The sky always opens on me in Charlotte.
Heading to my first really big national interview, I was caught in a southern downpour. But it was fine. On the radio, no one knows you’re soaking wet.
As I sat down for Dave Moody’s afternoon drive show at Sirius XM’s studio outside Charlotte, a pack of Extenze Male Enhancement awaited me. They had to be for me, positioned on the console in front of my microphone. Sitting behind the wheel moments earlier, listening to the rain slam the rental car’s roof and Moody’s booming voice talking up “Andrew Giangola’s great new book,” I’d been on top of the mountain. And now, putting the headphones on, looking at the capsules I’m regularly told I need in spam e-mail, talk about cutting a man down to size…so to speak.
Actually, Moody didn’t place the penis enlargement pills there; the Extenze came from a previous guest. Hey, a race car is a pretty good place to advertise just about anything, even stuff that doesn’t work. Not that I know that from experience.
I was short of breath from the post 9.11 asthma and the general terror that strikes before a mike is opened, not because of the Extenze. Back in the hotel room, meditating to clear the cobwebs, the toilet started flushing on its own, scaring the bejesus out of me. It would be difficult to get phased when there are irregular ghosts in your room.
We got rolling, and it went really well. Dave was genuinely excited about the fan stories, and thought it was cool NASCAR let me tell them in my own voice. On a day when new rules were announced to let the boys have at it, you could say NASCAR is letting the drivers drive and the writers write. I even got in a dig on Al Qaeda.
Amazingly, Moody knew many of the fans in The Weekend Starts on Wednesday. Dr. Diandra Leslie-Pelecky, NASCAR’s “Science Lady” has been a guest on the show, as has up and coming driver Paulie Harraka, a whip smart student at Duke. Dave had been to Bob’s Party Bus and had met Tire Man. A veteran of the infield where many reporters don't trod; very cool.
Through the power of Social Networking I’d been able to alert the fans in the book and my own Facebook and Twitter friends about the appearance. Our Weekend Starts on Wednesday Facebook Fan Page added about 100 fans within hours of the interview. One fan emailed to say he’d ordered 10 copies from Amazon. Heck, I gotta go on the radio more often!
One question was especially tough: which fan story is my favorite? There are so many great stories; every fan is special in his or her own right. Along with CPL. John Hyland, I mentioned Wessa Miller, the Lucky Penny Girl, who on a Make a Wish gave Dale Earnhardt her lucky coin, “helping” him finally win the 1998 Daytona 500 after years of heartbreak and futility.
Well, I just learned that Wessa, who was born with spina bifida, had been suffering bad seizures and is in the ICU unit of a Kentucky hospital. As her dad Booker told me, Wessa is tough, she never complains. Getting to know the family in the course of writing The Lucky Penny Girl chapter, I found Wessa to be a girl with extraordinary faith and courage.
But she needs our help. She made it through a Code Blue today. Tonight, please say a special prayer for Wessa Miller.
Showing posts with label Wessa Miller. Show all posts
Showing posts with label Wessa Miller. Show all posts
Thursday, January 21, 2010
Thursday, December 31, 2009
As each year closes, it's become a tradition to remember those we have lost in the previous 12 months.
As a NASCAR PR guy, I'd often worked with the late David Poole of the Charlotte Observer and SiriusXM Radio. When I began researching remarkable NASCAR fans to profile in "The Weekend Starts on Wednesday," I came across a stunning story David wrote about Wessa Miller, the so-called "Lucky Penny Girl." When David passed away, I wrote the following piece for NASCAR.COM (April 29, 2009). I believe it's appropriate to re-post it today, as we look back on 2009, and wish all departed souls a peaceful journey.
IN THE END, POOLE'S HEART PROVED EVEN LARGER THAN LIFE
I'll always remember my first time in a NASCAR media center about seven years ago, completely green and alien to the sport.
In reading about NASCAR to prep for the new job, the name "David Poole" kept popping up. And there at the track, the first reporter I recognized was the man who had penned many influential articles shaping coverage of the sport. I stuck out my hand and introduced myself as NASCAR's new business PR guy in New York.
"If there's anything you ever need, about sponsors, the business of NASCAR, whatever, feel free to give me a shout," I eagerly offered.
If I had had a tail, it would have been bushy.
There was a pregnant pause, we're talking third trimester. David gave me that Poole Look and barked, "Who do I talk to about racin'?"
I felt about one inch tall, and retreated with that formerly bright tail tucked between my legs. Poole clearly was not interested in relationship with a neophyte from the sport's New York business office.
