Brian Redman

Great Britain’s Brian Redman is unquestionably one of the greatest drivers of his generation. The former Porsche factory driver sits down with Total 911’s Tony Mcguiness for part four in a series looking back at Brian’s remarkable life and career

In my last Total 911 column, I mentioned at the 24 Hours of Daytona in 1969, all five factory Porsche 908 Long Tails were forced to retire from the race. The first problem with the engine at Daytona was the titanium drive shaft connecting the crankshaft to the timing gears broke.

On the Monday morning after Daytona, Rico Steinemann, the Porsche team manager, came to me and said, “Brian, do you wish to be Number 1 in your own car and you choose your co-driver, or will you go as Number 2 to Jo Siffert? I thought about it for quite a bit. I thought boy, if I go as Number 2 to Siffert, I will get none of the press and none of the plaudits… however, I think we will win more races. So, I said yes, I’ll go as Number 2 to Jo Siffert. It proved to be absolutely the right decision as together we won five out of the ten races for Porsche in the International Championship of Makes. Effectively, Jo Siffert and I won the World Championship for Porsche in 1969.

The next race after Daytona was the 12 Hours of Sebring, which was six weeks later. By that time, my arm was okay, usable, and healed. Porsche sent Siffert and me to Sebring to do a 24-hour test before the race. 20 hours later the chassis broke. The engineers examined it and said, “Zis is good! Ze race is only 12 hours!” In the race, of course, all five factory Porsches broke their chassis. The 908 of Steve Mcqueen finished 2nd. His chassis had undergone some repairs during the race. Mcqueen’s car was the only 908 that kept going properly.

At the same time in 1969, Porsche was also building 25 917s. The FIA and Commission Sportive Internationale (CIS) produced a rule for 1968, reducing engine capacities of all manufacturers competing in the International Championship of Makes. Prototypes would be allowed to displace a maximum capacity of 3 litres. They also said if companies had 5.0-litre engines and could produce 50 cars, they could also race. They were hoping companies like Jaguar, Aston Martin and Lamborghini would have jumped in, but nobody did. So, at the beginning of 1968 they reduced the homologation number required from 50 to 25. Porsche’s Ferdinand Piëch saw the opportunity and plunged in. On 20 April 1969, Piëch presented the CSI inspectors with a lineup of 25 identical Porsche 917s. He even offered to let them drive a random car to prove they were all real.

The 917, in its original form in 1969 at 4.5 litres, gave 570hp. By early 1970 when it went to 5 litres, it was putting out 620hp and weighing only about 1,700 pounds. Essentially, the 917 was like a big copy of the Long Tail 908. Nobody spoke about it at the time, but a lot of those 917s that had been in accidents broke in half right across the cockpit. Concerningly, right across the spot where one’s manhood would rest.

All the Porsche factory drivers hadn’t heard much about the driving side of the 917, except we all knew it had been built in a big rush. When Porsche called me in early 1969, I was living in Colne, Lancashire. I picked up the phone and on the other end I heard, “Herr Redman, you vill come and test ze new 917 at Weissach!” So, I thought, why do they want me when they have six German heroes living near Stuttgart? I told them I would check my calendar and call back.

Straight away I rang Jo Siffert in Switzerland. I said, “Seppi, have you tested the new 917 yet?” There was a long silence and then he said, “No, no Bre-an, we let the other drivers find out what breaks first!” My call with Seppi made me realise my calendar was suddenly full and unfortunately I couldn’t go.

My first actual drive in the 917 was during practice at Spa-francorchamps 1,000Km around May 1969. Porsche had brought all the Long Tail 908s and two of the new 917s. It started raining during practice and Herr Bott, head of engineering, said to me, “Brian, go out and drive ze 917.” I said, “But it’s raining, Herr Bott.” He replied, “Zen go slowly, Brian.”

I climbed in the 917. It was my first time ever in one and I was extremely uncomfortable. My head was against the roof, so I had to bend my head down. I was too far forward with my knees crammed behind the steering column. As I tried to settle in, I looked around the cockpit at the switches and started the car, which burst into life with a loud growl. Glancing further around the cockpit, I saw a switch that said ‘Wiper’. Positioned on the left-hand side of the windscreen, the wiper blade itself was massive. They said it came from a Boeing 707. So, I turned on the ‘Wiper’ switch and immediately with one sweep, the giant blade shot to the right and flew off! It went straight off into the pits!

I switched everything off and got out. Herr Bott said, “Brian what are you doing?” I said, “Herr Bott, it’s raining, and the windscreen wiper has flown off.” He said, “Brian, go out and drive slowly.” So, I did!

For the race, Seppi and I chose to drive the 908. Our choice was vindicated as we won the race and I got the fastest race lap. Gerhard Mitter and Udo Schütz drove the other 917 that was there. Mitter blew it up on the first lap. It had a difficult five-speed gear box, where fifth gear was out of the gate across to the right and up alongside third. I guarantee he changed from fourth to third instead of fourth to fifth.

Because the 917 was equipped with a synchromesh gear box, you had to be incredibly careful with it and deliberately slow. A mistake cost David Hobbs a drive with John Wyer during a test at Daytona in late 1969 when they were choosing drivers for 1970. Herr Piëch was there when unfortunately, David missed a gear and blew the engine. That was his chance gone. It also cost Seppi and I the 1970 Le Mans when Seppi missed a gear in front of the pits. We were leading by 32 miles at the time.

My first race in the 917 was at the Österreichring 1,000Km, which was the last round of the 1969 championship. For perhaps the only time in my racing life, I had an attack of severe apprehension. The track was fast and difficult, I had never raced the 917 and in practice, got a total of three laps. I went up to Rico Steinemann and said: “Thank you very much Rico,

I’m going home.” I explained that to be racing the new 917 on this track, without adequate practice, was asking for trouble. “Very well, Brian” replied Rico, “you drive with Dickie Attwood in David Piper’s car and Ahrens can drive with Siffert.”

This race was the 917’s first success. Our steady work with the car paid off as Siffert and Ahrens won the race with Attwood and me coming third.

Two months after the race, changes were in store for the 917. Porsche finally decided to get to grips with the car. As JW Automotive Engineering was named to run the official Porsche factory team for 1970, and I was a factory driver, I received a call from Wyer’s team manager, David Yorke, to test the 917 at the Österreichring. Next month I will share the fascinating details of those days spent testing the car and the impact it had on the future of the 917. Until next month, please visit my website gorace.com where my book, Brian Redman: Daring Drivers, Deadly Tracks is available for purchase.