Barney Oldfield: King of Speed – Part 5

For previous entires in the series: Part 1; Part 2; Part 3; Part 4.

Stuntin’ with Lincoln Beachey

Will Pickens, Barney’s longtime manager, had long since diversified into other types of acts. Pickens, for example, now represented Lincoln Beachey, the first man to ever “stunt” an airplane. Between the 1913 and 1914 racing seasons, Pickens, Oldfield, and Beachey combined forces to put on a series of car versus plane races at various fairgrounds. The events were a huge spectacle earned the three gentleman a small fortune in a few short months. Pickens would later die in the San Francisco bay performing one of his acts.

The De Palma Feud Heats Up

Barney Oldfield had raced for Mercer before. The first big event of the 1914 season was the Vanderbilt Cup, which was to be held in Santa Monica that year. The Mercer team had already signed Ralph De Palma for the race. However, the team manager could not resist having two of the hottest names in racing on the same team. He tapped his history with Barney Oldfield and signed him up to drive for Mercer. De Palma was furious. In fact, he was so upset, that he refused to drive on the same team as Oldfield. Oldfield, the consummate showman, and De Palma, the racer’s racer, were diametrically opposed in personality and approach to racing. De Palma ended up having to look elsewhere for a car to drive, given that he could not stomach being on the same team as the old master, Oldfield.

De Palma found an aging Mercedes racer, that he had used to win the Vanderbilt Cup and Elgin Trophy in 1912. Shortly after the start, several drivers in front of De Palma crashed and overheated. Suddenly, he found himself in the lead. According to the writer and painter, Peter Helck, Oldfield in his Mercer “hounded the German car relentlessly, clipping chunks of time lap by lap and being within 8 sec. at 190 miles.” However, Barney’s fast and furious approach destroyed his tires, causing him to pit beyond that required by De Palma. Once again, a few laps from the finish, Barney’s tires were running thin. Again, according to Peter Helck’s classic account of the race:

“De Palma swung wide on Nevada Avenue turn and, looking back, observed the crucial state of his opponent’s rubber. Virtually together, both cars thundered past the picts when De Palma signaled for a stop next time. As hoped the signal was observed by Oldfield and obviously welcomed by the old master. At lap end, with the German car trailing guilelessly, the Mercer scooted in for replacements, while De Palma, successful in the ruse, never paused.”

And so, De Palma continued on without pitting to win the race by 80 seconds. This would be the last notable success for the old-style chain-drive cars.

At the Indy 500, France and their new style of cars, dominated. Rene Thomas won the race, followed by Arthur Duray, Albert Guyot, and Jules Goux. Barney Oldfield placed fifth, in a Stutz, ranking him best against the other Americans.

Around the beginning of World War I, for Europe, Barney continued to drive for the Harry Stutz. In July 1914, Barney Oldfield was out early, due to engine trouble, at a race in Sioux City, Iowa. In August 1914, De Palma wins the Elgin Road Race for the Chicago Auto Club Trophy. Barney Oldfield only managed fourth place. Wishart, another driver, was killed the following day competing for the Elgin National Trophy.

The 1914 Cactus Derby

The Cactus Derby was a rough and tumble off-road race that pushed even the most well-designed cars to their absolute limit. In 1914, the race took a new route as compared to previous years. It was set at 671 miles, to be completed over three days. According to an article by Mark Dill, “Conventional wisdom suggested that only reinforced stock cars had the sturdiness to survive the potholes, boulders and riverbeds the course presented.”

Barney Oldfield was never one for dogmatic adherence to conventional wisdom. Barney Oldfield loaded up his low-slung Stutz from the Indy 500 and headed for Los Angeles in November 1914.

As could be expected for these early racers, it was a race of attrition. Twenty cars started; however, only eight were able to finish. Fortunately, the aging Barney Oldfield, now 36 and called ‘the grand old man’ was successful. Usually known only for track racing, Oldfield showed his versatility by overcoming terrible weather and strong opponents to win the race on time.

Barney Oldfield won the race in 22 hours and 59 seconds for an average speed of approximately 29.2 miles per hour. He was 35 minutes ahead of the second place finisher. Oldfield, the old master, proved that he still had a few tricks up his sleeve.

