REMEMBERING STEVE EVANS

By Dave Argabright
12/8/05

When reading the National Speed Sport News I always read Dave Argabright’s columns. They’re usually about people or places and he knows how to paint a scene using words. When I saw that this column in the Nov. 30th edition was about the late Steve Evans I knew it would be good. I wasn’t disappointed. Argabright kindly has let me bring it to the DRO readers. Over the years I spent many an evening in some lounge listening to and arguing with Evans. I usually listened more than I talked. The last time I saw him, DRO photographer Ron Lewis and I walked into some dive close to Firebird Raceway in Phoenix, Arizona for a drink. Steve was sitting at the bar by himself when we came in and after we sat down we sent him a B&B on ice. The rest of that evening he regaled us and everyone else sitting at the bar with stories that made us laugh so hard we cried. He was a unique racing legend. I miss him too, Dave. --Jeff Burk

FISHERS, Ind. - November is the time of long shadows and gray days and thoughts of summers past. The leaves are gone and the mornings are cold and the sun runs away and hides in the middle of the afternoon.

And November is the time, five years ago, that we said goodbye to Steve Evans.

He was interesting, he was outrageous, and he was memorable. To use one of his own phrases, he was “a one-off.” Nobody, in all the days past or all the days coming, was anything like Steve Evans.

He was a pioneer announcer and broadcaster, and he loved drag racing so passionately that he allowed it to consume his entire life. Along the way he built a prolific broadcasting career, and surfing the dial on a summer night you might hear his voice calling the action at a drag race, a sprint car race, a demo derby, or a swamp buggy meet.

For those who knew him only as the voice through the speaker, you might have lamented his passing because you admired his work. But for those of us who knew him personally, it was so much more. He made us laugh, he made us think, he made us shake our head, and, at least for many of us, he made us better.

The first live television broadcast of my career was at Las Vegas in early 2000 on TNN, joining Steve and Bobby Gerould as a pit reporter. The first time they came to me for a report, my microphone wouldn’t work. For most of the night I was tormented with electrical gremlins, and as you might imagine I was extremely frustrated. But as soon as the show was over Steve was right there to offer encouragement.

“Chin up, dude,” he said. “You’ll never work another one like tonight.”

He was right, of course. Things got better, and it wasn’t long before working with Steve was one of the things I looked forward to. Actually, socializing with Steve was even more fun than working with him; after the show, sitting there laughing while he entertained us with great tales from a career that began before most of us were born.

I figure I’ve got a decent grasp of racing history, but when it came to drag racing I quickly realized that when Steve was around it would be best to keep my mouth closed and listen, because I couldn’t bring a dog to this hunt, if you get my drift.

Early on I figured that Steve was just another guy holding a microphone; boy, I couldn’t have been more wrong. His depth of experience was enormous: He promoted races, he operated race tracks, he did publicity, and he recorded about a million of those wonderful, “Sunday, Sunday, Sunday!!!!” drag racing commercials on the radio.