Bernie Ecclestone

by Terry Lovell

  From the FIA battlement, Ugueux began encouragingly enough: shortly after taking office, he proclaimed that the 1976 World Championship wouldn’t take place until the financial terms had been agreed between the FIA, the organisers and the F1CA. Aware that Ecclestone had concluded terms with at least two organisers, Ugueux declared such contracts to be invalid on the grounds that they had not been sanctioned by the respective national sporting authorities, invariably a country’s national motoring organisation appointed by the FIA to ensure races were run in accordance with its rules and regulations. The two races were the British Grand Prix at Brands Hatch, which had, in fact, already been approved by the national sporting authority, the Royal Automobile Club, and the USA West Grand Prix at Long Beach, which was to debut in 1976. Ecclestone had agreed to reduce the risk for promoter Chris Pook by cutting the F1CA’s fee in exchange for a share of the gate receipts. (A further issue between the CSI and Ecclestone involved the Royal Automobile Club de Belgique, which wanted the Belgian Grand Prix to take place at Nivelles, a preference overruled by Ecclestone in favour of Zolder, and which would win the day.)

  In November 1975 Ugueux requested a meeting with Ecclestone in Brussels to discuss the growing concerns of the mainly European organisers. Accompanied by Max Mosley, Ecclestone agreed. Also present was a Frenchman called Jean-Marie Balestre, who, as president of the Fédération Française du Sport Automobile (FFSA), the governing body of French motor sport, was an influential member of the CSI. He was someone who would soon loom large in the affairs of the constructors, but of whom, at that time, little was known.

  The meeting had been called by Ugueux in the hope of bringing some uniformity to the European race fees being demanded by Ecclestone, and it began with one of Ugueux’s colleagues making a presentation of the organisers’ views. At this point Ecclestone expressed his indifference by getting up and making great play of straightening a number of pictures on the walls. As an unsettling tactic, it worked perfectly. Ecclestone countered objections to his conduct by reassuring Ugueux and company that he was listening to every word. Balestre became so furious that he snapped a pencil he had been rolling between his fingers. It gave Ecclestone and Mosley an insight into his explosive temper, a quality they would come to know well.

  Once the case for the organisers had been stated, Ecclestone put the teams’ case – for a European race fee that was finally agreed, after long and laboured bargaining, at $275,000 in a deal that was known as the Brussels Agreement. Ecclestone had actually agreed to accept $270,000, but, at the point of closing the deal, he suddenly upped the figure by a further $5000. Whatever Balestre might have thought, Ugueux was too weary to fight the organisers’ corner any longer. He agreed without further comment. It was the kind of negotiating tactic that deeply impressed Mosley, who, as they left the meeting, calculated that, over 16 races a season, that last-minute ploy had earned the teams a further $80,000. In triumphant tone, the FIA announced that the 1976 Formula One World Championship was back on, implying that the CSI had won the day.

  During 1976 Ugueux, seemingly encouraged by his ‘success’, began lobbying organisers to unite once again, in the style of Grand Prix International, but this time with the CSI as their negotiating body. It provoked a sharp response from Britain’s Royal Automobile Club, which believed that the CSI had no role to play in negotiations between the F1CA and the organisers. Its influential chairman, Sir Clive Bossom, president of the RAC’s Motor Sports Association and a vice-president of the FIA, fired off a sharp communiqué to Ugueux advising him as ‘forcefully as possible’ that financial negotiations between the F1CA and the organisers were no business of the CSI. A consortium of organisers would be to create an ‘illegal cartel’, which, he insisted, would leave him no option but to report the matter to FIA’s executive council.7