The Maxwell Team: Setbacks and Resurgance

For the “circle city” Corona meet, on Thanksgiving Day, Oldfield switched to the Maxwell team. In fact, at the invitation of the team’s manager, he joined the team only one day before the start of the race. These 140 horsepower cars were designed by Ray Harroun, the first Indy 500 winner.

Although the old-man was still competitive, he only managed fourth on the AAA championship points list. This was the closest that Oldfield, for all his track records, would ever come to winning the national championship.

For the 1915 season, board tracks were rising in popularity. These circle tracks, built entirely from two-by-fours narrowly laid end to end, were coming into their own. Oldfield would need to master yet another type of racing.

Initially, in 1915, Oldfield had a series of setbacks early in the season. However, he would briefly recover and find some success before his contract with Maxwell ran out. In January, his car caught fire. In February, at San Francisco, a piston broke. In March, at the Vanderbilt Cup also in San Francisco, Barney Oldfield was simply not competitive.

English: Barney Oldfield posing with race car ...

Following Barney’s uncompetitive performance at the 1915 Vanderbilt Cup, Maxwell redesigned several aspects of their race cars engine, including the exhaust. The net result was a more powerful racer. With his newly improved mount, Oldfield turned around and won a 300 mile “boards over dirt” race. Barney also won the next race in Tucson on March 20, 1915.

Unfortunately, the success may have gone to Barney’s head. He returned to his partying ways. When May rolled around, Barney was hard at it. In fact, in Indianapolis, Barney partied so much the night before the 500, that he was unable to turn a single lap. He noted that the noise alone of his engine might just kill him. Ralph De Palma won the Indy 500 that year.

Around then, in the middle of the 1915 season, Barney Oldfield’s contract ran up. He needed a new competitive car, but fate delivered something else entirely. His millionaire friend, and chairman of the Touring Board of the AAA, David G. Joyce purchased and imported a grand prix racing Delage from France.

Barney was excited at the prospect of another European imported vehicle. Unfortunately, the Delage would the least successful car that Barney ever raced. After importing the car, it took several weeks to prepare the car for domestic racing.

During the wait, Oldfield brought out the killer-Christie, his front-wheel drive beast, yet again. The Christie, now ancient by racing standards, was still fast. However, it’s achilles tendon was the fact that it overheated after just a few laps of running. But, as a record-setter, it was still a good mount. On July 2, 2015, in Tacoma, Washington, Oldfield set records for the 1/2 mile, 1 mile, and 2 mile distances.

In the main event, on the fourth of July, Barney drove a Peugeot. Today, commentators occasionally speak of how tightly-knit the racing community is. They travel together, they all know each other, and they race hard against each other. This commonality of experience yields a certain loyalty to other members of the community. This was probably even more true in the old days, when racing meant equal chances at victory and death.

Billy Carlson, a fellow racer and close friend, was at wide-open-throttle top speed on the 60th lap of the Tacoma main event. On the back stretch, one of his tires popped. The car was thrown like a projectile over a 30-foot embankment. Neither Billy Carlson, nor his riding mechanic, survived the day. Oldfield was shaken; however, in those days the race always went on. Barney took fifth place.

Stay tuned for the remaining entries in the Barney Oldfield: King of Speed series.

Barney Oldfield: King of Speed – Part 2

This article is the second in a series on Barney Oldfield.  Click here for the first entry.  

The Winton Change

On August 6, 1903, The Minneapolis Journal, and other news sources, announced that Oldfield had signed a contract to race a Winton and to promote Winton cars. As of August 22, 1903, he was on the track racing the Winton Bullett II.

An interesting strain of automotive journalism is the description of the ever-legendary four-wheel-drift. Here, a writer for the San Francisco Californian exclaimed, “Barney Oldfield is one of the most brilliant and daring of automobile racing men, allowing the rear wheels of his machine to skid at the curves in a truly alarming manner.”

Oldfield Driving a Winton Bullett on the beach.

