In 1995, Mel Gibson released his epic film "Braveheart," a cinematic retelling of the life of William Wallace, the Scottish rebel who joined the clans in rebellion against the oppressive rule of Edward "Longshanks" Plantagenet I of England during the late 13th century.
While the story takes some liberties and cinematic license with the actual events of Wallace's life, it is true to the character of the individual. Wallace was a man of substantial physical stature, a natural leader, and a hero of epic proportions to his fellow countrymen. He had tremendous courage, and was unbowed by his enemies, even unto his death by disembowelment in 1306. His torture at the hands of the English is the climactic scene in the film where, while the English witnesses to his agony call out for mercy, he uses his dying breath to shout u2018FREEDOM!".
The message to his tormentors is clear: They have failed.
An earlier line in the film, however, struck me as offering a greater insight into what would motivate an individual to make the sacrifices Wallace made on behalf of his beliefs and his countrymen.
"Everyman dies, not everyman really lives."
While there is no evidence that Wallace actually made this statement, it is clearly an articulation of his life, and the decisions he made about his destiny. William Wallace was true to his family motto: Pro libertate – "For Freedom"
Cut to Culloden Moor, the morning of April 16, 1746. In the final battle to be fought on British soil, William, Duke of Cumberland, the man who would become "Butcher Cumberland" to all future generations of Scotsmen, led his superior numbers in a massacre of the Scottish clans gathered under the banner of Prince Charles Edward Stuart, or "Bonnie Prince Charlie," as he was better known. Prince Charles had wanted to reclaim the crown that he believed had been taken from the Stuarts in a coup against his grandfather, King James VII, in 1688.
Cumberland was so ruthless in his prosecution of the battle that he collected the wounded from the field of battle and had them executed on the spot. There were even reports that his lust for blood led to the murder of non-combatants who were witnesses to the fighting that day.
Following the battle, the clan chiefs were stripped of power, homes and property were destroyed, crops and livestock were confiscated, and the playing of bagpipes and wearing of plaid were outlawed. Even today, the Scots harbor bitter resentment over the systematic destruction of the clans, an action that, by our modern sensibilities, would be called "ethnic cleansing."
Later in the same century, this time on American soil, the descendants of these same Scottish clans would again thumb their nose at authority in a bit of civil disobedience known as the Whiskey Rebellion. This uprising was a direct challenge to federal authorities, who sought to disproportionately tax the settlers of Western Pennsylvania for the production of whiskey, a libation preferred by the Scots and Irish inhabitants of the West, but used sparsely by the well-heeled in Philadelphia who preferred wine and port as their intoxicants of choice.
Needing the revenue to pay of the war debt, George Washington led his troops to a quick suppression of the uprising, but the die had been cast for a long and colorful engagement between the "moonshiners and the revenuers."
Following the river of illegal liquor through history brings one to the foothills of the Appalachian mountains of Georgia in the late u201830s and early u201840s. A young "whiskey tripper" by the name of Lloyd Seay (pronounced "See") was about to become the first star of what would evolve into the sport of the South, NASCAR racing.
Seay was considered the best driver of his day, and was notorious among lawmen in the North Georgia Mountains. Legend has it that one night, while heading back to Dawsonville from Atlanta, he was stopped for speeding. Seay handed the deputy two $10s. The officer said, "You know the fine is only $10.00." Seay responded, "I'm paying for my return trip later tonight."
Running u2018shine along the Dawsonville to Atlanta highway was a lucrative business, and one that paid the bills for many of the mountain people who had little use for the revenuers or a government that wanted to tax what any enterprising man could produce in his own backyard with a few hundred dollars worth of equipment, some corn, wheat, or barley, and some sugar and water. Like their rebel ancestors in Scotland and Ireland, or their forebears in the Whiskey Insurrection of an earlier century, they knew when the government was treading on their freedom.
After a brief, but illustrious career as a stock car driver at Atlanta's Lakewood Fairgrounds, Seay met his demise not on the track, nor at the hands of the federal tax agents, but in a dispute with his cousin over sugar, used in the production of moonshine, that resulted in his shooting death.
