BRILLIANT BOB WOLLEK REMEMBERED
How Le Mans glory escaped enigmatic Frenchman
It is one of the cruellest ironies that having carved a successful career on skis and then in cars, both dangerous pursuits, that Bob Wollek should have been killed cycling back to his hotel from the Sebring circuit 20 years ago this March. Wollek loved cycling. Indeed he would cycle from his Strasbourg home to Le Mans each year to prepare for the race, a race with which he had a lovehate relationship. He wanted to win it, desperately so, but class wins and second places were as good as it got for the Frenchman. But, with four Daytona 24 Hour wins in a career dominated by Porsches, Brilliant Bob as he was known remains a sportscar great.
Wollek was born in German-occupied France, which was coming under salvation from America. Bob’s parents wanted him to have an easy-topronounce name and opted for Bob. However, according to his friend, French journalist Jean-Marc Teissedre, the town hall clerk refused to allow it so Bob was registered as Robert Johan Wollek.
The man himself told MN’s Mike Cotton that his father went ahead and christened him Bob anyway. Take your pick, but he was Bob to the sporting world.
Bob’s first successes came on skis. He was French junior champion and then won the World Military title in 1965. He was part of a team that included Guy Perillat and Jean-Claude Killy (who would also turn his attention to cars) but, after being overlooked for the
Winter Olympics team, Wollek looked for a different adrenaline rush.
He found it in a Renault R8 Gordini in the 1967 Mont Blanc Rally, finishing 19th and winning the National section. That year, he also went to Le Mans and fell in love with sportscar racing and the French classic itself. In 1968 he joined the works Alpine team for the race and finished second in class and retired a year later when sharing with Killy.
Those two years summed up his
Le Mans history: close or no cigar.
Take 1978, for example, when he and Jurgen Barth shared a Porsche 936/78. Joined by Jacky Ickx after his car had retired, they should have scooped the win but lost 38 minutes when fifth gear needed changing. Wollek was a hugely successful part of the Porsche privateer family, winning races in the Deutsche Rennsport Meisterschaft for example but, by the early 1980s, he was frustrated that he was being overlooked in favour of rising stars such as Stefan Bellof. So, Bob moved to Lancia for 1984, its LC2 having won the previous season. “I have won everything a privateer could hope to win in a Porsche. I prefer driving for a factory than against a factory,” said Wollek.
The change didn’t help his Le Mans luck, though. In 1984, he was paired with Alessandro Nannini, part of the Lancia sportscar fabric and a Minardi Formula 2 driver. When Nannini collapsed with exhaustion at 0700hrs after a stint, Wollek had to do the majority of the remainder of the race alone, and two lengthy stops for gearbox repairs dropped the car to eighth. “Bob did a lot of sport and was in tip-top condition,” recalled team boss Cesare Fiorio years later, “while Alessandro wasn’t much of an athlete and smoked and drank coffee.”
A year later, with three-driver crews now essential in Fiorio’s eyes, they were joined by Australian-born Lucio Cesario whose pace wasn’t a match for Wollek’s. On Sunday morning, Wollek pitted and found Cesario ready to take over for his first stint in the race. Bob wasn’t impressed. “If you crash the car, I’ll kill you,” Wollek spat at him. Cesario stayed on the road but it was hardly the best way to begin your Le Mans stint. The car was 14 laps adrift at the end of the race, so Wollek moved back to Porsche, this time as a works driver. With the death of Bellof in ’85, Bob’s
believers at Porsche felt the time was right to bring him into the fold and he enjoyed success in the 962, Le Mans apart. Bellof’s death came in the sole race Bob won for Lancia.
Once the 962 era had passed, Porsche didn’t have a car with which to replace it, meaning Bob had to find drives where he could. Like many sportscar pros of the time, he jobbed for drives, before the BPR/SRO GT era threw him a Porsche lifeline. Step forward the 911 GT1 in 1996. A year earlier he had finished second in a Courage but went to Le Mans in confident mood in a factory car. A brake disc change cost the car time and he was second again. 1997: Wollek, Hans Stuck and Thierry Boutsen in a 911 GT1 again, a winning car. Pressure was mounting on Wollek: he was getting older and chances to win were dwindling. Delayed by traffic, Wollek accelerated out of Arnage at 0748hrs and bounced from barrier to barrier. With smashed transmission, the car was out and Wollek headed to explain himself to the press. “If you have never seen a complete cretin, you are looking at one now,” he told journalists.
