What Is Truth? 12/9/2014 |
I
bid you welcome gentle readers, to wherever some combination of the thoughts
and fingers of an old lady might take us this fine December day. As this effort
begins, it is Friday morning, and tonight will be the culmination of the 2014
NASCAR season, the Sprint Cup Awards Banquet at Wynn Las Vegas. OK, I have to
say this at least once… am I the only one who when reading that, wonders if it
has anything to do with the guy that started the Wynn-Dixie Super Market chain?
Yes, I probably am, and no, it probably does not, but I simply had to make the
mention.
This
will not be the first Cup Champion crowned under the Chase format. Indeed,
Kevin Harvick will be the 11th such Champion, using 11 distinct and
different sets of rules. I won’t even ask for a show of hands on how fair or
ridiculous that might seem to you, my gentle readers. It’s quite enough that
this year we have topped all categories in ridiculous and gained not one
mention of fair, when the discussion comes from other major sports. We are the
butt of jokes from such astute institutions as the NFL, the NBA and the WWE for
Heaven’s sake! MMA would like some of our drivers and teams to join their
association, and I’m sad to say that some would fit right in.
There
are a myriad of mean thoughts and derisive remarks flitting and dancing through
my mind right now, but nary a one of them shall see print this day, or
hopefully, any day. Let those that get paid to kiss certain parts of NASCAR
tell you how wonderful it all is, and let the rebels that know better explain
to you how they would make it all better. Somewhere in-between, there is truth
to be had, but it probably will never see the light of day. That’s the way
things work when vast sums of money become involved in what was once a sport.
NASCAR is not unique in that respect; there have been fools long before Brian
France came to power, or even came to be.
What
is truth indeed? When that song was new, your scribe was young, but not as
young as those depicted in the video. I was part of those somewhere between the
“Greatest generation” and the “Hippie movement.” That made me a teenager of the
1950s, an experience I would not trade for all the tea in China, all the gold
in California or all the pot in Colorado. We were, in all honesty, the last of
America’s innocents. We thought chewing gum in class was the height of
disobedience… there were still many lessons to be learned.
But
do you know what else? We were the teens that got to watch NASCAR grow stock
car racing from a wild, rough and tumble Donnybrook on tiny tracks with dirt banks
to one of the major sports of North America, with cars virtually flying around
ebony-hued ribbons of asphalt, some oval, some twisting and turning up hill and
down dale. Would you like to know some more truth? Stock car racing changed
over all those years, from the 50s until now… and it changed almost yearly,
just as it does now. This short video is a nice collection of racing excerpts
from the 1950s at Erie Stadium in Erie PA. As you watch,,, and remember, there
are many races depicted here in a short time… please pay special attention to
the “crowd” in the grandstand, the amount of “safety” afforded that crowd by
the single strand Armco barrier between them and the cars on track, the
wooden-slat barriers between track and infield, and the folks seen occasionally
crossing the track during the race! I’m sure they looked both ways, but…
That
gentle readers, was the way it was in the beginning. No vast crowds filling the
grandstands, no safety whatsoever… those drivers would not even have been
wearing seat belts, they might have had on leather helmets… unbuckled… they had
no fire suits, but drove in shirt sleeves, and the cars ran on street tires.
Oh, and one more thing… they frequently died. Would you care to hear some more
truth? It was those deaths, and many more through the ensuing years, that
brought about improvements in safety, not only on the racetracks of America,
but also to the family sedans, station wagons, SUVs or whatever might be found
in our driveways or on our highways. Oh yes, and those highways benefited as
well. Most safety features found today on both vehicles and roads originated
from a lesson learned in auto racing.
That’s
the kind of lesson this scribe would love to teach to the younger ones coming
up. Your lives are very different from my life at your age. I realize and
appreciate that, as I have both children and grandchildren from whom I learn
constantly. The youth of today have about as much interest in auto racing as I
had in chariot racing at their age, and the truth in that statement is easy for
me to understand. When I was a teen, the “Great War” had just ended, and
automobiles, production of which had been suspended for several years, were
just coming back into the marketplace. Big, beautiful creatures they were, with
fins that it seemed would grow forever, but actually peaked circa 1959, as
everything in America changed in the 1960s.
With
the 1950s, both the war and the depression had come to an end, and the greatest
way that America celebrated both was to drive about in an automobile. Many,
many songs were written about automobiles through the decade, ranging from
Dinah Shore inviting all of America to “See the USA in your Chevrolet” to the
Beach Boys’ “Little Deuce Coupe” or Chuck Berry’s “Maybelline.” It was almost
as if the automobile had not existed until then, and essentially, with the
rationing of gasoline preventing any unnecessary travel through the war years
and no new cars produced, that was close to being true. What was true was
America’s new found love affair with the automobile, and that naturally led to
attempts to prove whose car was better, bigger, prettier, or faster, which inevitably
led to racing. An always forward-thinking Bill France had foreseen that
possibility in the late 1940s and had his NASCAR sanctioning body ready and
waiting to adopt and nurture the fairly new sport of stock car racing.
