by Tom Rubython
Hunt was walking around the motel like a bear with a sore head. One night, he got into a furious row with Daniele Audetto in the restaurant. Mayer stood by while it raged on. It had all started when Audetto, a courteous man, attempted to convey his apologies to Hunt about losing the appeal. Hunt replied with two words: “Get lost.” Or at least these were the words reported in the Canadian newspapers. Audetto told him he was only doing his job. The fuse was lit, and Ferrari and McLaren personnel joined in until Hunt got bored and went to bed. He said the next day: “I thought Audetto’s apology was slightly gross. He didn’t have to apologise because he need not have protested my win at Brands Hatch in the first place. So I explained to him in a rather terse way that I wasn’t interested in his apologies.”
The following day, Ferrari had a shock when the Canadian scrutineers told Audetto that the Ferrari gearbox oil cooler was mounted in an illegal position, and it transpired that it had been in this position ever since the Spanish Grand Prix. Ferrari hadn’t been trying to cheat, as there was no performance advantage, but it was a mistake and it had not been spotted until Canada. The team had simply not understood the rule book properly; nor had eight sets of previous scrutineers.
Audetto was hugely embarrassed and the team quickly re-positioned the coolers, and McLaren decided not to protest. If it had, arguably Ferrari could have been disqualified from every race since Spain.
When all the drama died down, the action on the track started. Qualifying was fought out between Hunt and Ronnie Peterson’s March-Ford. Peterson was now back on form. But that didn’t stop Hunt taking pole position again, four-tenths of a second clear of Peterson; a huge margin. Vittorio Brambilla, also in a March-Ford and Patrick Depailler’s Tyrrell were on the second row. Lauda was only sixth fastest alongside an increasingly on-form Mario Andretti in a Lotus-Ford.
Hunt was left behind at the start, bested by Peterson. For eight laps he trailed the Swede before moving into the lead. A few laps later, Depailler in the six-wheeled Tyrrell nosed through into second place and moved closer to the McLaren. It was to remain that way to the finish. Second place had become Depailler’s specialty; he was to finish second five times in 1976.
Hunt admitted: “Depailler was really giving me a hard time, keeping the pressure on, and if he had got past he was probably capable of running a bit quicker than I was. But he wasn’t quite quick enough to attack me. My main worries in Canada were the back markers trailing the field when we came through to lap them, because you only need to do that wrong once and the guy trailing you is through and gone. The back marker moves the wrong way at the wrong moment, you have to brake, and there is a big gap on the other side of the road. So I took great precautions not to let that situation arise. I started playing the back markers against Patrick. I’d cruise, as it were, between groups of back markers because I obviously wasn’t going to get away from him, so there was no hurry. Then, when we got near the back markers, I’d put on a real spurt to get as much air between him and me and to give myself a bit of maneuvering room. Soon, I was timing my arrival with the back markers so that I was ready to pass them at the right part of the circuit. I was giving it real thought and I was managing to get through better than he was, but you need a bit of luck there as well.”
In truth, Hunt scythed through the back markers majestically, as he recalled: “They all gave way to me beautifully.” His tactics, intended to intimidate Lauda, had clearly worked on everyone else as well.
The Grand Prix had been enlivened by the duel between the two drivers, but in the closing laps Depailler began to drop back inexplicably and there were six seconds between them at the finish. It turned out that petrol fumes had been leaking into his Tyrrell cockpit, leaving Depailler feeling intoxicated in the last few laps. He said he felt as though he had drunk a bottle of whisky. The padded lining of his helmet was wet with fuel.
Hunt was ecstatic when he passed the finish line. He had done what he had come to Canada to do. All thoughts of the Brands Hatch disqualification disappointment were banished from his head. And there was a further bonus when he got out of the car and heard that Niki Lauda, who had fought an ill-handling car with a rear suspension problem for the whole race, could only manage eighth. Lauda had scored no points, a disaster for him.
