NASCAR pioneer feels betrayed Jemele Hill SPORTS COMMENTARY
July 24, 2005
BRADENTON -- Sitting in his tattered, tan recliner, in a faded white T-shirt and worn jeans with holes at the knee and back pocket, 73-year-old Jack "Wynn" Lawrence uses his valuable breath to suck tobacco from his Camel cigarette and breathe out bitterness.
"If they just gave me $200 a month," Lawrence says, releasing a puff of smoke, "that will make all the difference in my life."
That life is in a Bradenton trailer he bought for $1,000 eight years ago. Every day Lawrence sits in his recliner, his 7-year-old Labrador and guide dog, Shad, at his feet, watching a 13-inch television that's been punched by time.
He watches all kinds of television programs -- cop shows, game shows, and news programs. The one thing he refuses to watch is NASCAR. Never NASCAR.
"I just get so damned mad," Lawrence said, his lips trembling, fist clenched in the air like he desperately wants to hit something.
For 15 years, Lawrence gave everything to NASCAR. A few times, parts of his own life. He blew out the retina in his right eye at a race in Richmond in 1953. Later, he was classified legally blind after glaucoma settled in. Drove one race with broken wrists. Ran another in Martinsville without any brakes.
But back then, they considered themselves part of a special fraternity, so nothing seemed dangerous -- transporting moonshine throughout the South or hijacking chicken manure trucks, which in those days were like oil wells on wheels.
Whatever it took to drive in the Grand National division, the equivalent of today's Nextel Cup.
So it's understandable why Lawrence now feels his trade with NASCAR was not a fair one, why he's so infuriated with the group.
NASCAR let him down, as well as other former Grand National drivers who fell on hard times after making similar sacrifices. Somehow, they've become invisible, and it hurts.
Of the major sports, NASCAR is the only one that doesn't offer a pension plan -- not for drivers, crew chiefs or crew members. Nobody. Major League Baseball, the NBA, NHL, NFL and even professional tennis and the PGA Tour -- truly individual sports -- all have pension funds.
NASCAR is too macho for a pension fund. It's a sport built on the concept that every driver takes care of his own hide, even though they race for teams.
Driver Kyle Petty told the Sentinel in February, "If I'm not smart enough to keep up with my own money, then I ought to be broke. I'm sorry. It's not a welfare state."
But what about services rendered? What about the drivers who were there when NASCAR's top prize for a race was $800? What about the drivers who chewed uppers like Skittles during races because they drove consecutive 200-mile races in different cities? What about the ones who drove without fire suits and window nets and had families who suffered because of it?
"They don't know what it's like to be lifted out of a race car and your tennis shoes have melted," Lawrence said.
NASCAR's hasn't vetoed the idea of a pension fund, but they are doing some major thumb twiddling.
"The drivers today feel about pension plans probably what I do about social security -- that I have to do something on my own," said Jim Hunter, NASCAR's vice president of corporate communications. "But we are sensitive to the people who helped build the sport."
Lawrence doesn't feel that sensitivity. Not when he's living on a monthly veterans' check of $1,432.
Not when he takes a cocktail of 14 different medications, the result of three heart attacks.
Not when three oxygen tanks, jumper cables for his weakened lungs, sit inches from his recliner, right next to the television he won't use to watch a sport he often sacrificed his life for.
Not when his body has been implanted with three stents, tiny metal coils that force an artery open and restore blood flow. Not when his arms are lined with bruises because he takes blood thinners and bruises easily. Lawrence needs a triple bypass, but won't let doctors operate because he doesn't want to be "cut open."
Bitterness keeps him going, fueling him like the 1964 Mercury Marauder he once drove. Bring up the name Bill France, the founder of NASCAR who died in 1992, and his ailing heart pumps furiously.
"He was just so tight-fisted with the money," Lawrence said.
You might think Lawrence is just some old, bitter coot who has gotten a few too many hits from his oxygen tanks. You might think he's just looking for an easy handout.
But it's bitterness with reason, and yes, NASCAR does owe him. He was in 15 wrecks during his career -- and that's just the bad ones. Some of his friends died on the track or suffered some gruesome injuries. One hit a wall with such force his intestines spilled out.
Lawrence didn't even receive credit for all his NASCAR races because he drove in other leagues that competed against NASCAR. Buz McKim, a NASCAR historian, said the records show Lawrence participated in 24 races, which certainly don't span a 15-year career.
He nicknamed NASCAR, the National Association for Stealing Cash from Auto Racers. And wouldn't you if more money was spent on the whiskey for the reporters who covered the races than the purses for the drivers?
In the bottom drawer of an old, wooden desk -- also next to his recliner -- Lawrence keeps articles about NASCAR's riches. He's put yellow highlighter over the league's profit margin.
He doesn't even know how to turn on a computer, but he talked a local company into creating a Web site for him, www.hearseinthepits.com, which is Lawrence's way of making sure NASCAR never forgets what he and others did for them. Love can so quickly turn to hate and unrequited love is even worse.
Lawrence said he last reached out to NASCAR in 1986, when he tried to assemble some former drivers to push NASCAR for financial support. He said he was indirectly told to quiet his complaints.
"I was threatened," he said.
Hunter never heard of Lawrence, but believes he could probably get financial help from a NASCAR charity fund that is supported by some of the wives of Nextel Cup drivers. Other than that, he's not sure what they can do.
"I'm living on borrowed time," Lawrence said.
Before that time is up, Lawrence wants NASCAR to make amends. Even if it's just a simple thank you. -------------------------------------------------------------- Please Note: Due to Florida's very broad public records law, most written communications to or from College employees regarding College business are public records, available to the public and media upon request. Therefore, this e-mail communication may be subject to public disclosure.