every bump in the road, even when passing over a wet cigarette butt. It’s like butt-to-butt communication. My contentment with being temporarily isolated from my fellow fun-loving companions was all about dealing with the pressure I was putting on myself in resolving a dilemma, a situation I needed to workout for myself, followed of course, with Nikki’s support. In retrospect, perhaps I should have also consulted someone a bit more experienced for in-put than rely entirely on my own instincts to help make the right decision.

I had been wrestling for several weeks with a career decision that ultimately would change the direction of my future in racing. The why and the what-fore making the 250-mile road trip from Riverside to Las Vegas was defined on our corporate expense reports, as entertainment for NASCAR and Rockingham friends and associates of Union Oil Company with an added agenda of a Planning Meeting for the 1st Annual Rockingham Pit Stop Competition. We never past up an opportunity like this to party a little. Pure Oil Company founded similar organizations of special recognition at other tracks for added public relations value for both race track promoters and Union/Pure Oil Company; i.e. Darlington Record Club and Charlotte 600 Club. Fellow travelers aboard the Ford Wagon included Roy Hord, V.P. & General Manager, Riverside Raceway (ex- N.Y. Jets football player) with his wife Jo, Bud Smith, Manager, Union Oil Special Events (my counterpart) with his wife Lois and Don Finke (me), Assistant Director Special Events, Union/Pure, with his loving, I’ll go with you anywhere, wife Nikki. We all planned to join up in Vegas with the NASCAR contingent, Bill France Jr. and his wife Betty Jane, Lin Kuchler, Competition Director and his wife Lorie, and the North Carolina Motor Speedway group, which included Larry Hogan, President and his wife first lady of hospitality Jane, Elsie Webb and his wife Robbie, also with the Rockingham Speedway.

The rest of Union/Pure group, coming out from Chicago included, Art Hammerstrom, Advertising Director, with his wife Ruth, Bill Kiser, Public Relations, with his wife Ruth. And finally, I wouldn’t want to forget, R.D. Dick Dolan, my boss, with his wife Betty. Several of these fun-loving folks could well have qualified for treatment at Betty Ford Rehab Center (then yet to be founded in 1975) as potential alcoholics, perhaps including myself. Maybe today, the France Suite would even be available. The complete entourage of 20 met at the Stardust Hotel. Let the games begin, and begin we did! We had so much fun one evening, while dining at a fine Vegas eatery, both Betty and Robbie passed out at the table. They were loaded in a taxi and sent back to the hotel. But before all this began, I first had a piece of personal business to handle.

It’s April 1969. I have acquired four short years of hard-core racing experience since joining the program as a sponsor representative, with responsibility for carrying out the policies and operation related to distribution of Union Oil products at race events and assisting in the supervision of Union/Pure official participation in most forms of professional U. S. Auto Racing. The primary focus of Union/Pure sponsorship support began and remained with NASCAR. For the record, Dick Dolan is rightfully the one to be credited for single handedly establishing and implementing Pure Oil Company’s racing program from its inception. Pure Oil Company’s attention was first drawn toward the sport by racecar driver, Marshall Teague and Big Bill France in the late 40’s and early 50’s. Dolan was chosen from a secretarial position in Pure Oil’s corporate offices in Palatine, IL and placed in a newly formed position entitled, Director of Special Events. The job description was simply being responsible for overseeing distribution of fuel and lube products for NASCAR Daytona Races on the beach. As the sport grew, Dick was required to negotiate for fuel service at Darlington and an increasing number of tracks in the South that followed.

Justification for Pure Oil participation at many of the tracks had as much to do with promoting the company image as it did, preventing entry of Pure Oil’s competition into the rapidly growing popularity of the sport. Dick had little or no previous mechanical training, but he was not put in the position to build racecars. Dick also did not have the benefit of a pre-prepared business plan or an industry template to pattern company policy. Another oil company had never previously assumed the position as exclusive supplier of gasoline for a racetrack or racing series other than the Indy 500. Dick plowed all new ground, alone and virtually without direction. The racing operation was given a modest budget. Dick was commissioned to make something happen. Dick enjoyed a unique departmental autonomy and authority that left most reporting responsibilities someplace on the vertical corporate ladder in the Assistant to the President’s office. Accountability for normal business issues like setting goals and objectives, were not applicable. Given all of his skill and accomplishments, Dick was a difficult personality to deal with.

