John F. Cousineau walks out of his garden with two chunks of the wall from turn three at the old 'Moody Mile.' Credit: Michael Greenlar | Central Current

In these last days of August, during ‘state fair time,’ big crowds routinely gather for outdoor performances at the New York State Fair concert grounds known as Suburban Park. To get there, many fair-goers follow a trail beyond the midway, leading past a quiet pond.

They have no reason — at least for now — to imagine they are walking on “hallowed ground.”

Those words are used by the Cousineau family of Syracuse. Several cousins wear tattoos with the mapping coordinates of an exact spot, near the pond, that’s dear to the family. That’s where the third turn was located when the fairgrounds were home to the legendary dirt track known as the “Moody Mile,” one of the great auto racing tracks in American history.

It’s been 10 years since the track was used for the last time. The place meant so much to the Cousineaus that on Memorial Day 1992, a group of family members drove to the fairgrounds, crossed under the tunnel that provided infield passage and then mixed the ashes of Ron Cousineau Sr. — a stock car racer who always hoped for a chance to drive at Syracuse — with the dust along the turn.

“That was his dream,” said his daughter, Renee Nelson-Cousineau. “One way or another, he was going to make it to the fairgrounds.”

The tattoo of Drayton Cousineau, which includes the state fair coordinates where the ashes of his grandfather, former stock car driver Ron Cousineau Sr., were scattered on the now-destroyed dirt track. Credit: Family photo

I met the Cousineaus a decade ago, when they were camped out on the infield for the final October races at the track. Renee — with her brother Fred, and their Uncle John, and their nephew William, and dozens of other cousins and relatives — join together in a simple wish:

There ought to be an outdoor memorial to the mile, at the fairgrounds — a sentiment that received unanimous support from every historian and racing enthusiast I called, many still grieving the loss of that historic landmark.

Renee remembers the day, closing in on a decade ago, when the state brought down the grandstand, alongside the track. It was the first step in ripping out the entire complex, a plan that came together with unsettling haste for many racing fans. Renee was close enough to the fairgrounds to hear the explosion when the grandstand fell, and her response was shared by thousands upon thousands of others who love the close-to-home regional tapestry of DIRT car racing.

“My heart cracked a little,” said Renee, who maintains the fair lost something irreplaceable in the destruction of the track.

“A lot of people miss it,” said Gary Spaid, an Upstate racing historian who remembers how “going to Syracuse,” as that annual racing dream was called, was “a huge thing, really important,” until the day the track was gone. That was especially true for generations of drivers and fans whose entire season built toward Super DIRT Week, a passionate October gathering that’s been held in Oswego, another legendary racing town, since the fairgrounds track was lost.

Yet the auto racing history of the mile — and we won’t even get into the deep heritage on the same spot of harness racing, or unforgettable grandstand concerts, or the statewide demolition derby championships that also came to an abrupt end, once they tore out the track — goes far beyond the more recent DIRT showdowns. There are only three surviving mile-long dirt tracks in the nation, Spaid said.

Renee Nelson-Cousineau: She wants a memorial to the ‘Moody Mile,’ where her dad’s ashes were scattered on the track. Credit: Mike Greenlar | Central Current

Many of the most famous and accomplished race car drivers in history, using a variety of machines — be it Mario Andretti or Junior Johnson or AJ Foyt or Steve Kinser — raced in Syracuse.

The mile was among the oldest American auto racing tracks. President Theodore Roosevelt, a New Yorker, was an early enthusiast for racing at Syracuse. In 1938, Spaid said, Indianapolis and Syracuse were the only sites for championship Indy car races. And in September 1960, in a particularly memorable race, Bobby Grim fought off Tony Bettenhausen in the 100-mile “big car classic” at the fair.

The final margin: Maybe 10 feet. Foyt finished third, while Bettenhausen would die a year later, in a crash at Indianapolis.

That kind of loss provides the highest imperative for a fairgrounds remembrance. In 1911, Spaid said, Lee Oldfield blew a tire and went into the crowd at turn one. Eleven people died, in one of the worst disasters in American racing history. In September 1924, former Indianapolis 500 champion Jimmy Murphy was killed while battling for the lead in Syracuse — which would not be the last time a driver or spectator died at the track.

While there are a number of theories involving the nickname “Moody Mile,” Spaid said it was coined by Dave Wright, one of the founders of Gater Racing News — who described the track as so volatile conditions “could change on a dime.” Brian Boettcher, a racing author and historian, once compared the aura and meaning of the Syracuse mile to baseball’s Ebbets Field or Polo Grounds.

A vintage photo of automobile racing at the “Moody Mile,” at the New York State Fair, in front of the now-demolished grandstand. Credit: Credit | Onondaga Historical Association

Asked about a state fair memorial, Spaid laughed softly. “I’d rather they build a racetrack,” he said — though he said it surprises him an outdoor monument doesn’t exist, already.

