If Only: The Abarth T140

The more I learn about Carlo Abarth, the more I wish I had had the opportunity to work for him.  He was I believe an especially notable example of the sort of distinctive personality one could encounter in a leader/senior management role in the automotive industry around the middle of the 20^th Century.  Their behaviour and outlook was such that in today’s social culture they probably would not retain their position for very long.  Such people had singular vision/belief, tremendous drive and no inhibitions about using their personality to manage and direct subordinates.  

  

In anecdotes from people who worked for him, Abarth himself is often referred to as someone who expected nothing less than their 100% dedication to the task, was very averse to ‘buttering them up,’ but who showed that he did in fact notice excellence by, for instance, handing over an envelope of bank notes!  By his own vision and dynamism he created a superb line of performance cars, the racing versions of which were highly successful, to the extent that they secured World Championships for six years in succession in the 1960s.  These achievements bolstered Abarth’s self-confidence whilst at the same time instilling in the Corso Marche factory workforce a pride in and dedication to his company.  These two factors are particularly relevant to the beginnings of a project designated ‘T140,’ which should have evolved into Abarth’s crowning glory.  Such a project – the creation of a 6 litre, V12-engine  and sports racing prototype car to compete with Ferrari, Porsche and Ford – needed to be originated and developed in a milieu of secrecy for which the automotive industry has never been well known.  And yet the obedient, proud and earnest workforce ensured with its discretion that both the engine and the body/chassis design were well advanced before anyone outside the Corso Marche factory gained any knowledge of the T140 before Spring 1967. 

The project had been announced internally by Carlo in July 1965.  The initial objective was competitiveness in the proposed new championship for Group 7 cars, the Can-Am Challenge Cup.  A joint initiative by the Sports Car Club of America and the Canadian Automobile Sports Club, the championship was due to be launched in September 1966 at Mont-Tremblant.  Abarth believed that the series, with its Johnsons Wax sponsorship, would offer a high profile marketing opportunity for his products.  However, with Group 7 being virtually a Formula Libre, he would need to create a new, much larger Abarth engine – designated ‘Tipo 240’ - to compete with the expected proliferation of ‘Big Block’ Chevrolet-engined cars contesting the races.

Responsibility for the engine’s design was delegated to Luciano Fochi.  Fochi – whose brother, Nino, was in charge of production at Abarth – had distinguished himself at Alfa Romeo, Maserati, Ferrari and Bugatti prior to joining Abarth in 1958.  In August the following year, Fochi persuaded Gianfranco Bossu, with whom he had worked at Bugatti, to move to Corso Marche, where they again collaborated with great expertise in the development of engines.  Recently, Gianfranco has kindly shared with me his recollections of the T140 project. 

By December 1966 a prototype engine with wet sump had been assembled.  The key features were: 120°, 5982 cc, V12,  SOHC, 24 valve, twin spark ignition, four Weber 40 LDA3C carburettors.  Bore was 92 mm and the stroke 75 mm.  The engine’s construction has previously been described as ‘modular’ in that the block and camshafts were composed of two joined component ‘halves.’  This was not of particular significance as these sub-components were newly created items and not derived from pre-existing, smaller capacity units.  However, the principle was noteworthy as applied also to the crankshaft, since it was at its centre joint – where power was taken off – that a major problem was discovered as soon as test running got underway.  The crankshaft is seen in Gianfranco’s contemporary sketch below:

 

Courtesy of Gianfranco Bossu

The arrangement is not exceptional, especially for a crankshaft of considerable length – that of the Porsche Type 912 Flat 12 917 engine, for instance, is similarly configured.  However, it was initially a weak point, giving rise to crack failures on the Tipo 240 engine.  Gianfranco remembers that the problem was solved by increasing the rigidity of the bearing supports with additional ribs and revised specification bearings.  At this stage the engine was found to be generating over 550 bhp.  With further development, including revision of the lubrication system resulting in the adoption of a dry sump in Quarter 1, 1967, 567 bhp was seen on the dynamometer; (Sample dyno graphs are seen below, with Power represented by the trace second from bottom, and Torque below that.)  With the project still in its early stages, it would have been reasonable to assume that higher output could be achieved with various upgrades, the application of fuel injection, for example.  Potential competitiveness can be judged by considering the performance of the Sixties large capacity racing power plants of Ford, Ferrari and Porsche.  The 7.0 V8 installed in the Mk.II version of the Ford GT40 developed 485 bhp; Ferrari’s mid-decade 330 P4s featured a 3 valve V12 which could give 450 bhp, while the later 512’s 5.0 V12 was good for 550 bhp; the Porsche 917 4.5 flat 12 had 520 - 580 bhp.  A disadvantage for the T240 was its weight, at 254.6 kgs (dry), whereas the 917, without the burden of a fluid cooling system, was 240.4 kgs.  It has been said that the prototype Tipo 240 engine was tested in a Lola T70 chassis, but no data exists to indicate just how well it performed on-track.

