Championing Equality, 70s Style

The ‘70s began for Porsche as troubled times.  No more so than in the United States, where the first two years of the decade were characterised in broad economic terms by recession and by price-based consumer resistance as far as the Porsche marque was concerned.  Not only was this very undermining of the company’s American retail operations, but it also forced a scaling back of production in Zuffenhausen.  The unsettling effects were compounded by change and uncertainty brought about by renewal of the company’s management, a process to do as much with the emergence of younger members of the Porsche and Piëch families keen to make their mark, as with the confrontation with harder times and reduced profitability.  Perhaps unexpectedly, the situation was resolved by a deliberate programme of divestment of key roles such that a much more diverse range of skills, expertise and knowledge came to exist in the Porsche management team.  Especially notable was a re-appointment of Ernst Fuhrmann as head of Porsche’s technical functions.  Backed up by Helmuth Bott taking care of engineering development, Fuhrmann was in a position to assert the supremacy of key product values centred on engineering excellence, quality/durability and class-leading performance.  Meanwhile, a wide-ranging cultural/commercial outlook was established through Butzi Porsche’s creation of the Porsche Design company.  By the end of ’72, all the change was enough to warrant redefinition of the company as an Aktiengesellscaft, ‘public’ enterprise.

As for the products, there was for some time a stalling of development of the 911 model while attention was diverted to study of proposals for a larger, four seat Porsche.  Also diluting attention to the core-product, was work on a new transaxle and studies challenging the basic configuration of the engine/transmission within the chassis.  Meanwhile, complying with the basic design of the 911, it’s competition model, designated 911S, began the new decade with increasing engine capacities - taking them from the initial 2.0 to 2.2 litres, and then to 2.4 litres.  Performance was further enhanced by programmes of chassis/body lightening and homologation of the components involved.  In ’70 the company signalled its interest in promoting the marque’s competition profile, introducing The Porsche Cup.  For ’72, an American buyer could be tempted by a new 2341 cc 911S with 190 bhp and 154 lb-ft torque, (both DIN).  But this was a prelude as confidence returned – both within Porsche and to the wider economy – to the much more vigorous 911s which were under development, the model type having regained its due focus.

The Porsche Cup was something of special interest to one particular American – Roger Penske.  Ohio-born Penske had shown entrepreneurial talent alongside a competitive spirit since an early age, initially buying and selling cars while also racing them.  As the Sixties progressed, so too did Penske’s business career, adding interests in transportation and associated industries,  while his racing expertise also developed to the extent that he achieved professional driver status.  Though he hung up his helmet mid-decade in order to concentrate on corporate auto retailing, he maintained an interest in motorsport, forming and running ‘Penske Racing.’  The team was soon operating very competitively, marking its mark in the Can-Am in ’66, stepping up to the Indycar series in ’68 and tackling Trans-Am the following year.  At this time, much as Penske himself was propelling the team forward, his lead driver, Mark Donohue, was hugely instrumental in its successes by virtue of his at-the-wheel expertise, backed by a significant understanding of the cars’ technical aspects and an exceptional facility with the engineering involved.  Donohue was highly capable with a wide range of types of car, but he was always especially happy to take to the track in a Porsche.  Thus, when Penske began to talk to him about the idea of an International Race of Champions (IROC), Donohue was quick to suggest that the best car for the series would be a Porsche 911, such was the performance and durability of the model.  Donohue didn’t have to push too hard because Penske had become a real Porsche aficionado, racing one in SCCA events in the late Fifties, supported by Porsche factory-trained Austrian, Karl Kainhofer.  Kainhofer was employed when Penske Racing was established and stayed there for a remarkable 30 years, mainly functioning as the team’s engine guru.

Roger Penske in a Porsche 718 RS, 1960  Courtesy Mark Dill

Roger Penske, left, with Mark Donohue

By early ’73 Porsche had homologated 500 911 Carrera RS Group 4 cars.  At the Daytona circuit in February ’73 the 24 Hours race was hard fought between the Carrera RSRs of the Brumos and the Penske teams.  Given the capabilities of the prototype cars expected to take overall victory, the fact that the RSRs battled for the lead was in itself quite remarkable.  Nevertheless, the Brumos car, driven by Peter Gregg and Hurley Haywood won by no less than 15 laps.  The Penske car did not finish, a piston failure to blame.  However, it was Penske who within the year would be the instigator for one of the most distinctive Porsche racing models of all time – the IROC 3.0 911 Carrera RSR.

Brumos 911 heads Penske’s, Daytona, ‘73  Courtesy Lou Galanos

The concept of a motorsport Race of Champions was initiated by David Lockton.  Lockton had in the mid-Sixties extended his career in TV production by establishing the sport/media agency, Sports Headliners.  Where others had failed, Lockton succeeded in creating a brand new motorsport venue in California – the Ontario Motor Speedway, inaugurated in August ’70.  There was initial success, including the staging of a non-championship F1 race (the Questor Grand Prix) ) at the venue.  However, a great deal of debt was also incurred and the following year Lockton walked away from the enterprise. 

During his involvement at the Ontario Motor Speedway, Lockton’s colleagues had included Les Richter, a well-known NFL player, who, after his football career, became involved in motorsport governance, along with Roger Penske.  Richter and Penske were encouraged by a TV producer, Mike Phelps, to develop Lockton’s Race of Champions idea.  A management board was set up with Richter acting as its chairman while Penske spearheaded activities to convert the concept into a reality.  Having determined that the competition should involve twelve top-line drivers, a format of three qualifying races/heats and a ‘final’ was devised.  The drivers invited to compete were, from the U.S. Bobby Unser, A J Foyt, Richard Petty, Mark Donohue, George Follmer, Roger McCluskey, David Pearson, Gordon Johncock, Peter Revson and Bobby Allison.  The field was completed by New Zealand’s Denis Hulme and the Brazilian, Emerson Fittipaldi.