That made me all the more determined to win him over. And in pitching stories to Poole through the years, I did.
Poole didn't always agree with my e-mailed solicitations. In fact, I can think of no human being who took greater joy in puncturing balloons. But we developed the kind of cautious mutually respectful relationship you sensed he had with a lot of people.
Once in a while Poole would say, "that's a pretty good idea." And sometimes, "Andrew, that's the stupidest thing I've heard all day."
I was lucky. Sometimes it was the stupidest thing all week. Once it was the stupidest thing all year. I didn't feel too bad since it was early in the season and the year was relatively young.
That gorgeous bluntness was what a lot of people liked most about David. He suffered no fools and made crankiness appealing.
But I sensed Poole trusted me, despite my Gotham City geographical handicap, and that became clear when he'd call for "off the record" chats to go over his annual "most influential people in NASCAR list." Based on our conversations, when Poole added a name or two, and moved around a few others, it was pretty rewarding.
I was fortunate to spend time with David in Bristol in March while working on a chapter about Wessa Miller for my book on remarkable NASCAR fans. Wessa, you may remember, was the 6-year old girl with spina bifida who gave her lucky penny to Dale Earnhardt. He secretly glued the coin to his dash and went on to win the 1998 Daytona 500 on his 20th try. Dale then brought the family to Bristol and quietly, without fan fare or photo opps, bought them a new Chevy van, which they still use to get Wessa to doctor's appointments.
Ten years after Earnhardt's 1998 Daytona 500 win, planning for his lead season-opening story, David remembered the "Lucky Penny Girl."
"Anybody who's been in a journalism class has heard of the 'Where are they now?' story," he said. "I was gonna do that story with Wessa."
And how. David totally nailed the tale of the "Lucky Penny Girl" in the Charlotte Observer.
Reader response to the front-page story was so strong, Poole created a special charity, called "The Pennies for Wessa Fund." Money raised would assist the Millers with medical bills, travel expenses to faraway doctors and home renovations for Wessa's special needs.
Poole also engineered a trip for Wessa and her family to come back to Bristol Motor Speedway, where Earnhardt had hosted them in 1998, to shoot a special NASCAR Angels segment.
An online auction also raised funds for the family. One item for bid was a lunch and race shop tour with David Poole. David laughed when I called it "A Day of Masochism." One gentleman bid nearly $1,000 to spend a day with the sport's biggest curmudgeon. It was not to be.
Five weeks ago in Bristol, sitting in a news conference with Wessa Miller and her parents Booker and Juanita, David had switched seats to become part of the story. Instead of asking barbed questions, David was giving the answers. He relished talking about "Pennies for Wessa" and the journalistic mechanics of what may turn out to be his most famous story -- tracking down Wessa by way of an Internet search for a professional wrestler, speaking with Wessa's mom Juanita for two hours that first night, then walking downstairs to declare to his wife Katy, "If I can't write this story, take me off this job."
"You're not supposed to be part of the story," Poole said. "But sometimes the story becomes part of you. Every one of us has good days and bad days. A good day for the Millers is when nothing really bad happens. The things they deal with on their good days would be a pretty bad day for anyone else. But they look at every single day as an absolute gift. If all of us thought like that, it would be a much better world."
Though they didn't always agree with every one of David Poole's strident opinions, a lot of NASCAR fans would say he made the world better.
It turned out David Poole's heart was as big as his opinions after all.
What strikes me is this: Just as the "The Lucky Penny Girl" in NASCAR lore showed the softer side of crusty old Dale Earnhardt, so too will she continue to shine a light on the secret gentle side of David Poole.
If anyone wishes to donate to the fund David created for little Wessa Miller, who is now 17, that's as fine a way as any to remember him. Just visit www.penniesforwessa.org.
As a NASCAR PR guy, I'd often worked with the late David Poole of the Charlotte Observer and SiriusXM Radio. When I began researching remarkable NASCAR fans to profile in "The Weekend Starts on Wednesday," I came across a stunning story David wrote about Wessa Miller, the so-called "Lucky Penny Girl." When David passed away, I wrote the following piece for NASCAR.COM (April 29, 2009). I believe it's appropriate to re-post it today, as we look back on 2009, and wish all departed souls a peaceful journey.
IN THE END, POOLE'S HEART PROVED EVEN LARGER THAN LIFE
I'll always remember my first time in a NASCAR media center about seven years ago, completely green and alien to the sport.
