NASCAR Is Still All in Family : Motor Racing: Bill France, who built stock car circuit and ruled with iron fist, has seen his family venture reach new heights with his son Bill Jr. at the helm.

Big Bill France was a flamboyant, dynamic--some said tyrannical--promoter who founded NASCAR, the world’s foremost stock car racing organization, in 1947 and ran it as a family business for 25 years.

Stock car racing grew out of the ruts left by bootleggers running white lightning through the winding back roads of the Carolinas. France brought it out of the woods and onto speedways in Southern towns--Darlington, S.C.; Charlotte, N.C.; Daytona Beach, Fla., and, later, Talladega, Ala.

The Stars and Bars of the Confederacy were part and parcel of the sport. Grits were on every menu and if a driver didn’t have a drawl dripping with Dixie, he was immediately recognized as a furriner .

France, in essence, created a sport and held it hostage.

When he decided it was time to step aside in 1972, he looked across the breakfast table and tabbed his son, Bill Jr., then 39, to carry on.

Junior has run the show for 17 years, and his accomplishments are nearly as apparent as his father’s. NASCAR has 30,000 members, 112 tracks, of which 84--such as Ascot Park, Saugus Speedway and Orange Show Speedway--run weekly shows, and 11 different racing series. The Winston Cup, an $18-million series for steel-bodied, American-made sedans, is the crown jewel.

And Bill France makes the decisions, just as always. Only now it’s not Big Bill. It’s Bill Jr.

Their style of leadership is as different as their stature. When he was running things, Big Bill was 6-foot-5, outgoing and a man who made decisions at a moment’s notice, often out on the race track. There was never the slightest question who was in charge. Junior is five inches shorter, quiet and given more to sitting around a conference table, listening to a consensus before making up his mind.

“My father had more to do personally because he didn’t have many people around him,” Bill Jr. said during a recent visit here. “When he started out, it was mostly Dad and Pat Parcell, just the two of them doing it all. Later, he had Bill Gazaway and Lin Kuchler, but he never had a large staff.

“As for myself, I believe, without a doubt, that I have as strong a staff as there is in motorsports. I depend on them for input, but I operate on my own consensus. That is, when there are three of us discussing an issue, each of the others has a vote, but I have three.”

France’s most trusted lieutenants are his younger brother, Jimmy, the executive vice president; Les Richter, former president of Riverside International Raceway, who runs the Winston Cup series; Jim Hunter, a former newspaperman who administrates the burgeoning organization, particularly the popular Winston Racing Series for weekly tracks; Jim Foster, another one-time sportswriter who markets the show; and Dick Beaty, the series director who sees that the rules are followed.

Junior was groomed for his job, if not from birth, at least from the day Big Bill promoted his first NASCAR race on the sand at Daytona Beach in 1948. Young Bill swept out the office that day. Later, he did just about everything there was to do around a race track--flagman, scorer, steward, promoter, even a driver for a few races and six years as vice president before moving into his father’s chair.

For the first few years, he was thought to be little more than a puppet for his father, who maintained his office in NASCAR headquarters on Bill France Boulevard in Daytona Beach as president and chairman of the board of International Speedway Corp., which owned the Daytona and Talladega tracks.

“He was down the hall and he’d been through it all, so I’d be kind of stupid if I didn’t bring him in and get his views, what with his experience and background,” was as far as Junior would go in answering his critics.

When Bill Sr. was asked about the arrangement several years ago, he said: “I don’t look over his shoulder. He knows I’m available for consultation and sometimes he asks for it. Sometimes he doesn’t.”

One time he was not consulted was when the Darlington track, stock car racing’s original superspeedway, was put on the market. Junior closed the deal on it before his father was aware of the negotiations.

The elder France, 79, is virtually retired today, occasionally making the trip from his home in Ormond Beach to his old office, mostly to chat with old acquaintances.

Richard Petty, whose remarkable career as a driver has spanned both France administrations, defines their differences:

“Senior was the kind of cat you could talk to until you was blue in the face and he’d do what he’d figured on doing all along. Now Junior will listen, and you get the idea he’s considering what you’re saying, but he makes up his mind all by himself.”