Motorsport scholar William F. Nolan suggests Oldfield’s motivation for switching to a Winton was a matter of money. He was offered $2,500.00, which was solid money in-hand. While Oldfield changed cars a number of times early in his career, he would eventually become a staunch supporter of Firestone tires. He stuck by Firestone tires throughout his career.

Speed is Dangerous.

In August 1903, Barney Oldfield was searching for records to break. He set the three-mile record in Columbus, Ohio at 3:10. Then, he was back at Grosse Pointe. That race, however, was dangerous. A St. Louis paper reports:

“While Barney Oldfield’s racing machine racing automobile was running nearly sixty miles an hour at the Grosse Pointe track this afternoon in the ten-mile open event, one of the front tires on the machine burned through and exploded, throwing the car into the fence and injuring Frank Shearer, a spectator, so terribly that he died in an ambulance en route to the hospital.

The article continues:

“The Car went fifty feet through the air and Oldfield, who kept his seat, had a marvelous escape from death, He received several cuts about the body and had one broken rib.”

At the end of the article, a shocking description introduces the danger of watching motorsports up close.

“Shearer was standing against the fence at this point, and the car struck him squarely, breaking both legs in several places and fracturing his skull. He was thrown seventy-five feet and never recovered consciousness.”

Nolan, in his biography of Barney Oldfield, writes, “Stunned at the news, Barney shook his head. ‘They warned people not to sit on the rail,’ he said. ‘I was afraid something like this might happen. Why didn’t he listen to what they told him?’” Nevertheless, this incident was not enough to dissuade him from racing cars.

A Note on Barney’s Cigar

Barney Oldfield, is almost always photographed chomping on a cigar. The legend goes that Barney cracked a tooth during the race or crash in Detroit that day. Thereafter, he used the cigar as a tobacconated mouth guard and shock absorber.

Barney Oldfield and his usual cigar.

Daytona’s First Speed Week

In Ormand, Florida, W. K. Vanderbilt raced Barney Oldfield for a record on a smooth beach race. According to Nolan, “The affair was held on the 15-mile sweep of Ormond-Daytona’s glass-smooth beach, affording drivers the rare opportunity of full-speed motoring.”

Officially designated the Ferrari 365 GTB/4, the Ferrari Daytona stands as a testament to the reputation of Daytona, Florida for speed. The car is named for Ferrari’s success at the 1967 24 Hours of Daytona. However, the 24 Hours of Daytona, the Daytona 500, and other famous races would never had happened but for the beach at which records were set by Vanderbilt and Oldfield.

Barney Lives Hard

Around this time, Barney had already learned to live hard and live fast. After the speed week event around Daytona, Barney toured a number of other cities, picking up quick cash to feed his increasing hunger for the good life. However, in a moment of desperation, he failed to honor a race commitment. As Nolan notes, Barney Oldfield was called before AAA. Specifically, the chairman of the racing board A.R. Pardington, lectured Oldfield and fined him $100.

The bigger problem for Oldfield was his boss, Alex Winton. Winton would not renew Oldfield’s contract, stating “I won’t have scandal connected with the Winton Automobile. Nevertheless, he was a successful racer and he had options.

As noted above, the Mooers-designed Peerless “Green Dragon” was originally built to be raced at the 1903 Gordon Bennett Trophy Cup in Ireland. It was powered by six-by-six square bore and stroke engine. Immediately, in the seat of the Green Dragon, Oldfield began to slay his competition.

Death at the World’s Fair

The 1904 World’s Fair was America’s chance to show off its industrial advances. Naturally, there was plenty of nearby entertainment. One such attraction was a track near to the grounds of the 1904 World’s Fair in St. Louis, Missouri. On August 29, 1904, the front page of the St. Louis Republic shouted: “Oldfield’s Sixty-Horse-Power Auto Bolts Through Fence Killing Two Men

Prior to the accident, there were four initial events. Then, the accident occurred at the start of the fifth event, a ten-mile race “for big machines.” In 1904, rules and regulations for classes of cars were poorly delineated, as the AAA had just come into formation in the past year or two.

