Shunt

by Tom Rubython

  Another trick was to use false pit boards. If Horsley thought Hunt could go faster out on the track, he would change lap times on the pit board. He sometimes showed his driver a slower time than he had lapped in. Horsley said it always managed to speed up Hunt.

  Alastair Caldwell also worked out how Hunt’s mind functioned, and practiced his own form of psychology. He said: “James needed distraction to keep him from getting too excited. Sometimes, I used to get Teddy to have an argument on the grid about money because that was James’ favourite subject. They would have this huge row about hotel accommodation or first-class airline tickets and that took his mind off worrying.”

  But Hunt proved all his qualifying detractors wrong when he went to McLaren in 1976. He had never before scored a pole position, and had only been on the first row twice and the second row five times. Considering how fast he was, particularly when he had the Firestone tyre advantage in 1973 and 1974, it was a poor performance. But all that changed at McLaren, when he planted it on pole first time out in the dying minutes of qualifying at the Brazilian Grand Prix. He scored a further eight poles that year out of 16 races and went on to take six poles in 1977 in a much less competitive car, and 14 in his career. As soon as he had managed to get one pole position, he found it became very easy.

  Hunt had another, even bigger problem with winning races; a problem he was very happy to talk about. His first win should have been in 1973, at the very last race of the year in the United States at Watkins Glen. He had a superior car and a tyre advantage but he wasn’t psychologically equipped to do it. And it took him another year and a half to win a race.

  In truth, his first win, in his third year of racing, in 1975, when he had lost his tyre advantage, was fortuitous; weather conditions had favoured him. But it gave him a taste, and when he got to McLaren, he was able to win frequently – ten times in all. But all his wins came in two of his seven years of racing. And they only happened after he had convinced himself he could do it.

  Hunt was only too well aware of this side of his psyche, as he said: “You’ve got to remember, I had a pretty funny career up to Formula One and I didn’t have any real practice at leading races – and you need practice. At first, I was cracking under the pressure. I was so worried about leading and was so busy telling myself to be careful, that when I got to the next corner I was still talking to myself and not concentrating, and I would do something silly and throw it all away.

  “I finally worked out that you had to just sit and relax and get on with it, just drive in the normal way you do when you’re not leading.”

  That reality manifested itself in the first half of the 1976 season. Hunt full realised he was battling against himself just as much as he was fighting Lauda. He knew he was the faster driver but that, psychologically, he couldn’t win. As he said at the time: “I was behind Niki and we were very closely matched. He just had the edge, but it was only a tiny edge. And I always said half of that edge was the fact that he was on a winning streak and I was not. It only needed a tip of the scales, and the scales tipped in my direction.”

  And that tipping of the scales happened at the Spanish Grand Prix in 1976, and the difference in his outlook was the difference between night and day: “I felt relaxed leading and under pressure if I was not. That’s a good way to feel because you’re in command, in charge.”

  The benefit of having eased the pressure manifested itself at the last three races of the 1977 season, after Niki Lauda had become world champion and the pressure was off Hunt. He admits that he drove far better in that situation than ever before. He won two races out of three and believed he would have won all three but for a mechanical failure: “The championship was all over so I was without pressure, I was completely at the top of my form. I was very confident with myself, I was driving very, very well and you know it was much more the lack of pressure than the aggravation. I was very stimulated anyway and I was enjoying myself, and when you’re a sportsman enjoying your sport, it’s got to make you play better.”

  It demonstrated a lack of consistency in his character and the total reverse motivation of most sportsmen; when he knew he could no longer be champion, he upped his performance level.

  It suggested a totally unstructured thought process, which of course manifested itself more than a few times when he was commentating for the BBC in the years 1980 to 1993. It also goes some way to explaining his irrational verbal attacks on people like Ricardo Patrese, where, although Hunt would later regret his words, in many cases the damage was done and could not be undone.

