Monaco, 1967: Bandini’s Fiery Crash

Dealing with Death in Sport

Death in sport is not easy for me, as a writer, to deal with. But, for some races, death is the story. It’s unavoidable. I do not desire to be exploitative, but rather to speak honestly about the tragedy. Certainly, the loss of any life—be it a spectator or driver—is truly regrettable. Is death in motorsport a stain? Or, is it inevitable result of forward progress? There are no easy answers, only acknowledgments of what has come before.

Lorenzo Bandini

Lorenzo Bandini died three days after the 1967 Monaco Grand Prix. He had lived to race. Speaking of his path to racing, he once said, “I always wanted to be a driver, but I had to wait and wait. It was like being madly in love with a beautiful girl and holding one’s emotions in check, without being able to explain it to her.”

Born in North Africa in December 1936, his parents settled in Florence, Italy three years later. His father died when Lorenzo was fifteen years old. He went to work as an apprentice at a local garage.

Five years later, at age 20, Lorenzo Bandini opened his own shop. Late in 1957, he raced a Fiat 1100 borrowed from a generous customer. He ran in a Hill Climb at Emilia, Italy and was fifteenth in his class. Undeterred, he borrowed a better Fiat 1100 from his old boss. He scored a third place and was offered a Fiat V8. He did even better with the bigger engine. In 1958, he purchased his own Volpini Formula Junior open-wheeled car to race with. He was considered a natural at the wheel by contemporaries and critics.

Mimmo Dei, patron of Scuderia Centro-Sud, gave Bandini his first shot at Formula 1 at the 1961 Pau GP. In 1962, the Scuderia Centro-Sud disbanded. Enzo Ferrari signed Bandini; however, at first, he confined Bandini to sports car work.

Mimmo Dei came to the proverbial rescue in 1963. Dei had just purchased Graham Hill’s winning BRM. For the first part of 1963, Lorenzo drove the BRM in Formula 1 races. Later, he became Ferrari’s number two driver on the Formula 1 squad. He was behind the late John Surtees through the end of 1966. By 1967, Bandini had become Ferrari’s number one driver, ahead of Chris Amon.

Coming Up to Speed at the 1967 Monaco GP

May 1967. The South of France. The cars of this era were squishy. Getting around Monaco took more art than science. They drove by the seat of their pants, feeling the changes in grip corner by corner. Aerodynamic grip was nowhere to be found; the driver was limited to the small contact patches between his tires and Monaco’s historic streets.

There were 22 entires for 16 places on the starting grid. Of those 16 places, 11 were already guaranteed to works teams that had been in existence for at least three years.

Of note, Jackie Stewart was in a V8 BRM, but also had the option of driving an H16 BRM. Mike Spence was in a H16 BRM. John Surtees had access to two virtually identical Honda V12 cars. Jack Brabham did require his spare car, as his new reversed port engine blew up during the first practice session. Dennis Hulme had his reliable 1966 Repco-Brabham, with side exhausts.

Practice

Bandini held the previous Monaco race lap record at 1:29.8, set in 1966. However, in light of recent design improvements, speeds were expected be even faster for the 1967 Monaco Grand Prix.

The first practice was on Thursday afternoon and speeds started off slow on the oily street circuit. All the cars set about practicing right away, except for Clark and Hill. Their cars had been held up and were not yet delivered. The first laps were around 1:35.0 as each team began to dial in their cars.

Lorenzo Bandini set a 1:30.4 in the Thursday afternoon practice. At the end of practice, Bandini was happy with his car; however, the other Ferrari driver—Chris Amon—complained of throttle response issues. Jackie Stewart, piloting a BRM, was the only driver to dip below 1:30.0.

The next practice took place on Friday morning, where a sense of urgency pervaded the paddock. Everyone quickly got down to business. Clark, finally able to test his recently arrived Lotus, was first quick in his Lotus-Climax V8.

In this Friday morning practice, Bandini was only able to get down to about 1:33.0 before opening up the throttle too soon around the Mirabeau hairpin. He broke his front suspension, as a result of hitting the course wall. John Surtees set the fastest time in his Honda V12 at 1:28.4.

It rained on Saturday morning. Therefore, many thought that no faster times would be set at the next practice on Saturday afternoon. However, wind plus intervening support races sufficiently dried and rubbered in the track to allow the Formula 1 racers to set more fast times. Bandini certainly had some work ahead of him for the final qualifying practice.

Bandini was quite successful in his attempt to improve his race grid position. With his front end suspension fixed, Bandini set a blistering Monaco lap of 1:28.3. However, Jack Brabham was even faster; he set a lap at 1:27.6. Brabham and Bandini made up the front row of the Monaco grid for the race. Behind them it was Surtees and Hulme on the second row. Clark and Stewart rounded out the third row.