The racers were touted as going “a mile a minute” as though such speed was inherently inhuman. Another driver, A.C. Webb, was in front of Oldfield. The were racing heads up and sliding around the corners of the track. Blinded by the dust in his eyes, Oldfield took the outer line. He got too high toward the outer edge of the track. Then, in a matter of seconds, the accident occurred.

According to the St. Louis Republic, “[Oldfield] ran into and through the fence, and, knocking Scott and Montgomery down, ran fifteen farther to a maple tree, where the machine was demolished by the collision.” He was able to walk from an automobile to the clubhouse where a doctor from Missouri Baptist Sanitarium treated his injuries.

Another account was similar.

“Webb led by twenty yards. He held the middle of the track as he mounted the bank at the turn his machine threw a cloud of dust in the air that obscured both machines from the sight of the 25,000 spectators.”

The article goes on the explain the cause of the accident:

“Oldfield tried to pass Webb at the three-eights pole, and as he found that he was nearing the car in the dust he went to steer around it. He did not realize that the fence was so close on account of the blinding dust, and the machine bolted into it.”

Barney pronounced, as his injuries were examined at the clubhouse, that this would be his last ever race. Both of his parents had attended the race.

The men killed were named John Scott, 48, of Adams St. and Nathan Montgomery, 32, of Lee Avenue. Barney Oldfield was severely injured. Reportedly, 25,000 people were there to watch the race and witnessed the accident, insofar as they could see behind the dust and smoke. “Scott’s son, a manly little fellow of 15 years, cried bitterly as he listened to the story of his father’s death.”

Initially, Barney declared that this would be his very last race. While recovering, at Missouri Baptist Sanitarium (Hospital), he met Bess, his future wife. By November 1904, his tune about racing was changing. In fact, at the beginning of 1905, newspapers were announcing Oldfield’s to racing.

Barney Oldfield: King of Speed – Part 1

The Early Years

The Speed King of Swag

Barney Oldfield was a true American original. Barney Oldfield was a racer; he was also equal parts showman. Oldfield was there at the beginning of organized racing. At heart, he was a dirt-track man through and through. But, if you asked him, he was the “King of Speed.” He wasn’t just fast, he was cool.

The Bernd Eli (Oldfield) Years

Bernd Eli Oldfield was born on June 3, 1878, two years after Alexander Graham Bell patented the telephone. He had one older sister, Bertha Oldfield. Bernd Eli was born in a rural farming community in Ohio. Around his twelfth birthday, his family made a difficult decision to move to Toledo for a more city-oriented, industrialized existence. Growing tired of farm life, the Oldfield’s wanted to benefit from the conveniences of industry. And so, they moved Bernd and his older sister Bertha to Toledo, a thriving rail center.

Bernd dropped out of school between 12 and 15 years of age. Around 1893, Bernd Eli Oldfield took a job at a Toledo Hotel, the Monticello. In his later years, he would quip that his first job as a racer was operating the Monticello Hotel elevator. At Monticello, Bernd’s boss called him a sissy for his name; an insult which could not stand. To avoid coming to fisticuffs with his offending supervisor, Bernd Eli asserted “just call me Barney.” The name stuck. Even his parents began calling him Barney.

The Bicycle Years

Between 1893 and 1894, Barney became obsessed with bicycle racing, dropping out of school and working, in part, to save for his own bike. Unfortunately, what he purchased was too heavy to be raced. Like all speed fiends, he needed a better, faster, lighter machine. He eventually obtained a race-worthy bicycle. He entered his first race on May 30, 1894. He came in second. By the end of 1894, he had won some silver medals and a gold watch.

A young Barney Oldfield poses on a racing tandem bicycle.

In 1895, he attended the Ohio State Championship Races for cycling. This turned out to be a life changing event. There, he caught the eye of the Stearns Bicycle company. He also met a girl from nearby Canton and immediately proposed. She deferred; however, they did marry one year later. Barney later said this was but a teenage infatuation. The marriage ended quickly.

The Stearns Bicycle job involved some racing, but also it involved a lot of selling. Barney quickly learned how difficult it can be to survive on retail commission. Around this time, young Oldfield experimented in other endeavors. He went through a boxing phase, but was quickly known only for his glass jaw. He was soon headed toward motorsport partly by chance and partly by destiny.