The 12 Champions  Courtesy Douglas Dempsey

Given the high quality of the driving contingent, a substantial prize fund of $175,000 was established.  Somewhat unusually, it was determined that the driver taking the largest share of the fund would be declared series champion whether or not they were the winner of the Daytona final. 

With so much going on over a range of car types/race series, Penske recognised the need for the IROC to be managed with proper focus.  To this end he hired Jay Signore to manage the activity as a carefully defined project.  Valued for his technical expertise by Donohue since ’59 when they were racing Elvas, Signore also had good organisational ability – as too did his wife, who was also drafted in to strengthen Penske Racing’s management team.  Signore enlisted Al Holbert to relieve Donohue of some of the initial testing of two Zuffenhausen-supplied evaluation 911s in order to confirm the sort of detail specification/upgrades required, in consultation with Don Cox, acting as Chief Engineer.  As an outcome, the Penske Racing’s call was for an evolution of the milestone ’73 Carrera, embodying a version which was as much an exercise in body lightening as it was in terms of increased engine power.  With all ‘unnecessary’ interior trim/equipment removed, fibreglass engine deck lid, front trunk panel, front bumper/air dam, rear bumper/spoiler, extra-width rear wheel arches and Perspex side windows, a kerb weight of around 900 Kg was achieved, whereas the fifty to sixty units made for road car sales were some 30-60 Kg heavier, and a ‘standard’ 2.7 Carrera weighed in at 1075 Kg.  Such a 2.7 911 was a quick car at that weight and with an engine generating 210 bhp.  Its performance was however eclipsed by the RSR’s 330 bhp, (and a peak torque measure of 232 ft lbs).  Running with a compression ratio of 10.5:1, the 2996 cc engine was fuel-injected with a Bosch mechanical pump system featuring high positioned butterfly throttle bodies.  There were two spark plugs per cylinder.

RSR engine (6840026) in chassis #4600124  Courtesy Ottis & Co LLC

There were several complementary chassis upgrades too, including spinner-secured wheels and brake discs/calipers as specified for the 917.  Though not officially confirmed, the price paid per car by Penske was around $25,000.  By comparison, at that time the retail price of a 2.7 Carrera was just a little under $13,000.  The deal was for 15 cars – 12 for each race and 3 more for practice, (and as spares/hacks).  The race cars were not run in practice in order to avoid any suffering any wear/damage deleterious to their performance and therefore disadvantaging an individual driver.  In response, Porsche built the cars as listed below:

Chassis #	Engine #	Colour
911 4600016	6840021	Yellow
911 4600025	6840022	Grand Prix White
911 4600035	6840024	Gulf Blue
911 4600037	6840027	Green
911 4600040	6840023	Light Green
911 4600042	6840025	Orange
911 4600050	6840028	Aubergine
911 4600059	6840029	Acid Blue
911 4600075	6840033	Mexican Blue
911 4600085	6840035	Red
911 4600090	6840031	Orange
911 4600100	6840034	Yellow
911 4600111	6840033	Strawberry Pink
911 4600116	6840032	Carmen Red
911 4600124	6840026	Black

12 of the RSRs at Werke 1, Zuffenhausen, prior to shipping

The cars were race-prepared at Penske’s workshop, which was originally to be found in Newtown Square, PA.  However, it was relocated during the course of ‘73 to Reading, North West of Pennsylvania, where, in an opportunist move typical of Roger, devastation caused the previous year by a hurricane had enabled him to acquire land at a discounted price.  (In 2006 a rainstorm precipitated the demise of the site, bringing forward a further relocation, this time to the teams’ Endurance/NASCAR base at Mooresville, North Carolina). 

The allocation of cars to drivers was made ‘draw from a hat’ style.  While every effort was made in the Penske workshop to ensure that all the cars would have as near-as-possible identical performance, equal opportunity for all the drivers was further sought by the adoption of a rotation scheme , as follows: heat 1 winning driver to be allocated for heat 2 the car finished 12^th in heat 1; heat 1 driver finishing 2^nd to be allocated for heat 2 the car finished 11^th in heat 1, and so on.  Both heat 2 and 3 were started with a reverse grid formation.  Despite the care taken to equalise the drivers’ chances, once they were hands-on with the cars and able to talk together, resentments began to be expressed by some in regard to Donohue.  As per the title of his autobiography, (ghosted by Paul Van Vulkenburgh), The Unfair Advantage, there was a view that he had a more complete knowledge/understanding of the RSR car as a result of his involvement alongside Penske from the earliest days of the project.  Indeed, he has been quoted as saying of the RSR at the time, ‘Without a doubt the very best off the shelf production race car available at any price.’  On the other hand, several of his competitors found the car difficult to master.  Bobby Unser was reported as having said that none of the others found the RSR enjoyable to drive and suiting their own particular driving style. 

With Richter the president of Riverside International Raceway, (east of Los Angeles), it was planned, unsurprisingly, to run the three qualifying events, each over 30 laps, at that circuit, with the final to be held at Daytona International Speedway (Florida).

