Instead of 50 candles, there is a single flame.
Instead of a birthday celebration for Dale Earnhardt today at the NAPA Auto Parts 500, there is a solitary woman in mourning 3,000 miles away.
Instead of 50 candles, there is a single flame.
Instead of a birthday celebration for Dale Earnhardt today at the NAPA Auto Parts 500, there is a solitary woman in mourning 3,000 miles away.
Teresa Earnhardt rode shotgun with Dale for 22 years. She was his partner, in love and in business.
His equal. His flame.
They were apart only during Dale's occasional hunting or fishing excursions and those fleeting, fabulous, frightening hours he spent behind the wheel of his black No. 3 Chevrolet.
When Dale died Feb. 18 in a crash on the last lap of the Daytona 500, Teresa watched in horror, along with her parents and 12-year-old daughter, Taylor.
NASCAR lost an icon, an unparalleled driver with seven Winston Cup championships, a money magnet worth an estimated $400 million.
His family lost a husband, a father, a grandfather, a son, a brother, an in-law. The void Dale left is enormous, yet Teresa tries mightily to fill it with light.
"Teresa has been the strength of everybody," said her father, Hal Houston. "This has to be the most difficult time of her life, but she is doing well. She is helping everyone else with this."
When Randy Owens of the country group Alabama choked up as he prepared to sing at Dale's funeral, Teresa whispered to him to think of something funny Dale had done.
When fans held vigils outside Dale Earnhardt Inc. at Mooresville, N.C., and sent bushels of sympathy cards, e-mails and gifts, Teresa wrote a letter of gratitude published in a national newspaper six days after Dale's death. The letter ended, "He was the happiest person I know, and that can comfort us all."
When DEI driver Steve Park won the Dura Lube 400 a week after Dale's death, Teresa called to congratulate him.
"She sounded emotional, but it was an emotion of happiness," Park said. "It meant a lot to me. Teresa has been incredibly strong."
When news organizations pressured Teresa to authorize the release of Dale's autopsy photos, she appeared at a March 4 news conference and delivered a sharply worded statement: "Honestly, I'm not very comfortable being here. It's too soon. But this issue is of vital importance--not just to my family--but to anyone ever faced with being exploited after losing a loved one."
She eventually reached a compromise with the Orlando Sentinel and other Tribune Co. papers, among them The Times, that allowed a medical expert to study the photos. As anyone who conducted business with DEI over the years can attest, Teresa is a pragmatic negotiator blessed with uncommon common sense.
"She was always the one who looked at the contracts--and nothing gets by her," said Betty Houston, Teresa's mother. "Souvenirs, merchandising, property, all the contracts had to be OKd by her."
Teresa, 42, was a high achiever early on. She graduated from Bunker Hill High near Rockingham, N.C., in three years, earned a real estate license and attended an interior design school before meeting Dale in 1978, when she was 20.
Racing was in the family. Hal, a furniture wholesaler by trade, owned race cars. His brother, Tommy Houston, was a top driver who ranks third on the Busch Series all-time victory list. Tommy's sons are in the business: Andy is a Winston Cup driver, Marty competes in the Busch Series and Scott is a Winston Cup crew chief.
So no one objected when Teresa fell for Dale, a twice-divorced ninth-grade dropout struggling to drive his way from backwoods dirt tracks into the big time. They met at a race in Martinsville, Va., where Dale drove one of Hal's cars. By the time the racing circuit reached Hickory, N.C., a romance had blossomed.
"There was never a doubt in my mind that he was devoted to her," Hal said. "I hunted and fished with him a lot before they got married. He was going to take care of her and vice versa."
Dale passed muster with Tommy too.
"Dale and I talked about it when he and Teresa were dating," Tommy said. "She was what he lived for. She was everything he wanted in a mate, in a wife. And she was the same way he was."
Focused. Ambitious. Unwilling to let anything get in the way of victory.
For Dale it meant forging a reputation as a fearless--and feared--driver who would as soon bump a car as pass it cleanly.
For Teresa it meant learning everything possible about finances, tax laws and merchandise-licensing rights. When a lawyer or businessman handed the Earnhardts a contract, she had every obscure word and unintelligible phrase written in plain English. Once the document was to her satisfaction, she used it as a template in future deals.
While Dale became "the Intimidator," behind the wheel, Teresa became "the Enforcer" behind the desk. While Dale was chief executive officer at DEI, Teresa was chairman.
The result is a financial empire unsurpassed in auto racing and approaching the range of Tiger Woods and Michael Jordan. Dale earned $41 million racing and 10 times that off the track. His T-shirt sales alone are reported at $40 million a year. Forbes estimated his 1999 earnings at $26.5 million.