The Motoring Connect

In 1899, his friend Tom Cooper won the Bicycle Championship of America. As a direct result of his success, Cooper then headed to Europe, where he encountered the motorized bicycle (an early form of the motorcycle). Meanwhile, the automobile quickly gained acceptance in America. Around this time, the great city to city automobile races of Europe were maturing; however, increasing speeds also caused significant and increasing dangers. Racing in the United States remained nomadic and primitive.

By 1900, Barney Oldfield’s own reputation was well-cemented; his bicycle racing exploits appeared in newspapers. According to tone article: “He is at present in Omaha, and is counted to be one of the fast men of this country.” In fact, both newspapers and bicycle advertisers touted his name at appearances throughout the summer of 1900.

Sometime in October 1900, Tom Cooper, his cycle racing buddy, brought a tandem motorized bicycle back from Europe with him. Then, serendipity stepped in. Tom Cooper decided to take the racer to a Detroit Track, Grosse Pointe. As it happened, the track was also Henry Ford’s local raceway. Cooper and Oldfield raced hard on the tandem single-cylinder that day; however, something much more important happened. A then-unknown Henry Ford, and a car of his own design, beat automotive giant Alex Winton’s race car on the track. It was on this day that Oldfield met Henry Ford.

Transition to a Driver

Barney Oldfield continued racing bicycles, notwithstanding a brief stint as a gold mine operator. By 1902, Barney had already headed back east. Newspaper articles establish that Barney Oldfield continued to race bicycles, powered or otherwise, through September 10, 1902. In the interim, Cooper wrote Oldfield and told him that they thought he should drive one of Henry Ford’s new prototypes.

Again, historian William F. Nolan’s account is crucial. Nolan wrote, “When Cooper joined Ford it was agreed that Tom would shoulder most of the financial burden, and that the plans, primary design and materials would be Ford’s responsibility.” A draftsman, C. Harold Wills, and a chief mechanic, Ed “Spider” Huff, also worked at the shop at 81 Park Place. Oldfield joined them in late September.

Now, as the story goes, they showed up with Ford’s new racers at Grosse Pointe, but they would not run. Henry Ford became upset and quit the venture. He sold the 999 and Red Devil cars to Tom Cooper on October 13, 1902. Ford’s basic premise was that he could not have his name associated with a failure at the race track.

The Celery King of Kalamazoo.

Oldfield figured out pretty quickly that (at least to him) racing was as much about self-promotion as outright speed. Sure, he had speed, but he needed a hype man. He went straight to Glenn Stuart, the Kalamazoo celery king. Glenn Stuart had a small farm, from which he grew it to such magnitude that it put Kalamazoo on the map.

Meanwhile, the 1903 Paris to Madrid fiasco and the relatively successful 1903 Gordon Bennett Cup, in Ireland, were taking place. Barney Oldfield, would eventually drive a car that he called the “Green Dragon.” As of the summer of 1903, the yet-to-be-named Green Dragon was being raced at the 1903 Gordon Bennett Cup; the Peerless racer would eventually be rebuilt for Oldfield.

Oldfield Off to the Races

On May 30, 1903, Oldfield was scheduled in a match race against a man named Charles Ridgeway in a Peerless. Oldfield won the first two, of three, heats. The payoff from the match was substantial. It was enough for Barney to pay off his parents’ entire mortgage. This was really his first truly significant automobile win.

Just a few days later, on June 20, 1903, in Indianapolis, Oldfield broke a world record when he drove an automobile one mile in 59 and three-fifths seconds. This feat was covered in newspapers all over the nation. Barney netted $1,200.00, a huge sum in those days, for breaking the record. Barney Oldfield was off to the races, as it were.

Within days, he back on the track trying to break the record that he had just set. Throughout his lengthy racing career, Barney Oldfield was more focused on breaking the next record than being a true racer. That should not denigrate his skill; however, it does speak to his motivations as a man.

At this point, Barney was still racing the “Red Devil” while Tom Cooper was rocking the “999” variant. Newspapers echo frequent allegations of 80 horsepower in each of these beasts. By the summer of 1903, Barney Oldfield was a household name. He would fight to keep it that way, for the rest of his life. Oldfield, if nothing else, was dedicated to his own fame.

