Scotty Cannon, the mohawked showman who defined Pro Modified drag racing through the 1990s, made his mark at Bristol Dragway more than three decades ago. His first Pro Mod victory came at Bristol Dragway in 1991, beating Robbie Vandergriff on a hot, unpredictable track.
Cannon went on to win six IHRA world championships between 1991 and 1998, collecting 28 national event wins before pursuing a dream to compete in Funny Car. His record as IHRA’s winningest driver stood nearly a decade after he left the series to race NHRA.
Cannon was at Bristol Dragway competing at the PDRA’s Thunder Valley Throwdown over the weekend, some 34 years after his monumental first Pro Modified victory at the IHRA Spring Nationals.
These days, Cannon’s role looks far different. He serves as crew chief for his brother, Bubba Greene, joking that while he chased trophies, Greene raised a family and built a business.
The brothers were try to tame an ornery racing surface last weekend at a track Cannon claimed was too tough to tame, although he won four out of five races at the picuresque facility carved out of the mountains of eastern Tennessee.
“They say Darlington is too tough to tame for the NASCAR guys. Well, that’s the way it was for us for years,” Cannon said. “But once I got a hold to it, then one of my first one is like, it’s been real good. But I think I was out of it so long and my brother’s driving now, so it’s making us start all over. So maybe when we get it, maybe it’ll go back like it did before, and we can start back winning.”
Additionally with a track known for its complexity, Green and Cannon were breaking in a new car. the new car that was only two races old with limited testing.
“We ain’t leaning on the car hard,” he said. “We’re just trying to get it down to the racetrack and naturally win a race, but it’s part of a learning process.”
The trademark mohawk that once made Cannon instantly recognizable is gone, replaced with a full beard. He laughed about it. “Looks like I replaced it with Bubba,” Cannon said. “Nah. Hey, I can’t grow it up here, dude. I’m using Rogaine. Twice a day. They say don’t use it more, but that’s the wrong person to tell. A bottle’s supposed to do all month. I use it every two weeks. I’m trying to get my mohawk back.”
Bristol, Cannon said, always carries challenges. “Sweating the track, sweating the weather and sweating maybe Mother Nature might send a cloud over that darn hill up there at any time,” he said.
The memories, however, are just as clear as the heat. Cannon said his 1991 Bristol win — which eventually led to his induction into the Don Garlits Hall of Fame and the Bristol Dragway “Legends of Thunder Valley” display — is one of his proudest achievements.
“At heart. The heart, as deep as it gets,” Cannon said. “I like all the Hall of Fame, I mean by no means I’m honored, but to get on the wall here — and it’s not because I’m sitting here — I tell everybody that. If I’m in Egypt and someone asked me what’s one of the most prestigious things I’ve done, it’s get on the wall right there above my hero, Gene Fulton.”
Cannon said Fulton was a mentor who challenged him constantly. “If you get anywhere near him, he’s either going to fuss at you, tell you how dumb you are to make you better,” Cannon said. “But I’m up there and he can’t say nothing. We just sit up there.”
For Cannon, today’s fun comes in working with family again. He once turned the wrenches for his son, Scott Cannon Jr., and now guides his brother through the process.
“I had a lot of fun when I was crew chief and let my son drive my car, so it was a little easier watching him drive because I didn’t have to go through that initial shock,” Cannon said. “Someone’s got your blood in them and they’re driving the car, it’s nothing like driving the car for me. It’s way worse. Just nerves. And I even called myself Nervous Nellie up there. I even forgot to put my socks on this morning, dude, and I went down and put them on.”
Cannon laughed about the difference between then and now. “No, I’m worn out now, dude. Broke down. I got a piston burnt and a main bearing going bad,” he said. “Used to I thought all of it was a job, and it was. I had to be so serious and I was and I still am. You can have fun doing it too. It’s sad it takes that long to have that much fun.”
Greene admits learning under his brother is both rewarding and intimidating. “Every race,” Greene said. “You got the best in the business trying to teach me how to do it. So as you just witnessed, you just have to learn as we go.”
The lessons, Greene said, are not always easy to take. “He’ll tell you the cold, hard truth and don’t care if he hurts your feelings,” Greene said. “So it’s just how it works.”
At the same time, Greene credits Cannon for elevating his driving. “Oh, I would never be where I’m at right now if it wasn’t for him. No doubt,” Greene said. “He’s the best as far as I’m concerned. Always has been, always will be. But I’m what you call the wrong gear set in the right housing because I’m a little slow sometimes. We’re gonna change that gear though to a big gear before it’s over with. We’re gonna speed it up.”
Greene said his brother is equally quick to offer praise when it’s deserved. “Oh, yeah. It’s a two-way street,” Greene said. “You do good, he’ll tell you. You do wrong, he’ll definitely tell you. He’ll say, ‘Don’t do that no more.’ But yeah, if you do it right, he’s the first one to tell you. That’s the way it’s supposed to work.”
Cannon’s name is cemented in the history of Thunder Valley as one of the Legends listed on the grandstand suite fascia, but he said his greatest satisfaction now comes from helping family, sharing old stories with fans, and finding new ways to enjoy the sport.
“I’m doing it right now talking to you,” Cannon said. “Just looking back on the old days and hearing the stories. That’s the most rewarding part in this whole deal.”
