Rush to Glory: FORMULA 1 Racing's Greatest Rivalry (6 page)

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

CHAPTER
3

Hunt Astonishes McLaren and Lauda

Pole Comes from Nowhere

Brazil: January 23–25, 1976

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

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

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

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

Mosley recalled a reception hosted by Marlboro cigarettes, Hunt’s main sponsor. To get to the party, Mosley and Hunt decided to share a car and set off together across São Paulo. As Mosley recalled, “James said to me, ‘Do you mind if I stop at one of my friends’ on the way?’ And I said, ‘No, not at all.’ So we stopped at this very posh block of flats and went up to the top floor. There was this amazing flat with an amazing view, and a very nice man. We all sat down, and the nice man got out a piece of highly polished stone and laid out on it three lines of white powder. James turned to me and said, ‘You don’t want yours, Max, do you?’ And he did both of them. We then went happily on to the party.” It was a typical incident and by no means uncommon.

Mosley also observed at close hand Hunt’s remarkable capacity for women. He believed Hunt was a man totally incapable of being monogamous or faithful to one woman. In modern parlance, he believed Hunt was a sex addict, and there is no question he had a big appetite for it. Hunt’s preference was for wholesome, nice girls. At races he was very successful with women, but the type of girl he liked did not always fall easily into bed with him. For those who resisted his charms, he had a fallback line that typically won them over. He would tell the women: “But I might be killed in the race.”

Hunt had a girl in every port, and his main Brazilian girlfriend at the time was 19-year-old Charlene Shorto, a well-connected socialite, and they were an item for much of the time he was in South America. Shorto was the sister of Baroness Denise Thyssen, who was married to Baron Henri Thyssen, the iron and steel heir who also owned the world’s most valuable art collection. But Shorto was by no means the only girl on Hunt’s radar in Brazil. Jochen Mass, his teammate, recounted an anecdote that reflected Hunt’s cavalier attitude toward women at the time: “There was a girl called Mercedes, and she worked for Spanish television. She said, ‘Can I do an interview?’ He said, ‘Not a problem,’ and they stood him beside the camera. And as she was asking him a question, he asked her [on camera]: ‘Do you fuck?’”

Mass recalled that Hunt was never afraid of discussing sex and his requirements, even with journalists. He said sex for him was a therapeutic form of relaxation. He called it a “form of communication.”