Motor Racing: The Pursuit of Victory 1930-1962

By Anthony Carter and Jack Sears

This book is a virtual time machine to the past. It presents stunning photographs from motor racing history, most previously unpublished, and examines the many facets of Grand Prix racing before the dominance of television and commercial advertising. Here are stories of derring-do and racing that constantly pushed the boundaries of technology. The story begins in the 1930s when the German Auto Unions and Mercedes were heavily subsidised by the Nazi regime to strengthen its engineering might. This produced the most powerful racing cars ever (at least until the turbocharged cars of the 1980s), and was followed by the postwar era that saw the BRM V16 bringing prestige to Great Britain, before the rear-engined revolution in Formula 1.

• Language: English
• Publisher: Veloce
• Release date: Nov 11, 2019
• ISBN: 9781787116153

Book preview

1

IN THE BEGINNING

Formula 1 motor racing today is all about personalities. The drivers are the stars, the cars merely tools for the job. Unless it is a Ferrari. of course, in which case it is the Scuderia which still counts! The stars are the creation of the media and a world wide television audience, suitably packaged to satisfy a public craving for heroes.

Years ago, the emphasis of Grand Prix racing was different. Prior to World War II, it was seen as a means of showing off Germany’s engineering might. Despite massive expenditure on armaments build up, Adolf Hitler followed Benito Mussolini’s example of the early 1930s with Alfa Romeo by state-funding Mercedes-Benz and Auto Union in the years leading up to the war. Prestige then meant everything for the supremacy of the Fatherland. Rudolf Caracciola, Manfred von Brauchitsch and Bernd Rosemeyer became legends of the sport, but it is as well to remember that, at the time, they were racing for the Third Reich, instruments of the Nazi regime. Our own Dick Seaman was part of the Mercedes-Benz team from 1937 to 1939. Newspaper photographs of him offering a perfunctory Nazi salute, surrounded by bull-necked party officials after winning the German Grand Prix at the Nürburgring in 1938 were not well received by many of the British Establishment. The great Italian driver Tazio Nuvolari was an exception; a free spirit racing anything for his own personal fulfilment and glory. If he had to race for Auto Union (in 1938 and 1939) when Alfa Romeo lost the struggle, so be it!

Isolationist Great Britain had never succeeded at the sport’s highest level – more an extravagant playground for wealthy amateurs than anything else. That playground was Brooklands, a place of much fun and bravery, as gentleman drivers hurled their monstrous cars along the Railway Straight – a world far removed from Grand Prix racing. It was left to the French to pioneer the sport in those early, dusty city-to-city races radiating from Paris just over one hundred years ago, organised by the newly formed Automobile Club de France. These events became ever more ambitious, reaching out far beyond the borders of France to Berlin, to Vienna, and, in 1903, the ill-fated Paris-Madrid race which was halted at Bordeaux after a number of appalling accidents which resulted in the deaths of five competitors and numerous spectators.

Thereafter, the birth pangs of Grand Prix racing had to be confined to closed circuits which could be better controlled. In 1906 the Grand Prix de l’Automobile Club de France was run on closed roads at Le Mans, albeit 64 miles (103km) to the lap, a race distance of 770 miles (1239km)! Hungarian driver Ferenc Szisz and his 13-litre, 4-cylinder Renault holds the distinction of winning this first true Grand Prix, and it was the Americans who followed France with the running of their own Grands Prix during those formative years before Europe began to tear itself apart during the carnage of the First World War. Grand Prix racing was to be put on hold for the next six years.

Throughout the 1920s circuits which exist today became established, the track at Monza, for example, the cradle for the Italian Grand Prix, was created in the grounds of a royal park close to Milan on 3rd September 1922. Monza has remained the spiritual home of the Italian Grand Prix ever since, only once being held elsewhere – at Imola in 1980. Small wonder that the place positively reeks of the past, its unalloyed history still tangible today. Moreover, it is the stamping ground of Ferrari, the oldest team in Grand Prix racing and, come September, the place reverberates with the sounds of racing engines just as it has for the past seventy years. We should all make the journey to Monza at least once in our lifetime to pay homage to this holy of holies. The Curva Grande, Lesmo, Parabolica – such names, such memories! Peter Gethin won the fastest race here in 1971 at an average speed of 150mph (241km) driving a BRM, a furious, five-car slipstreaming battle lasting less than one second at the finish! The likes of that will never be seen again. Listen for those sounds from the past ... and bow your head!