Riverside IROC poster

The first and second heats were scheduled for 27^th October.  Fittipaldi qualified fastest, with Follmer second, but both were penalised for not attending a briefing on time, leaving Donohue as the pole-sitter.  He made good use of that, leading the race from start to finish.  The top six were: Donohue, Unser, Revson, Follmer, Hulme Foyt.  Pearson, Johncock, Allison and Fittipaldi all failed to finish or did not complete the race distance.

Donohue leads the field in the first heat, Riverside

Follmer took a notable victory in the second heat, driving through the field from a 9^th place start to the lead, followed home by Pearson and Fittipaldi, (who had started on pole).

Revson at speed in the second heat, Riverside

Although he had retired from the second race with a throttle problem, Donohue was once again victorious in the third heat run on the 28^th.  As in the first heat, Donohue started on pole and maintained his lead for all of the race’s duration.  Completing the top six were, Unser, Fittipaldi, Pearson, Follmer and Foyt.  Both Petty and Johncock failed to finish because of throttle linkage problems, the same issue which affected Donohue in heat two.  Otherwise, over the three heats, retirements were mainly the result of accidents and there was just one engine failure – for Allison in the third heat.

Fittipaldi, running third in heat 3, Riverside

 

The cars went back to Pennsylvania where seven were given a pre-sale service and offered for purchase, the asking price being $21,500 each.  The remainder were subject to detailed assessment/re-preparation while the drivetrains went to Weissach for repairs/overhaul.  All the engines were run on the dyno, average peak power being reported as 316 bhp.  They were returned to the U.S. in January ’74.  The priority then became testing on the Daytona circuit with its characteristics being quite unlike those of Riverside.  Although Donohue got involved with the testing, most of it was carried out by Peter Gregg and Al Holbert.  The main conclusions reached were that uprated shock absorbers were required and rear spoiler extensions desirable, given the aerodynamic/speed potential aspects of the Daytona circuit.

Daytona IROC poster

The six drivers qualifying to run in the 25 laps final at Daytona, 14^th February ’74, were, by virtue of their results in the three Riverside heats, Follmer, Unser, Donohue , Revson, Pearson, and Foyt.  Practice and qualifying took place on the 11^th, resulting in the grid order, Donohue, Revson, Pearson, Follmer, Unser and Foyt.

 

Follmer had impressed in the heats and was in confident mood in Florida.  This was confirmed by his start, which was assertive and served to enable him to pass the three cars which had qualified faster, and he led for the first two laps.  Less fortunate in a hectic opening to the race were Foyt and Pearson who suffered engine failure and gearbox trouble respectively.  But Donohue had meanwhile built momentum and got past Follmer.  They then ran in close company while pulling out a growing gap to Revson and Unser in third and fourth, with Pearson struggling further back with his hobbled transmission.  But Follmer eventually lost ground and at half distance experienced a dropped valve after fluffing a gear shift.  His retirement left Donohue with an uncomplicated path to victory, with Revson finishing 2^nd, Unser 3^rd and Pearson 4^th.

The table below shows the standings for the series on completion:

Position	Driver
1	Mark Donohue
2	Peter Revson
3	Bobby Unser
4	David Pearson
5	George Follmer
6	A.J. Foyt
7	Emmerson Fittipaldi
8	Denny Hulme
9	Bobby Allison
10	Richard Petty
11	Gordon Johncock
12	Roger McCluskey

The top three’s winnings were, Donohue: $54,000; Revson: $21,200; Unser: $19,100.  The outcome was especially satisfying for Donohue as he had decided that – whatever the result – this would be the very last event in which he would compete as a professional driver.  Particularly in that era, to retire at their peak was one of the things drivers found hardest to do.  Donohue, however, had the prospect of ongoing involvement in the sport at the elite level with the Penske organisation.  Equally, because of his engineering ability and Penske’s confidence in that, there was no danger of his being at a loose end, struggling to find something to occupy his time.  That was assured by Penske’s decision to appoint Donohue as Team Penske’s Racing Director.  But as Donohue thought he was himself stepping backward in ’74, Penske’s Team Manager, Heinz Hofer, was looking to move markedly forwards.  He had successfully pitched a plan to Penske to launch a Formula One programme and by September ’74 the team’s PC1 car was ready for its race debut at the Canadian Grand Prix.  And at the wheel? . . . Mark Donohue.  The lure of the ultimate motorsport category had been too great for Donohue to resist.  Until the following July, he raced the PC1 in 10 more Grands Prix, with a best finish of 5^th in Sweden.  But, as from the British Grand Prix, a switch was made to a March 751.  With this, Donohue scored another 5^th place at Silverstone, followed by a DNF at the Nurburgring.  The next event was in mid-August, at the Österreichring.  During the warm-up on race morning, one of the 751’s front tyres blew out as Donohue went into the right hand bend following the main straight.  The car left the circuit and crashed heavily, Donohue sustaining a head injury, while marshals and bystanders also were hurt, (one fatally), by the car and debris.  Despite every effort by the doctors at the Graz hospital, a clot on Donohue’s brain caused his death on the 19^th August.

Mark Donohue with the IROC trophy

Of the 15 cars ordered by Penske for the IROC, at least six have been offered for sale in relatively recent times.  Mostly these are vehicles which have been expertly maintained and generally well cared for.  With their rarity, performance capability and historic provenance, it is not surprising that in the contemporary market, these are $2,000,000 motor cars.  For example, #4600100 was offered by RM Sotheby’s in 2021 with an estimate of $1,800,000 - $2,100,000.  This is the car in which Fittipaldi was the fastest qualifier in the first Riverside heat.  It became especially well-known as it was for a time owned by Pablo Escobar, notorious Columbian drug trade criminal.  Also, its bodywork was quite radically modified.  It was however, restored and returned to original specification in 2010.  A full description and excellent suite of photographs can be found here.