The differences between father and son are reflected in the direction stock car racing has taken during their stewardships. It has grown from a rural, regional sport under Big Bill into a nationally accepted, cosmopolitan sport under Bill Jr.

At the time of the transition, NASCAR was still experiencing growing pains, struggling against the trappings of its Down South atmosphere.

“We have made tremendous strides in the past 10 years,” France Jr. said. “With the help of R.J. Reynolds (Tobacco Co.), which came in and showed the corporate world that their products didn’t have to be automotive-related to become involved, and television, which showcased our kind of racing to the general public, we became accepted nationally.”

In the last several years, Winston Cup racing has moved into such diverse areas as Watkins Glen, N.Y., Sonoma, Calif., and Phoenix, all to immediate acceptance.

“They had been holding Indy car races at Phoenix for 35 years and we went in there last year after Riverside closed and had the largest crowd in the track’s history,” France said. “And last June, when PIR (Phoenix International Raceway) opened its advance ticket sales for the Nov. 5 race, they sold more tickets on that weekend than the Formula One race drew for a race that was going on at the same time.

“I’m fully confident that if we went to places like Road America (in Elkhart Lake, Wis.) or Portland, we’d be dynamite. We have a national complexion now. Part of that is reflected in the hometowns of our drivers. They’re not all from the South, like they were for a long time.”

In 1972, for instance, seven out of 10 drivers came from the Carolinas, and the rest from other Southern states. Now look at where they come from:

--Chemung, N.Y. Geoff Bodine will drive next season for the quintessential good ol’ boy, Junior Johnson, of Ingle Hollow, N.C.

--Greenfield, Wis. Alan Kulwicki is the defending champion in Sunday’s Autoworks 500 at Phoenix.

--Batesville, Ark. Mark Martin was the winner two weeks ago at Rockingham, N.C.

--Ontario, Calif. Joe Ruttman is a former United States Auto Club champion.

--Fitchburg, Mass. Ken Bouchard was 1988 Winston Cup rookie of the year.

--Fenton, Mo. Ken Schrader and Rusty Wallace, the Winston Cup points leader, both are from Fenton.

The younger France was fortunate in arriving at the presidency of NASCAR about the same time that Ralph Seagraves of R.J. Reynolds brought the Winston program into stock car racing.

“We have an ideal relationship,” France said. “They are involved in promoting stock car racing and raising the financial rewards, but they do not try to tell us how to run the sport. Maybe the most important thing they’ve done is showing the rest of the consumer market that motor racing was a good vehicle for promoting their products. Before RJR, everything was automotive-related.”

Major sponsors for top teams now come from all facets of the business world. For instance, there are beers, coffee, headache powder, soft drinks, cooking oil, soaps, film, food, and even products and services targeted for the women’s market, figure salons and panty hose.

NASCAR, and France personally, have been criticized, especially by the Southern press, for what was perceived to be Winston overkill.

First, it was when the name of NASCAR’s premier series was changed from Grand National to Winston Cup.

“I volunteered to do that myself,” France said. “I felt that with the kind of money they were spending, they deserved to have the series named after them. It was not their idea at all, and I had to pressure to make the change.”

R.J. Reynolds, which started out in 1971 with a $100,000 bonus fund in the name of Winston, will distribute $2.5 million in driver point-fund money this year. Of that, $1 million will go to the champion.

“One important thing about the point fund is that it forces all the top drivers to drive in all the races if they want to take part in the big bonuses at the end of the season,” France said. “There was a time when only half a dozen drivers ran the full schedule, and a lot of the name drivers picked and chose their spots. This way, every track is guaranteed the top drivers, and the battle for the points championship stimulates interest all season long.”

This year, with only two races remaining, Sunday’s at Phoenix and the closer Nov. 19 at Atlanta, three drivers remain in close contention for the $1-million prize--Wallace, Martin and Dale Earnhardt, the defending champion from Mooresville, N.C.

The series name change was made in 1986, but it met with such resistance in the South that Robert Griggs, publisher of Grand National Scene, did not change the name to Winston Cup Scene until this year.

