It’s official: Tony Stewart — yes, that Tony Stewart — is the NASCAR Illustrated Person of the Year.

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We’re not saying Stewart is Mother Teresa. He’s no saint — he’ll tell you that himself. His fans know it. His competitors know it. We know it.

But, when he chooses to heed the angel on his shoulder, Stewart has proven that he can be NASCAR’s most powerful force for good.

The numbers don’t lie. And his benefactors don’t care if he’s surly.

The Tony Stewart Foundation has given nearly $4 million since it was founded in 2003. Posting huge growth in giving over the past three years, the TSF is just hitting its stride. In 2006, his foundation gave a total of just over $300,000. A year later, they delivered $972,000 in grants — an increase of nearly 300 percent. In June of this year, Stewart surpassed that number at a single event, presenting the Victory Junction Gang Camp with a $1 million check. The foundation is on track to give an estimated $1.4 million by the end of 2008.

But Stewart is our Person of the Year for more than his sizable donations. Sure, he is one of NASCAR’s leading philanthropists, but he gives in many other ways as well — sharing his energy, his reputation, himself; things more dear than money. 

At the track, Stewart will always be a wild card. Remember, this is the guy who, two weeks after announcing the formation of Stewart-Haas Racing, scuffled with a USAC official on pit road.

But away from the track, fans and competitors would hardly recognize him.

A notorious but sometimes misguided animal lover (he has owned both a pet tiger and monkey, which have since been entrusted to rescue facilities), Stewart was approached by the Indiana Department of Natural Resources last year. Would he be interested in raising a dozen or so baby deer that had been abandoned by their mothers?

“Of course, we said yes immediately,” Stewart says.

Now, for the past two summers, Stewart has looked forward to coming home so he can bottle-feed his wobbly, knock-kneed fawns.

“The hard part is not getting attached to them,” he says. “It’s a big stress reliever for me to go home and see 16 deer in a pen and I’m their surrogate mom. They rely on me for nourishment, safety and security.”

Unfortunately, come autumn, Stewart had to let them go. Well, he didn’t release them — some neighbors who live on his land and help take care of his property set them free.

“The Saturday of the California race, they opened the gates,” he says. “I didn’t want to be there because that’s a heartbreaking day.”
However, since the livin’ is easy on Stewart’s land, many of the deer don’t wander too far.

So Stewart, currently crashing in the basement of a neighbor’s house while his house has some work done, continues to delight in his ersatz menagerie.

“It’s a walk-out basement and we have lights that shine out and at night, you see deer eating and raccoons,” he says. “And then, when you wake up in the morning, they’re back. It’s a pretty peaceful way to wake up.”

Although it’s a relatively minor example of his largesse, Stewart’s attachment to those deer encapsulates how he approaches giving. If he sees someone (or something) in need, he’ll do whatever it takes.

“That’s a feeling you don’t get from winning races,” he says. “How can you not be passionate about it?”

Right now, he’s never been more capable of helping.

A year and a half ago, Stewart and his mother, Pam Boas, who was managing the foundation, hired its first full-time employee, signing Joni Thompson as executive director. Adding Thompson is an encouraging sign of the foundation’s waxing legitimacy. Stewart had a problem every business should have: too much work.

“You know, someday I want 20 people working full-time; I want it to be that big,” Stewart says. “You hope that it gets that way.”
Boas and Thompson now manage the foundation day-to-day without involving the ever-busy Stewart. And that’s how he likes it.

“The hard part is going through the process, making sure every request is legit,” Stewart says. “And just knowing that they’re doing that is so important — whether I talk to them once a month or once every three months.”

Boas and Thompson do more than just handle busy work. They play a vital role as a buffer between Stewart and the organizations soliciting his assistance.

This past summer, Susie Jean, the executive director of Vest ’N PDP, a nonprofit that buys bullet- and stab-proof jackets for police dogs, reached out to the Tony Stewart Foundation for some help.

Her request meshed almost perfectly with one of the foundation’s goals of protecting animals. So, Boas and Thompson presented it to Stewart.

“They know that’s an automatic yes,” he says. “They almost don’t have to call and ask permission for that one.”

With Stewart’s immediate blessing, the foundation gave Jean over $27,000. The money bought 40 vests, outfitting dogs in five states.
But Boas and Thompson were taking a risk by involving Stewart — and not because they were afraid he would say no. Sometimes, Stewart’s enthusiasm gets the best of him.

“Now they’re almost scared because I’m so excited about it,” Stewart says. “That police dogs idea has put a lot of ideas in my head. I’ve been asking a lot of questions about other dogs in other areas.

“You never feel like you’ve done enough. You know you’ve made a difference and helped a lot of people but still, you know more needs to be done. So, I start wondering what do I do about the rest of it. What more can I do?”