 

Courtesy of Gianfranco Bossu

But, of course, the potential of the T140 to take on that Big Three would depend also on the quality and capability of the chassis, which was designed by Antonio Tomaini.  Previously at Moretti, Tomaini had joined Abarth in 1962 to work in the design department.  However, before long Tomaini was also very active out and about at circuits, supporting the works team’s efforts, especially in terms of acquiring and evaluating feedback from the drivers.  For the T140, Tomaini set about designing a chassis in a format which would enable both an endurance racing coupe version and a Can-Am open car to be created with relative ease.  The timescale of the project did not allow the development of either the chassis or the bodywork to progress to any advanced stage, the latter being represented only by a wooden 1:1 model.  The origin of the style of the car can be seen in the contemporary OT Sport Spiders, which were Abarth’s first glass fibre-bodied products, and the 1600 OT Sport coupe.  The subsequent 2000 SE010 also provides a clear indication of how a finalised T140 would have looked.  The full size model was rendered by Sergio Seccatore who had arrived at Corso Marche in June 1966.  He recalls its initial presentation in his book, co-authored with Luca Gastaldi, Abarth Memories:

The wooden model was taken to the workshop, right beneath the technical office, and Colucci brought Abarth to see it.  Abarth looked at it but couldn’t understand the line of the car because the cuts for the doors, bonnet, lights hadn’t been made.  It was a beautiful piece of wood, a single shell.  So, Colucci called me to paint the model red.  I went to the storeroom but there wasn’t any red paint, so they gave me some iron rust preventer.  When the car was finished, Abarth came back and wanted to see the cuts for the doors, bonnet, lights, sockets and air vents, windshield.  I masked everything to paint the various parts with matt black paint.  I copied the headlights of the Ford GT40 and had the rear lights of the Alfa Romeo Giulia painted on the back.  I made holes for the headlights and started to mount one.  Abarth arrived at that moment.  He liked those solutions but when he picked up the light from the Giulia, he said it was too heavy and I had to find some others.  That one had a Zamak base and I had to find others in plastic.  So I went out on the street, to look at the cars parked there, hoping for inspiration.  I saw a Fiat 124 saloon: the rear lights were more or less the same shape and I had those purchased.  I completed the model.

Tomaini followed the conventions of the era in the construction of the chassis – mainly a tubular structure with aluminium and fibreglass panelling.  Some previous reviews of the T140 have cast doubt on how competitive it might have been, not only by way of engine performance, but also in terms of weight.  However, Abarth was quite adept at producing lithe prototype racing cars – the 2000 SE010 of 1968, for example, weighing in at just 480 kgs, to which the basic frame contributed a tiny 39 kgs.  For comparison, consider the contemporary Porsche 907, for which a kerb weight of 600 kgs has been quoted.  Tomaini and a design drawing of the T140 are shown below:

 

The mid-Sixties saw a considerable shake-up in the competitive hierarchy of endurance sports car racing.  Particular focus was increased on the Le Mans 24 Hours race and the determination of Henry Ford II to avenge, on-track, Ferrari’s rebuttal of a Dearborn take-over.  This gave rise to the GT40, a car which certainly delivered on Henry’s ambition, since it was driven to victory at Le Mans for 4 successive seasons, 1966-69.  The first two of those wins were achieved with the use of a 7 litre V8 engine.  For the governing body, the FIA, this caused concern – how could a good number of competitive entries be sustained if the performance benchmark was set by such a large capacity engine, especially, given the Paris-based FIA’s natural European-orientation – the continent’s automotive industry at that time being mainly engaged in projects with engines half that sort of size.  As a solution, and without preamble or consultation, on 12^th June 1967, the day after the second Ford victory by A J Foyt and Dan Gurney in a Mk.4 GT40, the FIA announced that for 1968 new ‘classes’ would apply for endurance racing, as defined by Appendix J to the International Sporting Code: Category A, production cars, Group 4 Sports cars; Category B, Group 6 Prototype sportscars.  For homologation, a manufacturer would have to produce at least 50 cars for Group 4 eligibility and engine capacity had to be less than 5 litres.  A 3 litre capacity limit applied for Group 6.  With a subsequent revision of the homologation requirement to 25 units, both Porsche and Ferrari would develop, respectively, the 917 and 512 models which provided some spectacular racing in 1970-71.

For Abarth, however, the announcement was wholly negative.  It was immediately concluded that the company did not have the financial strength and physical capacity to build and sell fifty T140s.  Equally, the continuance of the project to result merely in the construction of a very few examples to contest the Can-Am could not be justified on a cost/benefit analysis basis.  Sergio Seccatore’s recollection was that very soon after the FIA’s announcement, ‘We piled everything in a corner of the workshop and the story of the T140 ended like that.’  However disappointing that might be from my perspective, it’s quite possible that many at Corso Marche at the time breathed a sigh of relief.  It is said, for instance, that Carlo’s then manager of the mechanical chassis and bodywork department, Mario Colucci, was doubtful that the car could be built at a competitive weight.  Apparently, he also thought that the reported engine output values were somewhat exaggerated.  As with technical matters, such as the relative merits of a mid-chassis location for an engine against those applying to a rear-of-axle mounting, Colucci often acted as a foil to Carlo Abarth’s thinking, and he probably thought it prudent generally to counteract Carlo’s inherent optimism.  Though that optimism flowed from Carlo’s confidence built on a proven record of commercial and racing successes, it can equally be said that Colucci was well qualified to judge the specifics of chassis weight, he having designed the first tubular frame used by Abarth, for the 750 Sport, soon after he joined from Alfa Romeo in 1960.

