Rush to Glory: FORMULA 1 Racing's Greatest Rivalry Read online

  Hunt’s only other hope was Bernie Ecclestone, the Brabham team owner. For 1976 the Brabham team was contracted to run Alfa Romeo engines with the Italian carmaker paying the team’s bills with sponsorship from the Martini & Rossi beverages company. The cars would be driven by South Americans Carlos Pace and Carlos Reutemann.

  Ecclestone sensed Hunt might be out of a drive and wanted to keep him in the sport. At the time, Ecclestone was just beginning to sell Formula One’s television broadcast rights, and he sensed that Hunt would be a vital part of that, especially in Britain. In the end, Ecclestone’s instincts proved right, and Hunt emerged as the key to unlocking Formula One’s true television potential.

  Ecclestone put his formidable mind toward getting Hunt a drive. He proposed setting up a Brabham B-team, whereby Hunt would drive a last year’s Brabham car fitted with a Ford-Cosworth engine. But when Ecclestone asked the Italians for permission to run Hunt in a separate team, they refused point blank. They weren’t about to have their Brabham dream team upstaged by a British playboy driving last year’s car and, in all likelihood, beating them. In the end, even Ecclestone’s persuasiveness couldn’t make that deal happen.

  Afterwards Hunt was deeply grateful and realized that Ecclestone had placed himself in a very difficult position on his behalf: “I think Bernie was only doing it as a matter of generosity to me.”

  So Hunt stared unemployment in the face. And that might have been the end for Hunt in Formula One had it not been for John Hogan, who headed up motor sport for the Marlboro cigarette company, the biggest sponsors in Formula One.

  By 1975 Hogan had become head of sponsorship with the task of using motor sport sponsorship to establish the Marlboro brand outside of North America. With a budget of $1 million a year to spend on Formula One, Marlboro was the title sponsor of the McLaren Formula One team, and Hogan had the two top drivers of the day, Emerson Fittipaldi and Niki Lauda, signed up to the brand.

  Like Ecclestone, Hogan would have liked to give Hunt a drive. To that end, he decided to confide in Hunt some information that no one else knew. Hogan told Hunt that he had one glimmer of hope for 1976. He told him that although Emerson Fittipaldi had signed a contract for the 1976 season worth $250,000 a year to drive for the Marlboro-sponsored McLaren team, it was by no means certain he would honor it. Hogan said that there was a glitch in the paperwork that could allow Fittipaldi to walk away from McLaren.

  Fittipaldi had a good reason for walking away. He had been offered $1 million a year, quadruple his existing salary, to drive for a Brazilian team sponsored by Copersucar, the Brazilian state-run sugar refiner. The team was run by his brother, Wilson Fittipaldi, which was another attraction. Fittipaldi pondered his choices. He could not be certain that the Copersucar car would be competitive, although he knew the McLaren would be.

  But an extra $750,000 a year was an awful lot of money in the mid-’70s, and he was severely tempted.

  Aware of the offer, Hogan and McLaren team principal, Teddy Mayer, were certain that Fittipaldi would turn it down. They were totally relaxed that Fittipaldi would drive for McLaren and put winning races before money.

  But they were to be proved very wrong. Hogan, who had a reputation for infallibility where Formula One contracts were concerned, openly admitted he did not see Fittipaldi’s defection coming at all. As he said, “Teddy was convinced, we were convinced he was going to drive.”

  It all came to a head on the evening of Saturday, November 22, when Mayer got a phone call from Fittipaldi, in São Paulo, telling him he had just signed a contract with Copersucar for 1976, and that meant he would not be driving a McLaren. He explained to Mayer that it had been his dream to drive for a Brazilian team.

  Mayer could scarcely believe what he was hearing. When Fittipaldi had finished, Mayer told him bluntly that he had a contract to drive the Marlboro McLaren and that he would sue him if he didn’t. Fittipaldi politely pointed out that he had not signed his McLaren contract and was sure Marlboro would release him from its contract once they knew that. Fittipaldi had it all worked out. Mayer reflected later, “I can only say he has sold out for a bag of gold.”