At first I thought it was just me, but sometime later, my friend, Bob Latford of the Charlotte Motor Speedway, tried to temper my frustrations by letting me know that Dick Dolan was repeatedly the annual recipient of the Least Liked Person in Racing Award, as voted by the National Motor Sports Press Association. It was an accepted fact; Dick lacked people skills. He was never formally presented with the ominous award. I believe he was never told of the award. As years progressed and the sport grew, many of Dick’s contributions gradually became over shadowed and faded away in the obscurity of NASCAR’s flourishing popularity through exposure of TV race coverage, entry of new sponsors and advertisers, not the least of which, Winston.

R. J. Reynolds Company opened up the NASCAR exposure to a broader mass market. With the welcomed influx of new, bigger money into the sport, the landscape changed dramatically. Auto racing became the most highly rated promotional advertising vehicle for products and services, everything from beer to panty hose. Additionally, the excitement of Motor Sports stimulated the emotions of those, generally referred to as the rich and famous, who love to gather around daring thrill seekers, like the Matador challenges the odds with his skill, creating an environment for a first-class executive playground with all the amenities Bill France and/or corporate sponsors could pour on. As one watched this wave coming over the horizon, it was easy to begin to believe our own press releases, Auto Racing, the Sport of the 80’s".

Years earlier, Speed had captured the fascination of the same crowd on the Beach during the days of Land Speed Record runs. There once was a place called the Streamliner Lounge. Have you been invited to the V.I.P. suites yet? Dress well and bring money. It wasn’t always that way for the low-budget beginning of Stock Car Racing. Pure Oil Company was the first to occupy a skybox V.I.P. suite at a NASCAR racetrack. I think Big Bill and Dick created it to have a place to put Pure Oil executives when and if they came to an event. Hosting the suite was Dick’s self-designated personal responsibility.

When I arrived on the racing scene, I had a tremendous amount to learn, a lot more than I had previously realized, and I would have to go to school on my own ticket. Dick did not communicate well on such matters, unless he first had several shots of liquid conversation. I’m not sure if at first he didn’t think I was sent to Pure from Union to replace him. Dick’s wife, Betty, even made reference to that possibility with Nikki while in the restaurant ladies room on our very first occasion to dine out together, I hope Don is not here to take Dick’s job. What Dick and others did not understand, part of my assignment from Union Oil was to observe and provide feed back for evaluation of the effectiveness of Pure Oil Company’s racing participation and justify the budget. For whatever his reason, perhaps his less than charming personality, Dick was not forthcoming with specific direction and guidance without having to be asked. And a simple, logical question, just for confirmation purposes, generally brought on a befuddled facial expression in response. I was either trying too hard to please him or Dick was overly protective of his secrets of how the clock was built.

2.jpg

Trifecta of Radhood

Dick Dolan (center) Bud Smith (right) and Don Finke

So I worked around the communications difficulty and pursued the challenge by doing most things myself, my way. The freedom and responsibility of making my own decisions fit my style better anyway. Consequently, it didn’t take long for me to be making my own footprints and not without increasing awareness of those around me, while I applied common sense. Common sense is genius dressed up in work clothes–Emerson. I was given virtually no official direction. Sometimes, the mere change the way things are done improves the results. Fortunately my path was lined with the grace of God and an outside safer barrier made up of helpful well-wishers to keep me on track. The promotional and/or P.R. value of Pure Oil Company’s participation in auto racing did not enter into consideration during the acquisition negotiations.

Imagine That!

But when the issue of the name transition to Union was considered, particularly with knowledge of the mental image the word Union still carried in the South, Pure Oil Company’s advertising agency, Leo Burnett Company (merger survivor) suggested auto racing provided the greatest plausibility as an effective medium for the likelihood of an acceptable name transition. So the popular agency recommendation was accepted, much to the pleasure of our department, auto racing is strategically a good investment for Union Oil Company.

