MOTORLESS RACING Soap Box Derby barrels back into American hearts



Easy-to-make car kits have helped boost participation.
CLEVELAND (AP) -- As Alex Trecha folds his 11-year-old body into his fire engine-red Soap Box Derby car to prepare for his first race of the day, his father checks once more to make sure the stock division racer is lined up just right.
In the midst of the fall rally season on a recent Sunday, Greg Trecha lovingly pats his son on his helmet and says, "Have fun." A moment later, the Cranberry, Pa., boy and his motorless car hurtle down the hill against another rally racer.
Since the first Soap Box Derby in 1934, a lot has changed. More girls are racing; wind tunnel technology and computer modeling are common, and the cars are made mainly of plastic from easy-to-build kits.
But beyond all that, the most important aspect of this recent race, on a new, dedicated track located just off of Lake Erie, is that it is happening at all.
The sport almost didn't survive the loss of corporate sponsorship, the changing American family and the tastes of 21st-century kids. Over the last decade, though, Soap Box Derby racing has come barreling back like a scottie division racer, thanks to a fortuitous blend of tenacity, adaptation, renewed interest from national sponsors -- including NASCAR -- and a nationwide yearning for anything left intact from America's past.
"It's part of mom's apple pie; it's wrapped in the flag; it's from simpler times, and it's a very family-oriented event," said Tony Deluca, a retired deputy sheriff who has been the executive director of the All-American Soap Box Derby since 1989.
Ups and downs
The first Soap Box Derby national championship was held in 1934 after local news photographer Myron Scott became enamored with a race of boy-built cars he was sent to cover a year earlier.
At its peak in the 1960s, there were upward of 20,000 kids participating in 250 local clubs across the country. Each club sent one champion to the national championships every July at Derby Downs in Akron. Celebrities like actor Jimmy Stewart would appear, helping attract up to 30,000 fans and hordes of media attention.
But the late John DeLorean, then general manager of Chevrolet and later one of the country's most infamous entrepreneurs, abruptly pulled the funding plug in 1972.
"I didn't think it fit in today's contemporary America," DeLorean said of the decision.
Along with its sponsor and $1 million, the derby lost some of its luster.
"I know when Chevy pulled out after 1972, they all thought the Derby would fail within three years," said Jeff Iula, All-American's general manager. "And when I started here [in 1975] we had 99 kids at nationals and $500 in the bank."
Local clubs disappeared overnight, going from 251 in 1972, to 138 in 1973. The malaise would plague the Derby through the 1980s, when there were as few as 83 clubs nationwide.
"We really roughed it for a few years," Deluca said.
The sport's decline was so precipitous that passionate supporters like Iula -- who can tick off from memory every national champion since 1934 -- would regularly get asked: "Whatever happened to the Soap Box Derby?"
Hobby evolves
But eventually All-American slowly, if at times begrudgingly, adapted to revitalize itself.
In 1977, a rival group, National Derby Rallies, was started. It ran local "rally" races year-round -- instead of just the local and national championships that All-American typically ran -- so young drivers could qualify for the NDR national championship, prompting All-American to start its own rally series nine years later.
But the biggest change occurred in 1992. That's when All-American began making its own, easy-to-build kit cars, which cost from $415 to $535 each now, rather than just sending out plans showing racers how to make one.
"We realized parents today didn't have the three things they had back [in the '50s or '60s]: time, tools and the talent," Iula said. "You can build a car now in four to five hours, whereas back then it could take four to five months."
The impact was almost immediate. The number of local clubs jumped from 91 in 1991, to 98 the next year. Today, there are 160 clubs in 40 states.
Then, as All-American was beginning to get its wheels under it again, major national sponsors began coming back, including Goodyear Tires in 1997 as the main sponsor. Before it relinquished its spot, Goodyear used its connections to align NASCAR as a Soap Box partner.
"We're not like other sports. You can't play NASCAR in elementary school. So the Soap Box Derby is our sandbox," said Andrew Giangola, a NASCAR spokesman. "And you don't need to be a hard-core racing fan to appreciate the all-American values of Soap Box Derby."
Not that sponsors or history matter to Alex Trecha, the 11-year-old who was recently racing on the Cleveland track. At the end of the day, he placed 4th in the stock division.
"I don't really watch NASCAR," said Alex, who juggles school, soccer and Cub Scouts around racing weekends. "Racing was dad's idea. He asked, and I thought it was something really cool."
Maybe, just maybe, John DeLorean was wrong.