JORDAN 191
Michael Schumacher’s neat, efficient, beautifully effective launchpad
The early 1990s could and should have been a golden age for new teams as Formula 1 bid adieu to the increasingly powerful, temperamental and costly turbocharged engines which had come to dominate the previous decade. Convinced that ‘new’ F1 was but a small step above Formula 3000, ambitious young teams jumped in feet first. Only one survived as the booming global economy of the 1980s slumped into a bust and, on the recession’s coat tails, the ‘haves’ of the F1 ecosystem marshalled advanced aerodynamic and electronic innovations which took them far beyond the reach of the have-nots.
In 1989 the future looked different, brighter. F1 welcomed back naturally aspirated engines and the dream of a slightly more level playing field, after years of manufacturer R&D largesse had elevated the cutting edge of turbo technology beyond the reach of less-resourced tuners. While there were chancers aplenty, this was an era in which the most successful teams as well as drivers had an eye on graduating from F3000 to F1.
Among them was Eddie Jordan Racing. Frontman Eddie Jordan had worked as a clerk for the Bank of Ireland but fancied himself as more of a rock star. A wheelerdealer by nature, blessed with the gift of the gab and unafraid to be economical with the actualité should business exigencies demand it, ‘EJ’ had enjoyed a moderately successful run as a driver through karts to F3 in the late 1970s before taking up ducking and diving full-time as a team manager. In F3 he had locked horns with Coleraine-born Gary Anderson, a self-taught engineer who had left school at 15, worked as a mechanic for Brabham and Mclaren, and designed his own Anson F3 cars which he raced alongside the mercurial Tommy Byrne.
In late 1989 Anderson was working at Reynard as chief designer on its F3000 project when his phone rang. EJ launched into full sell mode: “I think I’ve got enough money to build an F1 car. Do you want to come and join me?” Anderson had weathered similar conversations with Jordan for the previous two years and initially demurred. EJ wouldn’t let it lie, pestering Anderson over the course of further phone calls, assuring him the project was “ready to go”. Anderson handed in his notice and arrived at Jordan’s workshop to find that, far from being “ready to go”, the design office was unmanned and unequipped. Job one was to order in drawing boards, paper, pencils and sundry other draughtsman’s accoutrements.
Nevertheless, in 1990 Eddie Jordan Racing commanded respect in the racing firmament. EJ had run Martin Brundle to second in the British F3 championship in 1983, behind none other than Ayrton Senna. Johnny Herbert was British F3
JORDAN’S NEW CAR WOULD HAVE TO BE QUICK OUT OF THE BLOCKS AND EASY TO SET UP
champion in ’87, Jean Alesi the F3000 champion in ’89 before heading to F1 with Tyrrell. Jordan’s cars carried bright Camel sponsorship and the air of an organisation going places. It was no surprise when word began to circulate that he was planning to move up a category; Alesi, having witnessed what Tyrrell was achieving on a minimal budget, eagerly reported back to EJ that a creative, agile young team could bloody the nose of the big players in the current environment.
Anderson helped Jordan poach two other young designers from Reynard: Andrew Green and Mark Smith. Together they began to outline a car with very clear priorities: it had to be simple, efficient and inexpensive. With 39 cars shooting for 30 places on the grid in 1990, new entrants and back-of-thegrid fodder faced the ignominy of pre-qualifying on Friday mornings. Given the lack of track time before what would be a congested and brutal session, Jordan’s new car would have to be quick out of the blocks and easy to set up.
Financial realities began to bite even as the car took shape with Anderson in charge of the concept, structure and aerodynamics, Green drawing the steering and suspension, and Smith designing the gearbox. National economies succumbed to a domino effect as central banks wrestled with inflationary pressures, imprudent mortage lending in the US caused dozens of providers to fail (sound depressingly familiar?), and Iraq’s invasion of Kuwait in summer triggered an oil price shock. The pool of potential sponsors grew shallower and the existing ones proved tricky to retain – as EJ learned to his cost when Benetton whistled Camel out from under him.
The loss of Camel was a major blow, coming in the wake of a remarkable piece of serendipity: the new car, codenamed 911, had been designed with Engine Developments’ new V10 in mind, but one day Anderson and Green found themselves sharing a lunchtime table in a crowded pub with Cosworth’s Bernard Ferguson. Armed with Ferguson’s business card, EJ was straight on the phone, blarneying his way into receiving a customer supply of Ford-badged HB V8 engines, albeit at lower spec than those used by Benetton.
