The insidious nature of Alzheimer’s disease is such that often the effects are so gradual, so incremental, that the inevitable is somewhat obscured. But that inevitability is undeniable, especially when what once was gradual accelerates suddenly and dramatically. In the first half of the 1980s, the France family began dealing with the inevitable: Alzheimer’s was taking their patriarch — NASCAR’s patriarch — from them.
Eventually it would take his life.
In 1983 and ’84, Annie B. started mentioning to friends that Bill Sr. was tiring a lot quicker than in past years. She also noticed that he was having some short-term memory problems. "But I guess we all do," she said at the time.
Bill Sr. still went to the office daily, ostensibly to oversee operation of the International Speedway Corporation, but it was mostly to stay busy. With each passing year, instances like his involvement at the ’76 Daytona 500 were less and less likely. And as for the office, in the late 1980s, at the behest of his two sons, Bill Sr.’s entire office was in effect reconstructed almost perfectly at NASCAR’s facility on Ballough Road near downtown Daytona Beach, across the street from the Halifax River — not far from the very first place he and Annie B. lived in Daytona Beach in 1934. His office at the speedway was upstairs and had become increasingly difficult for him to access as his mobility diminished. The idea was to create virtually the exact same setting so he would be comfortable day to day, being in familiar surroundings.
Betty Faulk, once a scorer for Fireball Roberts, became Bill Sr.’s secretary in 1964 after several years of assisting Judy Jones, Bill Sr.’s first secretary. She remembers being asked by Bill Jr. to start working out of Ballough Road.
"When he called me in," Faulk said, "I thought at first that they might be trying to get rid of me, but instead, Bill Jr. told me he wanted me to be down at Ballough so his father would have someone with him all the time who he knew, someone he would have a connection [with]. I represented his life … before. A woman named Joy Burke took care of him physically. His personal driver Cap (a former boat captain named Don Stephanson), would help as well. Senior would come down to Ballough every day just like he was coming to work [like the old days].
"Although, when I think back, I’m not sure how often he really recognized me. But sometimes when we ate lunch and I’d have to tell him to finish, I’d yell at him kind of, you know, ‘Bill, you have to finish your lunch!’ In the office at the speedway he had always been the boss of course, but at that point, I could do that. Well, he’d look at me, and kind of squint his eyes. He knew who it was, yelling at him. And he tried so hard to tell me …
"Yes … it was hard to see. Senior … well, everyone just loved him. He was just ‘it.’ It broke your heart to see someone with his mental capabilities in that situation. He wasn’t really an old man at all; some people at 65 are older than other people at 82, but he had that condition. He had a lot still to give but just couldn’t get it out.”
The late 1980s were not an easy time. The man Juanita Epton described as "like meeting a mountain" was approaching his final years — the closing laps, as it were.
As the 1990s arrived, Bill Sr. was spending an increasing amount of time at his home bordering the Intracoastal Waterway, on John Anderson Drive in Ormond Beach.
People still marvel at the efforts the France family, starting with Bill Jr. and Jim France, put forth to ensure that Bill Sr. would travel his final road with the care and dignity he deserved. It was important, Jim France said, to minimize the pain all would feel — starting with the old man himself. Jim actually has a somewhat glass-half-full stance; he knows that many Alzheimer’s patients have a much longer, rougher road than his father did. He finds a bit of solace in that. A bit.
"One of the things we found out about Alzheimer’s is that different people can go different ways, and sometimes people with the disease can get pretty belligerent. Dad never had any of those tendencies."
But you did have to keep an eye on him. Jim France laughs openly at the memory of those times. Like when Senior would drift away from a restaurant table during dinner, go over to complete strangers, introduce himself, and break into a song.
His sons took his car away when it became obvious he should no longer drive. Undaunted, Bill Sr. got his driver to take him to the Buick dealership where he had worked as a young man. He told the salesmen he was there to buy a car.
"One of the people at the dealership called me afterward to let me know, and I explained my dad was having some issues, with his mind," said Jim France. "They told me they didn’t think he had any issues, because he had known where to come to buy a good car!"
His driving days were done when the sons started noticing he would treat red lights like stop signs — a brief halt and then … he’d take off.
"When we told him he had to wait for the light to change," Jim France said, "he told us, ‘Boys, at my age, I don’t have enough time to wait until the light changes to go.’
"His personality never left him."
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NASCAR founder Bill France with George Bush, who served as grand marshal for the 1978 Daytona 500 while CIA Director and again as grand marshal for the July 1992 race at Daytona International Speedway while President of the United States
Annie B. France died on January 2, 1992, after suffering a stroke brought on by heart problems. Her death was unexpected.
