No one ever likened 'Tiny' Lund to a robot

Second of a two-part series on DeWayne “Tiny” Lund, killed 35 years ago on Aug. 17, 1975, in a wreck at what was then known as Alabama International Motor Speedway at Talladega, Ala. Lund, named one of NASCAR’s 50 greatest drivers, is among this year’s five nominees to the National Motorsports Press Association Hall Of Fame at Darlington, S.C.

It was an evening that glittered with many of NASCAR’s top stars.

Drivers Richard Petty, David Pearson, Cale Yarborough, LeeRoy Yarbrough, Buddy Baker and the Allison brothers, Bobby and Donnie, were there.

So were crew chiefs including Dale Inman, Leonard Wood and Herb Nab, along with team owners such as Lee Petty, Glen Wood, Junior Johnson, Banjo Matthews and Bud Moore.

The gala occasion in May of 1969 was an inaugural dinner celebrating formation of the Charlotte 600 Record Club. Sponsored by UNOCAL, the club’s purpose was to honor competitors who had performed well in Charlotte Motor Speedway’s biggest race, then known as the World 600.

As after-dinner speaker, the oil company brought to Charlotte the Green Bay Packers’ great linebacker, Ray Nitschke, destined for induction into the Pro Football Hall Of Fame.

When Nitschke began talking he didn’t regale the audience with anecdotes about football, which had been anticipated. Instead, he essentially conducted a Sunday school lesson. And he talked at some length.

Finally, Nitschke sat down to light applause.

It was at this point that Tiny Lund, all 6 foot-7 and 275 pounds of him, stood up at his table well back in the sizable hall.

“Damn, Ray!” bellowed Lund, breaking into a grin. “Don’t pro football players like girls?!”

The room rocked with laughter.

The bald-headed Nitschke turned a deep red and forced a slight smile.

Lund was the toast of the rest of the evening. And he remained so at the track for the next couple of days.

Fact is, big ol’ Tiny usually was the toast of every party he attended.

He was a fun-loving, practical joke-playing pixie in the body of a giant.

The immensely likable Lund lost his life 35 years ago in an eight-car crash just eight laps into the Talladega 500 at the sprawling track then known as Alabama International Motor Speedway.

Those of us who knew and admired the native Iowan – winner of the 1963 Daytona 500, four NASCAR Grand American Division championships and a Grand National East title – never will forget him.

No way. Not a man with a personality like his.

The day after Tiny’s death at age 46 I wrote a column about him. The article related some of Tiny’s humorous and often outrageous antics and also his love of the outdoors, especially fishing.

Difficult as it might be for some of the current Cup Series competitors to fathom, drivers once actually stayed in motels when on the road for races. There were no fancy, big-buck motorhomes in NASCAR from the late 1940s to well into the '80s.

And what’s more, drivers often shared rooms as a means of economizing.

On one occasion this was the case for Tiny and Yarborough.

As Tiny showered after a hard, hot day at the track, Yarborough filled their room’s ice bucket with cold water. He threw the water over the shower curtain, dousing Lund.

Tiny charged from the bathroom, intent on revenge. Yarborough jumped onto his bed and grabbed each side of the mattress in an effort to keep Lund from picking him up.

Tiny hoisted Cale, who was still clinging to the mattress and marched outside. He heaved both into the motel’s swimming pool.

Witnesses said Tiny hadn't stopped to grab a towel.

Following a race in the 1960s at Columbia Speedway in South Carolina, Tiny and some cronies remained in a favorite bar until closing time. Among the pals was Joe Whitlock, the late NASCAR public relations representative and newspaper columnist.

As the group stood on the sidewalk outside the bar Tiny offered a challenge.

“Whitlock, I’ll run you to the corner for a case of beer.”

Whitlock accepted and easily outran Lund.

“Go get the beer!” ordered Tiny.

“But I won,” protested Joe.

“Dummy, I didn’t say I’d beat you,” responded Tiny.

“I said I’d ‘run’ you.”

Whitlock bought.

During the late 1960s, Ford Motor Company staged an annual dinner in Detroit to recognize a “man of the year” among its drivers. Celebrities interested in motorsports abounded at these functions.

In the winter of 1969-70 among those attending was James Garner, the movie and TV star.

Tiny, a friend of the actor, visited Garner in his room at the hotel where the banquet was to be held.

When Tiny returned to the lobby he came across a flock of female fans frantically searching for the star, who had been hiding out from the horde for hours.

“Looking for Jim Garner?” Tiny asked with exaggerated accommodation. “Why, he’s in room 708.”

The women went screaming for the elevators.

Lund’s eyes twinkled.

"Let’s see ol’ Maverick talk his way out of this!”

Foremost among my favorite “Tiny Tales” involves a prank he pulled on close friend Buddy Baker.

It happened during an August fishing trip on the Santee Cooper Lakes in the S.C. Lowcountry. Tiny owned and operated a sportsman’s lodge on the lower end of the reservoirs, Lake Moultrie, and he often was host to members of the racing fraternity.

As Tiny slowly guided his boat along a canal leading to the main lake, Buddy suddenly shuddered.

“There’s an alligator on the bank!” shouted Buddy, pointing to a reptile about 3 feet long.

Tiny knew of Buddy’s dislike for creatures with “no shoulders.”

He decided to set up his guest for some fun.

“Oh, that’s a baby,” Tiny said dismissively. “We have some real man-eaters in the lake. Fourteen-footers.”

Buddy voiced apprehension, but the outing continued.

The fish weren’t biting and as the day’s heat became intolerable, Buddy began complaining.

Tiny suggested that Baker take a swim to cool off.

Baker, having forgotten the ‘gator, stripped to his skivvies and hit the water. He was enjoying the dip and then…

With a look of horror on his face, Buddy began screaming for help. Something had grabbed him.

Buddy went under. Once. Twice. Three times.

“I was sure a 'gator had me and that it was going to pull me to the bottom,” Buddy conceded later. “I was going to drown.”

Then, in an instant, Buddy was free.

Buddy looked like Tarzan as he speedily swam to the boat, all the while looking for Tiny and hoping for help.

Tiny wasn’t to be seen.

At this point Tiny’s head bobbed to the surface and he was choking with laughter.

“That rascal had slipped out the other side of the boat after I got in the water,” Baker went on. “He swam under the boat and grabbed me.”

NASCAR sure could use a colorful character like Tiny Lund nowadays.