At the state fair, spokesperson Katie Rey said this is the first time the staff of fair director Julie LaFave — appointed last year by Gov. Kathy Hochul — has been approached with the idea of a racing memorial. If someone brought forward a proposal, “we’d certainly be open to discussions,” said Rey — noting the fair is always interested in ways of honoring its past.

The track was torn out in January 2016, after state and local officials — led by then-Gov. Andrew Cuomo and Onondaga County Executive Joanie Mahoney — put their hands on a plunger and blew up the grandstand. They maintained much of its purpose would be assumed by the new lakefront amphitheater, while such projects as a new exposition center — and a new emphasis on equestrian events — would make for better use.

In 2015, in the final Demolition Derby race before the historic dirt track was destroyed at the state fairgrounds, Tim Haniszewski Jr. of Erie County won the state title. Credit: Family photo

The racing community, with Super DIRT Week still booming at the fair, reacted with disbelief. Delaware County native Daylon Barr, 19 at the time, led a petition drive to try and save the mile. Like so many others, he still believes state fair racing and the amphitheater — with a little patience and creative thinking — could have coexisted.

Barr, who now runs a a photo agency that follows NASCAR, had been traveling to the fairgrounds for DIRT week since childhood, with his dad. He can quickly conjure up the mingled scent of charcoal and campfires and roaring vehicles at Syracuse, an aroma he describes as a “core memory.” Barr’s family was part of a community that soaks in Upstate racing in the way other families, he said, follow football or baseball.

For the people who love the sport, there will never be anything quite like “going to Syracuse.”

Great-grandson Oliver Cousineau, at left, and grandson William Cousineau listen to conversation about Ron Cousineau Sr., William’s grandfather, whose ashes were scattered at the ‘Moody Mile.’ Credit: Michael Greenlar | Central Current

Our conversation, then, felt a lot like a sigh. While Barr doesn’t think a splashy memorial would fit the humble, gritty spirit of that track, he believes a quiet statement could be powerful.

“A plaque in the ground,” he said, “would be pretty cool.”

Saturday morning, several members of the Cousineau family gathered in the back yard of their Uncle John, on the South Side of Syracuse. He is the son of the late James Cousineau, a twice-wounded World War II veteran who started the family ritual of going to races at the fairgrounds. Jim Cousineau’s children, grandchildren and great-grandkids made it a tradition to settle in near the third turn for the old Labor Day race at the fair, and then during DIRT week — which became a get-away-from-everything family vacation.

The pond beyound the midway: Somewhere in this area, the ashes of Ron Cousineau Sr. were scattered on the old third turn of the ‘Moody Mile.; Credit: Seamus Kirst | Central Current

John Cousineau was joined the other day by his niece Renee, great-nephew William — his dad Ron Cousineau Jr., Renee’s brother, died five years ago — great-great-nephew Oliver and William’s partner, Alyssa. It was John’s brother and Renee’s father, Ron Sr., whose ashes the family spread on the track.

They remember, for years afterward, how relatives would leave long-stemmed roses along the fence, in Ron Sr.’s memory. Fred Cousineau, Renee’s brother, recently wrote a long essay in which he vividly described the tightknit community that gathered for the races, and echoed his sister in regarding the footprint of the track as “hallowed ground.”

As for John Cousineau, he’s the last of the four boys born to Jim Cousineau, who received the Distinguished Service Cross for valor in World War II – and suffered from his wounds for the rest of his life. John keeps those medals framed, along with a German bullet extracted from his dad’s wound. The Moody Mile became Jim Cousineau’s place of release and solace, and John recalls the advice his father gave his kids — for both safety and knowledge — as they settled in before a race:

“You always watch for what’s coming, not for what’s gone by.”

The military decorations and memorabilia of the late James Cousineau, including a German bullet – lower right – extracted from a wound. Credit: Michael Greenlar | Central Current

True enough. Still, John stood up and rooted around Saturday in a garden that is dear to his wife, Karen. He returned with two chunks of concrete, still bearing white paint. At the final race at the fairgrounds in 2015, a few months before the state blew the place apart, he used a crowbar to break loose a few pieces of the wall at the third turn.

For a moment, contemplating those fragments, the Cousineaus were silent.

They were thinking of Ron Sr.’s ashes on the track, and of how they all scooped dirt from the third turn as a remembrance after the last race, and of thousands upon thousands who will always feel the same reverence for what Renee calls “the importance and meaning of that mile.”

“I really think it needs to be honored,” said Renee, whose cousin Patrick could certainly serve as a guide if fair officials need help finding the right spot: The coordinates for the third turn are tattooed above his heart.

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Sean Kirst is a columnist with The Central Current. He has been an Upstate journalist for more than 50 years. He held his first reporting job as a teenager and worked for newspapers in Dunkirk, Niagara...