Accommodating the relatively tall HB required a small bulge on the engine cover, since the shape of the 911 had already been mostly finalised over the course of a handful of runs – one weekend a month – with a one-third scale model in the University of Southampton windtunnel. But the main problem now was that the car had no sponsor. When EJ unveiled it to an unimpressed media, it was in raw carbonfibre black, prompting veteran scribe Jabby Crombac to harrumph in print, “Why do they bother? They can’t even afford to paint the car.”
“Fuck ’em – I’ll show ’em,” was EJ’S response, though he had to engage more diplomatically with the writ which then arrived from Porsche concerning the car’s name. Typically, he emerged
from this exchange with an 18-month loan of a 911 having made the painless concession of renaming his car the 191.
To fill in the blank canvas of the 191, Eddie mined his contacts. Marlboro, naturally, wasn’t going to forsake Mclaren, but it was prepared to open the corporate purse to a smaller degree if EJ would run two of its supported drivers: Andrea de Cesaris and Bertrand Gachot. Neither was considered top drawer, but they would have to do: de Cesaris had at least led grands prix, though he was now better known for his disinclination to move over while being lapped. Gachot, British F3 runner-up in 1987, had seen precious little F1 action over two seasons in cars scarcely capable of prequalifying, although he had a well-connected manager – a certain Eddie Jordan…
Eddie’s masterstroke was to tap 7Up for title sponsorship, enabling him to paint the 191 a suitably patriotic shade of green which unlocked further deals with the Irish tourist board and Fuji Film. The latter was a typical piece of EJ opportunism after Kodak, which had shown interest when the car was to run in Camel yellow, pulled out when informed the 191 would be green, the corporate colours of its archrival. Eddie got straight on a plane to Japan to sell to the rival in question – and likes to claim that Fuji actually paid more than 7Up.
Then again, EJ also claims the 7Up sponsorship came about because Michael Jackson accidentally set his hair on fire, forcing him to postpone his 7Up-sponsored world tour and leaving the company with a wad of cash lying around. This is pure wishful thinking based on post-hoc conflation and Eddie’s love of celebrity connections: Jackson’s hair immolation occurred during a take of an advert for Pepsi Cola, 7Up’s parent brand, six years earlier. The Pepsi-sponsored Dangerous world tour began in 1992 but ended in gig cancellations as Jackson’s behaviour became erratic, partly owing to the painkiller dependency he’d developed after the on-set incident.
As a new team, Jordan had to endure the bear pit of prequalifying in the first half of 1991, until it accrued enough points to be excused when the eligibility criteria was reassessed mid-season. Though it was a cruel scrabble – rivals had a habit of dawdling on the racing line to spoil others’ fast laps – Gachot made it through every time while de Cesaris failed just once, owing to an engine glitch in the opening round.
Though reliability was a bugbear – de Cesaris had to push his car over the line in Mexico and was eliminated from Monaco by a snapped throttle cable when he was on the cusp of the points – Jordan regularly competed within the top 10. But points were only awarded up to sixth place, territory de Cesaris and Gachot struggled to breach. The turning point came in Canada, where they finished fourth and fifth.
However, relations were souring between Jordan and Gachot owing to EJ’S demands for more money. Bills were going unpaid. Gachot’s incarceration proved to be a godsend beyond the remarkable fairytale that was Michael Schumacher’s F1 debut: Mercedes stumped up US$150,000 to put Michael in the car at Spa, and Eddie was paid off (by a still undisclosed amount) in the Bernie Ecclestone-brokered deal which moved Schumacher to Benetton for the next race. Eddie sold the seat
on to Alex Zanardi after Roberto Moreno occupied it for Monza and Barcelona. Monies from this enabled EJ to stave off a winding-up order from Cosworth.
Come the end of the season Jordan had netted 13 points, modest compared with Mclaren’s 139 but good enough for fifth in the constructors’ championship, ahead of the more fancied Tyrrell-honda. Still the outlook was bleak: there was no money for engines and the collapse of the Japanese economy signalled the end of cashflow from there.
Jordan soldiered on into 1992 courtesy of the unloved, but free, Yamaha V12, and pay drivers Stefano Modena and Mauricio Gugelmin. Other teams toppled in the coming seasons as the money ran out: Andrea Moda, Coloni, Larrousse, Leyton House, Fondmetal, Scuderia Italia…
That Jordan was able to keep the lights on is testament to EJ’S wonga-wangling savvy and the ability of Anderson and his design team to make a little go a long way. One of them is still doing that – Andrew Green, now technical director as the team, after several changes of owner, does battle in green once again.
BILLS WERE GOING UNPAID. GACHOT’S INCARCERATION PROVED TO BE A GODSEND BEYOND THE REMARKABLE FAIRYTALE THAT WAS MICHAEL SCHUMACHER’S F1 DEBUT