Our racing budget doubled each year thereafter, for the next four years while I was there to help create it and help spend it. The adoption process within Pure Oil Company and parts of the general racing community for an outsider like myself would be mixed with speculations of possible failure, watch the VIP’s kid stumble, don’t get to close, or at best, let’s wait and see. And if one, connected as I was, were to be recognized for doing a thing well, the reaction was always, of course, what did you expect? I’ve always been one of those concerned about how I am being viewed, but actually, I didn’t really need to rely on anyone’s personal approval rating for achieving success.

Nikki and I made many good friends and left favorable impressions with influential people wherever we went. These are the important, long lasting images and relationships that are now at the core of our person. Beneath all that, the most commonly practiced secret to success is, do the job well, represent your company with the highest degree of respect and dignity and sucking up.

And the crowd stood and yelled, BRAVO!

Translated, that is what is called hard work, politics, more hard work and heavy on the B.S. Accomplishing all this in just four years was greatly enhanced by a silent but very influential, secret weapon, in my arsenal. Of course it could not remain a secret for long. I just didn’t talk about him often, you got it, I will now. My loving wife’s father, Nick T. Ugrin was a highly regarded, highly respected, Vice President of Union Oil Company, the company that had acquired Pure Oil Company in 1966, in a non-hostel merger just three months earlier. It was interesting to observe, from the sidelines, the peoples reaction. Most employees of Pure Oil counted on Union Oil coming in and replacing the Pure Oil department heads and personnel with their own people and systems. It turned out to be just the opposite. Where duplication occurred, Pure survived in most cases.

Imagine That!

I never knowingly called upon my connection of influence for special assistance, I only solicited him for advice on occasion, but at the same time everyone was always aware that he was there. Nikki and I remained discretely proud of our personal, corporate relationships. Concurrently, I will further acknowledge that the propitious relationship provided Nikki and I with lofty door opening opportunities with NASCAR and with a receptive welcome into the upper social levels of the exciting world of auto racing.

Coincidently, Nick and Big Bill shared birthdates same year, one day apart. With such close akin like commonality it was only natural that they should soon become good friends. Their first meeting, in person, came on the festive occasion of a private Christmas party held at the France home. Nikki and her father flew from Los Angeles, CA to Jacksonville, FL and Big Bill had the NASCAR pilot, George Baker, pick them up in Jacksonville in the 310 and fly them to Daytona and brought them directly to the party.

Imagine That!

When Nikki and I decided it was God’s will to be blessed with a child through adoption, I approached my corporate mentor Leo Spanuello, Assistant to the President, for an opinion regarding the Cradle Society. He rated The Cradle Society, Best in the country.

3.jpg

My Corporate Mentor

Leo Spanuello, Assistant to the President Union 76

Leo had previous personal experience with the highly respected institution. The qualification process for application approval was rigorous, followed with an anticipated average waiting period of two years.

Betty Jane and Bill France Jr. together, played an extraordinary role to hearten fulfillment of the most significant single event in our lives, second only to our marriage. Betty Jane and Bill composed a letter of high recommendation directed to the Cradle Society in Evanston, IL. Their letter must have conveyed wonderful compliments toward Nikki and I and our personal character, expressing assurances of the likelihood of being excellent parents. Along with several other highly favorable recommendations received from family and friends, they all served a significant influence in securing the confidence needed by the Cradle Society in their decision to grant us the responsibility of parenting our son, Tom.

After nearly one year, upon return from the Daytona 500, we received a call from our caseworker, Mrs. Farnsworth, with the good news that the Cradle Society was holding a wonderful child for us to consider for adoption. A Wonderful Child does not adequately begin to describe our son, Tom. He has brought nothing but joy into our lives.

A child fills voids we did not even know existed. I was disappointed to hear a good friend tell me it was a big mistake, all a kid will do is disappoint, you. That person is mentioned in this book. See if you can find him. Tom graduated from Stanford University earning a B.A. in Electrical Engineering and achieving a Master’s degree from University of Southern California (USC), in Artificial Intelligents and Computer Architecture. Extracurricular accomplishments included: second youngest Boy Scout to earn Eagle at the age of 12, lettered in three sports each year of high school and never received a grade less than an A on any report card in years 1 through 12 while skipping Grade 4.

