by Tom Rubython
His world championship hopes were also evaporating, as Lauda left America with 24 points and Hunt only had 6. Hunt wasn’t even second or third in the world championship rankings; he was not even fourth. Outwardly it was a desperate situation, and he was by now eager to win a Grand Prix for McLaren. As he said, “I need a victory to make Niki sweat, and I need one to know I can do it.”
It was a still very angry James Hunt who flew back to Britain to take part in the non-championship International Trophy Formula One race at Silverstone. Niki Lauda did not appear, and Ferrari sent a single car for its reserve driver. Free from any pressure, Hunt duly won it in style. In a display of driving perfection, he completely dominated the race in front of 75,000 almost out of control, screaming fans.
The International Trophy had been renamed the Graham Hill Trophy in memory of the late champion, and the trophy was presented to Hunt by Bette Hill. Hunt, as she later revealed, had whispered to her on the podium: “If I can achieve only a small percentage of what Graham achieved in his life, I will be happy.” Journalist Ian Phillips wrote in Autosport magazine: “His style was impeccable, both on and off the track, which should shut up the childish newspaper critics for good and all.”
Daily Express motoring editor David Benson witnessing it all, said: “That weekend James gave one of the most impressive displays of high-speed Formula One driving I have ever witnessed. From the moment he went out onto the track for the first of the two practice sessions on Saturday, he was clearly the fastest man on the track. He was beautifully controlled. It was smooth, clean driving without a hint of overexuberance.”
After Silverstone, Hunt was riding the crest of a wave. From having been a little-known playboy racing driver, he was now internationally famous—not least because of his wife’s affair with Richard Burton. As a genuine world championship contender, he was now recognized wherever he went and was enjoying it immensely. When it got too much, he retreated to Marbella, where he was left alone. Moreover, with his wife gone, he could smoke as much cannabis and drink as much beer as he liked; he could also sleep with as many girls as he liked—often two or three together, if it took his fancy.
Meanwhile, Niki Lauda had slinked off to get married to Marlene away from the public gaze.
CHAPTER 9
Ferrari Shoots Itself
Enzo Ferrari Wages War against Lauda
Maranello: April 1976
After Niki Lauda returned from California at the conclusion of the early season flyaway races, he was contemplating the start of the European season with some real confidence. The loss of Luca di Montezemolo as Ferrari’s team manager was not proving as catastrophic as it might have. He had known for a long time that Montezemolo’s eventual departure was inevitable and had tried to stave it off as long as he could. But now that it had come, the consequences were actually nowhere near as bad as Lauda had thought.
In fact, everything within Ferrari looked good as, after all, the team had won the first three races of the year in convincing style. But although Lauda knew better, and he knew what had gone on behind the scenes in those first three races had not been good, he was still relieved. As he said, “I won the first two races and Regazzoni the third, but in hindsight, everything was going just a shade too smoothly.”
In reality, Lauda couldn’t have liked Montezemolo’s replacement, Daniele Audetto, any less, and he believed Enzo Ferrari was just an old buffoon. And worse, he believed the combination of the two of them managing the team, despite the good start to the season, could be fatal to his world championship chances.
But those thoughts were far away as, back home in Austria, Lauda contemplated his future as a happily married man. Niki and Marlene Lauda had moved into Lauda’s new house near Salzburg. Lauda had built the house on a site he had originally purchased with his former girlfriend, Mariella Reininghaus.
The new house was built in Salzburgerland on a site between Fuchslee and Thalgau in the hamlet of Hof. It was ideal, situated only 10 minutes from Salzburg Airport, where Lauda flew in and out of in his Cessna Golden Eagle airplane.
Construction of the house had been fraught with difficulty, and Lauda had fallen out with the architect after he found he couldn’t get his Range Rover into the garage, as the roof was too low. He appointed Mariella’s brother, who was a painter, to finish off the house.