  The legal ammunition for Sir Clive’s missive was handed to him by Mosley, who had discovered that the organisers’ consortium fell foul of Articles 85 and 86 of the Treaty of Rome, the very European Union legislation that would be used so effectively against the FIA and Ecclestone some 20 years later. Sir Clive, a former Conservative MP with a distinguished military and parliamentary career, who became parliamentary private secretary to Margaret Thatcher, added that any hope some organisers might have that the CSI would be able to solve their problems was ‘just wishful thinking’. His public admonishment of Ugueux and support of the F1CA may have cost him his hope of becoming president of the FIA. Appointed chairman of the RAC after being approached by Lord Mountbatten, under whom he served in the Far East, because, in his words, he was ‘clean’, Bossom came to be considered to be too politically partial towards the constructors, to be appointed to the prestigious post. Ironically, he had approved the appointment of Ugueux, a neutral unknown and therefore seemingly acceptable to all, as a less controversial appointment than a Frenchman or a German, thereby discouraging a Franco-German union against which the RAC had often found itself in opposition. His warning was one to which Ugueux gave little heed; and he did so with all the authority of someone who had the full support of Metternich, the newly appointed president of the FIA, and his powerful ally, Baron Fritz Huschke von Hanstein, Porsche’s public-relations manager and sports secretary of the Automobilclub von Deutschland, Germany’s second-biggest motoring organisation. (A colonel in the SS, he was photographed in 1940, after having won the Mille Miglia in a BMW 328, proudly wearing its insignia on his overalls.) The CSI believed it had lined up the right man to lead its negotiating initiative.

  He was Patrick Duffeler, who, during his six years as a director of Philip Morris’s promotions in Europe, the Middle East and Africa, had come, of course, to know personally the teams, drivers, organisers and FIA officials at the highest level. Approached by von Hanstein at the 1976 Italian Grand Prix at Monza, he was keen, at the age of 36, to renew dealings with Ecclestone. He shared the FIA’s view that the constructors’ tactics, spearheaded by Ecclestone, had tipped the balance of power dangerously in their favour. He believed that ‘centralised negotiation’ between the F1CA and the organisers was ‘a logical development’ as ‘sponsors want to deal with recognised neutral authorities recognised not only within the sport but by national governments’. Such was his appetite for the task that lay ahead that he agreed to do it initially without remuneration.

  At a meeting attended by most of the organisers, Ugueux announced that Duffeler had been appointed to represent their negotiating interests, and, in a hard-line move to bring about a greater unity than had been evident with Grand Prix International under Henri Treu, warned that if they failed to stand behind Duffeler their licences to stage Grands Prix might be revoked. To avoid a repeat of the Grand Prix International debacle, Michel Boeri, president of the Automobile Club de Monaco, the organisers of the Monaco Grand Prix and the Monte Carlo Rally, who were among the keenest to reverse the constructors’ political and financial advances, proposed that the organisers should pledge their support by each putting up a $100,000 bond, which would be forfeited if an organiser broke rank and negotiated individually with Ecclestone.

  The proposal was unanimously agreed, and thus was born what became known as the Hundred Thousand Dollar Club. Alongside Boeri at the hard core of the CSI’s offensive, was von Hanstein, Jean-Marie Balestre, president of the Fédération Française du Sport Automobile, the legendary Juan Fangio, and former driver Juan Manuel Bordeu, head of the Automóvil Club Argentino’s sporting commission, and delegates from Austria, Italy and Spain.

  There was a touch of irony to Duffeler’s appointment. The power that Ecclestone and the F1CA now enjoyed, and which he was about to stand against, was due in no small measure to Marlboro, which, during the six years of Duffeler’s central involvement, had forked out many millions of dollars to broaden the global appeal of Formula One. Most of the vast and constantly increasing expenditure had gone to the constructors, which had strengthened Ecclestone’s hand in his hard-line negotiations with organisers and promoters.

  Across t
he English Channel, Ecclestone and the constructors were in defiant – and confident – mood. Without reference to the CSI, the F1CA organised the 1976 Dutch Grand Prix to its own rules. Ecclestone was delighted by the result – the pit lane was closed 20 minutes before the race, he reported, and all the cars were on the grid well in time – ‘it was perfect’. It was, of course, meant – and perceived – as a direct challenge to the CSI. The constructors’ rebellious stand was underlined by the announcement that the F1CA intended to publish its own Grand Prix rule book for the 1977 season once it had consulted with the teams’ designers to clarify technical regulations. As for the One Hundred Thousand Dollar Club, Ecclestone’s response was as contemptuous as that expressed towards Grand Prix International. He simply refused to negotiate with Duffeler.

