NHRA HARANGUE PIE or,
Quotations From 'Chairman Chris'

Author's Note 2001: In June of 1999, I had this idea to write up my hopes, worries, criticisms, and kudos for my former employers, the National Hot Rod Association. That date marked a first anniversary for me and 18 other employees at the company, who were laid off the previous year on June 22. Since DragRacingOnline had a wide open editorial policy, I jumped to it. I read over this long-winded effort, and Jeff B (and myself) felt something along the lines of "It's okay, but let's hold off on this for awhile" and that was that. Project shelved.

A few weeks ago, I found this year and a half old effort in a stack of some papers and re-read it. Some water has gone under the bridge since then, but I felt that some of the above hopes, worries, etc. were still valid, and by god, I thought that the damn thing had some merit, long as it was.

NHRA, love it or hate it, is the No. 1 drag racing body in the world. No contest. As goes NHRA, so goes the world of drag racing. If NHRA should stumble badly, so will the sport. And I felt if anyone is in a position to make some general observations about the company and related items, it is I.

I felt that way in 1999 and do so now. Below is that 1999 article, updated and edited somewhat. If I had to make an overall judgment I would say things are not as bad as I once thought, but again, they still are far from perfect. Anyway, I'll italicize any significant changes of heart in this diatribe. Be sure to lemme know what you think, campadres.

Author's Note 1999: This hopefully focused rant should be filed as a cheerleading critique. Having worked at National DRAGSTER from 1975 through 1998, I care about what happens to NHRA and drag racing, even though I and 18 other employees were laid off on June 22, 1998. That was the first time such a beheading had ever occurred in the near 50-year history of the company.

For a firm that had been rising up the auto racing ladder of importance, an act like that indicated problems. Why would an ostensibly vital and growing company hack the staff down 10 percent unless there were problems. I've had a year to digest the experience and have had the opportunity for the first time in a quarter century to view the company from outside the confines of Glendora, Calif. Below are my observations on a company I still care about and one that for the first time in its existence looks vulnerable.

THE GOOD (and Bad) TIMES
It was in February of 1975 that I went to work for NHRA and its house organ, National DRAGSTER. The clouds parted and a ray of sun beamed down on me the weekend after that year's Winternationals at Pomona. As I watched Don Garlits and Don Prudhomme clean up in Top Fuel and Funny Car, I was buzzing with anticipation, thinking of walking through the doors with the big blue oval on them in Toluca Lake (Calif.), ending my years as a car wash vacuum pusher and Merck Pharmaceutical test subject.

Ah, those were good days, my friends, and the ones that followed were golden, too. Meeting the guys that I read for years, helping pull pictures, writing the pro stories, doing interviews with hero racers that I used to pay to see. In the vernacular, I was up on the tires. There were no lengths I wouldn't go to for the paper or the company. As much fun as the work was, there were bonuses like the wild office picnics and Christmas parties, practical jokes; all the necessary glue to hold together a happy and productive company. No wonder we were rocketing up the Top 40. Yelling at the masses from a speeding car that had 'winner' written all over it. I had handicapped parking right next to the front door of the hottest club in town, walking like a natural man.

True, I voluntarily left in January of 1977 and disappeared until January 1980, having lived with a Northern California revolutionary death cult, but nothing too extreme. Still, when I came back, my job was there waiting for me and I was greeted with open arms. I plunged back into my work. Writing, editing, staying at the printer's to the wee hours of the morning, dressing up National DRAGSTER for public presentation. In the very early 1980s, NHRA loosened up its travel policy and I got to go to all the races. From Montreal to Mexico, Seattle to Gainesville.

Sure, there were scratchy moments. Rough plane flights. Lost luggage. Fighting off muggy conditions. Cold windy weather whipping you like a flag on a pole. Rain. But on the upside, there was the settling into many soul-massaging moments of a figurative afternoon at the King Kameamea Club. All the while, willing to foot my load and more. I won a 1988 Moto Award (National Automotive Journalism Conference), was allowed to write for the magazines, revive Tricky Tipster, and come up with the modern bracket racing form .. or at least the one used by ND in 1980.

For 20 years and change, this good dog fetched the stick for National DRAGSTER and NHRA. Editorially (as in writing) speaking that was the company longevity record, although I think Phil Burgess breaks it in April of this year or next. What could go wrong? So, wrapped up in a world of work, noise, fun, and cold beer, I couldn't hear the distant roll of thunder at my spring picnic.

But it moved closer, much closer on June 22, 1998. Laid off. A walk to the door. Severance pay. A handshake instead of a kiss.

Geez, I thought we were in good shape. What happened? Hey, from the perspective a former commie, I knew lay-offs were as much a part of capitalism as mom, dad, god, junk bonds, and serial murderers. But not NHRA. I was more shocked at the perception of the thought-to-be-powerful NHRA sustaining a groin shot than I was at being put on the sidewalk.

Sure, I felt a wee bit jilted. But I wasn't mad or anything. Oh, it might've smarted a little. Come to think of it, more than a little.

In my 20 years at NHRA I was like Donna Summer...I worked hard for my money. After all, I was the one fighting with every ounce of my being to make deadline, having my copy torn to pieces by a carnivorous copy desk, cranking out 25-inch national event Funny Car stories while hung over and near death in an airport bar, missing flights due to eye-blurring fatigue that turned departure monitors into mud, paying airport prices that Shaq O'Neill couldn't make with a sky hook, putting up with beleaguered, cut-rate airport help, having my luggage spectro-scoped by thin-lipped customs officials, sweating at German Shepherds wildly circling my bags and howling at the moon, and all the time, push harder, produce more, make it bigger, quicker, faster, stronger, make that deadline, get the lead out, and for God Sakes, we need that #$*& COPY NOW!!!

