LUNCH WITH WALLY WILLMOTT
F ROM D AYS W HE N M OTOR R ACING W A S A L L A BOUT M OTOR R ACING
MICHAEL CLARK SITS DOWN WITH AN ORIGINAL TEAM MCLAREN MECHANIC
Walter John Willmott was born in Timaru on the last day of February 1941. He became obsessed with motor racing; was a foundation member of Bruce Mclaren Motor Racing, where he stayed until mid 1968; and lived for many years in Australia before moving to Invercargill, where he started racing again. But this just scratches the surface of the life of the Kiwi motor racing legend, who, if he’d had his way, would have become a farmer. However, because sons of farmers got first crack at agricultural school, there wasn’t a place for Wally, so he took an apprenticeship as an automotive electrician — a trade that he is convinced served him better in his future racing life than if he’d become a mechanic. “An auto electrician needs to understand the electrics as well as the mechanical side, so it proved to be the ideal training,” he says.
For Wally, the desire to go motor racing was immense, and, as soon as could, he bought a 500cc Cooper F3.
“I was an enthusiastic rather than talented club racer, and mostly competed in hill climbs,” he declares.
However, a crash brought the first phase of Wally’s race driving to a premature halt. It would be more than four and a half decades before the second phase commenced.
“At the end of my apprenticeship, at the age of 20, I decided to take some time out and follow as a spectator — from the pits if possible — the Australian races as part of the predecessor of the Tasman Series,” says Wally. “I had a couple of connections from Timaru — Eoin Young and Patricia Mclaren — but at that stage I didn’t know Bruce.”
Starting an international career
Eoin was always a man for making connections, and Wally recalls that, in Sydney, while waiting for the cars to arrive by boat, Eoin mentioned that Angus Hyslop was looking for someone to look after his car.
“Payment was food and accommodation, and it was ‘Find your own way to the next race’, but Angus was a mate of Bruce, so they shared garages at each venue,” Wally remembers.
That year, 1962, Bruce was driving a Cooper for Tommy Atkins, who owned High Efficiency Motors. Wal quickly formed a friendship with the mechanic tending that car, Harry Pearce.
For Wally, the desire to go motor racing was immense and, as soon as could, he bought a 500cc Cooper F3. “I was an enthusiastic rather than talented club racer, and mostly competed in hill climbs,” he declares.
Moving further abroad
“At the end of the series, Bruce told me of a job opportunity at High Efficiency Motors. As was fast becoming the norm, all I had to do was find my own way from Sydney to England — Kingston on Thames, to be exact, where Harry had organized accommodation in a pub for me. Then followed lots of phone calls to New Zealand to sell what I could and to tell my mother that what was only going to be a three-week trip away from home might be a little extended,” Wally explains.
He spent 1962 based in the south-western outskirts of London working on the High Efficiency Motors Cooper that Bruce drove in non-championship races. Bruce had planned to compete in the Australian Grand Prix (GP) on the 18 November. It was to be run for the second and last time on the Caversham Airfield, some 16km north-east of Perth. From Australia, the Cooper- Climax would be shipped to New Zealand for the first GP on the new Pukekohe circuit.
Wally was employed by Bruce for the sortie down under, which proved to be fairly successful, with victories in Western Australia, the Lady Wigram Trophy, and at Teretonga. The win they really wanted was the New Zealand Grand Prix ( NZGP) but, for Wally, that would have to wait; there were no thoughts of staying in New Zealand: “No, no — none at all. I’d been invited to join the Cooper F1 [Formula 1] team. Bruce recommended me, and Tommy also put in some good words.”
Moving to Cooper
The boy from Timaru was about to turn 22 and be based on the edge of what was then the most exciting city in the world.
“We got to know The Beatles, and, in fact, George Harrison, who was a motor racing fan, became a bit of a mate. We’d socialize a bit —
until they became super famous and stopped going out,” he tells us.
By then, Wally had become used to hanging out with the rich and/or famous. As a Kiwi, he never adhered to the British class system. At one time, he and Cooper number two Tony Maggs arrived at a country home of the racing baronet Sir John Whitmore.
“I knew him as ‘John’ — a nice bloke who initially raced Mini Coopers. He invited me to go motorcycling, so I rolled up to this private estate in Essex one morning and told the butler I was there to see John. It was only after he said ‘Oh, you mean Sir John’ that I twigged. It was an inherited title, which meant nothing to a colonial, so he was always just John to me,” Wally says.
Wal’s letters home provide some indication of the long hours and hard work of an F1 mechanic, plus the other opportunities.
“I’ve had plenty of good job offers lately, but prospects with Bruce look good for next year,” states one. “Coopers is a nut house and I shall not work there next year no matter what … The car Bruce and I are building for New Zealand and Australia is coming on fine and it looks as though we will come out there with a twocar team, the second one being driven by an American, Timmy Mayer — a terrific bloke, who should be good to work with.”
Building the first ‘Mclaren’
In a letter to his mum following the 1963 Italian GP, Wally wrote “as from the day we returned from Monza, I stopped work on the Cooper works cars, and, although I am officially paid and employed by them, I am now working solely on finishing off Bruce’s car for the New Zealand season.”