  It was the same with Ken Tyrrell, whom he perpetually criticised because of an incident involving his friend Jody Scheckter. John Hogan witnessed many such incidents, but remained, albeit with a few reservations, a huge admirer of Hunt’s ability to “read the game.” He says: “James was always absolutely black and white about somebody’s ability. Totally black and white: ‘that guy is a wanker; that guy is good; that guy is acceptable.’ I mean if he went through them all, you’d be surprised.”

  Very surprised. He was a huge, huge supporter of Jackie Stewart. But he had this thing about Frank Williams and used to say: “Frank is a fucking idiot, he doesn’t know the first fucking thing about motor racing, not a clue. If I ever get a lot of money, I’m gonna buy Williams so I can fire Frank.”

  And he meant it. But that was James Hunt.

  CHAPTER 36

  The return to Britain 1979

  Time on his hands and nothing to do

  Retirement brought its own problems, and not the sort of problems that James Hunt expected at all. If he had looked forward to blissful days in Spain with nothing to do but swim and walk his dogs, he was soon disabused of that notion.

  As soon as he had time on his hands and nothing to do, the attractions of Marbella faded away and he began to wonder whether they had in fact ever existed at all, except in his mind.

  After he retired, he became much closer to his girlfriend, Jane Birbeck. He had far less choice in girlfriends as, when he had lost his racing career, he had also lost his arena for making sexual conquests. Suddenly there were far fewer opportunities for conquest, and that was something else he had not thought of. So there he was, ensconced in Spain with Birbeck, with absolutely nothing in his diary for virtually the first time in his life. Hunt had enormous amounts of energy and found this a wholly unsatisfactory situation. Neither of them had jobs, and Marbella became the perfect breeding ground for misery.

  Aside from lack of availability, he had also lost some of his appeal as a swordsman. Although he still had his looks, the fact that he was no longer a racing driver meant the girls did not fawn over him as once they had.

  It only took a few months for the rot to set in. Within weeks, Hunt became aware of the fact that he had never truly liked living in Spain, as John Hogan recalls: “I remember he came into my office one day and we went to lunch. It was pissing down with rain, and he said to me: ‘It’s a horrible day, but this is the best country in the world, even when it’s like this.’ I realised then that he was on his way home.”

  Hogan adds: “Sunshine is wonderful but, if you have no particular purpose sitting in it, it can be pretty damn awful. I believe that he really hated it. I don’t think he ever enjoyed what I call the semi-colonial, incestuous cocktail party circuit. In fact, he often told me he despised it.”

  The truth was that Hunt was English to the core, and loved his country. It was the part of him that had so attracted him to Lord Hesketh in 1972, when they first met. Hunt’s sole motivation for leaving Britain had been tax. He had been unprepared to pay tax on his income at over 90 per cent, and that had driven him to Spain. Now that his earnings had been reduced dramatically overnight – to effectively zero – the tax no longer applied and he could move back to Britain without penalty.

  But his brother, Peter, was more cautious. He informed James that there were still opportunities in retirement for him to earn around US$500,000 year if he worked reasonably hard. Peter asked him bl
untly whether he was really prepared to pay some US$400,000 of that to the British Inland Revenue. There was also the little matter of his annual unearned income from the US$5 million fortune he had built up when he was racing and on which he had paid no tax.

  Peter Hunt warned him that the British Inland Revenue would scrutinise his affairs on his return to Britain and squeeze him “until the pips squeaked.” Peter Hunt was quoting the words of Denis Healey, the former chancellor of the exchequer, whose ludicrous “squeeze the rich” tax policies had forced Hunt abroad in the first place.

  But, once again, luck played its part in James Hunt’s fortunes. Coinciding with his decision to retire and, just as he was making the decision to come home, there was a change of government. Margaret Thatcher ended the reign of Harold Wilson and his cohort Jim Callaghan, and ousted Labour in 1979. The general election result was resounding, with the Conservatives getting a 43-seat majority and 54 Labor MPs losing their seats. The overall swing of 5.2 per cent was the largest since 1945, and gave the Conservatives a workable majority But 11.5 million people still voted Labour despite the damage Healey had wrought.