Though the original project scope had included the manufacture of sufficient components to assemble two prototype engines, only a single unit has been seen in recent times.  This had been acquired by Engelbert Moll, former Abarth works driver (1963) and was a significant item in the collection of Abarth products held at his premises in Solothurn, Switzerland.  The Tipo 240 engine was the subject of much interest when displayed with other cars and engines from Moll’s collection at the Retromobile show in Paris, 2018, as seen in the photograph below.  I have been told by Tony Berni, global authority on Abarth and proprietor of Berni Motori, Maleo, Italy, that in the autumn of 2022, Moll sold his entire collection and it is now relocated in Japan.

 

As for the car, there is better news to report.  A BMW M73-engined replica was built by Hansi Marz in association with Udo Siekmann of Scuderia Gemini Corse and run at the Berni Motori track day held at Autodromo di Varano de’ Melegari in June 2017.  The car can be seen on the circuit here: https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=dzKN0_ep5Gk.  It also featured in a Petrolicious article https://petrolicious.com/articles/the-abarth-historic-track-day-showcases-the-best-of-the-beloved-brand-from-bologna which included the photograph seen below:

 

It is quite commonplace to read critical comment about both the decision to embark upon the T140 project and the subsequent abrupt cancellation.  But it is not hard to see that the situation came about because both Abarth and the FIA planned and operated at the time with unusually well preserved secrecy.  What is less well known is that Abarth was not the only marque in that era which started a highly ambitious sport prototype project which came to nothing.  This was the aspiration of Dr Alfredo Belponer.  In the early Sixties he determined to create a new scuderia to support the activities of amateur racing drivers in and around his hometown of Brescia.  Establishment – and formal recognition – of Scuderia Brescia Corse became possible in late 1964 when Carlo Abarth agreed to support the team’s registration with the sporting authorities.  The Scuderia was soon successful, primarily in sports car events, and by 1967 was running a GT40 at Le Mans.  But Belponer had the ambition and wealth to go further, and he asked Bertone to create a Group 6 prototype.  The Carrozzeria obliged with a design named ‘Panther’ and it was unveiled in Turin and Geneva in Spring 1968.  More information about the Panther is available; here: https://supercarnostalgia.com/blog/bertone-panther

 

Scuderia Brescia Corse intended to order several Panthers and use them in an extensive international endurance racing campaign.  However, what Bertone could not do was produce suitable motive power for the car.  Belponer entered into discussions with BRM, seeking a supply of the Bourne-made F1 3.0 V12s, modified with durability rather than peak power, in mind.  When negotiations stumbled, he switched his quest to Maserati, but there too, no deal could be finalised.  As a result, just as with the T140, after much earnest effort, considerable expenditure and enthusiastic activity, the project just quietly expired.  The Panther is seen below:

 

I can’t help but wonder – how well would a Panther have gone with a short stroke, 5.0 Tipo 240 engine behind the driver’s seat!

There Were Four Thousand In Blackburn - The T260 Had Just 207

1971 was a very significant year.  From a personal perspective, I started my automotive career-proper at BMW, while, much more significantly, the BRM P160 proved highly competitive in Formula 1, LPs of great quality were released, such as Sticky Fingers, Who’s Next and Tapestry, there was the announcement of cars like the Alfasud, Maserati Bora and BMW 2002 Tii, and . . . hope sprung of a new dawn in the Cam-Am Challenge, with the addition to the grid of the Lola T260 and its driver, Sir Jackie Stewart.

BRM at Monza, September 1971

A Lola T70 Mk.2 in the hands of John Surtees had won the inaugural Can-Am Challenge in ’66.  However, since then, the M8 McLaren in its various iterations had steam-rollered the opposition, firstly as the Bruce and Denny Show (Bruce McLaren and Denny Hulme), then with Peter Revson partnering Hulme after McLaren’s death in 1970.  At the time, many of us resented the McLaren ‘win machine’ as the cause of the Group 7 series becoming boring because of repetitive, predictable results.

The Bruce (#4) & Denny (#5) Show, Laguna Seca, 1969. (Courtesy Motor Sport Images)