#4600100  Courtesy RM Sotheby’s 

Also recently well documented is #4600124.  The photographs of this RSR posted on https://www.otsandco.com/project/1974-porsche-911-rsr-iroc are especially valuable for anyone looking for detail views in order to understand/verify the specification.  All parts of the vehicle, both the exterior and the interior, can be seen with excellent clarity.

#4600124  Courtesy Ottis & Co LLC

This was the last of the batch in chassis number terms.  It was finished in black, given race number 4 and allocated to George Follmer for the second Riverside race.  Subsequently, as #12, it was driven in the third race by Donohue.  It was the winning car in both these events, but did not run at Daytona.  Al Holbert bought it and raced it with some success in ’74, but rolled it late in the year, resulting in it being out of commission until 2008, when it was restored and returned to race-ready condition.

Seen below are all 15 of the IROC 3.0 RSRs:

The ‘73/’74 IROC was considered a success and a repeat series was formulated for ’75.  However, largely driven by the cost of the 911 RSRs and their maintenance, the ’75 series was run with Chevrolet Camaros.  The event was then repeated annually through to 2006, with a short break in the early Eighties.

One One Five Twelve: Would that be Pounds or Kilograms? The Flat 12 Brabhams.

 

Brabham-Alfa Romeo BT45 #001

It’s well known that Bernie Ecclestone showed a flair for deal making while still a teenager, initially trading in motorcycle parts and accessories.  Thus, when he started racing cars in 1950, his focus was as much on how this hobby could reward him financially as it was on competitiveness on-track.  The scale of his ‘wheeling and dealing’ had snowballed sufficiently by the time he was in his thirties that he was entering cars in Grands Prix and managing a driver as prominent as the future (posthumous) ’70 World Champion, Jochen Rindt.  His activities in and around the F1 scene allowed him knowledge and understanding of everything that was going on in terms of the sport’s financial and organisational aspects.  Of the great many friends/acquaintances he cultivated, one of the most significant proved to be Andrea de Adamich, a well respected, intelligent Italian, good enough to drive in F1 (and World Championship sportscars) if not quite with the talent to be a title contender.  He did, however, possess a good understanding of the engineering and team management elements of motorsport which he later put to good use in a second career as a journalist.  Enjoying a reputation for credibility, de Adamich was able to discuss matters with a wide range of the involved personalities, including the sport’s governance executives, team owners and managers, becoming at times privy to information not circulating in the public domain. 

De Adamich was racing Alfa Romeo saloon cars in the early Sixties when he was in his early twenties.  He did well enough to graduate to single seaters, and, in ’65, take the Italian F3 championship.  That was an achievement which impressed Carlo Chiti, in charge at Autodelta, Alfa Romeo’s sporting arm, to the extent that de Adamich was inducted into Alfa’s touring car team.  So he became a high profile driver who could and did score victories at major international events.  In ’66 and ’67 he was European Touring Car Champion and before the end of the decade he had seen success at World Sportscar Championship races, run very competitively in F5000 and played a significant role in the development of the Alfa Romeo Tipo 33, culminating in the ’75 flat 12 version’s World Championship for Makes triumph.  Meanwhile, from ’68 to ’73, he raced in 34 Grands Prix, with a best result, 4^th in ’72 and ‘73 in Spain and Belgium, respectively.  That ’73 season was his last in F1, with five outings in Brabhams.

Andrea de Adamich talks to Bernie Ecclestone, Balocco, 1976  Courtesy Ettore Colombo

While de Adamich was circulating on-track in F1, Ecclestone was also getting around the Grand Prix scene, keen to find new opportunities.  Coming to his attention was the situation at Motor Racing Developments (Brabham), where things were unsettled after Jack Brabham’s retirement in ’70 and sale of his 50% of the business to co-owner, Ron Tauranac.  Bernie had been acquainted with Tauranac in his time as Rindt’s manager when he was a Brabham driver in ’68, and would have been aware that  although Ron had worked well with Jack, his heart had not been in the purchase of Jack’s shares since he saw himself as an engineer, not a corporate proprietor.  Whatever was said in public to preserve a good perception of MRD’s prospects and commercial viability, de Adamich was quietly able to clue Ecclestone in further to what was actually going on.  De Adamich himself liked the idea of Ecclestone getting involved at MRD and encouraged Bernie to make an offer to buy Tauranac out.  In fact, there already was momentum towards that - perhaps initially at the Monaco Grand Prix, Tauranac had sounded Bernie out on the notion.  It has been reported that Ecclestone offered £130,000 and this was acceptable to Tauranac.  However, in October ’71, with Ron settled in his mind to move on, Ecclestone played a ‘gozunder’ on the point of signing the contract, reducing the ’price’ to £100,000.  Bernie, being Bernie, deployed his ‘charm,’ with the result that Ron apparently took it on the chin and considered their friendship would be ongoing.