After the race, Hunt and Lauda got together to resolve their differences. Hunt may have been consciously playing up the much publicised rift between himself and Lauda to his advantage, but there comes a point in any psychological confrontation when it is difficult to isolate the truth from the tactics. Hunt realised that this point had come and that the so-called feud needed to be laid to rest permanently.
Hunt was tired of what had happened in Italy and Canada, and wanted a fair fight to the finish in an atmosphere of good sportsmanship. He genuinely didn’t want to win in a state of gladiatorial confrontation with Lauda, especially after the Nürburgring accident. Hunt was deeply sorry about Lauda’s disfigurement, which had caused anguish to everybody in the Formula One paddock. They knew life would never be the same for Lauda, and they could not help but confront the thought of their own mortality when confronted with his injuries every day.
As it happened, the change in his appearance never bothered Lauda one little bit. It bothered him that others were disturbed, but the superficiality of how he looked did not trouble him personally at all.
The intimate Glen Motor Inn was an ideal venue for a rapprochement. Watkins Glen is a small tourist town situated on the Seneca Lakes in New York state. It is around 120 miles from the Canadian border. Most of the teams stay in the Glen Motor Inn and the mechanics at the Seneca Lodge. The Franzese family managed the Motor Inn at the time, and were familiar with most of the members of the Formula One circus. The dining room had giant picture windows that overlooked the lakes, and at any one time the whole Formula One community could be sitting down for a meal.
So Hunt spent a lot of time with Lauda at the Glen Motor Inn. They both realised it would be better if they discussed their differences before things got completely out of hand. Lauda insisted that he had never said the things he’d been quoted as saying after the announcement from Paris. Lauda also said his derogatory remarks about Hunt at Mosport were a case of “flagrant misreporting” by a “vicious journalist.”
Hunt also denied quotes about Lauda that had been attributed to him. He was adamant his anti-Lauda comments had been instances of fabrication and misquotation. After they had talked, the two shook hands and the feud was buried forever. Hunt said afterwards: “The press was winding us both up badly, and we got a bit irritated. For a few hours we hated each other, but after we got it sorted out our good relationship continued.”
At the Motor Inn, they arranged to have adjoining hotel rooms. They kept their doors open and socialised together. It was a time for practical jokes and Lauda used to wake Hunt in the morning with ‘Fawlty Towers’-type John Cleese impressions. At the time, ‘Fawlty Towers’ was Europe’s top comedy TV show.
But others do not remember the relationship being anywhere near so congenial, especially John Hogan, who said: “Throughout that year, James had had sort of a testy relationship with Niki. Niki was being a little bit the Austrian brat. For instance, I’d just got off the plane in Toronto and I walked into the huge dining room at Mosport. Niki was sitting over there with the Ferrari guys, and James was sitting over there with the McLaren guys. And I walk in and Niki says: ‘Hogan, come sit here.’ Then James shouts: ‘Hogie, over here’. So I started with McLaren then moved over to Ferrari.” There were also other undercurrents afoot, as Hogan was secretly working behind the scenes to get Lauda to leave Ferrari and join McLaren to create a dream team for 1977. Hogan had sensed his chance after Lauda’s accident and Reutemann’s recruitment. Hunt was all for it but Lauda had balked at the idea of being Hunt’s teammate. Hogan remembers: “James had no problem at all. He said: ‘You gotta look at it this way’, thinking about the game again, ‘you gotta put the competitors somewhere, so it might as well be in
the same car.’ But Niki was: ‘ooooough.’”
On track, qualifying was uneventful round the 3.3-mile circuit, and for the eighth time in the season, Hunt seized pole position. This time he had Jody Scheckter alongside him in the six-wheel Tyrrell, which was proving very effective in its debut season. Scheckter was improving race by race. But he had no future with the Tyrrell team after the Zandvoort incident. It was announced he was leaving Tyrrell to drive for the Walter Wolf team. Wolf had paid him US$250,000 just as a signing on fee to persuade him to make the move.
Walter Wolf, a wealthy Canadian oil entrepreneur, had by this time sacked Frank Williams and taken sole ownership of the team. He had hired Peter Warr away from Lotus to replace Williams.