Then, just over a month later, in another letter, he said: “Today is the first day off since I started working for Bruce, and the only reason for this is that Coopers will not let us use the workshop without someone on their payroll being there to keep an eye on us … Coopers were all sarcastic
“In those days, there were only three models of racing car,” Wally says. “There was ‘last year’s car’, ‘this year’s car’, and ‘next year’s car’. On 1 January each year, they just all took a click forward, and there was nothing more outdated or older than ‘last year’s car’”
while Bruce and I were building it, but now it is finished — and very quickly — they are telling everyone they designed and built it. Charlie Cooper could see no reason why Bruce should not just stuff a 2.5 litre engine into a current F1 car and get on with it.”
So it was that ‘Mclaren–willmott’ designed and built car that was called a ‘Cooper’ because it was built in the Cooper workshop — and Bruce was still the lead driver in the Cooper F1 team — and that would be used to try to win the inaugural Tasman Championship.
“In those days, there were only three models of racing car,” Wally says. “There was ‘ last year’s car’, ‘this year’s car’, and ‘next year’s car’. On 1 January each year, they just all took a click forward, and there was nothing more outdated or older than ‘ last year’s car’. Having said that, I discovered years later that what Bruce and I came up with using chalk on the floor and scraps of paper for notes was officially a ‘Cooper T70’ — often to be referred to as a ‘slimline’, I guess following the ‘ lowline’ nomenclature.
“The car very quickly took shape. Bruce used his spare moments, between racing and other duties, to drop by, inspect progress, and discuss the next stage. We made some radical decisions. Firstly, we felt we could save weight and gain chassis stiffness by welding preshaped steel panels on either side of the chassis that would act as, and do away with, a lower outer body. The top rear suspension linkage was redesigned and became a single top link and radius arm, as opposed to the wishbone on the top of the F1 car. The limited fuel [that we] needed we carried in a tank shaped to form the driver’s seat, and in two small tanks either side of the driver’s knees. John Cooper would slip by on a regular basis, keeping an eye on progress, and bringing ‘presents’ in the form of parts that he had removed from stock, bypassing the system, whereby officially Bruce was to pay for every nut and bolt used.”
Winning that NZGP
The first round at Levin was won by the Brabham of Denny Hulme, with Mclaren third behind teammate Mayer — as Wal recollects, their prime opposition: “Jack [Brabham] had built a couple of slimmer-line, lightweight cars — one for himself and a customer car for Frank Matich, leaving Denny in the standard car,” he says.
However, it was the GP that was Bruce’s prime focus, and no less so for the chief mechanic, as Wal recalls: “If you are not going to win the New Zealand Grand Prix yourself, then having your best mate [Mclaren] win it in a car that you and he designed and built has to be the next best thing. After trying eight times previously to win this event, on 11 January 1964, Bruce Mclaren won the New Zealand Grand Prix at Pukekohe. More significantly, he won in a car that he had engineered himself, and it bore his own name on it in the form of ‘Bruce Mclaren Motor Racing’ decals affixed to the windscreen. I use the term ‘engineered’ in two ways — firstly, to arrange and contrive to bring it about, and, secondly, the more conventional, to act as an engineer. That Bruce would make every endeavour to come home to Auckland and have Christmas every year with his folks was a foregone conclusion. If the trip could be combined with motor racing, there was an added bonus. If he organized it well, won some races, and then sold the car at the end before returning to England — as was the case in the beginning of 1963 — he could not only cover expenses but also make a little extra on top.
“Race day at Pukekohe saw Bruce and Jack separated for the first two heats and they both won, so were therefore on the front row of the grid. Having one of those starts that you only read about, Timmy shot to the lead off the second row with Jack on his tail and Bruce third, having muffed it off the line with too much wheel spin. Jack passed Timmy under braking at the end of the back straight, and, for a lap, Jack, Timmy, Bruce, Frank Matich, and Denny raced wheel to wheel until Jack and Bruce managed to pull away from the rest. On lap eight, Bruce got by Jack under brakes, and, by half distance, Bruce had opened, and was able to hold, a four-second gap. As they were lapping back-markers, Jack clipped Tony Shelly and went over the rear wheel of the Lotus, almost tearing off his suspension and putting himself out of the race, leaving Bruce with a lead of nearly 30 seconds. He slowed a little to conserve the car, and finished up beating Denny home by 4.5 seconds, with Timmy third. There were copious quantities of alcohol consumed that night, and I think I drank my share and a few others’ as well.”
Tragedy
With wins again at Wigram and Teretonga, the team headed for the four rounds in Australia with the championship in their grasp. Brabham won the first three in his homeland, and they headed to Tasmania for the finale, with both having a trio of wins and a second but Bruce having the advantage of a pair of thirds. It was during the second practice session that tragedy hit the young team: Mayer was killed. The young American had scored four podiums and had therefore confirmed the promise that Bruce and Cooper had seen in him.
Wal: “Bruce won the title, but what happened to Timmy marred what would ordinarily have been the euphoria of success.”
Next month: In part two, Wal will resume his conversation by talking about his invitation by Jim Hall, of Chaparral fame, to stop off in Texas on his way to New Zealand. His exposure to the world of big-capacity sports cars provided Wally with an idea that he needed to talk to Bruce about when they reunited in Auckland.
“After trying eight times previously to win this event, on 11 January 1964, Bruce Mclaren won the New Zealand Grand Prix at Pukekohe”