’72 was a difficult year for the ‘new’ MRD.  The Ford Cosworth V8 DFV-engined BT33, BT34 and BT37 cars scored a mere 7 points in the International Cup for F1 Manufacturers, good enough only for a season finish in joint 9^th, (last) place.  Ecclestone formed the view that his team would not be able to achieve a rapid improvement in competitiveness as long as it continued to use the near-ubiquitous Cosworth DFV engine.  The Ford-badged V8 at that point was typically delivering 450 bhp.  He believed that the team needed a 500-plus bhp engine in a V12 configuration.  The two 12 cylinders already disputing the championship were Ferrari’s Tipo 001 flat 12, giving 480 bhp and BRM’s P142 V12, rated at 440 bhp.  But just beyond the realm of Formula One, another 3 litre V12 racing engine was under development – down in a quiet seaside location in Sussex.  This was Harry Weslake’s Weslake Engineering works, within which a new power unit was being made for Ford/John Wyer Automotive/Gulf Racing for endurance sportscar applications.  Pursuing his desire for a 500 bhp engine, when Ecclestone heard about the Weslake, he was keen to give it a try.  So Brabham’s designer, Gordon Murray, was pressed into a project to modify a F2 BT38 to accommodate the engine, creating a ‘BT39,’ and Graham Hill was cajoled into driving it in a test at Silverstone.  While this did not have an immediately positive outcome, the very fact that he’d seen something other than a DFV in a Brabham encouraged Ecclestone to step up his quest to find an engine that would fill the bill.

Brabham BT39-Ford Weslake V12  Courtesy OldRacingCars.com

Next stop on the search was at Weissach where Porsche could show Ecclestone a race calibre V12 yet to be assigned to a specific application.  Gordon Murray recalls, ‘ . . . Porsche said, “Right, this is how much we are going to charge you for the engines,” and Bernie said, “No, no, no, no.  You give us the engines and we will make them win.”  Porsche said no.  So that was the end of that.’

 

Ecclestone had presided over a season in which there was little success on the track but still cost him £80,000.  So his focus much of the time had to be on finding sponsorship.  There were talks with Aleardo Buzzi and John Hogan representing, Philip Morris.  Ecclestone had become aware that the cigarette manufacturer was keen to switch its Marlboro brand sponsorship from BRM after the ’73 season.  Talks seemed to be going well and the acquisition of a substantial budget was anticipated.  But however good had been Ecclestone’s portrayal of the benefits Philip Morris would enjoy from the Brabham cars being seen in Marlboro livery, those same cars had received only modest levels of public attention given their absence from the head of the F1 field – the team had finished 4^th in the Manufacturer’s Standings, with just two 3^rd place finishes as best individual race results.  With over double the number of Championship points and 3 Grands Prix victories, McLaren was able to present a good case to Buzzi and Hogan.  Thus, to Bernie’s dismay, he learned that the Marlboro logo would be seen on the M23s, not his BT42s/43s in ’74.

Mostly, Carlos Reutemann and Carlos Pace were the drivers who carried Ecclestone’s hopes through the '74 season, though John Watson, Richard Robarts, Rikky von Opel, Wilson Fittipaldi, Gérard Larrousse, Teddy Pilette and Lella Lombardi all also had outings in F1 Brabhams.  The MRD-entered cars ran in white, with little in the way of sponsorship decals, but the prospects for that shortcoming being rectified the following season were greatly boosted by Reutemann’s three Grand Prix victories, in South Africa, Austria and the U.S. – and the Watkins Glen outcome was further illustrious as Carlos Pace delivered on the promise he had been showing by making it a Brabham 1-2.  Ecclestone’s morale was much boosted by that result, and his confidence was buoyed as he sought to capitalise on it by pitching for sponsorship from the Italian drinks manufacturer, Martini & Rossi.  The company had based much of its marketing activity on brand exposure in motorsport since the early 60s when it began by establishing a ’Martini & Rossi Racing Team’ and helping fund the running of Alfa Romeos in sportscar racing.  A higher profile development came in ’68 with a change of name to ‘Martini Racing’ and intended participation in both the sportscar and Formula 1 World Championships.  It was soon closely associated with Porsche, leading to a Le Mans victory in ’71, while the team made a start in F1 with the Tecno cars of the Pederzani brothers.  This venture had stemmed from the activities of Martini Racing’s advisor, David Yorke.  Yorke had made his name and good reputation by his roles at Aston Martin and subsequently at JW Automotive Racing, with high achievements as team manager, including victory at Le Mans in ’68 and ’69 and with the Gulf 917s in ‘70/’71.  Amongst his friends in the motorsport sphere was one Bernie Ecclestone.  Unsurprisingly, in ‘71, aware of Bernie’s interest in getting involved at MRD, Yorke had lobbied Martini to put its name on the Brabham cars.  But, unexpectedly, the sponsorship deal was awarded to Tecno.  Given that it was soon obvious that Formula 1 was something of a stretch for the Tecno cars and organisation, it is not surprising that Yorke was quick to recommend that the arrangement was terminated and funding transferred to MRD.  It took time, though and it was not until the latter part of ’74 that Martini committed to a Brabham budget for the following season.

 

All this had, with full justification, been commanding Bernie’s attention, as incremental income was vital if there was to be any ongoing improvement in on-track competitiveness.  But that objective was also affected of course by what the other teams were up to.  And foremost amongst these, Ferrari’s situation would have regularly been figuring in Ecclestone’s thoughts.  SpA Società Esercizio Fabbriche Automobili e Corse (SEFAC) had experienced a saga of difficulties with its flat 12 engine since its introduction for the ’70 season.  However, ’74 had seen a significant improvement in the unit’s fulfilment of its power potential and reliability.  Between them, drivers Nikki Lauda and Clay Regazzoni took three Grands Prix wins and eight podiums (2^nd/3^rd), earning the team second place in the Constructors’ Championship.  There was a good deal of speculation that ’75 would see SEFAC go one place better.  So, Ecclestone’s thoughts turned once again to the desirability of a 12 cylinder engine for his Brabham chassis.

