"The Only Place to Be"

The Howell Theater in the Temple Building at the University of Nebraska was was empty that evening, save for the woman who sat at the front desk, a woman I would meet several years later and who would tell met this story. 

There was a young actor, she recalled, who decided he needed to rehearse his lines for an upcoming play just one more time. He came in, stopped at the front desk, then headed for the stage.  Upon conclusion of his own private rehearsal, he heard  a solitary applause, somewhere out in the theatre. The overhead stage lights were up full, but the house lights were dark, so he was unable to see his fan, which he assumed was the same woman he had seen at the front desk.  On his way out, he stopped to to tell her “thank you very much.”  The woman gave him a puzzled look. “I appreciated your applause” he added, at which point she informed him that she had never left her desk.  His eyes widened a little more when she also told him that no one else was in the building.  

“I told him ‘it was our theater ghost.'” Theaters and playhouses are full of energy…and ghosts come here to feed off it.”  

I don’t know about ghosts.  I don’t think I’ve ever seen one. 

I have visited the sites of old race tracks over the years, like the old Omaha Moto Park motocross track near Herman, Nebraska, where I saw great some of the world’s best racers compete back in the mid 1970’s.  That great track had a very brief run, eIf an apparition were looking for an energy source, it would certainly be present here.  

Several years ago, I rode my motorcycle out to the site of what was once Sunset Speedway (“the home of…one HUNDRED mmmmmile per hour racing!”). The security fence had been cut free from the steel posts and rolled up, like a window shade, as if to mock the “No Trespassing” sign that was fastened to it.  And then, I did what many of you who are reading this right now have done: I trespassed.

I crawled underneath the mangled fence, slipped past what had likely been the main entrance and, for the first time in 15 years, I was back at Sunset Speedway.

Or, at least, what used to be Sunset.  The old “Sunset Inn” building was still standing, along with some of the old structures, like the driver’s shack in the infield.   But throughout the property, there were trees and weeds that had pushed their way through the old track. The foliage had grown so thick over the years that it was difficult to believe that I was in the right place.  I’ve seen nature work to reclaim her world after man had moved on and this was no different.  The years of growth had done their best to eradicate the old track.  It wasn’t at all like Sunset Speedway.  And while I wanted to be able to say that it was like being there all over again, being at well, ‘the only place to be on Sunday night”, I had to accept that it wasn’t like that at all.  

I had spent many Sunday evenings at Sunset, watching my brother Rob race.  Hobby Stock, Pony, Late Model.  

What needs to happen? How can Sunset Speedway come back?

We returned in the fall of 2018 for our first shoot.  My crew consisted of my videographer Fausto Ramon and audio engineer Scott Lynam, two of the very best in Omaha.  Selecting them was an easy choice.  Another simple choice was to choose the first subjects to walk the track with me: Bob, Joe and Steve Kosiski.  If you’re on this page, if you’re reading this post, then no further explanation is needed.

Scott set up each of them with a wireless lav mic.  Fausto moved to a spot somewhere near the middle of what used to be the front straight.  I gave the Kosiski clan three directives: walk, talk and remember.

Watching the three men enter the track, where they had owned Sunday nights for so many years, now for the first time since it had closed.  Steve knew a lot about the track history. Joe knew a little bit than Steve. And Bob knew everything else.

“This is where we used to park…here’s where Jerry (Wancewicz) hit the wall that night…remember when they had grandstands on the other side of the track?”

Time. Money. Development. Cul de sacs and street signs will replace the high banks and finish lines.  

It’s already there.  The list of covenants makes it quite clear.  No activities involving “disturbing noises, odors or sounds.  “No boat, trailer, camper…or similar chattel.”

Also, just one dog.  And that dog needs to live in a house which must also meet a strict list of covenant regulations.  

Another part of the document makes it quite clear that the future for this property will prohibit, among other gauche and reprehensible acts (including ownership of a potbellied pig), one more thing:  “After October 31st, 2000, no automobile racing operations shall be permitted on the Sunset property.”

And that, as they say, was that.  Sunset Speedway went gentle into that good night.  

But for one hour (and several full race extra features), it is alive again.  It is loud and full of  wonderfully”disturbing noises, odors and sounds.” My brother Rob, his helper Denny Papa, Harry DeWispelare (of Harry’s High Performance), Waring “Gilly” Gilliland and Don Styskal are all alive again.  The smell of the cigarette smoke and race fuel makes for  the most disturbing of odors…and nothing ever smelled better.

Over the past 18 months, we have interviewed drivers, track owner Craig Kelley, longtime announcer Stan Cisar Jr.  Champions (30 of the 43 Sunset champs represented), a Sunset historian.  Some of our heroes are no longer with us; Joyce Wrich speaks for her husband Bill.  

When the theater receptionist told me her story about the ghost who occupied her theater.  There are ghosts here at 120th and State Street.  Not apparitions.  There is no howling or haunting happening here. And a nearby back hoe and bulldozer were sitting.  They were at rest now, but their ominous presence sent a message: it’s only a matter of time.  But the memories that live on.  I’m certain that when the last lot is sodded, the last ranch style home is built.  And when that homeowner plants her azaleas (or has a landscape artist do it for her), they will need to dig a little.  And a piece of a metal, a spark plug, a shock mounting bolt or maybe a tear-off is going to come up out of the earth.  

If not, then I guarantee you this much: when they sit on their covenant-friendly decks, each with their 1.0 dogs at their feet.look to the west.  There, the sun will most certainly be setting.  I hope they tip whatever they might be drinking, for they are surely sitting on hallowed ground.  Once, it was a racetrack.  Not that long ago, it was the only place to be.