Naw. I'm not mad. NOT MUCH YOU, MISERABLE BASTARDS. JUST RIGHTEOUSLY HOMOCIDAL, ACHING TO SLAM INTO THE NEXT BOARD OF DIRECTORS MEETING WITH CHAINSAW IN HAND REDUCING THE COUNCIL TO LITTLE PYRAMIDS OF TALCUM POWDER. THIS IS HOW YOU PAY ME BACK FOR ALL MY KIND, UNSELFISH, LOVING DEEDS? GET THEE TO A NUNNERY ....

I, uh ... aw, forget it. Sorry. I'm probably making too much of this, but dammit you guys, now that I think about it, the NHRA I left is a long way from the one I entered and I'm not talking the catholic "professionalism" smog that chokes the atmosphere so much lately. There were things within (and with out) those doors in Glendora that should've tipped me off that the hammer was going to fall.

TO MARKET, TO MARKET TO BUY A FAT PIG
I say this in all sincerity and I don't mean it like a cocktail lounge stand-up comic either. I look back on my NHRA years as among the better experiences of my life and, as you could guess, it's in a very large part due to the good people I worked with. Phil Burgess, in my mind, is the best all-around journalist in the sport, Vicky Walker and (while she was there) Lorraine Cooper would find instant employment in any edit bay in the country, regardless of subject. John Jodauga is one of the sport's really excellent all-around talents. I consider every single person on the DRAGSTER staff a good and talented pal and that even holds for the suits and ties that I knew across the street in administration.

Chairman of the Board Wally Parks and former President Dallas Gardner saved my bacon far more than they ever threatened to deep-fat fry it. And there were times when Little Chrissie's getting canned appeared to be a logical response to untoward acts like the demolition of a $15,000 test car, public drunkenness, and $150 cab rides.

My unorthodoxy was tolerated. However…I can say without fear of contradiction, that if I was offered my old job back with a healthy pay raise, I would not return, because something is wrong. The company I worked for in 1975 or in 1985 is not the same one that exists now.

You hear the words "bottom line" thrown around a lot at NHRA headquarters, but it's only too obvious that using the term and actually carrying out the moves to achieve said "bottom line" are two completely different things. That contradiction exists at NHRA in spades and consequently I am genuinely concerned about the company's and the sport's future. It appears that the only thing you now need to be in NHRA's administrative row is a college shingle that says marketing, business, or management. Drag Racing 101? There are a few grads, Ray Alley, Len Imbrogno, Graham Light, Carl Olson, Danny Gracia and a few others, but they are the overwhelming minority.

Don't misconstrue this as some anti-accountant diatribe. The marketing and accounting people, the so-called "bean counters" that are linked to the sport only by business, are essential. They permeate all enterprises like the ancient Latin tongue permeates the Romance languages. They are as necessary to a business as blood is to the body. It's just that what almost inevitably happens, is that they soon rise to the top of the organization and make decisions.

NHRA President Tom Compton is, I think, a well-intended guy who really wants to see NHRA soar. One day shortly after his coming to NHRA we talked very briefly on this "bean counter" topic. He said (to paraphrase) "That's what I am, but every business that wants to experience growth like NHRA, must have them. I wouldn't pretend to know anything about drag racing at this point, so I won't get involved there. I leave that to the drag racing people (the starters, staging lane personnel, racemasters, etc.), but I'd be very reluctant to have them do my job."

And he's right. The problem is that business situations often arise where that belief can be compromised. The stick and ball sports all have CEO talent that'll say the same thing, but sometimes things don't work out where they have to...uh…step in, like Dan Snyder with the Washington Redskins or Wayne Huizenga with the 1997 Baseball World Champs, the Florida Marlins.

And please don't jump all over this. I read about political economy for recreation. I'm well aware of all that corporate jazz and, if nothing else, it reaffirms for me Marx's old bromide that "capitalism over time changes everything into its own image." Man, is that ever true in drag racing. My bitch here is that the organization commandeering that transition for drag racing, appears to have backed over the mailbox.

Today's drag race pro car efforts cost millions. No surprise there, To run an event with these cars costs even more, so naturally, it makes a lot of sense to curry favor with the 1-percent of the population that have a hand on 85-percent of the corporate wealth. In currying that favor, you soon see people within an enterprise like NHRA, walking the walk, talking the talk, and attempting to do the do of their beloved.

When R.J. Reynolds was sizing up NHRA in 1975, that meant no more t-shirts, that meant 'hold it down you guys,' no cigars in the edit bay, whatever. These were not big sacrifices, not when you consider the kind of money that R.J. Reynolds and Winston would bring to the table in 1975. Those guys are billionaires. Be like them, act like them, speak their language.

And so you make concessions. Trouble is, though, that I think NHRA got more locked into the form than the content. They fell harder for appearances. Sure, the game has become money, money, money, money. But money achieved how? At bare minimum, there has to be a strong knowledge of the product on the part of the seller. Disney's Michael Eisner could no more shoot a film than an eight-ball of coke, but he knows people who can shoot films and he makes smart hires. At NHRA? Drag racing? The sport? It sometimes seems that the attitude is that the sport will take care of itself. Just a little fine-tuning here and there. Meanwhile, we gotta have that corporate friendly look, that "professional" look that counts for so much, a look that shows we're businessmen just like them.

Maybe this is superficial thinking, but in my gut I feel if you could have magically fast forwarded Wally Parks' make-believe computer monitor from 1965 to 1995 and showed him the list of all the Vice-Presidents NHRA would sport, he would've developed a herniated disc from laughing so hard. What nonsense; we looked like clowns and its one of the oldest jokes in the pits at any drag race.

photo of Chris Martin by Jeff Burk

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