  When it came to power, the Labour government that had forced Hunt to Spain in 1974 was a total disaster for Britain. Healey’s tax policies had forced over 250,000 high earning Britons, like Hunt, to move abroad. All the talent had been pushed out, with the resulting economic loss. If more moderate tax polices had been instigated of, say, a top rate of 50 per cent, Hunt would have stayed and the exchequer would have been US$1.5 million richer, not to mention the economic benefit of having Hunt spending his money in Britain instead of Spain. Multiply the Hunt experience by 250,000, and it is easy to work out what Britain lost.

  Sir Geoffrey Howe became Chancellor of the Exchequer under Margaret Thatcher and soon reduced the top rate of tax to 60 per cent, effective April 1980, with the promise to reduce it further as economic conditions improved. It was perfect timing for Hunt as he laid plans to return home.

  In fact, Howe created the perfect economic environment for Hunt’s return. There was a notable shift to indirect taxation and an abolition of exchange controls. Two years later, Howe’s 1981 budget defied conventional economic wisdom by deflating the economy. Howe wanted to finally defeat inflation, which was a problem for Hunt and his depreciating capital. Inflation went from 11.9 per cent in spring 1981 to 3.8 per cent in February 1983, which suited the former world champion just fine.

  With the ideal conditions in place for Hunt to return home, he finally persuaded his cautious brother it was the right thing for him to do and that his fortune would not be too depleted by the decision.

  Explaining his decision to return, Hunt said: “I am English. I always intended to come back to Britain to live. It is my home, where my family and friends are, and I prefer the English culture and way of life. There are quite a few things wrong with the country but, on the credit side, in terms of freedom and law and order and general pleasantness, it’s the best place in the world to live.”

  Concurrent with planning his return, he also started to plan his life after racing. When he retired, he had around US$3.5 million in the bank and another US$500,000 worth of assets. To secure himself an income for the future, he decided to invest half of his liquid cash in three business ventures. His most lucrative investment was a property development company he started with Bubbles Horsley. The company invested in commercial property – mainly offices, shops and factories, with a few residential developments whenever the opportunity arose.

  Horsley proved to be very good at property, and the venture made some serious money. It was also a boom time and there was easy money around. Some of Horsley’s deals made big profits very quickly, and, for seven years, the business boomed.

  He also invested in a 14-court squash club in Munich, Germany, with external partners. While his involvement there was purely a financial one, he had more hands-on participation when he planned a new nightclub in Marbella named after his dog, Oscar. After he left, his partners ran the business.

  He also planned to marry Jane Birbeck when they were settled again in England although, to all intents and purposes, he was already married to her. They were living together full time and were trying for children. He said: “I realised that I needed responsibility. That’s why Jane and I are trying to have our baby. Then I would have a real meaning to my life. Someone to take care of. We both love children and, when we have a family, if the situation is right, we will probably get married.”

  The marriage plans were based on a desire to please both sets of their parents, and they announced their engagement as soon as they got to England, in November of 1979. Jane was happy because she was sure it was all the commuting between Marbella and London that had caused her to miscarry so many times. Motherhood appealed to her, and she was desperate to have a baby. But she did not feel the same way about marriage, which had been entirely Hunt’s idea and not hers. In fact, she was not the marrying kind at all, as she told Gerald Donaldson: “It all seemed a bit grown up and we weren’t sure we were ready for it. I thought I had commitment from him and was very happy just as we were. There were moments when I thought I’d quite like to get married, but it was never a pressing issue.”

  In England, Hunt planned to live the life of a typical, wealthy English gentleman with a wife and family. As part of that fantasy, he wanted a place in the country as well as a London residence.