Imagine That!

Do to the unique combination of our personal connection and the recent corporate merger, Nikki and I lived under a microscopically scrutinizing situation that would probably only have continued for about another 100 years, if adequate time would allow. For me, the message was the unspoken rule, Don’t screw up. Moral values of the day made screwing up seem less likely and far more detrimental to ones’ reputation. And with a wife attached at my hip, speculation of personal misconduct or misbehavior was accentually non-existent. This perceived image proved to be a particularly effective restraint for controlling the behavior of one so gifted as I, possessing a higher than average level of charismatic charm and irresistible good looks. I was challenged continually with being hit upon.

Yah, fuhgeddaboudit all ready! I am confident the projective wholesomeness of our blissful marital companionship was noted in the Company’s consideration for a favorable approval of my request allowing Nikki to travel with me on official business. Race community relations for the Company would also be favorably enhanced, if Nikki accompanied me to the discrete social events, etc. surrounding the racing activity as apposed to finding me in a smoke filled hotel room, drunk and playing cards with the press or the like. More importantly, that is the way I wanted to have it. By design, Nikki quickly became acquainted within the inner circles of the sport. A clean image, believe it or not, was then still considered a valuable commodity.

Remember, this is before cheating and shacking up was universally accepted. A few of the Thrill Seeking Matadors had public images of wild craziness. Consequently some race inspired activities, such as the famed Wild Turner Parties were known for being the least dignified for their time. Curtis Turner worked hard and he played hard. Curtis’s parties are as legendary as the man himself.

Curtis Turner and Bruton Smith partnered up and built Charlotte Motor Speedway in just 9 months and 1.5 million over budget. I first saw Charlotte Motor Speedway in 1967. It was not a handsome place. It looked like an abandoned rock quarry. Curtis had strong business ties with organized labor. With encouragement from the underground influence, Curtis began a movement to organize a drivers union and he was subsequently banned by Bill France from NASCAR for life. Five years later Curtis was reinstated.

One night on a Charlotte city street, Curtis backed his big black Cadillac into the car behind him at a traffic light because the guy wouldn’t dim his high beams. Curtis put the guy’s lights out and drove away. Curtis was charged with leaving the scene of an accident. Curtis told the judge, it wasn’t no accident, I intended to put his lights out! Curtis was ordered to pay for repair of the damages. Following races, Curtis would often fly his twin-engine plane alone while sleeping with an alarm clock set to wake him up when he got to where he was going. He crashed his plane in Penn., October 1970, and died broke. In his day, Curtis, nicknamed Pop’s, spent most of his time at his home in Charlotte. Whenever NASCAR came into town, he set up the bar and put out the welcome mat for all his racer buddies and friend’s of buddies. He truly loved to party and entertain. On occasion, it’s said, he did not drink at some of his parties. I don’t know if I believe that. As a regular party feature, Curtis always made sure his invitation list included an ample supply of local ladies just to be on hand to help nurse the homesick boys back to health if needed.

I was told of one such party, a new neighbor, a Baptist preacher, had moved in down the street. At about midnight, the preacher went over to Curtis’s party to ask them to lower the noise level. Curtis did the good neighbor thing and invited the frail, elderly preacher in and offered him some liquid refreshment. A couple of hours later the preacher was seen standing on the kitchen table, in his shorts, preaching Hell Fire and Damnation to a gleefully spirited, cheering and jeering congregation of drunks. I think he got possessed by the devil and found freedom from his good senses.

I never did hear the full story of why an off-limits restriction had been placed on Dick Dolan, but for some reason Dick’s wife, Betty, (not to be confused with Betty Boop) stopped allowing Dick to attend Charlotte races. She probably just heard about Turner’s parties and what goes on there, don’t you think? For some unknown reason, I fortunately never got invited to Curtis’s parties. Someone had to have been watching over me, undoubtedly God and a few good friends.

One of my fellow comrade race associates was not so lucky. D.S. was a Rookie Yankee, fresh to the Southern Land of the good-old-boys and new to NASCAR racing. D.S. was an associate sponsor’s racing representative, just like me. On his first visit to a Charlotte, NASCAR race weekend, D.S. gets taken over to Turner’s house for