In its obituary on the event of Seay's death, the Atlanta Constitution wrote:
Lloyd Seay, lanky, blond and youthful, was well known in Atlanta and all along the highways to the mountains. Federal, state and county officers knew him as the most daring of all the daredevil crew that hauled liquor from mountain stills to Atlanta. They had many a wild chase when they hit his trail, but they only caught him rarely, for he handled his car down the twisting blacktop hill-country roads at a pace few of them cared to follow.
He will be missed by race fans as well. Fifteen thousand people saw him race his souped-up Ford around the track at Lakewood Monday, running a hundred miles in 89 minutes to win more than $450.00 in cash.
Lloyd Seay, the smiling blond Georgia daredevil who gave speed fans at the July 27 stock car race here their biggest thrill when he turned his No. 7 Ford up on its running board as he negotiated the north turn, and who won the August 24 race here, will race no more.
In an odd twist, there is a museum opening the summer of 2001 in Dawsonville, Georgia called "Thunder Road, USA". It is dedicated to the history of stock car racing, and to the bootleggers who begat the sport.
According to the museum website, the sponsors of the museum range from corporate entities like Alltel and the Atlanta Coca-Cola Bottling Company, to a number of local banks and businesses. The Georgia state legislature recently approved an expenditure of $150,000 tax dollars on the museum.
One can't help a sense of delicious irony in this corporate and legislative largess within walking distance of Lloyd Seay's gravesite. The very same Lloyd Seay who made a career out of flipping off federal and local law enforcement while providing tax-free libation to the good citizens of Atlanta.
Which brings us to the now famous events in turn four of the February 18th running of the Daytona 500, and the untimely death of NASCAR legend, Dale Earnhardt.
A great deal has been made of the circumstances of Earnhardt's death in the liberal press. We have been inundated with the hue and cry about racing being a "blood sport," how the drivers are reckless daredevils who lack the good judgment to wear the correct equipment and drive at slower speeds.
Well, maybe all of that is true. Dale Earnhardt did choose to wear an open face helmet at a time when all of the other drivers have moved on to the safer full-face helmet design. It now appears that the open face helmet may have contributed to his fatal injuries. Dale Earnhardt intentionally chose not to wear a HANS device that provides restraint to the head in the event of a collision, a point that the media has harped on about, demanding that NASCAR require its use.
Dale Earnhardt also made the decision to drive in pursuit of an unprecedented eighth Winston Cup championship at a time when most of his contemporaries would have been seriously contemplating retirement in order to focus on running the Dale Earnhardt, Inc. racing teams that carry drivers half his age into battle every Sunday.
For a brief moment, however, let's return to that Sunday afternoon.
Listen to the voice of rookie race broadcaster Darrell Waltrip, a former driver and legend in his own right who retired from driving in an emotion-filled ceremony last November. Waltrip is a three time Winston Cup champion, a man who had his glory years driving cars for former whiskey tripper and NASCAR great Junior Johnson.
Listen to the voice of Darrell Waltrip as he calls the last laps of that fateful race, his younger brother Michael in the lead, a brother who has never won a NASCAR points race in 462 attempts, an effort to which he had committed over fifteen years of his life.
Listen to Darrell Waltrip call the last lap, where a third-place Dale Earnhardt is fending off the late chargers attempting to overtake his son, Dale Earnhardt, Jr., himself a rising star of the sport.
Listen to Darrell Waltrip as he has us ride with "Little E" and brother Michael, the second place car of Dale Jr. chasing race leader Michael Waltrip at over 180 MPH through the last turn of the Daytona 500, the same turn that a moment later, unbeknownst to the combatants, will claim the life of Dale Jr.'s father and Michael's close friend and mentor.
Listen to the pride. Listen to the joy. Feel the rush of victory in battle.
Pro Libertate, Dale. William Wallace would have been proud.
March 2, 2001
Jef Allen is a technology professional in Georgia. As a reformed Yankee, who has lived in the South for roughly twenty years, he has very little tolerance for Northern sanctimony, or the erosion of individual liberty.