"They say people can’t really die of a broken heart," Faulk said. "Well, she was broken-hearted."
Jeff Dowling can speak to that broken heart, because in 1992 his heart was broken as well. Dowling started the 2014 racing season as a public relations representative for Chip Ganassi Racing with Felix Sabates, one of auto racing’s premier organizations. He is used to high-pressure, high-profile situations. Talk to Dowling about Annie B. France and Bill Sr. and the tears will come.
Dowling came to the France family in circuitous fashion. He grew up in Daytona Beach and graduated from Seabreeze High School — same as Bill Jr. and Jim France. He joined the Air Force and six years later, when that was complete, returned home, looking to attend college.
"It was strange happenstance, right place right time, if you will," Dowling said in a February 2014 interview, right across the street from Daytona International Speedway.
"I wanted to put myself through school, and needed money. Growing up in Daytona Beach, a small town, you always have a friend who knows a friend and I knew the head of security at the speedway, Tommy Galloway. So Tommy calls me up and says, ‘I got something for you but it’s not very glamorous.’ He told me that Bill Sr. was staying at home and was at the point where he needed help. The nurses couldn’t always do it alone, because of his physical stature. So I started that afternoon actually, October 3, 1990, and was with him the rest of his life, in the capacity of a kind of a personal assistant.
"With Cap and I, between the two of us we would drive him to wherever he needed to be, if he had any appointments to visit with people. We’d take him down to his boat, the Little Kaye. He loved to go down there and look at the boats on the river. We’d drive him around the track at the speedway. And during the races there he would make the rounds of the garage area."
Dowling, Cap Stephanson and Joy Burke were working hard to fulfill the family’s wishes, that whatever happened, Bill Sr. would retain his way of life as much as possible while also retaining his dignity.
"Just a personal opinion, but I’d say [the way it transpired] was a blessing, because I don’t think Bill Sr. ever suffered," Dowling said. "It was almost blissful, I guess, in some ways.
"And Annie B… . she was a fascinating person to me. She was mentally just as sharp as a tack. I remember one night in particular she pulled out a picture from nursing school and she went down and told me a little bit about every person in the picture along with their names. She had her check register she always was keeping straight. She had this little notepad she kept with her, writing things down about what needed to be done. She was always aware of what was going on around her. She was like a doting wife right up until she died. When we got Bill ready to go somewhere she’d be right there, coat in hand. When we came back, she always wanted to know how everything had gone. When she died, I don’t think Bill had an awareness of her death. And toward the end of his life I don’t think he had much of an understanding that she was gone …"
Jim France wants people to know that "Mom was carrying the biggest load for a long time.” He adds, "She was there every day for Dad, until she had the stroke and passed away. We were fortunate that we had some really good people who came aboard like Joy, Jeff, and Cap. Joy was a real godsend and was an important part of Mom’s day-to-day team, as we worked to help Dad have as good a quality of life as possible."
Six months, five days. That’s how long Bill France Sr. lived after Annie B.’s death.
Bill Sr.’s daughter-in-law Betty Jane France was extremely close to Big Bill. She remembers him as the ultimate "people person, who enjoyed people from all walks of life.” She adds, he was friends "with politicians, presidents, ambassadors, and royalty. In his declining years, though, his dementia took over. One of the last things he had left in life was his love of Irish music and the lyrics to his beloved song, ‘Galway Bay’ … we all have wonderful, fond memories of a ‘great giant.’"
Bill Sr. was buried on Wednesday, June 10, 1992, alongside his wife of nearly 61 years, in a private ceremony at Hillside Cemetery in Ormond Beach after services at First Baptist Church in Daytona Beach.
The late Reverend Hal Marchman of Daytona Beach delivered the eulogy, in full sing-song Southern Baptist cadence. He was in top form. For years, Marchman (who died in 2009) was well known to fans at Daytona International Speedway for his rousing pre-race prayers that would end with his trademark, inclusive "shalom and amen!" He was a natural choice, the only choice really, for Bill Sr.’s funeral.
And of course Marchman told the story about the one time he couldn’t make his speedway commitment, which forced Bill Sr. to stand in for him at the last minute. Bill Sr. was not known for his spirituality, and so as he began the prayer in front of a sold-out crowd, he was grasping for his usual eloquence. He never really found it but he got through the prayer well enough — until the end. After the last line there was silence for at least several seconds. Murmurs from the crowd were audible.
And then came these words from Bill Sr., to end the prayer:
"Sincerely, Bill France."
The story goes when he got back up to speedway’s suite area he sought out Annie B. and asked her, "What is the word you end a prayer with?"
Whereupon she looked at him, shook her head, and muttered, "Amen, Bill, amen."