  To achieve this ambition, he splashed out half of his cash on property. He paid US$150,000 for a mews house in London’s Baron Court, near good sports facilities. He then spent another US$50,000 getting the builders in for a complete renovation. Gerald Donaldson says: “He wanted to participate fully in what his native land had to offer; he thought he might like to lead the life of both a country squire and a man-about-town.”

  But strangely, his quest for a country home led him northwards. Instead of returning to his old haunts of Surrey, near his family, he opted for Buckinghamshire, near the homes of Lord Hesketh and Bubbles Horsley. And also near the family home of the Birbecks. He wanted at least 500 acres, and he deemed Surrey “hideously expensive.”

  Jane’s father, Nigel Birbeck, told him about a farm that was for sale, a 600-acre estate in Buckinghamshire, near the old village of Olney. Called Park Farm, it was principally an agricultural estate. It had a six-bedroom farmhouse and a huge spread of outbuildings. Hunt was also attracted by the location on the banks of the River Ouse. In fact, it had rights to a staggering two miles of coarse fishing on the great river.

  The house also came with the old courtesy title of ‘Lord of the manor of Tyringham, Filgrave, Sherington and Emberton’, which were small nearby villages. Hunt seemed unconcerned about his would-be in-laws being so close.

  The estate also had good connections to London and was situated just off junction 14 off the M1 motorway. The junction was ten minutes away and, once on it, he could reach his London mews house within 50 minutes, outside of rush hour. He was only half-an-hour from Easton Neston and 20 minutes from Horsley’s house, near Silverstone.

  Hunt had all sorts of idealistic visions about living in the country, but he had not really thought it through. He decided he would run Park Farm as a working farm and, bizarrely, decided he would be the farmer. He decided that his louche days as a Marbella-based playboy were now to be exchanged for the life of a Buckinghamshire farmer. It was a truly bizarre thought process. His thinking was aided by his friend Bubbles Horsley, who encouraged him in his rural fantasies. Lord Hesketh also approved of the plan.

  But like the Horsley/Hesketh plan to marry Hunt off to Suzy Miller five years before, the scheme was to prove calamitous. Both Hesketh and Horsley had achieved much together, but they had also had moments of failure in their partnership. The two together were capable of incredibly poor judgment, and often made terrible decisions about small and big matters that blighted their lives.

  Their advice and encouragement to Hunt to buy Park Farm proved to be one of these. It was so terribly obvious
to everyone else that Hunt was not cut out to be a farmer. But Horsley could be terribly dismissive, it was one of his less endearing faults, and told his friend not to listen to the naysayers. Unfortunately the naysayers, as they had been in the case of the Suzy Miller marriage, were right.

  Horsley advised Hunt to enrol on an agricultural course at Cirencester Agricultural College. Horsley himself had studied estate management at Cirencester before deciding to become a Formula One team manager. Horsley was adamant that Hunt should learn modern farming management techniques and the modern methods of breeding cattle.

  As Hunt loved animals, it seemed the right way to go. But Horsley couldn’t have given poorer advice to his friend if he tried. Hunt truly loved animals, and the idea of breeding them and then killing them was totally abhorrent to him. If Horsley believed that his friend could breed cattle and subsequently send them to the slaughter house, then he was on cloud cuckoo-land. Hunt was a man who went to great lengths to rescue spiders from the plughole. It was never going to happen, and his career as a farmer was over before it even started.

  Hunt couldn’t even bear to kill rats and vermin, the sort of things farmers have to do to keep an estate in order. Hunt felt very strongly that all the animals residing on his estate should be left alone.

  He also told the local fox hunters that they could no longer hunt on his land. Naturally, this caused considerable strife locally, not least with his would-be in-laws, as the land was on the route of a well-known and traditional fox hunt called ‘The Bicester and Warden Hill Hunt.’

  But Hunt was adamant that it was no longer going to happen.