The 1957 German Grand Prix: Fangio’s Maserati Triumph

The Maserati 250F was a great car. It was well-balanced; however, this does not mean that it was easy to drive on the edge. Cars of this era were heavy, but also had notoriously little grip. A driver, Paul Frere, described what it was like to drive a Formula 1 car in 1956:

“When things start to happen they happen so quickly that correcting action must be taken without delay and with the utmost accuracy: with a Grand Prix car it is extremely easy, owing to the quickness with which it responds, to overcorrect a slide and start a series of zigzags of increasing amplitude which will eventually bring you up—hard—against the bank, ditch, or whatever else happens to be at the side of the road.”

Fangio (Maserati 250F, race # 1, chassis #2529), looks cool, calm, and collected.

Another author, Paul Fearnley, was permitted to drive Fangio’s actual 1957 German Grand Prix car (chassis number 2529) around the Nurburgring in 2002. His words, captured by Motorsport Magazine, were profound. “Its throttle is feather-light and I hamfootedly kick the three Webers awake. My left tympanum goes into spasm.” The Maserati 250F, although well-balanced, took a master’s touch around the tricky Nürburgring.

Even with Fangio at the helm, it was not easy to navigate the Nürburgring. I will assume you are familiar with the ‘ring. If you are not, you should first go and look it up; it is pretty epic. The Nurburgring, circa 1957, was precisely 22,810 meters in length (14.173 miles). To win the race, you would need to be the first to complete 22 circuits, at breakneck speed.

Too long to memorize, one needed to at least remember the corners that could kill them. But, the driver also needed to compartmentalize their fears and have supreme confidence in their ability to squeeze the car through the narrow racing gaps of the newly partially-resurfaced Nurburgring.

Finally, Fangio’s main competition, the Scuderia Ferrari were dangerous contenders. Stirling Moss and Mike Hawthorn, both young British drivers for Ferrari, were about to face off a 46-year-old Fangio. Vanwall, a British team, had also been coming on relatively strong in 1957.

By any stretch of the imagination, Fangio’s task was challenging. To a mere mortal, it would have been terrifying to have the wobbly 1950s machinery shrieking down the narrow pavement of the ‘ring. And yet, pictures show Fangio smiling at the wheel of chassis 2529 as he calmly circled the lengthy track. He was at-one with the car by the end of the practice sessions. The year before, pole position was set at a lap speed of 86.3 mph. This year, Fangio tore through the track at 90.1 mph. Fangio had the speed, but something would go wrong in the race.

The Maserati team and the Scuderia Ferrari would have known each others relative fuel loads on race day. The trained eye could easily tell how much the tail of a car was drooping from fuel weight. Fangio would have known that Moss and Hawthorn were on full fuel, thereby planning to run a non-stop race. Conversely, Moss and Hawthorn would have seen Fangio’s 250F sitting high in the tail; it was only half-full on fuel. Fangio planned to hedge his bets and pit at the halfway mark for fuel and tires.

The front row was four red cars: Maserati and Ferrari. 200,000 people came out to watch the race that sunny day in August 1957. At 1:15 pm, the flag dropped and the drivers revved their engines and spun their tires as they left the starting line.

The Nürburgring’s long laps bring unique challenges, such as the inability to track the race for minutes, at a time. But, when the cars finally emerged nearly ten minutes later, Fangio was not in front. Rather, it was the Ferrari of Mike Hawthorn, followed by his teammate Peter Collins. Hawthorn had done a standing lap of 9:42.5. This was a cracking lap, and they would only get faster as the race went on.

At the end of the second of twenty-two laps, Hawthorn was still in the lead. Time was just starting to grow short for Fangio to pull out a lead. Remember, Fangio needed to stop for both tires and fuel at the halfway point; the Ferraris Hawthorn and Collins would drive straight through without interruption. On the second lap, Hawthorn lowered his time to 9:37.9. But, Fangio had furled his brow and dropped the proverbial hammer. Within a few seconds, Fangio finished his second lap in an even quicker 9:34.6.