  Mayer was a brusque American, totally devoid of emotion and not one to dwell on the past. But he realized that Fittipaldi’s defection was a huge loss. In his two seasons with McLaren, Fittipaldi had finished first and second in the Formula One world championship. In fact, the realization that Fittipaldi would not be driving for McLaren in 1976 hit him like a thunderbolt. He knew it was too late to sign a replacement top-line driver. Mayer picked up the phone to Hogan and asked him what to do. Mayer knew Marlboro would be very disappointed with the news.

  It was a cold night, and Hogan was at home with his wife, Anne, in Reading, Berkshire. Mayer didn’t waste time talking about Fittipaldi, as Hogan recalls: “Teddy rang me up and just said, ‘We need to find a driver.’”

  Mayer’s idea was to promote Jochen Mass, a German who was McLaren’s number two, to be number one driver, and the search would be for a good number two to replace Mass. But unlike Mayer, Hogan did not believe that Mass was good enough to be number one.

  Hogan knew he must find a star, a proper number one. In an ideal world, his first choice would have been to lure three-time world champion, the then 37-year-old Jackie Stewart out of retirement, but Hogan knew that wasn’t going to happen. As Hogan admits, as much as he may have liked it, “I couldn’t see Jackie sitting in the cockpit.”

  Instead, as Hogan recalls, “I knew who to get instantly—James.”

  Hogan decided to go after him, but he was immediately met with opposition from both Mayer and Alastair Caldwell, McLaren’s team manager; and he knew there would also be objections from his bosses at Marlboro headquarters in Lausanne, Switzerland.

  Hogan said, “I knew I had to make it look good, because Marlboro and McLaren would have been just as happy with Jackie Ickx.” In fact, Belgian veteran Jackie Ickx was immediately the bookies’ favorite to get the drive. But Hogan knew what everyone else didn’t: that by then, Ickx was a has-been. He was determined that Ickx did not get the drive.

  Hogan had always been very focused, and now all his focus was on Hunt. He instinctively knew there wasn’t a moment to lose. In his mind he could already envisage Ickx on a plane to Lausanne to sign a deal with his immediate boss, Marlboro’s European vice president of marketing, Pat Duffler. That terrible thought drove him on.

  But first Hogan had to find Hunt. On that cold Saturday night in November, he had no idea where Hunt might be found. First he called his home in Marbella, and the person who answered was drunk. The drunkard told Hogan, “We think he’s in London.” Exasperated, Hogan put down the phone and continued searching. Eventually he tracked Hunt down at Lord Hesketh’s town house in London.

  It turned out that Hunt already knew Fittipaldi would be leaving McLaren; the Brazilian driver had tipped him off a few days earlier. Hunt was very grateful and said, “This fine gesture by Emerson, from a business point of view, gave me warning—time to get myself ready.” He added, “I knew that if Emerson didn’t sign, I was going to McLaren. And I had known that since the beginning of September.”

  Hogan told a disbelieving Hunt, “I’m going to come see you now.” Hunt thought Hogan was joking, but Hogan jumped into his Ford Escort and drove from Reading to London at high speed.

  But Hunt’s confidence was misplaced. Except for Hogan, no one else wanted him to have the drive. Without Hogan lobbying for him, he had little chance of getting it. Ickx was always the favored candidate. In fact, the attitude internally at McLaren at the time was “Anybody but Hunt.” Fortunately for Hunt, Hogan’s attitude was the reverse. It was “Anybody but Ickx,” and Hogan ultimately had final say.

  When Hogan arrived at Hesketh’s house an hour and a half later, Hunt was much the worse for wear and had been smoking cannabis in the company of a girl Hogan hadn’t met before, Jane Birbeck. Hunt seemed out of it and unaware of the urgency of Hogan’s mission, and even less cognizant of the fact
that his entire future was on the line.

  Hunt behaved petulantly and refused to talk to Hogan alone, insisting he had no secrets from Jane Birbeck, even though the two hardly knew each other at that stage. On any other day, Hogan might have left and driven home. But he humored Hunt and, against his better judgment, laid out the deal in front of Birbeck. Hogan knew that if the details of a deal got out, Hunt’s chances of the McLaren drive would be stone dead. But still, Hunt insisted that she remain present, as he clearly trusted her.

  Then Hunt surprised Hogan again. He tried to tell Hogan he had other offers and wasn’t particularly interested in the drive. He said that he was about to sign a contract with Lotus. But Hogan knew better. As he recalls: “He tried to convince me that he had a Lotus offer on the table, but I knew that wasn’t going to happen.”