Some
will say he did it all for the money. I believe them to be wrong in that
assumption. Yes, the money was nice, and he made some, but Big Bill as he was
known, all 6’6” of him, had a true affection for racing and for the men… and
the occasional woman… that participated. He had grown weary of sleazy race
promoters that would catch the first bus out of town while the race was being
run and were nowhere to be found when winners came to the pay window. Bill
France cleaned up a lot of that sort of thing, but not singlehandedly. There
were many without whose contributions the sport would have died on the vine.
Fortunately, they were there, and it did not. Just a sampling of names included
in that category would be Raymond Parks, Bruton
Smith… yes, that Bruton Smith, Red Vogt, Enoch Staley
and Bill Tuthill, but that is another tale for
another time.
As
you see, I am easily distracted. Returning to the original thought, today’s
youth are of the electronic age. At one time, I described them as being
constantly plugged in, but they have outgrown even that. Today, they proudly
proclaim to be “wireless” and they mean it. They live in a Cloud… not
make-believe as we might have, while looking up toward the heavens on a lazy
summer day, but virtually. Everything they own is connected through a Cloud. This
senior citizen does not pretend to understand all of the new technology, but I
still understand the butterfly valve in a carburetor. Most of them have never
seen a carburetor. Is this any different from what’s happened with all the
generations that have gone before? Not one bit!
Only shortly before my birth, the accepted method of transportation came
with 4 feet and 4 legs. One could ride atop it or ride in a carriage pulled by
one or more… either horses or donkeys. When the horseless carriage was invented,
many proclaimed it was a passing fad and would never replace old Dobbin. You
all know how that turned out.
Dear
gentle readers, I’d venture to say that those empty grandstands we see each
week are not a passing fad either. Auto racing has lost its appeal because the
automobile has become boring. Most of today’s teens don’t care at all about
getting a driver’s license… one of the passages of life when my generation was
young. They’d rather sit behind a keyboard, X-Box, Wii or whatever, and if they
must go somewhere, well, that’s what parents are for… driving. Oh, and one last
bit of truth. Most of the youth of today don’t care one whit or a whisper about
the history of the sport. Why would they, if they don’t care about the sport as
it is today?
As
stated on these pages some time back, this old fan watches from race to race,
enjoying each to the measure of pleasure I receive from it. As to the
Championship, it means nothing to me. When the method of selection finally
settled down to one, I began to care. That was back in the early 1970s, when
NASCAR adopted what we generally call the “Latford
System” because it was the creation of NASCAR historian Bob Latford.
Whether the story of jotting it down on a napkin in a bar is truth or fancy, I
neither know nor do I care. The system replaced the many tries before its
arrival and gave a sense of consistency that lasted for 30 years. When it
changed in 2004, I stopped caring again, just as I hadn’t cared when much
younger.
**Note
to Brian France: Don’t be too quick to
count those chickens Sir. Not everyone watching racing is a fan of your
convoluted Chase or all the phoniness and gimmicks you can add to it. Some of
us watch for a very simple reason… we come to watch the race. We’re the ones
that aren’t there for hours of pre-race hype and once we see the winner’s
interview, we’re gone when it’s over. Your Granddad knew all about how that
works. There’s an old Country saying (and song) that I’m sure he lived by. “You’ve got to sell those chickens before
they die, and the eggs before they hatch.”
Now
it’s time for our Christmas version of the Classic Country Closeout. First up
today is one by Ernest Tubb, though I know many of
you think this song was originated by Elvis Presley. Ernest was in fact the
second to record it, with the first being Hugo Winterhalter
and his orchestra. In truth, for pure listening, I prefer Elvis’ version, but
Ernest recorded what you’re about to hear in 1949 and for many years, it was
the Christmas theme song on his show. His version contains an extra verse,
which I absolute love and have always wondered why Elvis left it out. Please
enjoy the very first Country version of “Blue
Christmas.”
Next
up is one a bit newer. This was originally recorded in 1967 by Roger Miller,
and it became an instant favorite of mine. It shows a very different side to
the almost always wild and wacky Miller, and it’s a side I like. These songs
almost never come with a dedication, but today, this one goes out to DJ, and
the “Why” will become apparent to some when I tell you you’re about to hear
Roger at his best, singing “Old Toy
Trains.” Please enjoy!
OH,
so many songs and so little time! Could we keep Christmas year-round this time?
Ah well, I just thought I’d ask. Today’s final tune is one from 1952, and it’s
the original version as done by 12-year old Jimmy Boyd. Have a smile on me as
you remember… or not… “I Saw Mommy
Kissing Santa Claus.” One quick side
note… this is the same child singer that paired with Frankie Laine the following year to bring us probably the most
annoying song ever recorded… “Tell Me a
Story.” If you’re all very good, I’ll never play that one here. It still
gives me a rash.
Be
well gentle readers, and remember to keep smiling. It looks so good on you!