Although they had known each other for less than a year, Lauda and Marlene were hopelessly in love and both keen to cement that love by starting a family as soon as possible. Lauda’s new house was perfect and very suitable for the large family they envisaged. Among a host of improvements, he was keen to add a swimming pool. In fact, with summer approaching, it was the first priority, and Lauda decided to do some of the work himself. It proved to be a big mistake.
Lauda had been on a tractor with a hydraulic scoop attached at the front, shifting earth and helping dig the hole for the pool. Unfamiliar with the changing dynamics of a tractor with a load, he lost control and the tractor overturned. It tipped over with a load of earth piled high in the scoop. He explained: “I was trying to shift a mound of earth from the meadow in front of my house when I somehow managed to tip the tractor right over on top of myself.”
As the tractor rolled forward, he somehow fell in between the seat and the transmission. For a brief moment, the scene was still and Lauda was motionless. He was covered in a pile of earth, and workmen rushed to help. As they rushed over, the workmen feared the worst, but Lauda eventually struggled clear, with earth caked over his eyes and in his mouth. But he was badly shaken and in pain, as he had suffered a compound fracture of his ribs. There was blood everywhere, as the ends of the ribs had penetrated his skin.
As he recalled: “A couple of inches either way and it would have been really serious. As it was, I was pinned to the ground and ended up with two broken ribs—all things considered, not too bad for a shunt with a 1.8 ton tractor.”
He was very lucky not to have been killed, as he admitted: “If I had been sitting in it in the ordinary way, I would have been killed. But I had the luck to fall between the caterpillar wheels, so I didn’t get the whole weight on me. Also, the earth was fairly soft, so my head was buried in a cushion.”
In reality, Lauda was extremely fortunate to escape with two badly broken ribs. He was immediately bound up by a doctor and given some routine painkilling injections. Lauda later referred to the incident as “the ridiculous business with the tractor.” But it was far from ridiculous, and although the injury itself was not serious, he was in terrible pain and confined to bed. He admitted to friends at the time: “The pain was excruciating. There was blood everywhere, and I can’t get up without help.”
It was a very debilitating injury, and immediately afterwards it looked as though Lauda could be out of Formula One for at least a month. Doctors told him that although his ribs would heal in two weeks, he would be immobilized for six weeks. There was little hope that he would be able to race his Ferrari in Spain at the next race in just two weeks’ time.
As soon as word got out as to the seriousness of the situation, it caused a sensation in Italy and set in motion a series of events that completely served to destabilize the Ferrari team. The team, which had already been in difficulties internally, was now wracked with internal strife.
The tractor incident was the spark that set off a fire.
It quickly emerged that there was much jealousy within the team over Lauda’s success and his internal detractors wanted an Italian driver to win in the Italian car. The internal detractors, led by Enzo Ferrari and let loose since Montezemolo’s departure, believed Lauda’s success had been due to the car and not the driver. Despite his success, they actually wanted Lauda out and saw the tractor accident as their opportunity. Lauda recalled: “The Italian press got hold of the story—you can hardly blame them; a Formula One world champion crushed by a tractor makes pretty good copy.”
Audetto threw himself into the day-to-day intrigues at the factory in Maranello as Lauda lay in bed a
t home in Austria. He fueled the flames and, according to Lauda, briefed the rabid Italian journalists every day. Audetto loved the attention and adulation he received from the Italian media. Lauda believes that Audetto couldn’t help himself and that he briefed against him continually in that period. As a direct result, Italian journalists started clamoring for Lauda to be sacked and replaced with an Italian. Believing him to be overrated, they maintained that an Italian could do better in such a good car. Lauda said, “All races I had won for Ferrari had still not silenced one particular section of the Italian press, which constantly clamored for an Italian driver.”
And the Italian press, seemingly put up to it by Audetto, had a ready-made replacement in a young Italian driver named Maurizio Flammini. Flammini was a 26-year-old who had won a couple of races in Italian Formula 2 racing. The campaign to install Flammini in Lauda’s car was led by the editor of Autosprint, the Italian motor racing magazine. The magazine urged Italians to “stick together.”