“Change doesn’t come easy back home,” France said. “When we decided to run at Sears Point for the summer race that Riverside used to have, the Southeastern press jumped all over me about what a bad show it was going to be on the road course there.

“That was before the race. After it was over, and they’d seen a great show, it was amazing how quickly I went from a chump on Thursday to a smart guy on Monday.”

Second, was when the Winston, an $800,000 race for winners only from the previous season, was announced. The winner receives $200,000, but the race does not count in season standings.

“The Winston is like baseball’s All-Star game or professional football’s Pro Bowl,” France said. “It’s a special event. Most all sports have something similar. Charlotte (Motor Speedway) has done an excellent job of running it. And the drivers like it.”

What would happen if RJR pulled its Winston brand out of racing, or if tobacco sponsorships were legislated against, as they are in England and some provinces in Australia?

“I think we could replace them,” France said. “At least I would hope we could. I certainly hope we never have to.”

As a hedge against that happening, NASCAR has retained the Grand National name. It is now the name of their No. 2 series, for late model sportsman cars.

The manner in which the two Frances have handled ticklish situations has been determined as much by social change as their difference in style.

For instance, when the drivers threatened to organize a union, Big Bill suspended the ringleaders, Curtis Turner and Tim Flock, from NASCAR for four years.

France’s word became law the day in 1949 when Glenn Dunaway’s car owner sued NASCAR after France disqualified the winning car for having an illegal chassis. The claim was that NASCAR had no right to make such a decision after the race was run. France won the case and no one challenged him after that.

Even major factories felt his wrath. Whenever France determined that one manufacturer was getting an advantage, he changed the rules. In 1965, Chrysler pulled out of NASCAR when France virtually outlawed the 426-cubic inch Hemi engine in an attempt to make Ford and General Motors cars more competitive.

That ruling kept Richard Petty, the sport’s most popular figure, on the sidelines for most of the year. Petty turned to drag racing to pass the time.

In the summer of 1969, France opened Alabama International Raceway in Talladega, which was longer, steeper and faster than any superspeedway ever built. When the leading drivers tested it, they claimed it was too dangerous, that the searing speeds would shred tires and cause accidents. A loose-knit organization called the Professional Drivers Assn., headed by Petty, petitioned France to postpone the race.

France refused, claiming that too many tickets had already been sold. When the drivers continued to balk, France himself, then 59 but an old-time beach racer, climbed into a race car and lapped the high-banked track at 176 m.p.h.

The leading drivers were amazed, but refused to budge from their stand. France reacted in his usual dictatorial manner. He rounded up a bunch of stock car drivers from lesser series, put up a big purse and, to further incense the regular drivers, invited spectators in free.

Richard Brickhouse won the race and was never heard from again. The regular drivers were back in their cars the next time NASCAR went to Talladega.

Big Bill not only proved his point, he broke the potential power of the PDA.

“Junior could never get away with that kind of action today,” said Ned Jarrett, a former Grand National champion driver who is now a TV commentator. “We’re in a litigious world and a suspension like he gave Turner would bring lawsuits today from every angle.

“If the Tim Richmond case occurred 20 years ago, France would have barred him by edict and that would have been the end of it. But Junior had to move cautiously and make sure he was on safe grounds.”

The Richmond case, with its allegations of drug use, might have been the touchiest situation in young France’s tenure.

Rumors circulated for several years that Richmond was using drugs. The situation came to a head at Watkins Glen in 1987, when a number of drivers protested Richmond’s behavior on and off the track.

NASCAR responded by announcing a drug policy for 1988, under which drivers, or any other members of the organization, could be tested “based on reasonable suspicion.” Richmond was the first, and so far, only person tested.

When Richmond was suspended shortly before the Daytona 500, after it was announced that he tested positive, he demanded a second test, claiming he used only over-the-counter medicine. The second test proved him right, but he still refused to turn over his medical files to NASCAR, in accordance with their rules, and filed a $20-million suit for defamation of character, which was later settled out of court.