  It turned out that Hunt was overawed by the offer of a McLaren drive. One of Hunt’s biggest anxieties was whether he would be able to beat his new teammate Jochen Mass. Mass had a formidable reputation in Formula 3, and Hunt’s fears were not as irrational as they may now seem.

  Ignoring Hunt’s anxieties about Mass, Hogan spelled out what was on offer: three contracts with Marlboro, McLaren, and Texaco and a retainer of $50,000 a year. Hunt knew vaguely what Fittipaldi was earning and told Hogan that his offer was laughable. But Hogan was deadly serious.

  Hogan simply reiterated that Hunt was in no position to bargain and that the retainer was $50,000 plus success bonuses, prize money, and extra fees for personal appearances. And that, he said, was that; take it or leave it—knowing all the while that Hunt could not afford to leave it.

  Hogan said later, “It was very low on the money; I pushed him down to as low as I thought he would go. We realized he didn’t have an option. We played it cool. I was desperate to sign him, but I didn’t tell him that.”

  Hunt looked at his old friend and decided not to call his bluff. He nodded ascent, and with that, Hogan drove back to Reading.

  The following morning, Hunt sobered up and telephoned his brother Peter with the news. Peter Hunt was delighted, as well as secretly relieved.

  McLaren was the most successful Formula One team of the past five years. It had been founded by Bruce McLaren, a New Zealander who entered Formula One in 1966 and who had been killed testing a sports car at Goodwood in 1970. The team survived its founder’s death and carried on, being run by Mayer from a factory at Colnbrook, near London’s Heathrow Airport. By the end of 1975 the team had won 15 Formula One grand prix races, the Indianapolis 500, and the Can-Am sports car series in America several times.

  On Monday, November 24, Peter Hunt rang Hogan and accepted the offer on behalf of his brother. Hogan immediately set to preparing the contracts and convincing his bosses at Marlboro in Lausanne. Hogan said, “I managed to slip and slide it through, partially on the grounds that it would give us a good story—the Brit [Hunt] against the German [Lauda].”

  But Hogan still had to convince McLaren. Team manager Alastair Caldwell did not want Hunt under any circumstances. Caldwell could nix the deal if he had a mind to, as could Mayer.

  Neither Mayer nor Caldwell rated Hunt, although they recognized his achievements with the small Hesketh team. So Hogan invited Caldwell to a local hotel and ordered a bottle of Absolut vodka. They drank it between them, and Caldwell was persuaded.

  Afterwards Caldwell said, “We had no racing driver, and James had no seat. No option for him and no option for us.”

  But Caldwell said he still didn’t like Hunt and insisted, “James was an ordinary driver to me. We were fairly hard-bitten, we were a professional racing team, and the golden boy–hype business at Hesketh really meant nothing to us. They were just a bunch of wankers.”

  But Hogan ignored Caldwell and said, “I was convinced he was the right man.”

  Contract details took only a few days to finalize, and Hogan got the deal done in record time. From hearing about Fittipaldi to signing a contract, it took 13 days to get Hunt’s signature. Hogan fought to get Hunt signed to a driving contract before someone said he couldn’t.

  The contract was finally ready to sign on Friday, December 5, and Hogan took it round to Lord Hesketh’s house to get Hunt’s signature. When the deal was finally signed, Hunt, Hogan, and his wife donned their finery and walked to the annual British Racing Drivers’ Club ball being held at the Dorchester Hotel in London’s Park Lane. At the ball, David Benson read the body language and sensed what had happened.

  Benson broke the story in the Sunday Express some three days before the official announcement. The following Wednesday, McLaren and Marlboro held a joint press conference to announce Hunt as their new driver. At the conference Mayer took all the credit for signing Hunt: “When Emerson Fittipaldi rang me to say he would not be driving for us this season, I was deeply upset, more dismayed than I cared to reveal. It was a great personal relationship, and it had suddenly been jarred. The mood lasted 27 seconds. I thought of James Hunt. I thought of Hunt’s great talent, his courage, and his technique. But most of all I thought of his hunger. Like great boxers, a racing driver has to have that thing inside him which drives him on beyond his rivals.”