If Ferrari was on the brink of a resurgence in Formula 1, its spiritual parent, Alfa Romeo, was continuing to see its glory years of ’50 and ’51 fade further into history.  Within the company’s management, a division was growing between those who longed to repeat the two consecutive World Championships with the Alfettas, and others– typically younger, less time-served – who were uncomfortable with any ideas of renewed Grand Prix contention.  The latter view stemmed from politically-based sentiment that as a ‘state-owned,’ (via the IRI holding company), enterprise, it should not be seen by the public as a lavish spender on a non-essential sporting activity.  Surely, some reasoned, it was bad enough that large sums had been used through the subsidiary Autodelta business to develop and race the Tipo 33 prototypes – all without much success since its launch in ’67.  But Autodelta boss, Carlo Chiti, was protected to some extent from the political manoeuvres as the premises were a few miles ‘off-site’ at Settimo Milanese.  There, in the specialised milieu he had created, Chiti was able to operate with considerable freedom allowing him the scope to contemplate and plan for an Alfa Romeo F1 future.  As he did so, he shared his aspirations with team members and associates, one of whom was Andrea de Adamich.  In turn, de Adamich was keen to keep Bernie informed about developments and so, when Chiti began to talk about the possibility of modifying the 33’s Tipo 115-12 3.0 litre flat 12 engine for Formula 1 utilisation, Bernie was soon aware.  The unit had been introduced in ’73 and powered the 33 to the World Championship two years later, albeit in a field of meagre competitors.  For endurance racing, the engine was set up to produce 470-500 bhp.  As would be proven for the ’77 sportscar season, a further 20 bhp was feasible and with such an output, a Formula 1 competitive advantage could be achieved, except . . . these levels of horsepower were generated at the cost of a relatively a heavy (178 Kg) engine and one that consumed fuel at a furious rate.  However, that didn’t stop de Adamich extolling its virtues and reiterating Chiti’s confidence that with a range of modifications, such characteristics could be addressed and a Grand Prix-winning motor created.

Alfa Romeo Tipo 115-12 engine at the Nurburgring 1000 Kms, 73  Courtesy Rainer Schlegelmilch

So, early in ’75, Ecclestone was in talks with Chiti, and, buoyed by what de Adamich had told him regarding the technical considerations, was more concerned about costs rather than technicalities.  The last thing Bernie wanted to contemplate at that time was how much he would have to pay on an ongoing basis for supply of the engines.  And yet there was an answer he would like, stemming from a shift in the relative strengths of the pro/anti positions within the top management team at Arese disputing the future form of Alfa Romeo’s motorsport involvement.  Appointed to the role in the early Sixties, Giuseppe Luraghi proved to be a great strategic thinking President of the company.  One of his strongest traits was to be in favour of sporting activity both to preserve Alfa Romeo’s reputation for innovation and engineering excellence and to support the marketing of its road car production models.  But, by the early Seventies, his outlook was vigorously contested by some of his management colleagues – notably, his eventual successor, Ettore Massacesi - and the IRI, their aim being to see a significant cutting of costs.  As his period of being in charge drew towards its conclusion, he was perhaps keen to reinforce a future corporate pro-motorsport outlook.  Thus, an ambition to see Alfa Romeos once again battling for F1 World Championship points figured in the forward planning activities conducted in the Arese offices.  In broad terms, the aspiration was for there to be an Alfa Romeo Grand Prix car by the end of the decade.  In order to contain costs and streamline the development process, it was decided that an initial step should be the supply of engines to an existing competitor so that the optimisation of specification, installation issues and establishment of reliability could be achieved other than at Alfa Romeo’s expense.  Thus, it would be worthwhile for the engines to be supplied on a free of charge basis.

 

Consequently, to his (well concealed) surprise, when Ecclestone put it to Chiti that he’d be prepared to give the flat 12 a go in his race-winning Brabhams, but only if they didn’t cost him anything, Carlo, with a show of reluctance and of being indignant, agreed.  The negotiations had been taxing, but there was then no scope for Chiti to relax – he needed to implement a number of changes to the engine, whilst at the same time managing the further development process for the Tipo 33 application, which included the small matter of a twin turbo variant for the ’77 season.  For the Formula 1 version, there was the need for generalised weight saving, a reduction – from seven to four - in the number of main bearings, bigger valves and a raised compression ratio.  Meanwhile, back in England, Gordon Murray began designing the first Alfa-powered Brabham.  And on the commercial front, there was development too – perhaps partially stemming from the added Italian element in terms of the Brabhams’ new engine maker, Martini & Rossi, which had committed to another year as the main MRD sponsor and with it, an increased budget at that.

The Tipo 115-12 engine in F1 form.  Courtesy Ian Gordon Murray/Philip Porter

Murray’s BT 45 went from drawing board to track with considerable rapidity.  The prototype was shipped to Italy in early October ’75 and was run at Balocco at a press launch.  It was then returned to England and subjected to testing at Silverstone.  It was to some extent an evolution of the BT 44B mechanically – suspension and radiator location, for instance – but the chassis was markedly different since it had to accommodate the sheer size – especially the width – of the engine, the much larger necessary fuel capacity and the fact that the flat 12 could not be used as an integral part of the chassis, as was the case with the DFV.  This latter point, required the rearward extension from the tub of two outriggers for support, either side, of the engine crankcase, and was just one of several chassis features which added to its weight.  Indeed, the car weighed in at 620-630 Kg, whereas the 44 was said to be in the range 550-610 Kg.  And Murray expressed his particular dismay at having to incorporate no less than 4 dispersed fuel tanks to cope with the 215 litres likely to be burnt over the course of a Grand Prix!  This requirement precluded Murray from drawing a ‘triangular’ section body/chassis, which had become his signature style since the BT 42.  Adding to his concern about the engine, Murray has recalled that, ‘It had Italian fuel injection, too, which was quite crude and broke down a lot.’  But the BT 45 still looked good in its white paint finish and Martini Racing livery.