Without too much difficulty, having waited to warm his tires, Fangio finally passed both of the leading Ferraris. According to Fangio’s own comments, he had never been more “one” with an automobile than on that day, mounted atop his Maserati 250F, chassis 2529.

Although Hawthorn and Collins stayed in close formation, Fangio was screaming over the hills, down through the valleys, and around the kinks, twists, and turns of the ‘ring. Over the next several laps, Fangio increased his lead by seven seconds a lap.

By lap eight, Fangio again dropped the course world record to 9:30.8. At this pace, could his tires even last to the halfway point? He was 28 seconds in the lead. This is about the average length of a late-1950s pitstop, without the time lost heading into and out of pit lane.

Behra, another Maserati 250F driver and teammate to Fangio had shot his tires by lap 10. He needed to pit even before the halfway mark. Fangio continued to only speed up. He finished his tenth lap in 9:25.5.

Finally, his worn tires could take more. Moreover, Fangio was almost out of his half-tank of fuel. Around 30 seconds ahead of the Ferraris, he stopped at the end of the twelfth lap. However, the pit stop was bungled.

The stop was a disaster. The mechanics needed to change the two rear tires and give his 250F another half tank of fuel. However, one of the mechanics dropped, and momentarily lost, the wheel nut. The mechanic fumbled about as he looked for the part necessary to re-secure the new tire to the car. The pit stop took a shocking fifty-two seconds.

The fifty-two seconds, plus the time at reduced speed in the pit lane, resulted in Fangio being down on the Ferrari’s by about forty-five seconds. Remember, in the entire first-half of the race, Fangio’s miraculous performance only pulled out a twenty-eight second lead. Now, with less laps remaining, Fangio would need to make up even more time.

Fangio’s infamous bungled stop for fresh fuel and tires. Fangio can be seen out of the car, taking a drink, just below the number “3.”

It would take more than proficient driving and a bit of luck. Fangio knew something more was required. Rather than take off at demon pace, Fangio played it cool as his tires warmed up. Some have suggested that this was a ruse designed to get Hawthorn and Collins to lower their pace.

Whether intended or not, Fangio’s slower pace on those first few laps gave him even less time to catch the Ferraris, even if it may have lulled them into a false-sense of security. However, Fangio was back at ten-tenths soon enough. At the end of the sixteenth lap, Fangio was closing methodically. However, he remained in arrears by 33 seconds.

A truly historic picture of Fangio leaving the famous pitstop. The crowd is on their feet as Fangio drops his goggles onto his face. Two mechanics push the car back into the race.

Fangio went on to drive even faster. His record lapping time dropped first to 9:28.5, and then to 9:25.3. With three laps to go; however, Juan-Manuel still had to cover 13.5 seconds of a gap. He caught and passed both Ferraris in half that time. He must have made up at least seven to eight seconds per lap on his well-worn tires.

Fangio not only won the 1957 German Grand Prix that day, but also won his final championship. One would be well-justified in asserting that this great race was the high-point of the career of a true great master.

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Travis Turner of GPevolved.com

 

A Mid-Season Racing Ban, Circa 1900

The automobilism movement, as it was called in the early days of the motor vehicle, was growing.  Unfortunately, so was oppositional public sentiment.  The main vehicle for informing the public about the wonders of the automobile was the motor race.  However, often, races were poorly planned.  The old dirt roads were rough.  Often, organizers failed to inform property owners, along the route, of the race.  As a result, cars frequently collided with livestock.  In the parlance of today’s youth, these events were often a hot mess.

Paris to Roubaix, 1900

Bicycle, Velo, Fahrad, Radrennen. Paris-Rubaix...
Bicycle, Velo, Fahrad, Radrennen. Paris-Rubaix, 1900 (Photo credit: Wikipedia)

These anti-automobilism pressures culminated with a race from Paris to Roubaix.  Fans of cycling will recognize this as a bicycle race.  It usually was.  However, in 1900, motor tricycles were included in this cycling event.  Do not estimate the danger associated with these small motor tricycles.  They may have only had two cylinders and between six and eight horsepower, but they were rumored to be faster than the quickest proper automobile, in a straight line.  There had been 52 motorized entries to be racing just behind the bicycles.  However, in the end, only 30 showed up.  One failed to start up that morning, leaving 29 motor tricycles in the competition.