Monza was closely followed by another venue which was to become its greatest rival if sheer speed and drama are the measure of our passion. The Grand Prix de Belgique et Europe was first held on 28th June 1925 at Spa Francorchamps, a hair-raising nine-mile dash on closed roads through the hills and forests of the Ardennes, not far from Liège. The flat-out Masta Straight passed a group of houses either side of the road. The circuit does not have the unbroken continuity as home of the national Grand Prix as does Monza, but for sheer eye-watering, pulse racing adrenalin, it has no equal. Eau Rouge has survived the modified circuit to this day and remains the most challenging, revered corner in all motor racing.

After a brief debut at Avus in 1926, the Grosser Preis von Deutschland found its home at the Nürburgring in 1927 – albeit a venue for sports cars in those early years. Set in the Eifel mountains south of Bonn, the circuit contorts, climbs and dives for 14½ miles (23km) through the pine forests, built as part of a government employment programme in what was then a remote and deprived region. With 174 corners to a lap, it became the ultimate challenge for both car and driver. Demanding, exhausting, exhilarating, it evoked every emotion and more. There were no compromises for the ‘ring – you gave it your all! Accidents were legion, the sheer scale of the circuit making it impossible to provide adequate medical facilities. After Niki Lauda’s shocking accident at Bergwerk in 1976, the old Nordschleife was abandoned and the Grosser Preis von Deutschland moved to the high speed circuit at Hockenheim. There could hardly have been a greater contrast, but thankfully the Nürburgring, in name at least, survived in the form of a new 4½ mile (7km) circuit, first used for a second Grand Prix on German soil in October 1984, the Grosser Preis von Europa. Still in the shadow of the ruined hill-top Nürburg castle, the new facility runs to the south of the original, and incorporates the old start and finish area. Inevitably, the new ‘ring paled into insignificance alongside the old, the transformation nothing like as skilful and sympathetic as that of the truncated circuit at Spa Francorchamps, first used for the Belgian Grand Prix in 1983, after too many years spent at the vastly inferior tracks of Nivelles-Baulers and the scarcely better Zolder – both purpose built, characterless and reviled by the drivers.

So it was that the seeds of Grand Prix racing began to grow into what we recognise today; these three classic circuits still existing in some form or other, whilst others came and went, never to be seen again. Monaco remains an anachronism now, just as it was when the first Grand Prix de Monaco was held. A more unlikely venue it would be difficult to imagine, yet it has withstood the test of time ever since Englishman ‘W Williams’ (a pseudonym for William Grover-Williams) won the first race there in 1929 in a Bugatti.

It is open to debate as to whether Grand Prix racing came of age or quite simply scaled new heights when entering its most exciting era in the 1930s. Those monstrous silver Mercedes-Benz and Auto Unions, together with the red of Alfa Romeo were to be seen in every school boy’s annual, artistic licence allowing them to be raced alongside steep precipices, billowing clouds of dust, the leather-capped occupant glancing behind for his pursuers, silk scarf streaming in the wind!

2

THE INSPIRATION & THE DREAM

A visionary maybe, or, perhaps more unkindly, a dreamer, but without doubt a patriot; this was Raymond Mays. His was a familiar name for derring-do throughout the 1920s and 1930s, both as a driver internationally, but also at Brooklands, and for his exploits on the hills of Great Britain – hill climbing being the staple diet of British motor sporting enthusiasts at the time. It was his establishment of English Racing Automobiles Limited in 1933 and the success which followed that really brought him public fame.

