MOTOR SPORT FLASHBACK
TO BUILD A LEGACY IN FORMULA 1, IT TAKES TIME, SKILL, MONEY, AND FANATICAL DEDICATION TO THE TASK
Despite the recent dominance of Mercedes-benz in Formula 1 (F1), combined with the significant increase in the number of races each season, the German giant has yet to break into the top three of wins for constructors at the highest echelon of motor racing. Ferrari is, not surprisingly, numero uno. It’s been there since before the world championship started in 1950, and, apart from a few exceptions, has won at least once each year ever since. The scarlet cars from Maranello have won 235 races, since their first in 1951 — 53 more than Mclaren. Bruce’s team kicked off with a single car in 1966, but, in 1968, became a fully fledged two-car operation when reigning world champion Denny Hulme joined the team founder. Third on the all-time list, and 68 wins behind the 182 that Mclaren has amassed, is Williams on 114, then comes Mercedes.
Williams’ beginnings
In 2019, Williams is struggling with, sadly, a limited prospect of much immediate light at the end of the tunnel. It was a very different situation 40 years ago, when it was on the cusp of what had once seemed massively unlikely. Frank Williams has a love of motor racing, and F1 in particular, that has probably never been exceeded. A workaholic, he traded, ducked, and dived to the point at which he acquired an ex-works F1 Brabham he brought here 50 years ago for his driver and best friend Piers Courage to drive in the 1969 Tasman Series. They did well enough, including a win at Teretonga. In those days, a privateer could enter F1 without having to build their own car, and, on their return from the Antipodes, Courage and Williams strode boldly, and optimistically, into the Spanish Grand Prix (GP). Glory wasn’t long coming, and the next race was at Monaco, where Courage was second to Graham ‘Mr Monaco’ Hill. There was another runner-up finish for the dark blue Brabham that Williams entered in the US, and Frank looked on the verge of breaking into the big time. He was 27, only a few weeks older than his pilot, and living his dream.
Williams underway
He teamed with the Argentinean sports car manufacturer de Tomaso for 1970, but his dream became a nightmare when Courage was fatally burnt at the Dutch GP. Williams returned with a customer car again in 1971 before building the first Williams in 1972 — although it was called a ‘Politoys’ in honour of the Italian sponsor. In 1973, he joined forces with another sports car builder, Iso. He then signed Kiwi Howden Ganley and had some decent tobacco-company sponsorship, but results were hard to come by, as they were again in 1974. In a shock result, Frenchman
Jacques Laffite finished second in the 1975 German GP, but, despite finishing ahead of Niki Lauda’s Ferrari (that would go on to win that season’s championship), the result was largely down to attrition. By the end of 1976, Williams was struggling to keep everything afloat. Legend has it that, by then, he was running his empire from a telephone box and selling his clothes to pay his mechanics. After taking a partner, he eventually left the team that he’d started.
His self-belief, determination, and work ethic knew no bounds. This is the man who returned to work after his mid-week wedding in a registry office, as his late wife recounted in a recent documentary. The other guests headed off to a restaurant to celebrate, but the groom had deals to do and an empire to build. Despite the unbridled enthusiasm, the knockers were never far away. ‘Wanker Williams’ those convinced that they’d succeed before he would would say in whispered tones.
Underway again
In 1977, he started again with an old March; a pay driver; and, seemingly, not much more. The unkind nickname seemed more apt than ever before, but this time he had not just an ace up his sleeve; he had a royal flush, when he was joined by a former employee, Patrick Head. They would form one of the mightiest ownerengineer combinations that the sport has ever seen. Williams was then introduced to some Arabs who were showing tentative interest in F1. However, in late 1977, now being sponsored by a myriad of companies from Saudi Arabia and with a new car designed by novice Head, to be driven by Australian Alan Jones — still very much viewed as a journeyman — it still seemed to be a case of, ‘Good old Frank, still trying, but inevitably, once again, he’s bound to end up short’.
And — success
Head’s 1978 car was pretty good, but his next car, the FW07, was outstanding right from the start. After some promising performances following its debut, it all came together at the best of places for this most British of teams. Jones was on pole, but 40 years ago this month at Silverstone, teammate Clay Regazzoni won the British GP. Frank was, at last, ‘Winner Williams’, and so commenced the winning ways of his team that would have glory days aplenty just down the road. There were four more wins in 1979, followed by the world championship in 1980. Frank Williams never stopped believing …
Turbo breakthrough
Two weeks prior to the breakthrough win for Williams, another team had also celebrated its inaugural victory. The 1979 French GP marked the first win for Renault; driver Jean-pierre Jabouille; and, significantly, a turbocharged engine. When the maximum engine size for GP cars doubled to three litres from 1966, a supercharged 1500cc option was also offered, in the event that anyone thought about bolting a blower onto one of the now-redundant power plants. No one did. Frankly, it wasn’t remotely practical, and it took another decade before the idea was seriously considered again. The reality was that there was simply no demand. Cosworth
was producing its jewel-like V8 Ford-badged DFV for sensible money, and, with one of them, a Hewland gearbox, and a chassis that never needed to bother wind tunnels, dozens of hopefuls became not just F1 entrants but constructors.
