by Max Mosley
Having been rebuffed by us, Duffeler decided to visit Ferrari with Fangio and Bordeo. Mauro Forghieri contacted Enzo Ferrari on the phone from the constructors’ meeting so that we could agree a plan. Ferrari said: ‘Leave it to me – I will tell them that questions to do with money and the Argentine Grand Prix must be dealt with by Ecclestone.’ Bernie and I were delighted. We could picture him letting them talk on and on about the good old days and then, when they eventually got round to money and Argentina, making a characteristic little gesture of dismissal and indicating that such details must be discussed with Ecclestone and Mosley – that he did not concern himself with such things. There was also a good chance that he would not what he called ‘receive’ Duffeler at all.
Meanwhile, everyone at the Ricard winter testing had backed our confrontation with the CSI. Emerson Fittipaldi felt strongly about the way the CSI was behaving and said it was time to follow the lead of golf and tennis and bring in the new order. Walter Wolf, a self-made millionaire who was young and aggressive, was even more explicit. He had been on Austrian television and sorted out Huschke as well as the presenter, who told him that the Formula One teams were all in it for the money. He replied he had been in Formula One just over a year (having bought the Frank Williams team) and so far spent nearly a million dollars – he could only hope his other money-making enterprises did rather better. So far, the war with WCR was going quite well but, worryingly, it was increasingly a contest with the CSI itself.
10
FOCA VERSUS THE CSI
By the end of 1976, our policy of refusing to meet Duffeler had brought the CSI decisively into the battle. With ten of the 15 CSI members also race organisers, they couldn’t just abandon Duffeler. At the same time we had proved back in 1975 with the Canadian Grand Prix that we could cancel a race provided the teams stuck together. We were much stronger than when we started in 1972 but not yet in control. We needed Ferrari for political reasons, but we also needed the sponsors because they paid most of the bills.
Pierre Ugeux, the CSI president, called a meeting of his Formula One Working Group for the following Friday (3 December). It was to be preceded by a lunch for the sponsors, to which we were not invited although Duffeler and his WCR cronies were. We thought this difficult to reconcile with the CSI’s protestations of impartiality, as was the fact that a circular that Bernie had been advised was actionable had been sent out by Duffeler in FIA envelopes from the FIA offices, stamped ‘Urgent’. We knew that the meeting would be full of WCR members, either in that guise or wearing their CSI hats. We discussed not going but decided we could do more damage if we were there than if we were absent. We imagined that the CSI–WCR plan was to win the support of the sponsors over lunch and then present us with a united CSI–WCR front backed up by team sponsors, and thus force a settlement on their terms. Our meeting was arranged for 3.30pm, allowing them time for a good lunch.
Our first move was to send a telex asking for an earlier meeting, saying we had to catch a plane at 6pm which, predictably, was refused. From the airport we went straight to the Martini Terrace in the Champs-Élysées. It was an extraordinary place, literally a terrace at roof level overlooking the Champs-Élysées. There were fountains, glass doors, a bar and various working rooms, exactly in keeping with the image Martini promoted in their advertising at the time.
There we occupied ourselves talking to Claude Le Guezec, the former CSI secretary who had worked against us in that capacity but was now a valuable ally, and giving interviews to French press and TV in an attempt to redress some of the pro-WCR propaganda which had come out in France. We also began to prepare a major press conference immediately preceding the CSI’s annual press conference on 16 December, timed to cause them maximum embarrassment, and briefed some of the sponsors on the points of dispute so that we could count on some friends at the lunch.
The Automobile Club de France occupies a historic building on the Place de la Concorde next to the Hôtel de Crillon, the part on the left as one looks up the Rue Royale towards La Madeleine. The FIA is housed there, too, courtesy of the French club. Up the back stairs and through some narrow old corridors that had creaking floorboards and a slight smell of Gauloises and garlic were the CSI’s offices. It was the sort of place that would be frightening in a fire, as most of the stairs and corridors were like secret passages known only to the initiated.
