Part 3
Mosport, Canada, August 11 1985.
«Bernie ? » Brabham pilot Marc Surer was surprised to see his boss (and F1 iron hand) in the paddock. But Ecclestone was there. For some time he had grown interest in F1 most dangerous competitors, as far as TV rights went : Le Mans and Indianapolis - read, Group C and Indycar (note: more on this later. Much more).
Surer spoke freely with his boss. «I like Group C so much. Endurance, Le Mans – I need the different feeling. Do you know next year I itend to drive one of these exciting monster Groupe B rally cars ? I just have an offer from Ford for a test drive of their RS-2200... »
Ecclestone sighed.
Rally, Group C, F1 – Surer was somewhat the last of its kind, an era of the 70's that now drawing to a close. There were more and more resistance from the F1 teams to let their pilots risks their lives in Group C, not even mentionning Indycar, but
Rally ? WTF ?
Ecclestone had no time to remind Surer he was first and foremost a F1 AND Brabham pilot, because the Swiss team mate brought back their Porsche 956 to a very unexpected pit stop.
Ecclestone watched in dismay as yet another F1 pilot -
damn it – get out of the cockpit and discussed with Surer.
«... something wrong with the car, the mechanics are checking it. Maybe it was the goddam Corvette that hit me during the warm up... what, you want to take my place ? Are you sure? I was to make that first relay... ok, ok, if that's really what you want... I'll drive in two or three hours. Take care of yourself, please.»
Surer nodded in approval and went into the car. Manfred Winkelhock and Bernie Ecclestone watched Surer driving the 956 out of Mosport pit lane. Winkelhock found himself mostly alone with Ecclestone, and a little embarrassed. His own experience of F1 had not exactly been a happy one, his team was no Brabham by any mean...
And all off sudden, all hell broke lose. There had been an accident. A bad one.
Ecclestone and Winkelhock hearts froze in horror.
It was Surer.
My pilot
My team mate
August 30, 1985
Enough was enough.
Bernie Ecclestone was furious. François Hesnault. His own Marc Surer – two pilots in the space of six months. And now, Zakspeed Jonathan Palmer, the good doctor of Formula One. Crashed again in a fucking Porsche 956, down for the count with severe foot and ankles inuries.
Enough is enough !
Bernie Ecclestone took his phone. Tyrrell, first. Then Arrows, then the others. Enough is enough. Formula 1 is already dangerous enough, no way pilots added further risk driving in rally or Le Mans or elsewhere.
Spa Francorchamps. Same day, in the evening
There was a knock on the motorhome door. Thierry Boutsen, Belgium best F1 pilot since legendary Jacky Ixck, was standing there, his face like a tombstone. Stefan Bellof, Germany best hope since Wolfgang von Trips, wondered what the fuck had happened.
Forget the terrible hairstyle, and watch for the gentleman driver below. Thierry Boutsen, 1985.
Another accident ?
Bellof reminded all too well the devastated face of his compatriot Manfred Winkelhock at Marc Surer funerals, some days earlier. Present were the entire colony of aspiring German or German-speaking pilots there: Gerhard Berger, the Winkelhock brothers, Jo Gartner. And Hans Stuck and poor Jochen Mass, the last two survivors of the preceding generation of F1 German pilots that had been so cruelly crippled – the Stommelen and many others, all dead. Bellof had been shaken by all this, but well, motorsport remained a dangerous business, even if the 80's were much less murderous.
By 1983 the young generation of Jo Gartner, Manfred Winkelhock and Stefan Bellof all had driven for the one and only German F1 team, the not-very-bright ATS. Since then Zakspeed had been hardly better. Bellof, for his part, had struggled with Tyrrell for two years, two years of extreme highs and extreme lows – Monaco 1984 being the most extreme example, third behind Prost and that... how was he called, Senna ? Yes, Senna. And then Bellof and Brundle entire season send to the trash heap of F1 history, because Ken Tyrrell was, at times, a though con man. Well, Mosley and Ecclestone, once the the Brabham and March bosses, had been F1 con men in their youth, too, when with Tyrrell himself, and McLaren and Frank Williams and Lotus' Collin Chapman, they had created the FOCA and later declared war to that asshole Balestre. A war that had nearly split F1 but was no longer a concern.
Bellof was done with that old crook Ken Tyrrell, really, and he had recently hit gold. If all went well, within three weeks he would meet the living God of Formula One, the one even Ecclestone, Mosley and Balestre feared, the man made of stuff of legends. ENZO FERRARI. I WILL DRIVE FOR FERRARI, like the grand old Von Trips.
Boutsen, however, kept interrupting the young german day dreaming.
«Stefan... I need to warn you. Ecclestone has just blown a fuse over Palmer accident, closely following Surer death.
«What...?
«He phoned our teams. Mine and yours. Tyrrell and fucking Arrows. Its official: we are forbidden to enter the race, or racing for Group C. Otherwise we can kiss our F1 drives goodbye. You certainly know that Ken Tyrrell is not in a position of strength... and Arrows is even worse, well, they may lost the BMW if they retire from F1, and are near bankruptcy.» it was as if Boutsen was chewing nails.
Bellof was aghast. He loved Group C, where Porsche largely avenged Germany past and present F1 miseries. He immediately phoned Ken Tyrrell, and his boss was clear enough – as much as he hated Ecclestone, for once, he was on his side. If Bellof put his life at risk running in that fucking Belgium race, he could kiss his F1 drive over. Bellof tried to argue, until Tyrell hit the nail in the head. «Oh, and Enzo Ferrari is on our side too. Don't forget F1 is a small world.»
Damn.
Is Ken tyrrell threatening my future... and the realized. Tyrrell could screw him over his contract, past and future contracts, actually, Ferrari included. Senna had rushed to Lotus while still at Toleman, and paid a high price tohis "trahison".
After much, much arguing with Uncle Ken, he had to give up. And explain the situation to Walter Brun, the owner of the Porsche 956 he was to drive that day, in Spa. Bellof actually feared to discuss the matter with Brun, but to his surprise his boss seemed not too furious... although he had to forfait the race,both his pilots away, Boutsen being Bellof team mate.
There was something bizarre there, something Bellof could hardly explain.
Little did he knew that Walter Brun was willing to enter Formula One sooner rather than later, and as such, he was better not to anger Ecclestone. Unbestknown to Bellof, Walter Brun was in touch with the moribund Alfa Romeo F1 team, soon to close after 7 years of dismal failures. Brun was also discussing with Giampaollo Pavanello and Carlos Chiti, two collateral victims of Alfa Romeo F1 fiasco. Pavanello Euroracing (once a F3 team) had taken over from Alfa itself and failed miserably. While Chiti engines had been disapointing, to say the least. This did not worried Walter Brun by any mean, he remained convinced Alfa Romeo was his best hope for a F1 ticket in the next future.
So Bellof capitulated, blissfully unaware Tyrrell and Ecclestone shameless bargaining had saved his life and a promising F1 career, too.