One of the very few series rivals to get anywhere near bothering the McLaren juggernaut was the Chaparral team of the innovatory Texan, Jim Hall.  Not content with seeking ultimate competitiveness from high downforce aerodynamics by mounting a tall rear wing on his 2E machine during the ’66 season, he surprised everyone four years later with his 2J – a car that achieved even more powerful ground effects by mechanically sucking air out from under its floor.  This was facilitated by a pair of rear-mounted fans and thus anticipated the similar solution devised by Gordon Murray for the Formula 1 Brabham BT 46B of 1978.  Not unexpected really, as his high wing concept had also found its way into Grand Prix racing during the 1969 season.  The 2J ran in only six Can-Am races in 1970, driven in the second of these – Watkins Glen – by the reigning F1 World Champion, Jackie Stewart.  In that first year of the new decade, Jackie was feeling the dispiriting effects of the deaths of several fellow drivers accumulated over the later years of the 1960s, and, ironically, persistent criticism of him about his safety campaigning.  Unsurprisingly, his enthusiasm for his profession was waning.  However, the revolutionary nature of the 2J was enough to revive his interest.  In his autobiography, Winning is Not Enough, he says: As we were discussing what to do about the Nurburgring, (its dangerous aspects) I was called away to take a telephone call from America.  It was Jim Hall, inviting me to drive the Chaparral in a sports car event, and, even in the middle of all that, I found myself getting as excited about the prospect of being behind the wheel of such a special car as I had at any stage of my life.  I instantly accepted his offer because the Chaparral was known as the most advanced racing car of its time.  Although his race at Watkins Glen ended in a retirement, the experience seems to have had a positive effect, for it was not too long before it was revealed that Stewart had reached agreement with Carl Haas to drive the new Lola 260T in a full 1971 Can-Am campaign.  Jackie was frank in the autobiography: The F1 season was my priority, but Cam-Am offered a second income stream that was hard to resist.

Jackie Stewart in the Chaparral 2J, Watkins Glen, 1970. (Courtesy Motor Sport Images)

Haas was a classic mid-century American automotive entrepreneur.  A Jewish immigrant to the ‘States just before WW2, he ran cars in several race series, including NASCAR, F5000, F1 and Indy/Champcar in addition to Can-Am, eventually becoming best known for his association with Hollywood’s Paul Newman and the formation of Newman/Haas/Lanigan Racing.  In the late sixties he contracted with Eric Broadley to act as the U.S. importer of Lola racing cars and developed the business to a highly successful level.  Broadley was happy to allow Haas to function as a works team and the American used his commercial nous to secure supportive sponsorship from cigarette makers, L & M.  Whilst Lolas had been a familiar part of the Can-Am scene in the late sixties, they had been relatively conventional and not front-of-the-grid competitive.  With such characteristics persisting in the new decade’s opening season’s Lolas – the T220 and T222 – Haas used all his powers of persuasion to convince Broadly that a more daring new design was essential if the perception of the Lola brand was not to be devalued because of lack-lustre results.

Left: Carl Haas at his business premises at Lincolnshire, Illinois. (Courtesy Racemaker/David Huson). 

Right: Haas with Eric Broadley, founder of Lola.  (Courtesy JKRacing50)

Broadley acceded to Haas’s entreaties and briefed his designer, Bob Marston.  He also sought input regarding bodywork from his associate, Peter Jackson, (and body engineer Peter Wright), at the expert glass fibre fabrication firm, Specialised Mouldings.  Broadley wanted a basically wedge shaped, compact form, with a relatively small overall footprint – he was keen for instance to avoid the substantial front end overhang seen on the McLarens.  But since the wedge format could, as had been seen with the Autocoast Ti-22 at Mont Tremblant in 1970, be prone to end-over-end loss of control incidents, the main aerodynamic emphasis was on the avoidance of front end lift, coupled with maximum possible downforce on the rear axle.  The latter was sought without any particular focus on the rear body surfaces but by simply using a large wing – not especially high mounted, but full width and located unusually far forward, most of its surface in front of the rear axle.  An additional distinctive bodywork feature was the presence of 207 small holes in the upper surface between the windscreen base and the front brake air duct openings.  These were for the purpose of releasing air that otherwise would cause a build-up of high pressure, and thus lift, underneath the front end of the monocoque floor.  The nose incorporated a depth-variable front splitter. 

Otherwise, the T260 was largely ‘state of the art’ for the time, featuring an aluminium monocoque, side mounted radiators, horizontal mounted, rocker arm actuated front springs and inboard brake discs, front and rear.  A relative novelty was the specification of 13” front wheels. The engine was a Foltz-built 8.1 litre big block Chevrolet V8 mated to a Hewland Mk.2 four speed transmission.  Output at 7,000 rpm was commonly quoted as being 700-760 bhp and 600+ lb-ft torque.  Foltz offered some options regarding the amount and spread of torque generated in order to make easier the evaluation of the car’s handling during the early stages of development. 

At the time, Frank Gardner – mostly known for his F5000 and saloon car exploits – was Lola’s test and development driver.  He was able to take the T260 out on track, (at Silverstone), for the first time in May 1971.  With the first round of the Can-Am due at Mosport in Canada in mid-June, scope was limited.  Gardner was quick to express his concern about this because it was immediately apparent that the car inherently understeered, and a ‘cure’ would likely require a considerable number of testing miles.

Gardner testing the T260 at Silverstone, May 1971.

Note especially the 13” front wheels and forward position of the wing. (Courtesy Motor Sport)

Stewart for his part encountered the car at Silverstone at the beginning of June.  The weather was against him – heavy rain – and his initial impressions are not recorded.  He had however already prevailed upon Broadley to make a significant change.  Ten months previously Jochen Rindt’s accident at Monza in the Lotus 72 still weighed heavily on the World Champion’s mind.  Not only were the Stewart and Rindt families very good friends, but Jackie was especially close to Jochen, considering the Austrian his principal rival on-track.  Though the sudden, violent sharp left hand swerve into the Parabolica armco was not per se the cause of Rindt’s death – that was attributable to his belts not being properly secured – Stewart was highly sceptical about the advisability of running inboard front brakes, given the possible consequences of a shaft failure.  Broadley had no alternative but to agree that the front brake discs be moved outboard.  At the same time, a similar revision was effected at the rear, since the limited testing so far completed had revealed problems with heat not being dissipated sufficiently from the discs.  And there was a knock-on from this.  To accommodate the relocated discs, larger diameter – 15” - front wheel rims were required – along with an enlargement of the leading curve of the wheel arch.