Said France: “I don’t want to go into the details of the Richmond case because he’s gone (Richmond died last August in West Palm Beach, Fla., of AIDS), but our approach was, and still is, that if we have somebody who uses drugs, we don’t want him on the race track. Our idea is not to ban that person for life, but only to keep him off the track until he gets clean. We are not trying to be punitive. Our concern is for the safety of others, the same as it would be in the case of airplane pilots.

“Driver reaction to the drug policy has been good. We do not plan to have random testing. We believe in the reasonable-suspicion approach. We sent Dick Beaty to drug school to learn how to recognize a potential problem, especially in the garage area. So far, there have been no rumbles at all. We don’t think we have a problem.”

Looking five years down the road, France foresees teams and drivers running for more prize money, continual strong support from sponsors, both old and new, and more growth from television.

He does not, however, see any radical changes.

“Our philosophy is one of controlled growth,” he said. “We do not want to grow so big that we can’t keep our arms wrapped around what we have, if you know what I mean. We don’t want to grow so fast that we get out of hand.”

Two possible areas of growth are the adoption of Japanese cars for Winston Cup racing and the expansion of the series into new markets--or in the case of Southern California, a return to an old market.

Foreign cars have been forbidden in the past because rules call for steel-bodied cars built in the United States. However, Nissans are now built in Tennessee, Toyotas in Kentucky, Hondas in Ohio, Mazdas in Michigan and Mitsubishis in Illinois.

“I think it would be interesting if one of the Japanese cars qualified,” France said. “Personally, I would welcome them, but first they would have to meet our size and engine regulations. We run only rocker-arm type engines, so would not allow the double overhead cams. And all ours are normally aspirated, so there could be no turbocharging.

“And they would have to conform to the size and silhouette of the cars we are running. There are no Chryslers running now because their cars are too small. If we let them in, all the Ford and General Motors people would demand that they run their smaller cars, too, and we don’t want to be a series for compact cars.

“The size of passenger cars has been coming down, and we have come down with them, but our desire since 1974 has been to run what the manufacturers call their intermediate car. And we want fenders to cover the wheels. That’s a must to keep them stock-appearing.”

This year’s Winston Cup series included 29 races, starting in February with the Daytona 500 and ending Nov. 19 in Atlanta.

“We could expand to one or two more if we found the right places,” France said. “That would be about the limit because we have to be concerned with the race team expenses. I sure would like to see one again in Southern California. We miss Riverside very much.”

NASCAR had as many as 60 Grand National races in 1964, but France sees no return to such an ambitious schedule.

“Most of those races were on short tracks in the Southeast and didn’t demand all the travel we have today,” he said.

“Increased costs is the biggest problem facing racing, just like it is everywhere in society.

“Costs are going up for everything, but the biggest jump is in personnel, particularly for drivers and engine men. There’s not much NASCAR can do about that. We can’t tell owners what to pay their race drivers. Nor should we. That takes care of itself in supply and demand economics.

“If you can call it a fault, we probably have more good teams than we need. I’ll explain what I mean. For all 40 teams in the Daytona 500 to come to the final turn of the final lap within a second of each other, someone would win and someone would finish 40th. For that kind of a finish, it would cost the same amount to run 40th as it cost the guy who won.

“That means that most of the 40 owners would bust their butts to get an edge for the next race, meaning spending more money. But if some of the teams had lower expectations, with lesser budgets, they’d still finish 40th or better. In other words, it should be possible to have a good racing team on a low budget.

“Drivers like James Hylton, Elmo Langley, Cecil Gordon and Buddy Arrington did it for years. Today, more and more affluent owners want winning teams, have money or sponsorship, and run up the cost. It’s the same in any business, but I hate to hear teams continually complaining about not being able to meet the costs.

“If we could guarantee that the worst you could do was break even, we’d have a thousand cars lined up. I’d even own one myself. But that’s not the way the world works.”

BACKGROUND

Stock car racing hit the sports scene shortly after World War II was over and it hit hardest in the Deep South, where Bill France took it off the hard-packed sand of Daytona Beach and the backwoods of the Carolinas and put it on race tracks. His son, Bill Jr., now presides over NASCAR, stock car’s sanctioning body, which has long since become a major league operation.