The twin pillars of Daytona: A racetrack and a bikini bar
DAYTONA BEACH, Fla. — For four decades they stood as sort of twin
pillars of Daytona culture, perhaps unequal in frame and fame, yet
connected in so many ways. If nothing else, each provided a uniquely
Daytona experience.
On one end of International Speedway Boulevard, on
the edge of town near the interstate, is the hulking Daytona
International Speedway, the corporate and spiritual home of NASCAR and
the host, Sunday, of the 59th Daytona 500.
Six miles east sat the humble, often outlandish and
eventually disreputable Shark Lounge and Package, equal parts
aquatic-themed bikini bar and discount liquor store. Perched prominently
on the corner of International Speedway and A1A, down by the beach in
the heart of the city’s hell-raising entertainment district, it signaled
a visitor had truly arrived in Daytona.
One remains a point of pride for city leaders and the
reason some 100,000 fans will descend here this weekend. The other
represented everything else, at least until it bottomed out after a
series of ownership changes causing the police chief to deem it a “den
of iniquity” and pushing hard for its shuttering.
It worked. The Shark Lounge closed in 2016 and
because of criminal activity that eventually overwhelmed the place,
that’s for the better. The memory of its less scandalous, yet still fun,
days lingers on, though, in the mind of old drivers and crew chiefs and
fans even as the Great American Race prepares to go on without it.
This is Daytona, not Disney. This is a party town.
And since 1975 the Shark Lounge drew in more than its share of customers
who arrived for recurring, but decidedly non-family events, ranging
from college spring breaks, Harley-fueled bike weeks and all those rowdy
races. That doesn’t even count the churn of students at two local
universities or the local denizens of this blue-collar town.
The initial concept was simple: a dive bar
with a small liquor/convenience store attached to it. In typical Daytona
fashion, girls dancing in bikinis were added to draw in young male
customers. The place sold booze, beach bodies and T-shirts all at once.
Amongst the Mt. Rushmore of Daytona commerce, the only thing missing was
live bait.
While it eventually became sad and seedy, in
its heyday it was part of the tourist tableau, tucked next to a scooter
rental shop, across the street from a beach supply shop and just two
blocks from the hotel where NASCAR was founded in 1948.
And yes, it was a racing bar.
“I had most of the big, big names in NASCAR come in through the years,”
said Dominique DeLannoy, a native of France who along with his brother
Didier, opened the bar in 1975. “The drivers, the crew, everyone would
come in. In 1981, Stock Car Magazine wrote a story on where to stay, eat
and play in Daytona and we got picked as the [place to] ‘play.’ ”
Through the years the DeLannoys were involved
in many local sports businesses, including owning the local minor
league baseball team. In this case, they also began sponsoring cars at
the local Volusia and New Smyrna racetracks.
They even hatched the idea of taping races
and then showing them on a big screen inside the Shark, drawing the
drivers, crew and so on in for a few beers and a chance to watch what
happened.
“They were good customers so I gave back a little,” DeLonney said.
For eight glorious years in the late 1990s and 2000s, the Shark
Lounge even sponsored a car in the local ARCA race, a minor league level
of NASCAR that raced around Daytona International Speedway. It also
raced three times at Talladega Superspeedway in Alabama. It was one of
the more unlikely, if hysterical sponsorship deals in the sport’s
history.
“It was,” the car’s owner, Ralph Solhem, told
Yahoo Sports this week. “They liked the exposure, but also to have the
car parked in front of the Shark. It drew people in. I started bringing
two cars and just parking one on the sidewalk and racing the other.”
That was when, they say, the Shark Lounge was
more of a traditional neighborhood bar, albeit one with dancing girls.
Nudity was not allowed, though. It was a different era at Daytona, when
race weeks went on literally for weeks and the lower-profile nature of
the sport meant it wasn’t unlikely to see drivers, team owners,
crew-members and fans mingling at bars along A1A.
“We used to have a big party,” said Richard
Childress, speaking generally of that era in Daytona and not any one
place in particular. He’s been in NASCAR as a driver or team owner since
1969. “It’s totally different then from what it is today. You didn’t
have the media you have now. You didn’t have the scheduling. You had
more time to get out, so that was a big thing.
“We’d go all over the place,” Childress continued. “Sometimes we’d just go to the beach and hang out.”
The Shark Lounge was a natural because it was
directly down the street from the track, there was usually a car parked
out front and the walls were full of pictures of race cars with the
Shark logo on them. Plus, its glowing Shark sign at the T where
International Speedway Blvd. dead ends at the beach served as an
impossible-to-ignore beacon.
“A lot of guys would come from up north to Daytona and they’d want to howl,” Solhem said.
Eventually, though, the DeLannoy’s sold the
place. Then the next owners did the same and the Shark Lounge began a
descent. Year after year fresh faces arrived for the annual party weeks
and the bar struggled to maintain a grip.
Soon authorities charged that things often
went beyond the bounds of good taste and local ordinances. In 2012,
police staged a lengthy investigation named “Operation Chum Bucket”
(seriously) to bust the joint. A sting operation yielded 20 separate
sales of illegal narcotics, two propositions for prostitution and the
arrest of a man caught standing near the stage and, well, getting too
familiar with himself.
“It hasn’t been cleaned in over a thousand
years,” Daytona Beach police chief Mike Chitwood colorfully declared at
the time. “It’s skanky. It’s filthy. If I was a roach, I wouldn’t live
inside.”
The descent had been swift.
Solhem said when he first raced at Daytona
with the Shark Lounge painted on the side there were some jokes and
laughs but an appreciation for the support. It was a legitimate place,
especially by Daytona standards. Besides, finding money to keep these
cars going is tough, and while the money from the Shark wasn’t
significant, every dollar helped.
A few years later, Solhem called Daytona looking for an official photo a different sponsor wanted to use for marketing purposes.
Suddenly the track didn’t want a photo with
the Shark Lounge painted on a car getting out there at all. “They asked
me, ‘Are you aware there was a murder there?’ ” Solhem recalled.
Then again, there was the time that NASCAR
tried to centralize its sponsorship department and based it out of an
office on Madison Avenue in Manhattan. One day the Shark Lounge,
appearing on a list somewhere, got a cold call pitching them on a major,
multi-million dollar Cup-level deal. That was, to say the least, a
little out of the Shark’s budget.
Solhem and others feel bad the old bar broke
so bad. Losing a landmark, even one that walked the line of decency, is
never fun. Mark Lane, the columnist at the Daytona Beach News-Journal,
declared its closing as a “Daytona Moment” while noting that people from
all over the country wanted to buy the old, glowing sign.
“An iconic sign at a gateway intersection,” Lane wrote.
Lane
also retold the time the police were called after an aquarium broke due
to a girl dancing on top of it. The cops were needed to help rescue the
small sharks and fish that flooded across the floor. With the Shark
Lounge, it was always something.
Perhaps because of its long run as a police
headache, or perhaps because of its prominent location, the city worked
to get the Shark Lounge closed. Fading NASCAR memories aside – including
its bold run as an actual car sponsor – it wasn’t worth the headache.
Which isn’t to say this is some typical gentrification story.
The building has certainly been remodeled and spruced up. It’s less of an eyesore now, but not with much of a change of heart.
Out went the discount liquor store/bikini bar. In its place? Candy, A Gentlemen’s Club.
Because in the end, Daytona is always going to Daytona.
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