The crowd, as pictured, was substantial.  According to Gerald Rose, “At one point on the route there was a certain right-angled corner known as the ‘Croix des Noailles,’ and that being a good coign of vantage from which the competitors could be seen approaching, turning the corner, and departing, a crowd of spectators some two or three hundred strong had gathered to enjoy the spectacle.  Here, the majority of spectators arrived by bicycle. They had laid them down in a stack at the corner of the road track.  Importantly, one of the spectators was the wife of a power government Deputy (for the Department of the Seine).

At first, everything went well.  However, two competitors by the names of Martin and Dorel arrived at the corner going too fast.  Martin ran wide.  Dorel tried to squeeze by on the inside as Martin trike ran wide.  They crashed together and then over the pile of bicycles.  The 300-strong crowd was too thick to get out of the way in time.  The Deputy’s wife sustained a terrible compound leg fracture, which ultimately left her in the hospital for at least two weeks.  On the one hand, the bicycles broke much of the collision such that only a few other injuries were sustained.  On the other hand, this was the unfortunate spark to the powder keg of anti-automobilism sentiment.

The result was a racing ban placed in force within days of the accident.  There was widespread sadness and dismay among the enthusiast community.  From here on, races required a government exemption from the general rule to proceed.  As France was the epicenter of the automobile movement, during the fin de siecle, this would ultimately have a cooling effect upon the popular car movement–particularly when it came to smaller, regional races.  The rundown clock on the great city to city races had been set.  The end of these great events, unfortunately, was now in sight (even if it was not known at the time).

1900 Bordeaux to Perigueux Automobile Race

Levegh_(Alfred_Velghe)_et_sa_Mors_24_hp_de_1900,_victorieuse_à_Bordeaux-Périgueux_et_à_Paris-Toulouse-Paris
Levegh and his 24 horsepower Mors.

This race was authorized in spite of the racing ban.  This fact, alone, made the race something of an attraction.  However, the bigger crowd draw was the fact that it was the first proper meeting between the latest Mors and Panhard cars.  It was a two day event, with the first day being 72 miles and the second day being 125.5 miles.  Unlike the relatively minor race of Paris to Roubaix, the Bordeaux to Perigueux race had many of the bigger names in early motorsport including Giraud and Levegh.

Giraud, had previously only driven a Bollée, but had switched to Panhard in light of the overwhelming racing success of the marque.  However, the Mors had come out of nowhere and was to be quite a contender for the supreme French racer.  Levegh, as I have mentioned several times in previous posts, was the uncle of the unfortunate instigator of the 1955 Le Mans disaster.

An American, Bostwick, was new on the scene.  He had purchased, at an extremely high price, De Knyff’s “Tour de France” Panhard from 1899.  The speed on the first day was incredible.  Levegh travelled the 72 miles in only 84 minutes, which is a pace that the racing community had not yet seen.  Even more impressive was the fact that other racers were averaging nearly as quickly as Levegh’s record pace.  At the end of the first day, Giraud was only three minutes behind in second place.  Bostwick, the new American to the French racing scene, was third.  He finished only an additional 4:30 behind the second place Giraud.

Another Photo of Levegh, from the 1900 Bordeaux to Perigueux run.
Another Photo of Levegh, from the 1900 Bordeaux to Perigueux run.

On the second day, Levegh was again quickest.  Thus, Levegh and his Mors won the two day event averaging 48.4 miles per hour.  Giraud maintained second place, at an average of 47.1 miles per hour.  Bostwick evidenced the American can-do attitude by maintaining third at 45.6 miles per hour.  This proved that the Automobile Club de France had correctly chosen both a Mors and a Panhard for the upcoming first iteration of the Gordon Bennett trophy (which will be featured in the next post).

 

/ Travis Turner of GPevolved.com

Sources:

Gerald Rose, A Record of Motor Racing 1894 – 1908 (1949)

The Motor-Car Journal, April 20th, 1900 (Accessed via Google).