Bernie and I knew our way round the place quite well, so we went in the back way and appeared as if by magic in the room where the meeting was to be held. This was one of the main rooms in the front part of the building which are everything one would expect from a historic French institution. Like the RAC, with its stock of claret, there are many powerful reasons for wanting to become a member of the Automobile Club de France.
When we arrived for the meeting, we found a man from Sports Illustrated in the room, who told us in all seriousness that he had been sent to cover the end of Grand Prix racing. That seemed a bad start – they obviously intended a major row – but it was not unexpected. Bernie was amusing himself by giving the reporter some involved rigmarole about racing coming to an end because the cars were getting too many wheels, when a CSI official came in and announced a delay. Bernie said: ‘Go back and tell them it’s 3.30pm now, we are leaving at 4.30pm no matter what and as it’s their meeting we don’t care how short it is.’
Two minutes later Ugeux appeared and the others came in one by one. Boeri from Monaco, Chambelland from Ricard, Balestre, president of the French Federation, Prince Metternich, president of the FIA, which was a surprise, and the two sponsors’ representatives, François Guiter of Elf and David Zelkowitz from Philip Morris. Everyone except Metternich, the two sponsors and possibly Ugeux, was a WCR man, but there was no Duffeler. We had made his absence a condition of our presence. He and the two Argentinians, Fangio and Bordeo, plus our old friend Huschke, were all waiting outside with the press.
For 50 minutes we debated whether or not the Brussels agreement amounted to a three-year contract in terms finally settled in April 1976. We were better prepared than Ugeux and company and had numerous supporting documents. We clearly had the best of this and felt the opposition weakening, and Metternich and the sponsors beginning to lean our way. At one stage Balestre seemed to fall asleep.
It was obvious that the sponsors’ lunch had not gone according to the WCR script because there was a certain lack of confidence right from the start. At 4.20pm Bernie whispered to me: ‘Right, start winding them up.’ I got out the Argentina file and began getting really heavy about interference with contractual relations, abuse of the licensing power, formal protests and so forth. We had strong evidence in support and one or two devastating letters, so it was a difficult position for them to defend. Just at the worst moment Bernie stood up, looked at his watch, started hurriedly packing away his papers saying: ‘Christ! We’re going to miss that bleeding plane – come on, Max.’
As one, the opposition said: ‘No – you can’t leave now.’ ‘Why not?’ I said. ‘It was you who insisted the meeting start at 3.30pm.’ ‘Yes, but we had an important working lunch,’ Ugeux replied. ‘That’s true enough – you worked so hard that you exhausted Mr Balestre and he just fell asleep,’ I said. The barb did not escape Balestre, who went purple with anger and shouted: ‘I’m asleep because you make me tired with your endless talk about the sport when what we should discuss is the money. I have a business with a hundred-million-pound turnover and I have to sit here and listen to this rubbish.’
‘Then why don’t you sod off back to your office,’ said Bernie as I too stood up.
At that moment François Guiter intervened to ask us to take a later flight as the meeting was so important. This was the cue for Bernie and me to go into our usual, carefully engineered, routine of changing plane tickets. During the interlude involving Bernie (this time) going in and out of the room to see about a later flight (on which, of course, we were already booked), the meeting inevitably calmed down again and relations became quite friendly.
This was the ideal moment to try to make progress. In the atmosphere of relief after a row, people are amenable – like troops who have been stood down, they find it very hard to start fighting again.
Sure enough, we soon agreed that the important thing was to present a picture of unity, pledging that we would undoubtedly resolve all our differences, and that we should put out a release to this effect without delay. Boeri said it must state that WCR was not represented at the meeting. We seized on this as something we would not have dared to demand but very helpful because it signalled to the press that Duffeler had not been there, and it fitted with our strategy of ignoring him. Everyone signed the release and Bernie and I caught the later plane, feeling pleased with the day’s work. We had conceded nothing and had persuaded the CSI to support our thesis – that there were no real problems and all the races would take place. The survival of WCR depended on there being a conflict between teams and race organisers. Without this, it had no raison d’être.
