by Tom Rubython
His treatment of Tom Wheatcroft was not James Hunt’s finest hour, as Ian Phillips sadly remembers: “It is true he disliked Tom Wheatcroft. Roger [Williamson] was my best mate and Tom gave Roger everything that James wanted, and there was a bit of jealousy there. There was just something he didn’t like about Tom. He tried to get me into an argument once, it was at the Donington Grand Prix in 1983, and I just walked away. He was saying to somebody: ‘Wheatcroft’s a horrible man, always has been. Ian, isn’t that right?’ Tom remained a friend. James had this bee in his bonnet that Tom was not a nice person. James just had this thing.”
Ian Phillips never understood Hunt’s vendettas.
The season concluded, and the stars of Formula 3 that year were the Australian Dave Walker, Jody Scheckter and Roger Williamson.
At the end of the 1971 season, Hunt’s results in Britain were only a little better than they had been in 1970, but not by much. Hunt had overdone it again; instead of focusing, he had competed in too many races in too many championships. In the Shell, he was tenth with 12 points as Dave Walker dominated and smashed the opposition with 86 points, beating even Roger Williamson, who managed 56 points. In the Lombard, Williamson focused and dominated on 90 points, whereas Hunt could only manage eighth with 12 points. Only in the Forward trust championship did he shine, coming in third on 19 points, whilst Dave Walker managed 63 points to win it from Roger Williamson, on 35 points.
In Autosport’s annual review of the F3 season, Hunt was ranked fifth most talented driver in F3. Autosport thought his performance had been “one of the disappointments of the year”, and the article was written by one of his admirers, Ian Phillips. Phillips noted: “Hopefully, things will turn out better next season.” Analysing Hunt’s weaknesses, Phillips would say later: “Unfortunately, his hot-headedness sometimes betrayed his sense of responsibility, which was highly developed. The thing that impressed you most when you got to know him was that he was an extremely intelligent person – probably one of the most intelligent racing drivers I’ve ever known.”
Overall, it had been a disastrous season, but Chris Marshall later rewrote history and told Hunt biographer Christopher Hilton that the season had been an outstanding success. He said: “We had a terrific second half of 1971, I think 18 races and we won seven.” No one else remembered it quite like that. In fact, in view of what had happened, there was no way March would renew Marshall’s contract and, instead, sold him the 713M cars cheap.
As for Hunt, the cheating episode had damaged him and thrown his talent into doubt. Time was running out and the undeniable promise of James Hunt remained entirely unfulfilled.
In simple terms, Hunt had done too much crashing. Never had his ‘Hunt the Shunt’ nickname been more apt than at the end of 1971. The run of four serious accidents earlier in the season had been astounding and unprecedented for any one driver in motor racing history. March had spent well over UK£15,000 repairing his cars during the season, which in those days was a small fortune. Looking back on his disastrous record in 1971 and reflecting on his nickname, Hunt said: “It didn’t bother me because, to ease the pain, I told myself it was a natural rhyme and not necessarily an aspersion.” His assessment might have been baloney but it undoubtedly made him feel better.
Hunt was adamant that most of his accidents were triggered by other drivers, who had lost control of their cars and hit him. Although he did confess that he might have avoided some of the accidents if it hadn’t been for his admitted “over-eagerness and inexperience.” To explain away the accidents that were his fault, he said they had been “brought on by not really having a competitive car.” He added: “I had to stick my neck out more than most, trying to make up for the deficiencies of my car.”
There was plenty of truth in that as he contemplated what 1972 held in store for him.
CHAPTER 11
Flattening David Morgan
He would never be forgotten after that
James Hunt always had a problem with arrogance and cockiness when he was successful. It was a natural part of his character. At the latter end of the 1970 season, he had enjoyed a good run in his works Lotus 59. He had won the big international race at Zolder on 6th September and run to a very impressive third place at Cadwell Park a week later. And before that, he had come second in another big international event at Knutstorp in Sweden.
So when he went to Crystal Palace circuit on the Friday and Saturday 2nd-3rd October 1970, he was in one of those dangerous moods when anything could happen and usually did. Gerald Donaldson called his mood “a finely tuned state of aggressive fighting trim.”
Crystal Palace circuit was virtually his home race and, as he was now living full time in London, there was no need for any camping out. So every night of that week, as the Formula 3 circus came to town, Hunt was out with his tribe, drinking himself silly at the 365 club on the King’s Road, in Chelsea, with soccer players and his growing circle of hangers-on and ne’er-do-wells who were prevalent even in those days.