Wolf, a mystery man, also explained to journalists how he had initially made his money. He admitted he had started out from very humble beginnings and become an oil trader. He admitted his fortune was down to a piece of luck when the oil crisis happened in 1973. He had owned a tanker full of oil at sea between Nigeria and Holland when crude oil prices quadrupled overnight. Wolf said: “The only bit of genius I used was to cable the captain and tell him to take his time getting to Amsterdam because the price was going up all the time.”
But Scheckter’s new turn of speed was not Hunt’s problem; his problem was Lauda’s performance. He realised that the odds were on Lauda retaining his title and said: “I hadn’t given up completely because where there’s life there’s hope. I could only knuckle down and go after each race as it came and try to win it. If I couldn’t win, I had to finish as high as I could.”
During qualifying, Hunt aggravated an inflamed nerve in his left elbow and the pain became worse overnight. A doctor was called and he was given pain-killing injections before he got in the car.
Hunt may have been on pole eight times during 1976, but he had only led one first lap. That day would prove no exception. This time, he made a good start but it was still not good enough to prevent Scheckter taking the lead. And that is how it stayed for many laps, with Hunt in station some three seconds behind Scheckter. Behind them was third place man Niki Lauda, five seconds back. But Hunt knew he had to win and started focusing hard on the physical act of driving the car, something which he confessed afterwards he did not often do. It usually all came so naturally to him, and that was often good enough. But that day it wasn’t. His McLaren-Ford was oversteering alarmingly round Watkins Glen’s many corners. He remembered he spent 20 laps concentrating and working out a technique to go faster. He called it a “self-administered driving lesson.”
He admitted afterwards that the exercise had given him huge personal satisfaction: “I got myself together. It is very important in all walks of life to be able to catch yourself when you’re doing something badly and to make sure you improve.” That day he was able to do it. Hunt gritted his teeth, gripped the McLaren’s steering wheel more firmly, and zeroed his mind in on Scheckter, who stood between him and the victory. Hunt was determined to get him. As he bore down on Scheckter, leaving Lauda farther and farther behind, he planned ahead, looking for likely passing places and opportunities to outmanoeuvre the leader.
On lap 36, Scheckter was delayed by another car slowing for a tight corner, and Hunt tucked his McLaren in behind the Tyrrell’s rear wing. As they accelerated down the straight, Hunt darted out of Scheckter’s slipstream and took the lead.
But four laps later, Scheckter got in front again as they were lapping back markers. Hunt was furious with himself, losing the lead after all that work, as he said afterwards: “Jody blasted past me on the straight. I really thought I’d blown it.”
Hunt’s adrenaline level was high and he pressed on, determined to win. Adrenaline levels were always a Hunt problem, as Alastair Caldwell says: “He put a tremendous amount of effort into racing and he had the biggest adrenalin pump of any racing driver I’ve ever known. He was so excited in the car before a race that, if you sat on the side of it, you’d think the motor was running.”
Within a lap, he was again within striking range. For several laps, he waited to pounce, testing Scheckter’s reaction when he moved to the left and right sides of the track behind him. Finally, with 12 laps to go, Hunt forced his way alongside the Tyrrell coming into a slow corner. The two cars went round the bend side-by-side, and on the straight Hunt got past. This time, he drove like an absolute demon to put air between him and Scheckter, who he realised was a master at negotiating slower back markers.
Hunt reeled off a succession of quick laps and eventually smashed the record with a lap that was an astonishing second faster than his pole position. That sort of performance is rarely achieved in Formula One, and spectators that day got a master class in fast driving.
Hunt went across the line eight seconds ahead of Scheckter, and Lauda came in a minute behind in third.
Hunt got out of his car, exhausted and soaked in sweat from an outstanding drive. He had closed the gap to within three points of Lauda, and there was one race remaining. On the podium, he downed a cold Miller instead of the traditional champagne.
He said on the podium: “It was as tough a race as I ever had to drive. For the first 20 laps, I drove like an old grandmother and just couldn’t adapt to my car. Both Jody and I were making mistakes in those opening laps. Then I got it together and I chased Jody and passed him fairly easily. I missed my gear change and got a fistful of neutrals, and by the time I had found a gear Jody was past again. But I was quicker on the straight and hauled him in.”