Later that evening, probably at Duffeler and Von Hanstein’s suggestion, Ugeux sent us a letter saying that the release was only to calm the press and that nothing had really been agreed, but for us this changed nothing – the release had gone out and they had signed it.
The following Friday, the UK’s Guild of Motoring Writers had arranged a debate between Bernie and Ugeux. Sir Clive Bossom and Dean Delamont were there as pseudo referees and the Daily Express’s David Benson, chairman of the journalists’ guild, acted as moderator. Bernie and I both anticipated that Ugeux would contrive to bail out and we would be greeted by Duffeler in his place. Sure enough, that’s precisely what happened. In order to preserve our record of not meeting Duffeler (but also for the fun of annoying him) we insisted that he sit at a separate table. Three tables faced the assembled press and questions began.
Duffeler was an American who was born in Belgium and spoke with a vaguely French accent. He had a habit of smiling all the time, especially when in difficulty, as a result of which Bernie always referred to him as ‘Laughing Boy’. He was very unimpressive that day – his answers were rambling and vague – and the press began to see through him. Duffeler could have handled the situation better if he had been brief and to the point – at least giving the impression of openness and candour. Bernie is not at his best in front of a large audience, but our formidable array of telexes and letters gave him the best of the debate and I felt we had come out of it well. The press was beginning to grasp our central argument: that there was no real issue between the organisers and us, and all that it really amounted to was a land grab to keep us constructors in our place. Although his long, evasive answers had succeeded in blocking hostile questions, the press’s frustration was taken out on him in his absence. Our claim that WCR fomented trouble in order to exist had a ready audience. It was an interesting lesson.
In the middle of that week we heard that the Belgian club had repudiated Count de Liedekerke’s signature, but the organisers said they would stick by the contract no matter what. We knew we had a secret weapon in the shape of an unpleasant lawsuit that we could use against the club if necessary, so we were not unduly worried. A major step forward, however, came on the Saturday when Bernie managed finally to sign Austria.
At that moment I was in Munich to meet BMW and attend their 1976 end-of-season party. When I got back to my hotel after the meeting I got a message to ring Bernie in London and he told me his news. After a quick shower, I set out for the BMW party in good spirits and, sure enough, there was Huschke. I could not resist going straight up to him and saying: ‘You people were right about Austria in the old days – now they are independent and look what they’ve done: just signed a deal with Bernie and dropped WCR.’
The news obviously worried him and we discussed the whole issue all over again. He wanted to know why we wouldn’t talk to Duffeler, so I pretended it was because we didn’t like him. I could not admit that the real reason was that if we negotiated with him, his standing and authority among the organisers would increase. I was surprised Huschke hadn’t worked that out.
The following week was taken up with CSI meetings, most importantly another Formula One Working Group scheduled for Thursday afternoon. Ugeux had made it clear he wanted ‘Laughing Boy’ there but we still decided to go, having first asked that one or two neutrals, such as Dean Delamont and Mal Currie, the Watkins Glen organiser, should come as well as the WCR supporters.
When we arrived in Paris we went straight to our French lawyer because we suspected that the fact that the FIA, as a non-profit-making body under French law, had made substantial profits and also set up a Swiss company, apparently without official permission, might make them vulnerable to attack in the French courts. It was important to have a secret weapon with which to cause alarm and confusion in the CSI, in case we had a head-on collision with them over WCR. The lawyer confirmed our view and said that, provided we had proof, our case would be formidable. As most of the evidence was contained in official CSI minutes, we emerged feeling quietly pleased.
