Roanoke Times
                 Copyright (c) 1995, Landmark Communications, Inc.

DATE: WEDNESDAY, June 30, 1993                   TAG: 9306300283
SECTION: VIRGINIA                    PAGE: C1   EDITION: METRO 
SOURCE: 
DATELINE:                                 LENGTH: Medium

FANS WERE IN RIGHT PLACE TO DECIDE

He fully planned to return for a third season of racing - a masochistic venture if ever there was one.

Whitey had great plans for stock-car racing on the World's Most Ridiculous Quarter-Mile, a track better suited for swift runners than swift Fords. He envisioned thousands of race enthusiasts jamming into the city's antique South Roanoke stadium.

He had it only half right. There were races at the stadium all right, but fans stayed away by the thousands.

Whitey returned for a second summer.

Combined, his two racing seasons at Victory Stadium generated $19,444 in admissions taxes for the city.

The races were worth the price of admission even for nonrace fans, just to reward Whitey for putting the city through such administrative and political night sweats.

If Whitey turned a profit or lost his shirt, who cared? That was Whitey's problem. Besides, by his own admission, he was going to need three or four years to draw a decent race crowd into the stadium.

This year, Whitey seemed somehow to have lost his love of the fight. He didn't ask permission to use the stadium until the season was almost upon us.

Was it because his nemesis, former parks director Gary Fenton, had departed for a job in Ohio and was no longer available for Whitey's populist torment?

Had the red ink from the Victory Stadium Speedway become even too much for the mighty, thick-skinned Whitey to withstand?

Or was it the quirky attitude of Delvis "Mac" McCadden, a Roanoke city councilman who said he'd need some assurance that the crowds would be bigger before he voted to approve Whitey's use of Victory Stadium?

"Before I vote for them," said McCadden, "I want to see a well-developed marketing plan to make the races more profitable and to create a more positive image for the city."

It was a strange position for a man who so recently worked to lure a hockey team to the city despite the fact that the last professional hockey game in the valley drew 63 fans.

It was also chilling. If Whitey jumps through the city's hoops and wins approval for races, it's not the city's business how many fans pay to watch. If that's our litmus, there are a few museums in this town that we might be tempted to close, too.

It might make getting a business license an interesting venture - convincing a clerk that a baseball card shop can be profitable, or that another convenience store will draw customers.

McCadden says now that his remarks were misinterpreted. He just wanted to make sure that Whitey "has his house in order" by jumping through all the bureaucratic hoops.

"I want to make sure I'm getting a show," he said. "I want to make sure it's professionally done."

The quality of the show isn't your problem, Mac. Consumers will let Whitey know what they think of the not-so-fast cars on the not-very-long track.