ERA racing cars were built in workshops on the site of an old orchard behind the family home, Eastgate House at Bourne, deep in the heart of the Lincolnshire fens, with financial backing from Humphrey Cook, a new-found friend who had conveniently inherited a family fortune and was keen to spend it on the sport he loved. The Mays family business was immersed in the needs of a farming community, the production of fertilizers and seeds but also wool merchants. Although blessed with a blue-chip pedigree (public school, Grenadier Guards commission and university), none of his father’s wealth was put at risk on Raymond’s more ambitious projects. Apart from Humphrey Cook, Raymond later came across Peter Berthon who, at the time, was serving as a Flying Cadet at the RAF College at nearby Cranwell. Berthon was twenty years old and lacked any formal technical qualifications but was possessed of a remarkable mechanical prowess – in fact more than that, a natural mechanical aptitude waiting to be harnessed. Much later, from this unlikely genesis would come BRM’s Chief Engineer, albeit by an extraordinary circumstance. Berthon suffered injuries after being forced to crash-land a Gloster Grebe only six months after becoming an RAF Pilot Officer posted to Duxford, near Cambridge, in 1927. It was an ill wind ... as the saying goes! Berthon resigned his RAF commission on the grounds of ill health and went on to what had become his passionate interest ... to join forces with Raymond Mays and his thriving racing enterprise at Bourne.

In the hands of Raymond, Humphrey Cook and wealthy private owners, ERA racing cars became very successful both at home and abroad; driving a home produced racing car, British drivers were given the opportunity at last to compete with the best. Fortuitously, it all coincided in 1934 with the introduction of a supplementary 1½-litre supercharged formula for ‘Voiturettes,’ or Formula 2 as we recognise it today. ERAs were winning races right up to the outbreak of World War II, the most successful private owner being the charismatic Siamese prince who raced as ‘B Bira.’ He owned no less than three of the cars which he famously named Romulus, Remus and Hanuman, the latter wrecked in an accident at Reims in 1939. By an extraordinary quirk of fate, the mangled chassis (R12C) was located in South Africa in 1962 and returned to this country, rebuilt in the 1970s and raced once more as Hanuman II, thus perpetuating Bira’s evocative names for his cars.

Another early customer at Bourne, even though it took a year for the car to be delivered, was Reggie Tongue, a wealthy amateur who took delivery of ERA R11B in May 1936 and competed at home and abroad over the next two and a half years, both in the Voiturette class, and in prestigious hill climbs. The ethos then was very different to what it is now; for Reggie, it was not so much a case of winning, as taking part in the sport he loved. The camaraderie, the sense of competition, the challenge of driving on some of the great continental circuits, and the achievement of overcoming risk captivated him.

Reggie took up serious motor sport in 1933, after failing to make the grade in his medical exams at university. Fortunately, he had the wherewithal to buy the right sort of motor cars, competing in sports car events with Aston Martin, and later owning two supercharged K3 MG Magnettes. While still only twenty two years of age, and relatively inexperienced, he drove a works supported Aston Martin MkII LM10 into tenth place at Le Mans 1934, slowed from what could have been a much higher placing to conserve reliability, being the only one to finish from a huge onslaught on the race that year by Aston Martin.

It was the call of single seaters that appealed to Reggie most and persuaded him to join the ever increasing number of drivers anxious to get their hands on these ERAs which were rapidly opening up a whole new era of competition. ERAs were available in three options, all based on an advanced 6-cylinder Riley design with Roots (later Zoller) supercharger and preselector Wilson gearbox built into a strong frame from Reid Railton’s design board. What is more, the cars were available at competitive prices; the 1100cc version at £1500, the 1500cc at £1700 and the 2-litre at £1850 – much the same as for a new 3½-litre Bentley at the time.