Stewart with the T260 at Silverstone, June 1971. (Courtesy Sutton Images)

We do know that Stewart at last had the chance to drive the T260 in unconstrained circumstances at the Mosport circuit on 10^th June.  His perception of the car’s handling characteristics – not helped by the bumpy nature of the track – were summed up by his apparent likening of the machine to a ‘pregnant elephant!’  The following day he was nevertheless able to set the day’s fastest time and this proved to be good enough for pole position when the Saturday session became rain affected.  Next day, at the opening round of the Can-Am season, he led the race from Hulme’s M8F, but retired just short of quarter distance because of a failed transmission seal.  The McLaren team had had a scare, but Hulme took the victory and the marque’s cars filled places 1-6 in the race results table.

Stewart’s T260 at Mosport, June 1971. The bigger front wheels and related re-profiled front wheel arch are evident. (Courtesy Jerry Bendl Collection)

Two weeks later, Round 2 of the Can-Am series was scheduled for Mont Tremblant.  Like Mosport, this was circuit notorious for its uneven track surface.  Stewart however was hoping for a better ride from the T260 as some additional changes had been made after the Mosport event.  The rear suspension geometry had been revised and the wing relocated a little further to the rear of the car.  But in practice and qualifying the car still proved to be hard work.  Stewart nevertheless managed to qualify the T260 2^nd, just three tenths slower than Hulme’s pole time and 1.8 seconds better than Peter Revson’s 3^rd place time in the second M8F.  Though Hulme maintained a lead for much of the race, he didn’t really get away from the Lola and when he flagged in the latter stages, Stewart was able to get past and take his car through to its maiden victory.

Stewart closes in on Hulme at Mont Tremblant, June 1971

Road Atlanta hosted Round 3 in mid-July.  Stewart qualified 3^rd, a full second off Hulme’s pole time.  The race was a mixed bag for the Lola – Stewart hustled it enough to record the race’s fastest lap, and moved up past Hulme and Revson into the lead.  However, the T260 then suffered a rear tyre puncture and the pit stop to fix this became prolonged when the engine cut and didn’t want to restart.  Although running at the finish, the car was several laps down having also developed a rear damper failure – a disappointing outcome as it had clearly had the beating of the McLarens on track. 

Stewart and the T260 were quickest at Road Atlanta until a tyre punctured. (Courtesy Autosports Marketing Associates)

A fortnight on, the Can-Am circus reconvened at Watkins Glen.  Perhaps helped by his familiarity with the Glen from his Grand Prix drives there, (as was the case too at Mosport, and, to a lesser extent, Mont Tremblant), Stewart put on another strong qualifying show, just pipping Revson and Hulme to the pole.  Next day he held a comfortable lead until a little past the halfway point, when a driveshaft failure intervened and forced retirement of the car.

Stewart enjoys a clear lead over the McLarens at Watkins Glen. (Courtesy Motor Sport Images)

Round 5 must have felt like ‘back to square one’ – the Mid Ohio circuit, like the opening, Canadian, rounds’ venues was something of a car breaker, being notable bumpy.  In qualifying the McLarens handled this better than the Lola – Hulme’s pole time was nearly a second quicker than Stewart’s 3^rd place lap.  But it was fortunate that the T260 was not further down the grid as it had been afflicted with multiple suspension failures during practice.  The confidence evident in Stewart’s demeanour at the Glen was also undermined by his perception of Mid Ohio as a particularly dangerous track with limited run-off areas and a host of trackside hazards.  He was forthright on Sunday morning in saying how dissatisfied he was with the place and that he didn’t intend to run at anything like his or the car’s full performance potential.  Thus it seemed somewhat paradoxical that following the demise of both the M8Fs with driveshaft failures, Stewart was able to chalk up his second victory of the season.

The T260 at Mid Ohio – note how much further back the wing is by now mounted. (Courtesy Niagara Pauls Blogspot)

In late August the second half of the series opened with the 6^th Round at Road America, (Elkhart Lake).  With the Mid Ohio win serving to re-boost confidence and signs that the long-established McLaren superiority might be faltering with reliability issues, there was good reason to expect that Stewart would be hunting Hulme and Revson down for the points table lead.  As an added positive, the Haas team was also keen to be more adventurous in its efforts to improve the car’s handling and aerodynamic behaviour – the chronic understeer still being a real issue for Stewart.  Thus, the car appeared at the Wisconsin circuit with a fully reworked rear end – an even larger-surface (and higher incidence) rear wing, with substantial end plates integrated with the rear quarter panel sides.  This was combined with a new ‘shovel’ form spoiler running across the bottom edge of the nose.