Lauda remembered: “As soon as the news leaked out about my accident with the tractor, they sensed an opportunity to promote an Italian into the cockpit. There just happened to be a young lad around called Flammini, who had had a good result in Formula 2; he would be an automatic choice.” But Lauda knew the notion to be ridiculous, as he said: “Such a silly idea, halfway through the season to have a completely inexperienced driver in Formula One. No Italian was bad or inexperienced enough not to be put forward as an alternative.”
Lauda grew increasingly incensed by what was happening. His world championship and early season domination seemed to count for nothing. As he said, “I had a comfortable lead in the world championship: 24 points after three races, with the second place man on 10 points. But there were panic stations at Ferrari, and I felt the pressure.” He added, “It was a fascinating situation—yesterday a hero; but as soon as I was lying on my back, I’d had my chips. One of the main reasons for the chaos and muddles was that the old man [Enzo Ferrari] and his people take what they see in the newspapers so terribly seriously.”
It was obvious that someone had done a number on the Italian press, as the journalists were all coming out with the same story and theme time and time again: that the car was good and the driver was average, and that it was the car not the driver that had won the races. Lauda knew that was nonsense, and so did Clay Regazzoni, but he kept quiet as the controversy raged. Regazzoni and Lauda’s relationship, which had been as good as it gets, in 1975 now became strained. He said, “Tempers ran high, and in the heat of the moment, I paid scant attention to what he said.”
The feeling was that if Lauda wasn’t fit to drive in Spain, Ferrari would replace him, probably for good. By this time, Lauda was fed up with Ferrari’s politics and initially couldn’t care less what was being written, and so he ignored it.
But eventually Lauda found he could not ignore what was being written every day. He was under pressure at home as some Italian newspapers sent representatives to Austria. Four journalists booked in at the local inn and began calling Lauda’s house every hour for updates and begging for interviews. Photographers set up on a hill with telephoto lenses.
He finally snapped while speaking to a journalist from the leading Italian sports newspaper, Gazzetta dello Sport. As he said, “I came out with a few choice remarks, notably to the effect that [Enzo] Ferrari could take a long walk off a short pier, and Gazzetta dello Sport ran that in a banner headline.” He added to the controversy when he was asked about the possibility of the young Flammini replacing him, to which he replied, “Italians are only good for driving round the church.”
Lauda had put the match to the fuse, as he remembered: “All Italy was up in arms.” Aroused by his entry into the war of words, Lauda was so upset by the resulting negative publicity that he threw caution to the wind and decided to challenge Enzo Ferrari publicly. Via the newspapers, he gave Enzo Ferrari an ultimatum. He said he would be available for the next Grand Prix in Spain and stated, “but only if and when Ferrari required him.”
Enzo Ferrari was shocked by Lauda’s announcement and suddenly realized he could lose him. Lauda’s declaration that he would be fit and ready for the Spanish Grand Prix changed the dynamics of the affair. Enzo suddenly realized that if he replaced Lauda with Flammini and Flammini was slower, then he would become the laughing stock of all Italy. And deep down, Enzo Ferrari knew this would probably be the outcome.
Lauda’s statement successfully spooked Enzo Ferrari, who now changed tack completely and panicked. He told Audetto to do something, and he dispatched a Ferrari public relations executive, Sante Ghedini, to go and see Lauda to get a firsthand report of the situation in Austria. Ghedini was chosen because of his closeness to Lauda.
Ghedini left the Ferrari factory immediately and drove overnight from Maranello to Salzburg. He arrived in the early hours of the next morning at Lauda’s home. His job was to liaise with Lauda and provide regular bulletins of his medical condition. When he arrived at Lauda’s house the following morning, he found journalists and photographers camped out at his gates. The colorful Ghedini grabbed a yard broom and charged the journalists, scattering them. They packed up their things and left.
Lauda and Ghedini plotted together, as Lauda remembered: “There were panic stations at Ferrari, and I was determined to do everything I could to start in the next race.” Ghedini spoke to Audetto every day, making reports on Lauda’s condition. But he did not tell him the absolute truth.