In reading about NASCAR to prep for the new job, the name "David Poole" kept popping up. And there at the track, the first reporter I recognized was the man who had penned many influential articles shaping coverage of the sport. I stuck out my hand and introduced myself as NASCAR's new business PR guy in New York.
"If there's anything you ever need, about sponsors, the business of NASCAR, whatever, feel free to give me a shout," I eagerly offered.
If I had had a tail, it would have been bushy.
There was a pregnant pause, we're talking third trimester. David gave me that Poole Look and barked, "Who do I talk to about racin'?"
I felt about one inch tall, and retreated with that formerly bright tail tucked between my legs. Poole clearly was not interested in relationship with a neophyte from the sport's New York business office.
That made me all the more determined to win him over. And in pitching stories to Poole through the years, I did.
Poole didn't always agree with my e-mailed solicitations. In fact, I can think of no human being who took greater joy in puncturing balloons. But we developed the kind of cautious mutually respectful relationship you sensed he had with a lot of people.
Once in a while Poole would say, "that's a pretty good idea." And sometimes, "Andrew, that's the stupidest thing I've heard all day."
I was lucky. Sometimes it was the stupidest thing all week. Once it was the stupidest thing all year. I didn't feel too bad since it was early in the season and the year was relatively young.
That gorgeous bluntness was what a lot of people liked most about David. He suffered no fools and made crankiness appealing.
But I sensed Poole trusted me, despite my Gotham City geographical handicap, and that became clear when he'd call for "off the record" chats to go over his annual "most influential people in NASCAR list." Based on our conversations, when Poole added a name or two, and moved around a few others, it was pretty rewarding.
I was fortunate to spend time with David in Bristol in March while working on a chapter about Wessa Miller for my book on remarkable NASCAR fans. Wessa, you may remember, was the 6-year old girl with spina bifida who gave her lucky penny to Dale Earnhardt. He secretly glued the coin to his dash and went on to win the 1998 Daytona 500 on his 20th try. Dale then brought the family to Bristol and quietly, without fan fare or photo opps, bought them a new Chevy van, which they still use to get Wessa to doctor's appointments.
Ten years after Earnhardt's 1998 Daytona 500 win, planning for his lead season-opening story, David remembered the "Lucky Penny Girl."
"Anybody who's been in a journalism class has heard of the 'Where are they now?' story," he said. "I was gonna do that story with Wessa."
And how. David totally nailed the tale of the "Lucky Penny Girl" in the Charlotte Observer.
Reader response to the front-page story was so strong, Poole created a special charity, called "The Pennies for Wessa Fund." Money raised would assist the Millers with medical bills, travel expenses to faraway doctors and home renovations for Wessa's special needs.
Poole also engineered a trip for Wessa and her family to come back to Bristol Motor Speedway, where Earnhardt had hosted them in 1998, to shoot a special NASCAR Angels segment.
An online auction also raised funds for the family. One item for bid was a lunch and race shop tour with David Poole. David laughed when I called it "A Day of Masochism." One gentleman bid nearly $1,000 to spend a day with the sport's biggest curmudgeon. It was not to be.
Five weeks ago in Bristol, sitting in a news conference with Wessa Miller and her parents Booker and Juanita, David had switched seats to become part of the story. Instead of asking barbed questions, David was giving the answers. He relished talking about "Pennies for Wessa" and the journalistic mechanics of what may turn out to be his most famous story -- tracking down Wessa by way of an Internet search for a professional wrestler, speaking with Wessa's mom Juanita for two hours that first night, then walking downstairs to declare to his wife Katy, "If I can't write this story, take me off this job."
"You're not supposed to be part of the story," Poole said. "But sometimes the story becomes part of you. Every one of us has good days and bad days. A good day for the Millers is when nothing really bad happens. The things they deal with on their good days would be a pretty bad day for anyone else. But they look at every single day as an absolute gift. If all of us thought like that, it would be a much better world."
Though they didn't always agree with every one of David Poole's strident opinions, a lot of NASCAR fans would say he made the world better.
It turned out David Poole's heart was as big as his opinions after all.
What strikes me is this: Just as the "The Lucky Penny Girl" in NASCAR lore showed the softer side of crusty old Dale Earnhardt, so too will she continue to shine a light on the secret gentle side of David Poole.
If anyone wishes to donate to the fund David created for little Wessa Miller, who is now 17, that's as fine a way as any to remember him. Just visit www.penniesforwessa.org.
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