Race

The Monaco Grand Prix is an elegant paradox. The course is unyielding and confining. The cars that race it are fiery beasts aching to be free. At a course like Monza, the car and track act in synthetic harmony to slingshot cars out of the curva parabolica. However, at Monaco, the car and track become diametrically opposed forces. Perfect concentration is the only solution to the paradox.

The weather was beautiful for the ’67 Monaco GP. The cars formed on the grid and revved their engines as they waited for the flag to drop. Tires screeched as the cars launched into action. The crowd watched Lorenzo Bandini lead the field into the first corner. Jack Brabham got a slow start away from his number one grid position. Brabham’s brand new Repco engine broke a connecting rod, which punched a hole in the block. Still operating on seven cylinders, Jack’s Repco sprayed oil all over the track.

At the end of the first lap, Bandini led Hulme, Stewart, Surtees, and Gurney. In the pits, Brabham was surprised to learn that his engine was terminal.

By the end of lap 2, both Dennis Hulme and Jackie Stewart had passed Lorenzo Bandini. Cement dust was laid down over the spilled oil as the cars continued to matriculate at full speed. This was a marginal solution, at best, and the track remained extremely slippery, particularly from the hairpin through the tunnel. By the end of the fourth lap, Dan Gurney had also edged past Bandini’s scarlet Ferrari; however, Lorenzo retook this position on the next lap when Gurney’s Eagle-Westlake lost function of its fuel pump.

Stewart and his BRM overtook Hulme and his Repco-Brabham for the lead by the end of lap 6. By the end of lap 15, Bandini was back in second place, because Stewart broke his crown wheel and pinion. Surtees’ V12 growled as he stayed on the heels of Bandini’s Ferrari.

By lap 20, it looked like Dennis Hulme was running away with the race. He was leading by 20 seconds over Lorenzo. According to Denis Jenkinson, on lap 42, “Bandini was now beginning to get his second wind and he slowly reduced the gap between the leading Brabham and his Ferrari down to 7 seconds, but Hulme was equal to the challenge and held his lead to about 8 seconds and it became a trial of strength with the rugged New Zealander coming out on top.”

At 50 laps, half distance, the order was Hulme (Brabham-Repco V8), Bandini (Ferrari V12), McLaren (McLaren-BRM V8), Amon (Ferrari V12), and Hill (Lotus-BRM V8). The rest of the field was either out or lapped.

The stalemate between Hulme and Rodriguez continued for 15 laps, with neither driver able to make headway against the other. Around lap 70, according to Jenkinson, “Hulme’s superior physical condition [was] obviously coming out on top and poor Bandini was beginning to flag and he began to show signs of tiredness and lack of concentration, occasionally being untidy and ragged on some of the corners.”

Then on lap 82, disaster. Bandini flew through the tunnel, down the hill, and into the chicane. Again, according to Jenkinson’s first-hand contemporary description, “the Ferrari struck the wooden barriers and was immediately out of control. It mounted the straw bales on the outside of the corner, a wheel was broken off, and the car landed upside down in the middle of the road with the driver trapped underneath.”

The video is disturbing. One commentary that I came across even suggested that the helicopter’s downwash only worsened the deathly flames.

Dennis Hulme went on to win the race. But, there was little cause for celebration. The 31 year old Bandini had been extricated from the car alive. He would live three more excruciating days before succumbing to his burns and injuries.

 

–Travis Turner of GPevolved.com

The 1967 Race of Champions at Brands Hatch

The 1967 Race of Champions

It was not a championship event.  It did not pay points.  That doesn’t mean that the race was not important.

Dan Gurney won the race, but it was a hard-earned victory.  “We are a small outfit. with meager backing , and spread pretty thin at this point.  Any kind of setback will be felt keenly.  For instance, if we lose an engine, one car probably won’t race” Dan Gurney had said earlier that year.

The 1967 Race of Champions, raced at Brands Hatch, was the European introduction of the 1967 season.  Following a day of practice that saw rain, sleet, and even some snow, the Race of Champions took place on March 12, 1967, with a novel format.

Specifically. there were two heats, each of 10 laps, that reshuffled the grid, as effective repeat qualifying sessions.  The main race, was set for 40 laps.

Scuderia Ferrari, as I noted in my previous post, were absent for the 1967 South African GP.  Thus, this was the debut of the new creation of Maranello.  In fact, Ferrari were rolling three deep with screaming V-12 engines.  However, their new star driver, Chris Amon, injured himself on the way to the track.  He declared himself unfit to drive.

Thus, Bandini and Scarfotti, were to chase the other V-12 engines all weekend.  It was a weekend of V-12 power in each session and every heat.  But, the best part of this race is the nostalgic video that I unearthed on YouTube.  So, I will let the video, below, do the heavy-lifting of communicating the feel of the race.