The new rear wing and front spoiler at Road America. (Courtesy Jim Buell)

Practice and qualifying threw up some surprises.  Whilst Hulme secured the pole with a time 2 seconds quicker than his nearest challenger, that competitor wasn’t teammate Revson – or even Stewart.  Finally coming good was the controversial Shadow Mk.2 of Jackie Oliver.  Stewart was 3^rd, but apparently hampered by a lack of power.  The team bit the bullet and changed the engine for the race, but this overheated and failed after just 10 laps.  So it was an unsatisfying end to the weekend with uncertainties remaining, especially in regard to the car’s aerodynamics, the original rear wing form having been reinstated and no conclusions reached about the persistent understeer.  Broadley was struggling to understand cause and effect, though he had demonstrated his perspicacity in wondering how well the body surface holes were relieving under-floor pressure when the gauze covering of many of them was clogged with paint required for the L & M livery!  One could not help but wonder if the car was founded on an aerodynamic theory full of holes.

 

With five Grand Prix wins up to August 1^st, Stewart was assured of his second World Championship by the time of Round 7 of the Can-Am at Donnybrooke.  He was no doubt philosophic about the contrast between his successes and confidence in his Tyrrell and his results with the Lola, to say nothing of how little he’d been enjoying driving the Group 7 car.  The team would have hoped to have had him smiling a little more by effecting some rear suspension upgrades following the Road America event.  But hope was outdone by reality in this instance – the McLarens seemed to be getting better after the mid-season frailties, whereas the Lola’s handling continued to tax Stewart’s patience.  With no improvement clearly obvious from the revisions tried at Road America, the rear wing form reverted to the original format.  As was becoming the pattern, Stewart was 3^rd in qualifying, not especially close to the times of Hulme and Revson.  Nonetheless, the Lola got off the line well and headed the M8Fs initially until Revson went past for the lead.  Stewart was able to hold Hulme behind him, but various troubles led to pit stops that hampered Stewart’s progress to the extent that he could finish no better than 6^th.

Stewart stays 2nd  in front of Hulme at Donnybrooke. (Courtesy Tim Winker)

Late September saw the Can-Am back in Canada, at Edmonton for Round 8.  There was a further revised, tacked-on ‘shovel’  panel in place to give the nose a more scoop-like profile and almost all of the rear wing depth was now behind the back edge of the rear panel.  The effectiveness of these changes was difficult to judge in the track conditions and Stewart’s qualifying performance could once again not achieve anything better than 3^rd.  In the race, his ultra-smooth skills enabled him to take and maintain the lead on a wet circuit.  Eventually, however, he had an off, and this apparently caused some damage, as the T260’s handling was subsequently less manageable.  It nevertheless remained one of the car’s better days, as Stewart was able to run to the finish headed only by Hulme’s McLaren.

On the grid at Edmonton – note the revised front end and the extreme rear location of the wing. (Courtesy TheRoaringSeason)

Laguna Seca was the location for the penultimate round.  Despite Stewart’s big and unsalvageable points deficit vis-a-vis the McLarens, effort was ongoing to try and give him a car which could match his other-worldly driving expertise.  This time there was some astonishment when it was seen that the front of the car was no longer just being augmented with a relatively small re-profiler – it now had a substantial tubular structure projecting forward of the nose, supporting a large, full-width aerofoil which was promptly nicknamed, ‘The Cowcatcher.’  The rear wing remained distinctly rearward of the back panel and run at a steeper angle of attack than as seen at Edmonton.  The T260 had begun the season as the ultimate ‘stubbie’ but now boasted an exceptionally long footprint.

New wings, front and rear, at Laguna Seca. (Courtesy TheRoaringSeason)

In qualifying, Stewart was within a second of Revson and Hulme, the former taking pole.  However, the Lola was 4^th on the grid as the Mk.2 Autocoast Ti22 was three tenths quicker in the hands of David Hobbs.  The Ti had less race pace and was soon displaced on the Sunday by Stewart who further progressed by passing Hulme for 2^nd.  Revson struggled with an ailing engine to finish the race but hung on to take the win.  There was some post-race confusion as it was contended by the Haas team that Revson should have been black flagged and the race awarded to the Lola.  However, Revson’s victory was subsequently upheld, so Stewart had to be content with 2^nd – itself by no means a bad result.

Though looking unwieldy with its front and rear ‘extensions,’ Stewart was able in the T260 to outpace Hulme’s M8F at Laguna Seca. (unattributed, via Bonhams)

The teams were at Riverside at the end of October to close out the Cam-Am series.  The T260 made its way to its customary 3^rd fastest in qualifying.  Stewart took it past Revson and settled into a secure but lonely 2^nd place until the engine failed with 3/5 of the race run.

Final aerodynamic tweak for the T260 is substantial end plates for the rear wing. (Courtesy Lola Heritage)

On face value, the final series points table for the top three suggested ‘business as usual’ for McLaren.  However, Stewart and the T260 had provided the most substantial challenge for a very long time to the dominance of the M8s.

Although there was never any prospect of Stewart committing to another season with Haas, it’s reasonable to suppose that with a winter of development and a new, ambitious driver, the wins tally could have been considerably greater than just two in 1972.  However, the obdurate handling problems of the T260 had taken their toll.  For Lola, the attraction of a new start became irresistible, and thus Broadley laid down a brief for the T310 – a Can-Am car that was long and wide and looking not at all related to its short and stubby, highly characterful, predecessor.  But I have to leave the last word to Sir Jackie: I enjoyed working with Carl Haas in 1971, but the car had been a dog to drive . . .