If he had told him the truth, Lauda immediately would have been replaced for the Spanish Grand Prix, as the situation did not look very good. Lauda was bedridden and in total agony from his badly broken ribs. There appeared to be no way he could drive in Spain, although Ghedini, under instructions from Lauda, kept up the pretense that there was. Lauda recalled the reality of the situation: “I was lying in bed hardly able to move because the pain was so intense.”
Driving in Spain looked nigh on impossible until a man named Willy Dungl arrived at Lauda’s bedside. Dungl was a world-class masseur and had a very high reputation due to his long, successful association with the Austrian winter Olympics team. Dungl was introduced to Lauda by a journalist friend, a radio reporter. Lauda remembered: “I had never met Dungl, but I had heard a tremendous amount about him: masseur, guru, dietician, layer-on-of-hands, and miracle worker.”
But their first meeting was hardly auspicious. Lauda was in his best curmudgeonly mood and did not endear himself to Dungl. He said, “Dungl was badly dressed and grumpy.” In response, Dungl told Lauda: “I can’t do a thing for you. If you want me to try, you’ll have to get yourself to Vienna.” With that, Dungl left. Lauda remembered his initial thoughts: “There must be the world’s biggest pain in the ass.”
But Lauda realized that there was no way he could drive in Spain, and after consulting with Ghedini and Marlene, he decided to get himself to Vienna and put himself in the hands of Dungl as a last throw of the dice. A private ambulance was hired, and Lauda made the difficult journey to Vienna. But Dungl placed many conditions on his agreeing to help. He told Lauda that up to now he had regarded him as an “arrogant type of sportsman who neglected his body.” He told him he would help him only if he was “willing to do something for his physical well-being from then on.” Lauda had no choice but to agree to his conditions.
Dungl sought out an Austrian surgeon with whom he had worked previously on accident cases, and the two of them got to work. Straightaway, Lauda realized he had come to the right place. He said, “He helped me to rediscover my own body . . . and convinced me to alter my eating habits and in each instance explained the reason for the change in a way that I could understand and accept.”
But Lauda found Dungl a very testy individual indeed, as he explained: “Willy is one of the most bad-tempered people in the world. It is virtually impossible to hold a telephone conversation with him. He is so unfriendly you feel like hanging up after a couple of seconds.”
But despite all the problems from that first
meeting, Dungl hardly left Lauda’s side; he kept him in tip-top physical condition for the rest of his career. Lauda said in his autobiography, To Hell and Back: “Willy Dungl has been one of the most important people in my career and my life. There is no one to touch him; he is simply a genius. His knowledge, his sensitivity, his touch, and his methods—I simply cannot imagine that there is another like him anywhere in the world.”
Dungl, with the help of the Austrian surgeon, had Lauda back on the grid two weeks after the accident. As Lauda said so succinctly, “After two long painful weeks, many Dungl tricks and hard clenching of teeth, I went to Spain.”
With that, it was over as soon as it had begun, and two humiliated Italians, Enzo Ferrari and Daniele Audetto, withdrew from the fray, telling their fellow Italians it had all been a mistake. But the whole event turned into an Italian farce and seriously destabilized the team.
As for Enzo Ferrari, it was just another conflagration in a career seemingly full of them. As he had once said of himself: “When I look in the mirror in the morning, even I don’t understand myself. Some things in life are truly inexplicable.” His reaction to Lauda’s tractor accident had certainly been one of the most inexplicable events in his life.
CHAPTER 10
Hunt Wins, Then He Doesn’t
Caldwell Messes Up in Spain
Spain: April 30–May 2, 1976
The Spanish Grand Prix, held over the first weekend of May, was the first race of the new European season and it was being held at the Jarama circuit, just outside Madrid. By the fourth round of the 1976 world championship, James Hunt had made himself familiar to everyone and was the center of attention in the Formula One paddock. As a front-runner, he attracted far more attention in the paddock than the reigning world champion, who was increasingly being regarded as a curmudgeon. And certainly Hunt was responsible for a lot of that.