We then had lunch with Claude Le Guezec and deliberately selected a cafe near the FIA headquarters in the hope that some of the CSI delegates would see us and be alarmed because of Claude’s former position as head of the CSI secretariat. Sure enough, we were spotted and one of our opponents, Ottorino Maffezzoli from the Automobile Club of Milan and race director at Monza, actually joined us for a while. As he was one of the original directors of the WCR company in Monaco, we thought it right to give him a big injection of despair. At this stage of the negotiations morale and fortitude were everything, and all anxiety among the enemy was useful. We dropped hints about secret deals with other WCR organisers and tried to make him feel isolated and in danger. There was some basis for our claims, as Claude was busily trying to seduce Spain on our behalf, but it was all done in a friendly atmosphere with plenty of jokes.
After lunch we set off to the meeting at the Hotel Inter-Continental, where we found Michel Boeri waiting in the corridor and making a point of saying how stupid the present row was and how pointless that races should be endangered. I got the strong impression that he was at last beginning to worry about his own race in Monaco, which was no bad thing.
The talks were long and inconsequential, with Duffeler issuing periodic ultimatums that no one took much notice of. Bernie and I were unhelpful, particularly when he was speaking. We did everything we could to avoid discussing the one issue Duffeler wanted to bring up – namely, money. WCR’s objective, after all, was to stop Bernie increasing the prize fund. In the end, we were able to avoid the subject altogether by pointing out that the working group chairman had ruled at the first meeting that it could not discuss money. All this wasted time and served the purpose of avoiding any sort of negotiation with Duffeler. At one stage, François Guiter of Elf said he thought the version of the original Brussels agreement that gave us the film and television rights in lieu of an increase in prize money should be avoided at all costs. We must, he said, cosset the television and make things easy and cheap for them or they would not come.
I thought it was an extraordinary mistake to make by someone whose company was so dependent on television for returns on sponsorship. The only way to get good television coverage was to see that the show was so good they had to broadcast it and then charge them heavily for the privilege. That way they would take trouble and do it properly: no one takes trouble over a free show – they just use it to fill airtime. If we had the rights, we would build them into something spectacular over a few years (as, indeed, Bernie eventually did), probably with cameras on the cars. It had the potential to be the first sport in which you could actually see things as a participant rather than a spectator, and it could easily become the number one sport on television – what was needed was drive and imagination, not a few feet of free film and the odd air ticket. But there was no point in saying any of this at this meeting. Half the room would not have understood and the other half would not have listened.
Eventually, we got
the meeting on to the usual minutiae of Formula One race organisation and you could feel the frustration, particularly Duffeler’s. He issued yet another ultimatum: if there was no financial agreement within 24 hours he would do ‘something terrible’, but he did not state what that would be. As his deadline fell after the end of the CSI Bureau meeting, which would have had to take any relevant decisions, this seemed melodramatic and pointless, but there the meeting ended.
Next day, at the CSI press conference after their Bureau meeting, Ugeux and the rest seemed to be avoiding our eyes as they went in. Bernie thought it meant trouble – big trouble – which was disquieting. No one readily faces a world war even if they have major secret weapons stashed up their sleeves, like our French lawsuit. You never quite know what to expect.
We bumped into the RAC’s Dean Delamont, who had been at the meeting, and asked him what had happened. He was obviously confused because there had been the usual row and it had ended inconclusively, but he said Ugeux was hoping to impose a solution.
In the event we were delighted. Ugeux’s solution was the original Brussels deal almost to the letter. What is more, it was a profit-sharing scheme where we received half of any increase in race receipts. This was an open-ended bargaining weapon for us, as many of the WCR organisers (the ones affected because they had not yet made a deal with us) would rather make a new deal on our terms than accept the auditing of their books that profit-sharing would imply.
Bernie quickly presented our trophy for the best organiser to Chris Pook of Long Beach at the FIA prize-giving and we rushed off to catch our plane, letting the press think we thought we would accept but playing up our lack of enthusiasm. We spent the plane journey debating whether Ugeux, who had prefaced his statement by saying that the time for playing poker had run out, had deliberately slipped us four aces under the table or genuinely thought it a bona fide solution. Either way, we were delighted. All we had to do now was wait.