He had a final chance in 1998, the last time the GT cars would be able to fight for wins before the prototypes rejoined the grid. With Jorg Muller and Uwe Alzen he was second again, distraught on the podium after defeat in his 28th attempt, as Allan McNish celebrated a win on his second start. The dream was over. In 1999, Bob was second in class for Champion Racing and to sum up the harsh way the race treated him, his last appearance, his 30th at Le Mans, ended in disqualification after a class win, his Dick Barbour Racing Porsche 911 GT3 R running an oversized fuel tank.
So was Bob Wollek a sportscar star or a fan-favourite hard luck story at Le Mans? He was a star. Ignore Le Mans for a moment: he claimed four wins in the Daytona 24 Hours, took 11 wins in the World Endurance Championship or equivalent, won the coveted internal Porsche Cup a record seven times (for race-winning privateers), was a double DRM title-winner and won the Supercup in 1989, the ADAC’s sportscar sprint series. He was in demand by teams, remember Lancia poached him away from Porsche teams to be a works driver, and drives were never in short supply.
The man, though, was a tough one to read. Some spoke highly of him, others less so. Take Jean-Michel Martin with whom Wollek drove a Porsche 936C in 1982 for Belga Joest Racing. He recalls: “We discovered a cold, distant, sullen individual who monopolised the wheel during testing and gave us no feedback about his set-ups. He was very miffed about not being taken on by the works outfit and found it very difficult to stomach this decision.” Ouch.
Lancia team-mate Mauro Baldi found him, at first, “not particularly pleasant,” but after they shared a car in 1985, they formed a better bond. “I think he thought of me as a younger brother,” reckons Baldi. “We did everything together, whether it was eating in restaurants, renting cars, set-ups. When I won [Le Mans] for Dauer, he was happy for me but his words had a certain bitterness.”
If Wollek trusted you, accepted you, you were fine. Walter Gerber, Bayside Racing team manager, said he was “one of the best sportscar drivers, a team player.” Contrast that with Yves Courage in 1995. Wollek drove for Courage and the team had factory engines from Porsche and Wollek was obsessed with his chance to win. “During the night,” recalls Courage, “he refused to get out of the car after a triple stint to let Eric Helary take over. He said Eric wasn’t quick enough but
Bob was exhausted and we lost a lot of time due to him. It was pathetic. Then Michelin said that we could still win if we put the experimental tyres on like the McLaren but Bob said ‘never’ and carried on with mixed rubber that wasn’t working and we lost the race.
“Years later we spoke and he admitted he was wrong and despite all his training, he still wasn’t as fast as the young guys and he was struggling to accept it.”
Helary doesn’t remember him fondly. “Right from the start he behaved despicably. He wanted to do qualifying, the start, the finish, the lot. Was he under pressure to win? I don’t know. We lost the race by three minutes. I drove like a madman but in the night Bob was 15 seconds off his times. After the race he wrote to me and called me an arsehole…”
Yannick Dalmas, another driver with whom Wollek had a spat, reckons:
“His obsession to win Le Mans confused his brain.”
So, was a he an unpleasant person or totally focused on winning, Le Mans in particular. Probably the latter. Sure, evidence tells us that he didn’t suffer fools gladly and wasn’t afraid to voice opinions, such as that of Lancia team boss Cesare Florio. “I’ll say one thing about Fiorio. He is consistent. Every damned decision he ever makes is wrong,” said Wollek later.
But in later years, he mellowed, a little at least. Finally accepting that he wasn’t as quick as drivers decades younger, he was accepting a driver mentor role, tutoring them in the ways of sportscar racing such as being kind to the car and easy on fuel, one of his key strengths.
Sascha Maassen remembers Wollek initially looking at him with “disdain”, but then saying in a press conference that he was, “‘The best Porsche driver I know.’ He was an extraordinary person who improved the more you got to know him.”
Johnny Mowlem was Bob’s last teammate and they hit it off just fine. “I’m too old to do the qualifying. It’s just the job for a young bloke like yourself,” said Wollek. Amazingly, with a 25-year age gap, Bob was quicker than Johnny in their sole race together at Texas. They were set to team up again at Sebring two weeks later
Porsche had an ambassadorial role in mind for Wollek who, seemingly, was happy with his role in the sport: that safe pair of hands, never wanting for a drive, working with young drivers and helping them to improve while still being competitive aged 57. After skiing and motorsport, his third passion was cycling and the omnipresent bicycle was ready for him in the Sebring paddock on March 16.
Blinded by the sun, an elderly Floridian driving his van hit Wollek who was pronounced dead on arrival at the Highlands Regional Medical Center. Sportscar racing was shocked.
Described as “wonderful”, “frustrating,” “difficult” and “exceptional” by those who worked with him, he was one of sportscar racings icons who had success over three decades.
And, whatever adjective some chose, he was always ‘Brilliant Bob’.
“We found a cold, distant, sullen individual” Jean-Michel Martin