  The relationship between the two sides plumbed a new level of hostility after Duffeler announced, with the CSI’s unanimous support following a meeting in Geneva, the formation of a Monaco-based not-for-profit company called World Championship Racing (WCR), to whom organisers wishing to stage Grands Prix on the basis of a structured three-year contract would be expected to delegate their negotiating authority. One of its first moves, with the support of Fangio, was to persuade the Automóvil Club Argentino to tear up the contract it had signed with the F1CA for the Argentine Grand Prix, the first championship race of the 1977 season, and just two months away. The club effectively did so by failing to respond to Ecclestone’s request for the necessary financial guarantees to cover the F1CA’s aircraft charter and travel arrangements. Ecclestone, on a vote of the teams, promptly announced the cancellation of the Argentine Grand Prix.

  The emergence of WCR split Formula One’s 17 organisers almost down the middle. The traditionalists, alarmed by what was seen as the excessive political ambition and greed of Ecclestone and the constructors, sided with Duffeler, posted their $100,000 bonds and contractually agreed to let WCR be their sole representative in negotiating the financial arrangements. They were: Argentina, Spain, Monaco, France, Germany, Austria, Holland and Italy. Others, more influenced by the power of Ecclestone, to whom some of them owed their existence and others their survival, than loyalty to the political battle of their European counterparts, either allied themselves with the F1CA or remained on the sidelines. They were: Brazil, South Africa, USA West (Long Beach), Japan, Belgium, Sweden, Britain, USA East (Watkins Glen) and Canada. In a stalemate situation, when only confusion reigned supreme, who would end up backing whom at the death was not at all clear. For example, in the same week, the organisers of the Belgian Grand Prix at Zolder had signed a contract first with WCR and then with the F1CA. At a private meeting Ecclestone and Duffeler surprised each other by both producing copies of their ‘exclusive’ contracts.

  With the passing of each week the battle became increasingly more acrimonious and entrenched. Even peace-making attempts by Fangio to bring the two sides together fell on deaf ears. Ecclestone’s terse reply was that ‘no useful purpose could be served by such a meeting’. Formula One was grievously – and some thought irreparably – divided. Such was the extent of the chaos that no one could be sure when the first round of the 1977 World Championship series would actually start, how many races there would be, which circuits would take part, or how much money would be available in prize funds. Once again the long-suffering sponsors were becoming seriously alarmed at the battle being waged through newspaper sports pages, a conflict that could do nothing but harm the one thing that mattered to them – their corporate image. One or two major sponsors, exasperated by the instability once again threatening their massive investments, began to warn of their withdrawal.

  An example of the negative publicity that caused the sponsors to blanch was headline stories in which Ecclestone was accused of using ‘muscle’ to persuade the more vulnerable organisers to sign contracts on his terms. According to Duffeler, one of the reasons why WCR had been formed was to protect the organisers from Ecclestone’s tactics. The Japanese Grand Prix, with a last-minute demand for more money to cover transportation costs, was, he claimed, an example of a regular practice that saw fee increases as high as 20 per cent. ‘He’d call the guy about four days before the Grand Prix, saying they [the teams] couldn’t go unless the kitty was increased.’ Ecclestone, he alleged, tended to pick on ‘some of the lesser clubs … who were more influenced by [his] very aggressive tactics … they were more susceptible to fear than the more powerful clubs’.

  Another tactic, he alleged, was for Ecclestone to claim that the drivers were unhappy about a circuit’s safety conditions, but that they could be persuaded to race if the fee was increased. Duffeler recalled one event when the drivers had raised safety concerns with Ecclestone in his trailer. His response was to tell the drivers that they were paid to race and that their opinions on the issue were not relevant. ‘This had taken place at a Grand Prix where Ecclestone had been very comfortable with the total contractual arrangements.’ He became convinced that track safety was not one of Ecclestone’s central concerns but rather a lever to prise more money out of the organisers. Another tactic, he claimed, was to offer favours to people negotiating on behalf of organisers in return for their support in agreeing to his financial terms. ‘He would use any potential selling tactic … to get his way … [and] I don’t know there were too many limits.’ But, on the other hand, some of the organisers, he conceded, were not always scrupulously honest. When negotiating financial terms with Ecclestone, they would often underestimate their revenue and overestimate their costs. ‘While many acted like gentlemen, they did not always reflect gentlemanly virtues.’