The victory sent the whole circuit wild as they sensed the historic moment and the showdown to come in Japan. Hunt was cheered in the press room by the normally cynical journalists. He left the press room in company with David Benson and the two men were mobbed as they walked to the Goodyear hospitality marquee for a champagne-fuelled post race party. Benson recalls: “It was an intoxicating, exciting scene. At that moment I really believed that James was at last going to win the world championship. I wanted him to win. My emotions told me that he deserved to win.”
Between gulping down champagne, Hunt said; “This was the most important race of my life. I simply had to win. Thank God Jody was second. That puts Niki only three points in front of me for Japan. If I win there and he comes second, I could still win the championship. We would have equal points but I would have more Grand Prix wins.”
A disappointed Niki Lauda had expected to clinch the championship at Watkins Glen but left empty handed. After the race, he went directly by helicopter from the circuit to the airport for his home in Austria. When he got there, he faced the prospect of a further operation. The skin grafts around his brow and cheeks were so tight that he couldn’t close his right eye properly and it was becoming inflamed. An immediate eye operation was deemed necessary, but it could not happen until after the Japanese Grand Prix. In his grand plan, he was not even going to go to Mount Fuji but, given his performance at Watkins Glen, now that plan was torn up.
Later that night, Hunt partied like never before. On the way back to the Glen Motor Inn, going past a construction site, he stole a road worker’s yellow hard hat with a flashing orange light on it.
In the bar, he cavorted with the flashing hat perched on his head and a cigarette dangling from his mouth. He had a beer in one hand and on the other arm was one of the many adoring girls in the bar that night. Also at that party were Caldwell, Mayer and John Hogan. And it was there, in that bar, that these three men conversed, plotted and came up with a plan that would make James Hunt world champion. The plan would be decisive over the course of the next two weeks.
Before the Canadian Grand Prix, Hunt had been 17 points behind Lauda, which meant that he had to take 18 points from the final three Grand Prix races without Lauda scoring. He had now reduced that to three. There was one round left. The score was Lauda 68, Hunt 65.
The maths was relatively simple: to be champion, Hunt needed to finish outright first and he would be world champion no matter what Lauda did. If he was second, Lauda needed to be fourth or lower
for him to win. If he was third, he needed Lauda to be sixth or lower. If he was fourth or under, then Lauda would be champion.
And Lauda was not the only one with medical problems. The next day, Hunt went for an examination of his left arm. He had been suffering from inflamed ligaments and had had cortisone injections earlier that week. Cure before Tokyo was vital.
A showdown loomed in Japan at the eponymous Mount Fuji track.
CHAPTER 27
Showdown in Japan Sunday 24th October 1976
A no-holds-barred fight to the finish
Despite having been thoroughly trounced at Watkins Glen, Ferrari’s complacency after the race ended was astonishing. It made no attempts to do anything special to prepare for the last race. It just packed up its cars as usual, ready to put them on the Formula One charter Jumbo jet to Japan.
But as James Hunt cavorted in the Glen Motor Inn at Watkins Glen on the night of 10th October 1976, celebrating his victory of only a few hours earlier, Teddy Mayer, Alastair Caldwell and John Hogan sat quietly musing about what to do to get an edge. Mayer, Caldwell and Hogan were having a deadly serious conversation. They were in a place in time they had never expected to be. With one race left, James Hunt and McLaren could win the Formula One world championship. His victory that day, and Niki Lauda’s fourth place, meant there were only three points between them. It was suddenly all up for grabs in Japan. Hogan recalled: “James knew it was just there, and he was kind of standing on Niki’s throat.”
It was the kind of situation in which Alastair Caldwell was at his best. Caldwell was a tremendously competitive man, with a brain that worked in a peculiar way. Sometimes he was stubborn and hopeless, but other times brilliant and untouchable. Hogan agrees: “James always said Alistair Caldwell won the championship, not him.”