Raceway Park opened its doors in 1965, initially attracting only small crowds. However, everything changed when the owners unveiled an unforgettable radio commercial featuring a high-pitched cackling laugh. This commercial proved to be a game-changer, and the place quickly took off. During its heyday, the Summer Nationals could pack in an astonishing 50,000 spectators at a time. In 1977, a concert by the Grateful Dead drew an incredible 150,000 fans, leaving a lasting mark on the history of the park.

Richard "Napp" Napoliello's Journey with Raceway Park

Growing up with free rein in Raceway Park, founded by his family in the Englishtown section of Old Bridge, Richard "Napp" Napoliello thought he had seen it all. But then came September 3, 1977, when more than 100,000 fans descended on the 300-acre property to witness a Grateful Dead concert. His father gave him an onstage pass, and he got to experience the excitement firsthand. The drag strip was at the peak of its powers during that Labor Day weekend, with folks camping out across the grounds."It was incredible for a 16-year-old kid who didn't even know who the Grateful Dead was. The name alone scared the (crap) out of me — who's grateful and dead? That was unparalleled in my experience at Raceway Park," Napoliello said.After the park closed in 2018, Napoliello embarked on a mission to chronicle its glory years. He is now leasing out some of the property and came across a treasure trove of old photos and reel-to-reel film during the process. He has been digitizing these precious memories and posting them on his Facebook and Instagram pages, receiving a fervent response from drag-racing fans across the country."I'm truly sorry for what happened to Raceway Park, and that's what drives me to share all these moments," he said.

The Beginnings of Raceway Park

Raceway Park was founded by Napoliello's father, uncle, and grandfather in 1964 when they purchased what was then farmland in Madison Township (which was later renamed Old Bridge after a 1975 referendum). That first winter, their bulldozer got stuck in some intractable mud, but they didn't give up. Napoliello's father drove to western Pennsylvania and got 2,000 feet of cable to pull the bulldozer out.The drag strip opened the following year to small crowds. Worried about its future, the Napoliello brothers traveled to California, the sport's cradle, to learn from other operators. There, they came across the prototype for what would become Raceway Park's famous radio commercial. It was a bit outlandish at first, but it worked wonders. After the radio ad played, the place was packed with thousands of people, and they didn't even have ticket booths built yet. His uncle Louie was selling tickets out of his trunk and filled it with money.Once people hit the grandstands, they were hooked. The National Hot Rod Association's annual Summer Nationals in June routinely drew crowds of over 50,000 spectators. Drag racing was built on 1960s and 1970s cars that were affordable, and every man who had a job could afford to participate. It was a Sunday pastime for garage owners and car lovers, with guys in greasy T-shirts working on their racecars late into the summer evening.Nowadays, it's a different story. "Now without a shadow of a doubt it's for the elite and the wealthy. You have a racecar driver that shows (video of) himself getting on a private jet that flies him to another racetrack? That's not relatable to the working man," Napoliello said.A come-as-you-are culture permeated Raceway Park, from drivers to fans. People came to witness the spectacle of tire burnouts, with plumes of smoke wafting from the track amid screeching noise. Tickets were cheap, and kids under 12 were admitted free. Spectators were allowed to go out in the field and party in their tents all night, and some even slept in the back of their trucks."It was just a different time," Napoliello said.However, there were some things that Napoliello's father didn't like, such as people lighting the port-o-johns on fire at night. But Napoliello was able to roam the grounds freely under one strict rule: never identify himself as the owner's son. This allowed him to see what was really going on and hear what fans were saying without fear."It allowed me to see all the engineering that I came to love — how these cars were put together and how they were taken apart. It was a motorhead's dream," he said.He also saw other things, like a whole bunch of hippies drinking beer and smoking weed and having a good old time. And at night, bands would play and there would be a "smallest-bikini" contest... these were strategically placed Band-Aids.Over time, Raceway Park's property grew to 500 acres. They bought land around them to protect themselves from lawsuits about the noise, which they had until the day they stopped drag racing.

The Decline of Raceway Park

On June 21, 2008, drag racer Scott Kalitta died during a qualifying event at Raceway Park. His car traveled about 300 mph, and its engine exploded in flames near the finish line. This very sad event changed the sport of drag racing forever.The NHRA implemented major rules changes, including shortening some race lengths from the traditional quarter-mile. By then, the sport's popularity was already in decline due to increasing regulations and costs. Outside forces were also chipping away. In the early 1970s, there was no regulation on noise for Raceway Park, and Napoliello could hear the cars in Colts Neck. But by the 1980s, noise ordinances got passed, and the racing calendar shrank as a result. Officials in Manalapan filed lawsuits over the noise, and later, the cost of insurance skyrocketed."At the very end, Raceway Park couldn't pay the property taxes. I lent the drag strip all my money," Napoliello said. With two children approaching college, he made the difficult decision to close the landmark his family built and start leasing out the land.Last year, Old Bridge's township council approved the rezoning of Raceway Park's property from special development to low-density residential, closing the door on any potential return of drag racing or other special events. Napoliello contends that this was done illegally and that negotiations are taking place between attorneys on both sides about what comes next.Old Bridge's business administrator, Anahita Feltz, declined to respond to a request for comment by the Asbury Park Press."I don't want to lose the land, and I don't want to sell the land. I would like to continue on a path with potentially leasing more land," Napoliello said.

The Final Lap

The drag strip and the grandstands are still there, unused, but what's really left of Raceway Park are the memories. Memorializing its 53 wild and woolly years has become the final lap of Napoliello's journey. He is working with a Hollywood screenwriter friend who recently sent him an outline for a movie.Essentially, it would be about Raceway Park's golden age as seen through the eyes of a kid growing up on the grounds. But the story "is about Americana," Napoliello said, more than any one person.That story gets told in a bit more detail with each batch of old photos and video Napoliello presents to the public. It's painstaking work, but it's healing too."I'm bringing back memories to all these people who supported Raceway Park over the years. It doesn't get any better than that for me," Napoliello said.To see Richard "Napp" Napoliello's Raceway Park archive, visit his Facebook page at www.facebook.com/richard.napoliell or his Instagram page at www.instagram.com/richnapp.Jerry Carino is community columnist for the Asbury Park Press, focusing on the Jersey Shore's interesting people, inspiring stories and pressing issues. Contact him at jcarino@gannettnj.com.