For BRM the Can-Am Really was a Challenge

When Britain stood alone in Western Europe against the might of the Wehrmacht in the early 1940s, it was confronting an array of fearsome technology.  On paper, the German fighting machines were superior to those of the Allies – the Messerschmitt 262; Tiger tank; the Mk.11 U-boat; for example.  Later in the decade, as a consortium of the British automotive industry began to plan a new racing car, there lingered, despite the Allied victory, perhaps a little too much reverence for German engineering.  Although the 1938-9 versions of the Auto Union Grand Prix cars had utilised 3.0 V12 engines, the predecessor types with their V16s – up to 6000 cc in capacity – clearly left an immense impression.  Sufficient at any rate for the nascent British Racing Motors team to decide that its engine would be in such a format, albeit of just 1.5 litre capacity.  Starting from scratch and in the austere economic climate, this could nowadays be classed as an act of self-harm: surely there would have been more chance of success – and less heartache – if a Vee or Straight 8 layout had been chosen. 

The BRM V16 P15 made its (unsuccessful) race debut in 1950 and was campaigned for five years with very few encouraging – let alone, triumphant – showings.  And it was a further seven years before a BRM – the V8-powered P578 in the hands of Graham Hill – was able to win the World Championship.  Building on that base, the Sixties could perhaps have been a decade of success for BRM, but the complexity compulsion struck again.  For the new 3 litre formula in 1966, the team opted to build another 16 cylinder engine.  And to compound any potential vicissitudes, this was configured in an ‘H’ format – two vertically stacked flat eights.  While a flat – or ‘boxer’ layout has the advantage of enabling a low centre of gravity in the car being powered, the ‘H’ form gave rise to the very reverse, as well as being relatively heavy. The result? – an extremely uncompetitive car – the P83 - with a very unreliable engine. 

With over twenty years, characterised in the main by failure, under its belt, BRM in 1969 looked to inject some fresh, innovation-inclined blood into its veins.  29 year old Tony Southgate was appointed as the team’s designer.  Southgate arrived at BRM’s base, in Bourne, Lincolnshire, as a proven success, having spent time in the U.S., creating and developing winning cars for Dan Gurney’s All American Racers team.  But Southgate immediately made a grave mistake – he designed and oversaw construction of a new Formula 1 car – the P153 – in a very short period of time, enabling it to be ready for the start of the new, 1970, Grand Prix season.  The BRM management was also guilty of an error at this point – instead of focusing all resources on the P153, it decided that the marque should branch out and make a car for the Can-Am Challenge sportscar series.  And just to compound any potential vicissitudes – sound familiar? – Southgate was granted very little time to design it; well, he had, after all, created the P153 very quickly, had he not? 

Perhaps the BRM management swiftly came to see that attention to the Can-Am car would be to the detriment of the Formula 1 programme.  Very well, they devised a solution: ship the Can-Am car, unfinished, out to the U.S. and shake it down/develop it over there: of course, that was very much to the detriment of the Can-Am programme! 

The Can-Am BRM, was designated model P154.  Built to the largely ‘formula libre’ Group 7 regulations governing the Can-Am, Southgate’s design was conventional.  Interestingly this approach was in marked contrast to that of the Shadow team to which he would eventually move.  In trying to break McLaren’s stranglehold on the Challenge, Shadow fielded a remarkably compact, ultra-low frontal area design for 1970.  Southgate’s P154 was a straightforward aluminium monocoque powered by a 7.6 litre Chevrolet big block V8 engine.  Whilst the standards-setting McLaren M8Ds, and most other runners, ran rear wings, (in some instances in conjunction with fences), the P154 relied on its rear bodywork contours for downforce.  The configuration’s development was initially informed by testing a scale model in the wind tunnel of Imperial College in London.  Finalisation followed testing of the car itself at MIRA. 

P154 Design drawing. Courtesy of Tony Southgate

Straightaway, fundamental problems arose and would haunt the P154’s potential for success.  At that time, wind tunnels usually lacked a moving floor and thus the test data derived had limited relevance to ‘real world’ conditions.  Additionally, Southgate’s basic concept of the car embraced track dimensions well beyond the chassis width by the use of 19 inch rear tyres – but the anticipated supply from Firestone did not materialise, and the car had to be raced on 17 inch covers. 

A contemporary feature in Autosport, 11 June 1970, reported that, ‘the first car will be ready for the opening round (Mosport) this weekend.’  Only just – it did not run for the first time until the day before the race.  Contracted to drive was George Eaton, a Canadian who had first competed in the Can-Am in 1966 in a Shelby Cobra, in various McLarens, 1967-9, and who had been given occasional Grands Prix outings in the P138 and P139.  George was a scion of the family that had established and then run Canada’s most prominent retailing business for 100 years.  Though wealth was certainly no bar to his racing activities, George was no mediocre pay-driver.  He had nine podiums to his name prior to the 1970 season, achieved in the Can-Am and USRRC series.  Moreover, he had placed second in the final round of the 1969 Can-Am series in Texas. 

