Old stock certificate

COO COO MARLIN STARTED racing when racing wasn't cool. Or refined. Or especially rewarding, in terms of how much one was paid compared to how much he risked. "I didn't know many rich race drivers back when I was running," says the 67-year-old Marlin, who ran 165 races in NASCAR's top division from 1966 through 1980. "What little money we did make, we didn't take much of it home with us. But we sure had a lot of fun."

Coo Coo now knows a rich driver: his 44-year-old son Sterling, who has accumulated almost $18 million during his 18 full seasons on the circuit--compared to Coo Coo's career earnings of $307,142.

"You look back and wonder how drivers like daddy managed to hang on," says Sterling. "Those old cars they drove. Man, I'd be afraid to even get into one of those things. He never had a big sponsor to help out. He and some of his buddies back home did all the work themselves.

"As a little boy I can remember daddy coming home from a race around dawn, changing into his work clothes and heading straight to the fields, where he'd work all day. He might have rested for a little bit after supper, but then he'd go out to the garage and start working on his race car."

Today, Coo Coo still tends the family farm in Columbia, Tenn., overseeing his fields and cattle. On most weekends he can be found at some Winston Cup track or another watching his son race, or trackside at Nashville Speedway assisting his grandson, Steadman.

Coo Coo was in Steadman's pit stall one sultry summer night last season when the 20-year-old driver became the third-generation Marlin to win a feature race at the historic Nashville track. "I think my grandfather was more excited than I was--and that's saying a lot," says Steadman. "It meant a lot to me to have him there with me for that first win. I wish my dad could have been there, but he was off racing somewhere. He called me when I got home that night and congratulated me."

Steadman--lanky, hazel-eyed, blessed with the Marlin family's dusty-blond hair--never had any doubt about his future. "Ever since I can remember, I've wanted to be a race driver, just like my dad and my grandfather," he says. "There was never any question about it. The only question was, `When could I get started?'"

If Coo Coo represents the sport's past and Sterling its present, then Steadman mirrors its future. In addition to running two full seasons at Nashville Speedway--where his father won three championships and his grandfather four--Steadman began to branch out into the Busch Series this year. His ultimate goal is Winston Cup. "I want him to take his time and do it right," says Sterling. "I know how anxious he is to move up, I was the same way when I was his age. But he's got a lot to learn, and I don't want him to get in over his head. I keep reminding him to take it easy, that he's got a lot of years ahead of him."

Coo Coo continues to be amazed at the advancements the sport has made since his era--and at the contrasts between the different generations of drivers. "I remember when I first started coming to Nashville, I towed my race car behind me with a log chain," he says. "I carried my tools in the trunk with my spare tires. Now Steadman has a big, fancy hauler and all the latest stuff. I'm glad to see it, you understand. I just wish I'd had the same type of equipment when I was his age."

Coo Coo raced as an independent, without the benefit of a major sponsor. "I liked to be my own boss," he says. "I never had to answer to anybody. Drivers can't do that today. The sport has turned into more of a business. You can't just go out and race like we used to. Nowadays you've gotta be a corporate spokesman and all that stuff."

Coo Coo never had to answer to anyone, but the downside was that never won, either--at least he never did in an official points race. His biggest triumph was winning a 1973 Daytona 500 qualifying event. "I always figured I did as good as I could with what I had to work with," says Coo Coo. "I never had the equipment the big-money hot dogs had. If I'd had their money and equipment, I could have run with any of them."

When Sterling captured his first Winston Cup victory, the 1994 Daytona 500, he dedicated the win to his father, who joined him in Victory Circle. "This one's for him," said Sterling, who started 278 races before finally winning, then came back to Daytona the following year and pulled off a dramatic repeat.

"Daddy never won, but I was always proud of him for the way that he hung in and kept trying," says Sterling. "It had to be tough, but I never once heard him complain. He'd just load up and go back again the next week. People used to ask me how I was able to keep going when I hadn't won in 278 starts; I guess I got my determination from daddy."

In addition to grit, will, and a solid work ethic, the three Marlins have something else in common: fretful parents. "My folks didn't want me to race," says Coo Coo. "When I first started out, I'd keep my car hid over at a neighbor's house and sneak it out when it was time to head to the track."

Says Sterling: "Daddy always accepted the fact that I was going to race, but mama was a little tougher sell. She worried about me all the time. I remember the first time I talked daddy into letting me race at Talladega. We didn't know how to break the news to mama. Finally, about a week before the race, we were all sitting around the supper table on evening, and daddy said, `Pass the potatoes, Sterling's racing at Talladega.' It took a minute for it to sink in and, sure enough, she hit the ceiling. But she finally calmed down and let me go. I guess she knew I'd get there eventually."

Eula Faye lost a battle with cancer and failed to see her son's stirring first triumph at Daytona.

Today, Sterling's wife Paula harbors familiar fears and concerns about her race driver son. "I remember how Eula Faye used to worry about Sterling and now it's my turn to worry about Steadman," says Paula. "Sometimes I feel as if I'm reading the same book over again."

With the string of tragedies that has recently struck the sport, Sterling admits he shares some of his wife's anxiety about their son. "You can't help but worry," he says. "But I know he's determined to race, and there's nothing we can do to stop him. All we can do is try to make sure he has the best, safest equipment possible and to keep hammering at him to take it easy out there and always use his head. You do everything in your power to make it as safe as possible and after that all you can do is stand back and hold your breath."

Steadman senses that he is drawn by destiny and is keenly conscious of his heritage. "I see that roomful of trophies my grandfather won before I was born and I've watched what my father has accomplished, and I'm really proud of them," he says. "I want to carry on that tradition more than anything in the world."

Sterling has no intention of hanging up his helmet any time soon. This season he gave Dodge its first victory since its Winston Cup return, and throughout the year he has been ranked among the leaders in the championship standings. "I still enjoy racing and as long as I'm competitive, I plan to keep running," says Sterling.

When the day comes that he does, indeed, decide to step aside, chances are that Steadman will already have staked out his territory as one of the sport's promising young lions.

The Marlin name has been a prominent fixture in NASCAR lineups for a span of five decades. It appears it's going to continue to be around for a long time to come.

What's in a Name

COO COO MARLIN DIDN'T GET HIS NICKNAME FROM bashing his cars into retaining walls.

As a toddler, little Clifton Burton Madin couldn't manage to say his first name when asked. It kept coming out "Coo Coo." The nickname stuck in the family circle, and later followed Marlin throughout life as he became a prominent driver in NASCAR's big leagues.

Years later, Coo Coo's son Sterling also had an interesting name exchange. As a teenager just staring to race, the media noticed that young Marlin spelled his name two different ways. It was "Sterling" on his race uniform and "Sterlin" on his race car. As Sterling became more prominent, sportswriters insisted on knowing the proper spelling. Sterling said he didn't know. He had always answered to both.

Finally, tired of seeing her son's name spelled two different ways, Sterling's mother, Eula Faye, stepped in and settled the debate. She said she named her son "Sterling," that's the way it appeared on his birth certificate, and that's the way she wanted it spelled from then on.

Thus ended the great Sterling/Sterlin debate: To go or not to go.