Reggie Tongue at the foot of the Simplon Pass for a wayside meeting with fellow competitor Kenneth Evans, and his entourage from Bellevue Garage. (Courtesy David Morris)

Livorno on the Italian coast was an overnight stop for Reggie, the deserted promenade ready for the flood of visitors of a later era! (Courtesy David Morris)

Reggie enjoyed his racing enormously and had many adventures along the way. Fortunately for us, he took the trouble to pack a camera as part of his essential luggage, and some of the images he recorded appear in this volume, featuring not just the great cars of the period, but also the personalities that went with them, and the places visited. Reggie had the utmost respect for Tazio Nuvolari, recognising him as the great driver he was but also one whose presence on the track could be intimidating. There was the occasion when Tazio came up to Reggie after practice for the Coppa Acerbo at Pescara, a fearsome road circuit of 15½ miles (25km) from the start on the Adriatic coast up into the hills behind. Tazio had heard that Reggie believed he was going to die when the Italian ace forced his Alfa Romeo round the inside of a corner, pushing Reggie to the outside of an unprotected drop. Tazio Nuvolari was far from contrite, knowing he would never force a fellow competitor into a position which he was incapable of coping with. Maybe Reggie should have seen it as the ultimate compliment from the great master!

Reggie sold his ERA at the end of 1938 to the Hon Peter Aitken, Lord Beaverbrook’s son, and in May 1939, bought a new 1½-litre Maserati 4CL. The Maserati was considered the class of the field and Reggie loved its pin sharp handling and confidence-boosting capabilities in almost every area. It was, of course, a huge advance on the ERA, but Reggie refused to compare it unfavourably against the modern Maserati, despite the latter’s performance, capable of producing close to 220bhp at 8000rpm from 78mm² cylinder dimensions and 4 valves per cylinder.

Reggie’s first race with his new car was the Junior Car Club International Trophy at Brooklands in May 1939, a wet race won by Bira in an older 2.9-litre Maserati. As time would prove, it was the last long-distance motor race on the famed Brooklands track. The ‘4CL,’ slim and elegant of line, never had the opportunity to prove itself in Reggie’s hands, being consigned to short events a world apart from the far away races abroad for which it was intended. With war clouds gathering, Reggie went to America in company with John Cobb to see a new country of vast horizons. When he returned (after great difficulty in securing a flight in such uncertain times), he joined the Royal Air Force and went to war.

For close on ten wonderful years pre-war, Reggie Tongue had always competed at amateur level, ever the ‘sportsman,’ never optimising on the real ability he undoubtedly possessed. The successes, the disappointments, the ‘grease paint’ of motor racing (as once described by commentator Nevil Lloyd) had gone forever, and when peacetime returned, Reggie had lost the lust for what had been so much a part of his early life. Maybe he simply realised that to quit whilst ahead made eminently good sense! To have survived his racing career and wartime service was a step far enough. He pursued business interests and married for the second time in 1963, his first wife, Johnnie, having succumbed to a long illness. His marriage to Elsie provided a full life, and sailing with their two daughters, Louise and Emma, occupied much of their lives together. He died in 1992, also leaving a son, Charles, from his first marriage.

Driven by Bill Moss,this famous ERA (R1A) was still very quick in post-war racing of the 1950s, leading more modern machinery. Here at the Crystal Palace, Whit Monday Meeting 21st May 1956, it finished 5th and 4th in the London Trophy heats. No 76 is the Cooper-Alta of dairyman George Wicken. (Courtesy Bob Dance)

Despite the success of ERA, it far from fulfilled the dream of its creators. It was in the Grand Prix arena that both Raymond Mays and Peter Berthon longed to be, to compete alongside the silver giants of Germany and the red of Italy. They were to embark eventually on a design study for an ERA Grand Prix car for the proposed 1938-1940 formula, 3 litres supercharged or 4½ litres unsupercharged, but the constant shortage of funds and an uncertain future internationally were to shelve such ambitions once and for all. ERA and its creators had to settle for what was affordable and for what they did best, which was Voiturette racing. Apart from the handsome but singularly unsuccessful E-type of 1939, seventeen traditional ‘upright’ ERAs were built at Bourne during the brief span of six years. Incredibly, all but one of those cars survives to this day, most of them in the United Kingdom, lovingly cared for and raced as hard as ever. The one missing from the canon, ERA R3B, was destroyed in an accident at Deauville in the Grand Prix 1936, killing its brave driver Marcel Lehoux. Be that as it may, more than seventy years on ERA must be considered