  It was utter nonsense, but only John Hogan knew that it was Mayer who had coined the phrase “Anyone but Hunt” within McLaren. Nevertheless, John Hogan stood nearby and just smiled at Mayer’s audacity and didn’t care to correct him.

  But Hogan had one more hurdle to get over. He had to take his new driver to Lausanne to meet his bosses at Marlboro.

  Rather typically, Hunt arrived at the offices of Marlboro with no shoes on. Hogan took Hunt into the office of a top Marlboro executive. After they had shaken hands, Hunt walked out of the office and, as soon as he was out of earshot, said in front of more than half a dozen other more-junior Marlboro execs, “He’s a cunt.” Hogan recalled: “Everybody burst into laughter, and another top Marlboro man said, ‘You’re absolutely right.’” Years later, the same scene was reenacted in the Jim Carrey film Liar, Liar. It is hardly surprising, given the story has been retold so many times, that it has become such a classic.

  It was the start of a wonderful relationship and one of the best deals John Hogan ever did for Marlboro. Hunt walked the walk and smoked his Marlboros, and sales of the brand soared across Europe.

  Well, actually he didn’t really smoke Marlboros. Hunt preferred to smoke Rothmans. But every night, in deference to his new sponsor, Hunt would transfer his Rothmans cigarettes to a Marlboro red-and-white carton.

  When all the hurdles had been cleared, both Hunt and his brother Peter were far from elated. Elation had turned into panic very quickly. They were worried that they could not live up to the deals they had signed. As Peter Hunt recalled, “Nobody really knew how good James was. Maybe the Hesketh was a super car and his driving was only average.” Hunt himself, for all his self-confidence, was remarkably candid and realistic about his own abilities at the time: “If you want to be ridiculous about it, I wasn’t to know if the Hesketh was a car that was three seconds a lap better than anything else and I was just driving it slowly, or vice versa—that it was three seconds a lap worse than anything else and I was driving it mighty quick. You can form opinions, but you don’t know for sure.”

  Niki Lauda observed all these shenanigans from the island of Ibiza, where he spent most of the close season closeted secretly with his new girlfriend, Marlene. He was delighted when Emerson Fittipaldi announced that he had left McLaren, and he believed his closest rival had been sidelined. He shared Alastair Caldwell’s opinion of Hunt and didn’t really rate him. He had no notion that James Hunt would prove to be his closest competitor in 1976.

  The most unlikely of circumstances had set up the Formula One season of 1976 to be the most remarkable ever. And so it proved.

  CHAPTER 3

  Hunt Astonishes McLaren and Lauda

  Pole Comes from Nowhere

  Brazil: January 23–25, 1976

  The 1976 Brazilian Grand Prix was held at the Interlagos track, jus
t outside São Paulo, over the third weekend of January. In those days, the season started early, and James Hunt flew from his Christmas holidays in Gstaad to South America in plenty of time to acclimatize to the heat and humidity of São Paulo. He wanted as much time as possible to get to know his new team, many of whom he hardly knew. But he also had other motives for arriving early: He wanted to party, which for him involved drinking as much as possible, cocaine, and sleeping with as many women as possible. But as debauched as he was in those two weeks, his antics were a mere shadow of what had gone on in the Hesketh days in São Paulo in 1973 and 1974.

  In contrast, Niki Lauda flew to São Paulo the day before the qualifying began and locked himself in his hotel room, spending most of the time watching television, reading, and preparing for the race. When he was racing he avoided drink, drugs, or women. Instead, as a diversion, Lauda had become obsessed with flying, which he found just as fulfilling as driving a race car. He was content to spend his time immersing himself in reading aircraft manuals.

  Hunt was totally the opposite; he spent hardly any time in his hotel room, and partying took precedence over racing. He loved the São Paulo social scene and had made many friends there in 1973 and 1974, when he and Alexander Hesketh had had plenty of money to spend.

  With Alexander gone, Hunt spent much time in the company of Max Mosley. The 36-year-old Mosley ran the March Formula One team and was also part-time secretary of the Formula One Constructors’ Association (FOCA), run by Bernie Ecclestone. He and Hunt got on very well; it was a relationship that dated from five years earlier, when Hunt had raced March cars. Hunt liked Mosley, and the two men both liked women; they also shared a similar outlook on life, although Mosley didn’t indulge in drugs.