PERFECTLY FRANK
BACK IN THE DAY, WHEN LIFE WAS in Technicolor and major companies were queueing to sponsor Formula 1 teams, Jackie Stewart used every January to organise a charity clay pigeon shooting event at Gleneagles. Most of the teams participated, and their backers gave handsomely to the cause. These occasions were savoured, not least because everyone involved – drivers and team owners included – was for once off duty, having fun.
Each year, sponsored by Ford, there was also a journalists’ team, of which I was a member. Everyone who attended has their memories of these get-togethers, and if mine are mainly of laughter and good fellowship, one from 1986 remains poignant. As my wife and I drove out of Gleneagles on Monday morning, Frank Williams was just starting his daily run, and waved as he passed by.
A month or so later we were in New York, meeting old friend Gordon Kirby for lunch, and he it was who broke the news that Frank was in hospital, paralysed after a terrible road accident. At the time his life hung in the balance, but wonderful work by his doctors, together with his own fierce determination, pulled him through, albeit for ever confined to a wheelchair.
His first public appearance came at Brands Hatch in July, where a huge British Grand Prix crowd stood and cheered him home. There was always a huge well of affection for Frank Williams, as apparent in the grandstands as in the press room. “If he lives 10 years, he’ll do very well,” Professor Sid Watkins told me that weekend. In the event, by the time we said good-bye to Frank, 35 had gone by.
“He was always a very pragmatic character,” said Patrick Head. “In the old days when Frank didn’t have any money for engines, or whatever, his attitude was always, ‘How am I going to get