Complex fuel system required for four tanks.  Courtesy Ian Gordon Murray/Philip Porter

Brabham, along with the other eleven crack teams running the DFV, had enjoyed not only its performance characteristics, but also the quality and consistency of its engineering.  Murray did not find quite the same qualities in the freight he was now receiving from Settimo Milanese: ‘One of the massive problems I had with the 45 series of cars is that when Alfa first gave us the drawings for the engine, I obviously designed the car for that.  With the DFV you had a tight tolerance on the engine mountings.  Every engine arrived and just slotted on the back.  Rip one out, put another on.  We were testing down at Balocco with the 45 and the engine blew up, which happened quite a lot.  We got the next engine out and the difference on the mountings was millimetres so it just wouldn’t fit.   So for the 45s generally, I had to design cams and eccentrics, and packers and spacers on all the engine mountings so that every time we changed the engine, you could adjust the car to fit the engine, which I never had to do before.  So during this time there were all these sort of ‘Italian problems,’ if you like.’  Frustrating as these sort of issues were, the even more fundamental issue of the engine’s weight was beyond any one type of countermeasure.  It was equipped with a titanium exhaust system, which was marginally helpful, but at the same time introduced a further negative factor in reliability terms as the material proved repeatedly liable to cracking.  But the biggest concern at the outset was the inadequate specification of the lubrication system.  There had not been a particular difficulty in this respect with the engine as deployed in the Tipo 33s, but with much less room in and around the body of the Formula 1 car, accommodating a generous quantity of oil – and such that its weight did not cause balance problems – was a yet another challenge for Murray.  Against the 30 litres of oil which could be comfortably carried in a Tipo 33, the BT 45’s capability was a mere 8 litres.  Even at the very first on-track test of the BT 45 at Silverstone, there was concern for a potential engine failure stemming from intermittent oil starvation because of surging, with related loss of pressure.  There was evidently a scavenging weakness despite Chiti’s apparent care in designing the lubrication system, incorporating two cylinder head scavenge pumps and three front mounted, gear principle main oil pumps, drawing from six mesh protected drain points.

Brabham BT45  Courtesy Centro Documentazione Alfa Romeo

The problems were especially disappointing, as it might have been expected that with the original engine specification being biased towards the endurance form of racing, reliability would be assured even if there was work to do to extract the level of power that was essential for the short form event that constitutes a Grand Prix.  But, this too provoked further diffidence as Reutemann’s feedback during the initial Silverstone test was to the effect that drivability was poor with power not delivered in a manageable, linear manner – urge was lacking at lower/medium engine speeds until as the rev limit was approached, the full surge of grunt was abruptly transmitted to the wheels.  Possibly, Reutemann had a prejudice against the engine.  I say this because, with the compression ratio further upped to 11:1 the output peak was in the order of 520 bhp@12000 rpm, with at least 400 bhp available from 9000 rpm.

BT45 First Test at Silverstone, October ’75  Courtesy David Phipps

The BT45-Alfa’s best result in the ’76 season was Pace’s 3^rd at the French Grand Prix in July at Paul Ricard.  He also managed a 4^th place finish, at the Nurburgring in August, Reutemann achieving the same placing in Spain in May.  Pace finished 14^th in the Championship, Reutemann, 16^th.  Brabham was placed 9^th in the International Cup for F1 Manufacturers.  There were seven engine/engine-related DNF failures over the sixteen Grands Prix.

’76 BT45 engine installation in Carlos Pace’s car

For ’77 Murray designed a B specification version of the BT 45.  However, this would not be ready until March for the 3^rd race of the season at Kyalami.  In the meantime, Pace qualified and raced to 2^nd place at the opening event in Buenos Aires.  Further optimism broke out at Brabham when John Watson took the new ‘B’ to 3^rd place at the non-Championship Race of Champions at Brands Hatch.  He went one better at July’s French Grand Prix, finishing a close second to Mario Andretti in his season-dominating Lotus 78 after leading all but the race’s final lap.  Otherwise, the only other really notable results were a pair of 3^rd places in Germany and Austria with Hans Stuck at the wheel.  Much more had been expected, especially because the engine’s weight (175 Kg) had been reduced while the power output was increased – to 525 bhp – as a result of winter development work, at Autodelta, including the adoption of Lucas fuel injection.

Carlo Chiti beside a BT45B.  Gordon Murray is just visible in the top right.  Courtesy Ian Gordon Murray/Philip Porter

The performance of the Lotus, with four victories in ’77, was salutary and signalled the death knell of the Tipo 115-12.  Chapman’s latest machine pioneered the ground effects concept which was to revolutionise F1 design and soon become an essential characteristic if a car was to be at all competitive.  In simple terms, the high downforce feature was created by careful management/acceleration of airflow around, over/under and through the chassis/body, largely through enclosed longitudinal tunnels.  To provide for these within the relatively narrow chassis of a single seater racing car, it was necessary for the engine in turn to be as narrow as possible.  While the dimensions of the Cosworth V8 (680 mm) fitted the bill, the markedly substantial width of the Tipo 115-12 (1000 mm) certainly did not.  The engine’s width was considerably conditioned by its relatively long stroke of 53.6 mm, compounded by the use of cam followers which stood proud above the valve springs.  Furthermore, since the widest part of a flat engine, (measured laterally from cam cover to cam cover), is lower than as found on V configuration unit, accommodation compromises are inevitable with any chassis elements low in the structure and located along its outer edges – exactly where the ground effects-vital venturi tunnels need to run. 