When Renault rolled up to the 1977 British GP with the world’s first turbocharged F1 car, there wasn’t much comment surrounding the fact that the original rules referred to supercharging not turbos. The reality was that a major manufacturer was putting a toe into F1 waters, and, crucially, it was slow and consequently hardly likely to cause waves of concern. Turbo-lag was chronic, and it was unreliable — hardly the basis for glory. Some wondered if the team would bother coming back for ’78, but return it did, culminating in a fine fourth place in the season’s penultimate race in upstate New York, showing that progress had been made. Jabouille had qualified twice on the second row of the grid and, for 1979, would be joined by fellow Frenchman René Arnoux, who was almost the antithesis of his tall and technical teammate.
Youtube has provided Jabouille with a second helping of stardom, not to see him, 40 Julys ago, winning F1’s first race with a turbo behind him but to watch the antics of Arnoux and Ferrari’s Gilles Villeneuve dispute second place. It only takes a few minutes to watch the final couple of laps, but the scrap is mighty. I loathe the ‘rubbing is racing’ concept, but re-watching Villeneuve v. Arnoux does bring a grin, because we know that it was relatively clean — and between friends. Poor old Jean-pierre is little more than a bit-player to these two hoons, but he did more than just win the race; in the two years following the Renault turbo’s debut, he’d played a massive part in making it driveable.
Castrol in New Zealand
Remember the first time? That smell … it might have been at the track, the speedway, in a forest, or just walking down the street: the aroma of Castrol R never leaves you. Burt Munro’s son, John, recalls that his father was, “A devoted user of Castrol products. I still remember the distinctive smell of Castrol R in the garage when I was a kid.”
In 1919, Castrol was introduced into the New Zealand market and has been a household name ever since. It was in motor sport, in all its various guises, that Kiwis fell in love with Castrol the most. In the early ’70s, we had the much-loved Castrol GTX Championship for standard production saloons. The success of Jim Richards in that series helped launch his legendary international career, while our most famous and successful drag racer, Garth Hogan, had always hoped that an oil company might see the benefit of supplying New Zealand’s fastest racing cars, and when Castrol put its name on the side of his 420kph dragster, he proudly carried it until the day he retired.
Castrol’s support of two-wheeled racers didn’t end with the world’s fastest Indian, and, in the ’70s and ’80s, we had the Castrol Six Hour challenge, with Masterton’s Aaron Slight leading the Castrol Honda team. Today, Castrol is the title sponsor of the Toyota Racing Series as its ‘liquid engineering’ enters the next century of support for motor racing. Happy birthday, Castrol!
Niki Lauda
If ever a driver conformed to the adage, “You don’t know how good someone will be in F1 until they’re in F1”, it was Niki Lauda. His record in the entry levels of the sport was modest, and it was through a bank loan, rather than talent, that he made it into the March F1 team for 1972. That season was uninspiring, and it seemed that he’d be a one-season wonder. He signed with BRM for 1973, thanks to another loan, and, at times, he looked like he belonged there. His teammate Clay Regazzoni was returning to Ferrari and recommended the young bucktoothed Austrian. The scuderia signed him, and, by the end of 1974, he’d won two GPS before taking the 1975 title. He was 26 and had gone from being a pay driver to world champion in a staggeringly short time.
The essence of the extraordinary events of 1976 was captured in the movie Rush. Lauda looked good for back-to-back titles until the fiery crash at the Nürburgring that scarred him for life and very nearly ended it there and then. That he went from receiving the last rites to being back in an F1 car in six weeks has become the stuff of legend, but, at the time, it seemed like a miracle. He did the last four rounds of the championship and missed the title by a point against his great friend James Hunt. After another title in 1977, he left Ferrari for Brabham but grew tired of “driving around in circles” and retired in late 1979 to run his airline, Lauda Air.
During 1981, the rumours of a return were rife, and it was Mclaren who secured Lauda’s services — but could he possibly again be the driver that he was? The question was answered at the third round, when he won the 1982 Long Beach GP. He won again that year, and, when the TAG Porsches were race-ready for 1984, and with Alain Prost as his new partner, the brilliance of Lauda arguably shone the brightest. Prost was quicker, and smart, but Niki was even smarter. Mclarens won 12 of the 16 rounds, with seven to Prost and five to Lauda, but it was the Austrian who claimed his third title — by half a point. There was a final win in 1985, by which time the decision had been made to retire for a second, and last, time. Not that he actually ‘did’ retirement; there was another airline, and soon he was back in F1, first as a consultant and then in team management, most recently with Mercedes, and it was Niki who personally negotiated with Lewis Hamilton to sign up.
Lauda was bluntly honest and forthright, told it like he saw it, but never took himself too seriously. He was a giant of the sport who had been missing from the paddock since a lung transplant last August. He never returned, dying in his sleep on 20 May.