  Accusations of unscrupulousness in his dealings with organisers were roundly rejected by Ecclestone. He refuted media claims that the F1CA had acted like the Mafia. ‘I know that in the past the constructors’ association has been likened to the Mafia and people have even called me the Godfather, but that’s just not true. I wish I was a Godfather. They have millions of pounds, don’t they? And travel about in jets instead of railway trains like me. Believe me, if I were a Godfather, I would not be getting involved in wrangles over racing cars roaring round a circuit.’ If anybody could be accused of acting like the Mafia, he insisted, it was Duffeler and Ugueux. ‘Well, I’m not frightened of a fight if that is what they want. I shan’t put up my hands and let them kick me. I’m not a little girl and I believe in fighting for what is right.’

  As for allegations that he had acted unscrupulously in his dealings with organisers, he dismissed them by saying: ‘What, my friend, does unscrupulous mean? I don’t understand the word.’ He seized the opportunity to portray himself as a much misunderstood man, someone who did what he did purely for the love of the sport. ‘I have taken nothing out of motor racing. My expenses are not even paid by the constructors’ association, and just to show how much I love the sport I ran my own racing team for three years without a sponsor,’8 a claim that unfortunately didn’t coincide with the facts. It also contradicted somewhat the comment he made on acquiring the Brabham team five years earlier. He was, he said, ‘a businessman and this move is first and foremost a business venture with the objective of selling the finest racing cars available’.9

  The confrontation between the F1CA and WCR had become so acrimonious that in early December 1976 the UK-based Guild of Motoring Writers organised a press conference at the RAC’s Clubhouse in Pall Mall, London, to which both sides were invited for the purpose of clarifying the future of a season that was now less than four weeks away. Ugueux agreed to attend, but failed to turn up at the last minute, claiming ‘unexpected business’ in Belgium. In the circumstances it was considered an implausible excuse and seen as an affront to both the F1CA and WCR. Duffeler believed that Ugueux the politician was beginning to back-pedal. ‘He had become concerned about the visible strength being gained by WCR, and accusations by Ecclestone that he was prejudicially favouring the organisers over the constructors.’ From the head office of the FIA in Paris, said Duffeler, his ‘more reserved position’ angered th
e organisers who had backed the creation of WCR in the belief that it had the full support of the CSI.

  From the outset the mood of the press conference was so hostile that Ecclestone and Duffeler refused to sit at the same table. By Ecclestone’s side sat Max Mosley, who was occasionally seen to whisper into his ear. Unhappily placed in the middle of exchanges of personal abuse between Ecclestone and Duffeler was the diplomatic Sir Clive Bossom, who found himself representing an opinion of one, when he denied that Formula One was in ‘a big, bloody mess, because we are not’,10 adding that he believed an FIA-approved World Championship series would take place. The meeting ended nearly three hours later as it had begun – in uncertainty and disunity – although Sir Clive issued reassurances that the CSI would be reviewing certain rules and regulations to prevent misinterpretation, another area of contention that had caused clashes between the two sides.

  It was in the circumstances of this most pessimistic state of affairs, with both sides seemingly refusing to step away from the cliff edge, that a week later the FIA called an emergency meeting in Paris at the offices of the Automobile Club de France in what was seen as a last-ditch attempt to avert a far-reaching disaster. Contrary to all expectations, a breakthrough was achieved, with, to the astonishment of most, Ecclestone backing down. According to Duffeler, the constructors agreed to attend the Argentine Grand Prix on WCR’s terms. Ecclestone, said Duffeler, also agreed to the payments – the ‘start’ and prize money – put on the table on behalf of the organisers the WCR represented, which was based on a varying scale of payments fixed, among other factors, by the size of gate, revenue and travel distance involved.

  That evening a jubilant Fangio, Bordeu and Duffeler made various calls to Buenos Aires to confirm that the Argentine Grand Prix was back on. The teams began a frantic rush to get cars, engines and equipment air-freighted to Buenos Aires in time for the Grand Prix on 9 January. The logistics were made no easier by the track being under strict military police control after a right-wing military junta coup some ten months earlier. It was feared that opposition forces might use the event to launch an attack to grab world headlines. But the race took place without hitch, with Ugueux, von Hanstein and Duffeler there to represent the CSI and WCR.