Murray, however, was not yet ready in ’77 to revise his design ‘philosophy’ to embrace Lotus-style ground effects principles.  He was nevertheless continuing to feel hamstrung by the Alfa engine’s dimensions, weight and fuel consumption.  These factors were denying the team the competitiveness they might have expected given 525 bhp on tap.  There wasn’t really anything he could do about the engine’s size, but he could chase Chiti vigorously for modifications which would improve fuel efficiency and there had to be scope for weight saving.  And now Murray’s creativity and lateral thinking came to the fore.  He determined  to circumvent the problems that had prevented him from drawing a ‘triangular,’ inherently weight-reducing, chassis, partly by eschewing the use of (bulky) conventional heat-exchanging units – radiators – and using the exposed body surfaces to fulfil this function.  This was achieved primarily by integrating four heat exchanging panels – two for coolant, two for oil – into the chassis, such that their outer surfaces, which were partially finned - ran in the ambient air flow.  This system – along with several innovations around the car’s instrumentation and on-board self-height adjustment mechanism – made the BT46 intriguingly distinctive in comparison with the other new-for-’78 cars.

Brabham BT46

But . . . even in the ambient temperatures encountered in winter testing at Silverstone, the BT46’s coolant got far too hot, albeit the oil cooling was adequate.  There was no immediate fundamental solution and so the start of the ’78 season saw Brabham fielding a further revised BT45 – with ‘C’ designation – at the Argentine Grand Prix in mid-January.  This was Nikki Lauda’s debut with the team and he marked it very well by finishing 2^nd to Mario Andretti’s Lotus.

 

The BT46 had been considerably reworked while the 45C was filling in at the South American races.  It appeared for its first race at Kyalami in March, equipped with conventional front coolant radiators.  They were working well enough during practice and Lauda beat Andretti to the pole.  He ran strongly in the race and looked assured of at least a podium finish, but the engine blew up after 52 laps.  While both Lauda and Watson were able to run very competitively at the early season’s venues, rumour had it that the new Lotus 79 would have a huge effect on the comparative performance status of the entire field.  If other teams/designers were overwhelmed by the quantum leap that the Lotus seemed likely to represent, Murray reacted by once again getting daring and innovative.  His response was not to try and replicate the chassis/body concepts Lotus was known to be finalising, but to revive/refine the means by which the Can-Am Chaparral 2J had glued itself to the track . . . a gearbox-driven fan was mounted vertically to the rear of the BT46B, its purpose being to create a low pressure area underneath the chassis.  The coolant radiator was relocated to a mounting above the engine – this was of particular importance as its positioning would enable Murray to assert that the fan’s main purpose was not for aerodynamic effect, but to boost the heat exchanging properties of the radiator.  Whatever the realities of this contention, ‘tuning’ the system to optimise the degree of ‘vacuum’ generated beneath car’s floor was problematic and precluded a presentation of the BT46B at the Monaco race in early May.  At the following Grand Prix in Belgium, the 79, employing optimal ground effects capability, won its first race with ease and seemed a shoe-in to be nominated as the season’s class of the field machine.  But the Brabham was race-ready the following month and care was taken by Murray in talking about it to emphasise that for the most part the fan was a cooling device.  However one wants to evaluate that notion, the simple fact is that the BT46B’s cornering performance was such that at the Swedish Grand Prix on 17^th June, Lauda was able to defeat Andretti.  With the other teams miffed that they had not thought of an effective answer to the Lotus 79, there was much controversy and Ecclestone dodged a protracted political wrangle by deciding not to enter the car for any more of the season’s Grands Prix.

Brabham BT46B – the ‘Fan Car’

The ’78 season concluded with Lauda fourth in the Championship thanks to the win in Sweden and another in Italy, and five other podium finishes.  Watson was sixth, having stood on the podium three times.  The team ranked third in the International Cup for F1 Constrictors.  So, a strong showing, much improved on the previous season.  The BT46 had been fast and dependable, with and without the fan.  The Tipo 115-12, too, had proven very competitive and relatively reliable, just seven DNFs being caused by engine failure.  Nonetheless, in looking ahead to ’79, Murray was convinced that ‘proper’ ground effects would be absolutely essential for any car seeking to compete with the Lotus.  And, by then, he was equally sure that this would not be feasible if his next design was powered by the cumbersome Alfa flat 12.  He said as much to Chiti, whose unexpected immediate response of ‘Hai ragione,’ would have been based on his own conclusion as soon as he saw Chapman’s Type 79.  That Chiti’s view coincided with Murray’s was confirmed by the speed at which he then set to work, resulting in a new F1 engine, this time in 60° V12 format, being presented before the end of the year.  Designated Tipo 1260, though not more powerful than the Tipo 115-12, it was able to be used as a stressed chassis component, simplifying Murray’s task in creating a new car.  Thus, the result – BT 48 – was complete and ready to run by mid-December ’78.  And at that point, a flat 12-engined Brabham decidedly became a thing of the past!