 

After the race, Dan Gurney reported, “It was very exciting to see that both Richie and I were able to out-accelerate anything on the starting grid, including the Honda, which has been regarded as the ‘dragster’ of the Grand Prix cars.”  This was important victory for Dan Gurney Weslake V12, albeit on a track that favored V-12 characteristics.  The achilles heal of Dan’s Eagle, in its earlier configuration, was its weight.  This is where, later in the season, the Lotus 49 would excel.

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

 

Maserati 250F: A Front Engined F1 Legend

If you ask me, the video above is simple, serene driving bliss. By today’s standards, it is a dinosaur. Piloting the Maserati 250F was something akin to riding a bull. It tried to buck you out of the seat as its leaf-spring, de Dion tube suspension struggled to compensate for the bumps in the road. It heaved and dove constantly with both acceleration and breaking. Every maneuver required the car to be placed in just the right posture to correctly flick it in the desired direction.

Maserati Works Team, Aintree 1957

Fangio, in practice and in race, hit his apexes with scientific accuracy. Although substantially down on horsepower compared to a modern racer, it was down even more grip. The end result was a car that took more than precision to drive, it took clairvoyance.

Much quality material has been written on the Maserati 250F, and I encourage you to search it out. This post could not possibly summarize the totality of the accomplishments of this the great car; however, this post does present a brief defense of the Maserati 250F. The Maserati 250F is the epitome of front-engined grand prix cars.

Macro dashboard pic from a Maserati 250F.

The Maserati 250F, chassis and engine were penned by Gioacchino Colombo (1903-1988). This gives the 250F engine one-hell of a pedigree, considering the trajectory that Colombo’s career had taken thus far.

At 35 years old, Colombo designed the Alfa Romeo 158 “Alfetta” engine, an itself legendary car that saw success both before and after World War II. In creating such a successful racer, he attracted a new employer, Enzo Ferrari. Enzo convinced Colombo to design a (tiny by todays standards) V12. It was only one-and-a-half liters, but it was used in a number of early Ferraris including the Tipo 125, 159, and 166 sports cars. Eventually enlarged to 4.8 liters, it was also the basis for the legendary Ferrari 250 engines.

The Maestro, Fangio, in a Maserati 250F.

Next, Colombo parted ways with Ferrari in 1950 and returned to Alfa Romeo. He was involved with the success of Nino Farina in 1950 and Juan-Manuel Fangio in 1951. When Colombo returned to Maserati in 1953, he began work on the straight-six engine and the whole of the Maserati 250F.

In some regards, the Colombo merely evolved an existing Maserati—their 1952 Formula 2 car. Initially, he was tasked with directly improving this car. He raised the horsepower from 175 to 190. He also improved the suspension, brakes, and various other components.

Maserati 250F engine bay, from 1956 Argentine GP.

190 horsepower might not seem like a lot of horsepower, but on the tires of the day, it would have been brutal to control. In fact, the car had some success taking it to the Scuderia Ferrari in 1953. By the time that happened, Gioacchino Colombo was already at work in developing the new 2.5 liter Maserati 250F. This car was designed by a master engineer at the apogee of his career.

The Maserati was, and is, the archetypal front-engined grand prix car. In law, there is something called a “model plaintiff.” In a class action suit, involving dozens or hundreds of plaintiffs, one must be chosen to represent all the others. In this regard, the model plaintiff has the most in common with everyone else in the class, but it also paints their cause of action in a favorable light. Of all front-engined grand prix cars, I believe the Maserati 250 would be the so-called “model plaintiff.” Thus, I consider it to be the archetypal front-engined grand prix car.

1957 Argentine Grand Prix, Maserati 250Fs, in the pits.

There were only a handful of front engined 1950s racers that could outperform the Maserati 250F. It had all the modern race-tech of a car from that period. These cars were built on an all-new multi-tubular frame, a precursor to the full-on space frame. These represented an advancement from the traditional twin frame rails.

There were between 31 and 34 Maserati 250F’s produced, depending on who is counting. The cars were continually evolved between 1954 and 1957. The first Maserati 250F put out around 240 horsepower, at 7,200 revolutions per minute (RPM). By 1957, the straight-six was putting out 270 horsepower, at 8,000 RPM.

GPevolved Maserati 250F sitting atop article notes.

A Maserati 250F, usually in six-cylinder form, but occasionally in a 12 cylinder variant, won over 40 major race wins during its most active years. Taking an egalitarian approach to racing, Maserati supplied cars to its works team and customers. The sheer numbers of the cars helped to gain its legendary status. But, ultimately, it was the excellence of the 250F in the hands of a true master, such as Juan-Manuel Fangio or Stirling Moss, which cemented its reputation.

Rebuilt Maserati 250F, circa 1954

 

Travis Turner of GPevolved.com