George Eaton, June 1970. Courtesy of Dick Darrell

But the 1970 series didn’t start well for George or BRM.  At the Mosport round, run on 14 June, George was out on lap 33 with transmission trouble.  For the team there was some consolation in the fact that the car had qualified seventh of 28 entries – not bad for first time out – and BRM’s design/engineering was not to blame for the retirement: given the truncated design/development timescale, Southgate had opted to utilise the ubiquitous Hewland 4 speed gearbox. 

Two weeks on, round 2 was run at Mont-Tremblant.  Qualifying seemed to represent a backward step because, although only 22 cars practised, George’s best time was good enough only for ninth on the grid.  However, the race proved to be the team’s highlight of the season with George finishing in third.  But if he felt at all euphoric on the podium, that would to some extent derive from something he could not then know: he would retire in all eight of the remaining races. 

Best qualifying performances of the season came at Road Atlanta and Donnybrooke, where George started fifth on the grid.  At Road Atlanta he also got the furthest into a race, not being forced to retire until lap 49, when the engine blew up.  However, a broken rocker put paid to his race at Donnybrooke with only one lap completed.  Particularly disappointing events were Road America, where overheating prevented George from starting, and Riverside, a practice accident this time leaving the P154 unfit to make the grid. 

George at Watkins Glen, July 1970. Courtesy of Rich Martin

By the latter part of the season, a second car had been completed and this was entered for Pedro Rodriguez to drive in rounds 9 and 10.  On face value Pedro did much better than George, but this was mainly because his car proved reliable.  At Laguna Seca George outqualified Pedro, (eighth and ninth, respectively).  Nevertheless, Pedro made it to the line in fifth at Laguna, and in seventh at Riverside.  Southgate himself recounts: After coming third at Riverside, he (Rodriguez) told me it was the worst car he’d ever driven. That really embarrassed me. He was always so brave and uncomplaining, so it must have been really bad. 

BRM could not have been blamed if it had concluded that Group 7 was best left to other constructors.  However, perhaps buoyed by the promise his P153 Grand Prix car had shown in 1970, BRM prevailed upon Southgate to create a successor to the P154.  This he did, taking care to address key weaknesses that had dogged the P154’s handling, opting for a longer wheelbase and with improved frontal aerodynamics and a conventional rear wing.  The resulting P167 was run in both the European Interserie and the Can-Am in 1971.  The Can-Am operation was handled for BRM by Sid Taylor Racing.  Drivers Howden Ganley and Brian Redman saw little success and both finished only once in points-scoring positions, Ganley third at Riverside and Redman fourth at Laguna Seca. 

Compounding the generally downbeat nature of the saga of BRM’s Can-Am initiative, two other circumstances have to be mentioned.  A P167 was allocated for Pedro Rodriguez to drive at an Interserie race at the Norisring on 11 July.  However, during preparation of the car, the engine sustained damage while on the dynamometer.  With rectification impossible in the available timeframe, the race entry was cancelled.  Rodriguez, still keen on the event, accepted an offer from Herbert Muller to drive his Ferrari 512M.  On lap 12 a tyre came off the rim, sending the car into a barrier and wall, and then across the track.  Coming to rest, it caught fire.  Pedro died in hospital shortly after, with a fractured skull and burns cited as cause of death. 

Happily, George Eaton finished his driving career in good health, in 1972.  Less happily, he replaced that activity with involvement in the family business, becoming the last Eaton to assume the role of CEO.  Although there was much change in retailing to challenge traditional businesses like the Eaton organisation in the latter part of the twentieth century, it is commonly held that the management expertise of George and the family members of his father’s generation was poor, resulting in a steady decline of profitability.  Indeed, profitability had become a distant memory when George saw no alternative to resignation in 1997.  Two years later his successor was compelled to file for the firm’s bankruptcy.

Introduction

My main interest since the 1950s has been in the Grand Prix scene.  But in 1969 I found a shop that sold the American magazine, Road & Track, and ‘discovered’ the fantastically exhilarating Can-Am Challenge.  That my interest was so piqued was to a considerable extent down to the authoritative and witty reports filed by the great Pete Lyons.  I was – and remain – fascinated by the Group 7 cars, revelling in their gross nature, characterised by their huge and noisy Chevy pushrod V8s.  Not that such an attribute could be enjoyed in a sensory way in England, as there was precious little press coverage, let alone anything on film at the time.  Even today, footage of the Can-Am is not plentiful and is mostly of low quality. 

For me the classic period of the Can-Am was 1967-74, the years of the Bruce & Denny Show, the advent of the Porsche 917/10 (and /30,) and the final breakthrough of the Shadow.  I’ll be featuring stories and images from the era here from time to time.  My first substantial post will be on the BRM P154 – an object lesson in what can happen if you don’t follow the advice repeatedly dispensed by our dads, ‘If a job’s worth doing, it’s worth doing properly.’ 

Meanwhile, here’s a set of 1970 race programme covers which hint at the excitement offered by the Can-Am and which in their style are also emblematic of simpler, happier times:

Images courtesy of Malcolm Mitchell and his terrific website