Stewart seems to ask that question a lot, not always waiting for the foundation to provide an answer. That’s why it’s so difficult to assign a value to Stewart’s eclectic charitable activities.

This summer, as his hometown of Columbus, Ind., slipped beneath once-in-a-century floodwaters, Stewart simply transferred his share of the winnings from a fifth-place finish at Michigan — a little more than $35,000 — to the American Red Cross.

Even when Stewart’s not giving money, he’s raising it. By lending his time, his likeness or his equipment, Stewart uses his notoriety to attract donors, often giving other foundations and charitable organizations a lift. Even if it still puzzles him that people line up to see him.

“I’m amazed when I go to a Home Depot store and find out that the people that are first in line showed up at 9:00 the night before and have been there for 15-16 hours by the time I get there. I wouldn’t have stood in line,” Stewart says. “I don’t know anybody that I’d stand in line for. There’s no one that I feel that strongly about. But that’s when you get a sense of what you mean to people.”

No matter how abashed he may be, no one can argue that Stewart can draw a crowd.

In August, he hosted the “Smoke Show” at Texas Motor Speedway. Twenty-nine patrons so wanted to spend time with “Smoke” that they paid between $6,000 and $8,250 each to spend the day racing with their favorite driver.

Simply by showing up, Stewart raised $217,000 for Speedway Children’s Charities-Texas Chapter — a single-day record for the organization.

But of course, that’s an easy day for Stewart. His crowning fund-raising achievement, The Prelude to the Dream, takes a little more work.

Stewart managed to lure more than a dozen of racing’s biggest stars to western Ohio for a Tuesday night race during the dog days of the NASCAR season.

He also persuaded the Fox NASCAR TV crew to cover the race, treating it just like a Sunday Cup race.

Then, for the cherry on the top, HBO broadcasts the race on pay-per-view, securing a nationwide audience and a nice, fat revenue stream.

In the process, Stewart has created a de facto all-star race that has raised over $1.5 million in just two years (and not coincidentally, introduced late model dirt track racing and Stewart’s Eldora Speedway to NASCAR’s fan base).

“I really give Tony a lot of credit for growing the event the way he has and growing it year to year,” Jimmie Johnson said, after the 2008 Prelude. “The fact it’s live on television is amazing. The event really gives back to the dirt community, on top of all the amazing things it does for the Victory Junction Gang Camp.”

This kind of initiative is what distinguishes Stewart. Most drivers are content to put on a golf tournament and call it a day. Why go to all the trouble?

“First, I’m terrible at golf. It’s not me,” Stewart says. “Bringing NASCAR drivers to the dirt track and having fans in Ohio see them drive cars they’re not familiar with on a surface they’re not familiar with is incredible. That’s something that we’ve been able to do that’s raised more money than we ever would have with a golf tournament.”

Well, that’s half the answer. Stewart won this year’s race at Eldora, but even if he’d finished last, he would have been happy just to present that big check.

“To make these donations and know that you’re going to make a difference,” Stewart says. “You can’t buy that feeling. You can tell what kind of difference you’re going to make by their reaction.”

He got quite a reaction from his seven-figure donation.

“Kyle Petty kissed me at Eldora,” Stewart says. “I have never seen Kyle kiss a guy in my life. But he did, and that showed just how appreciative he was of what we accomplished that night. That’s the payoff for me. That’s the first sense that you get for how people will feel.”

That million-dollar check was Stewart’s idea — the race may not actually generate a million dollars. Pay-per-view revenue takes months to hit the books, so six months later, the foundation still isn’t sure just how much will come in.

But neither Petty nor the camp has anything to worry about. Stewart wanted to give a million bucks and he’ll make sure it happens. He’ll personally cover any shortfall, if necessary.

Now, looking ahead to 2009, Stewart is already knee-deep in making Stewart-Haas Racing a worthy namesake. With his hands more than full at his cavernous Kannapolis, N.C., shop, he will have to leave even more of his giving to the staff at the foundation.

In mid-September, Stewart was already logging full days there, trying to keep his head above water (the normally free-wheeling driver was even carrying a binder, trying to capture all the to-dos and thoughts that crossed his mind).

He’s hoping to ingrain his way of giving into the new team’s character — and it sounds like sponsors want to help.

“It’s been discussed but I don’t know what we have decided. A potential sponsor asked about the foundation,” he says. “It won’t be mandatory but a majority of our sponsors will become involved and support it.”

Despite all the questions that await him in 2009, Stewart will, at least, be able to count on one thing: He’ll be doing good off the track even if he isn’t running good on it.

This article originally appeared in the December 2008 issue of NASCAR Illustrated.