The state of constant inebriation added to the dangerous cocktail of emotions that was James Hunt that weekend. “Light fuse and stand clear” was how one anonymous observer described it to Motoring News after the weekend had ended.
The Crystal Palace Formula 3 event was an unusual race, as it was being broadcast live on BBC television; unusual because even Formula One wasn’t broadcast live in those days. But there was a gap in the schedule, cameras were available and the timing was perfect for a slot in the BBC’s prestigious Saturday afternoon ‘Grandstand’ show, fronted by the legendary sport’s presenter David Coleman. The race commentator was Murray Walker, in one of his first television jobs. It was certainly the first time he had commentated on a race in which James Hunt had competed, and the introduction to his future commentating partner was not auspicious.
It was also the first time that author Alan Henry, then writing for Motoring News, met Hunt. Henry remembers it only because of Hunt’s bone-crusher handshake: “I remember he shook my hand and I thought he’d broken two of my fingers. At a time when some of them were wimps, he was a tough guy. He had a charming manner about him, but a bit of a hair trigger temper.”
Henry was to witness plenty of that later.
The presence of television meant there was a huge entry for the late season race, which meant two qualifying heats for the main race. Hunt qualified easily by finishing second in his heat.
The main race got underway on cue on Saturday afternoon. Right from the start, there was no doubt who the winner would be, as Dave Walker dominated. But the battle for second was very different, with five cars, including Hunt’s Lotus, swapping places every lap.
Formula 3’s reputation for close racing was the reason the television cameras were there, and the BBC producer focused entirely on this battle for second.
In the last few laps, it came down to three drivers, with Hunt, Mike Beuttler and Dave Morgan in the reckoning. Morgan, in particular, was fighting aggressively for the place, determined to do well on television in front of the two million extra people viewing this race. It was the chance of a lifetime to shine, and Morgan knew it.
As Walker took the chequered flag, Beuttler held second place, which Morgan desperately wanted for himself. Hunt actually seemed out of it and in his mind had settled for fourth, determined not to crash his car and ruin what had been a virtually crash-free season.
Morgan, in a March 703 desperately hurled his car at the last corner to get ahead of Beuttler. In the process, he swiped Hunt’s Lotus and there was what was later described as an “explosion of debris.” Hunt’s Lotus 59 had its two right side wheels ripped from the chassis and Morgan’s March slammed hard into the concrete pit wall.
Hunt’s Lotus came to rest in the middle of the track. Unsure what to do about his car in the middle of the track, straddling the finish line, stunned marshals looked on as cars swerved to avoid Hunt as they rushed for the chequered flag.
A red mist came down over Hunt as he climbed from his car,
oblivious to the other cars whizzing past. He developed what in those days was called “a raging fury”, after the then popular TV show ‘The Incredible Hulk’.
Literally bursting out of his overalls like the hulk, he rubbed his eyes and looked round through the smoke and debris for Morgan. He spotted the white overalled figure hunched over his wrecked car, seemingly speculating what the repair cost might be. Later, Morgan revealed he was indeed pondering what would be the cost of repairing his car. It was the sort of thing drivers thought about in those days, when money was so tight and ambitions raged so hot. But on this occasion, his thoughts were about to be rudely interrupted.
Forgetting that the TV cameras were rolling, Hunt ran over to where Morgan was standing and landed him a single right hook to the jaw. Morgan looked at him and managed to say “whaaaat” as he fell to the ground, out cold. Hunt had flattened him with the single blow. But Hunt, disappointed that Morgan had fallen so easily, wanted more and shouted to Morgan, lying on the ground, to stand up like a man and take his punishment.
The entire incident, from accident to punch, was over in less than a minute. But the TV cameras were perfectly positioned on the start line and were running live close-ups for the nation’s TV viewers, who were transfixed by their first glimpse of live motor racing. The cameras caught Hunt prodding Morgan’s prone body to wake him up so he could pummel him again. But before that could happen, Hunt was quickly dragged away by marshals. Otherwise, the fight would have continued on live television.
In the mayhem, few noticed that Mike Beuttler had taken second place and Tony Trimmer came through the smoke and avoided the debris to take third. Dave Walker also clinched the British Formula 3 championship that day – but no one was in the least bit interested in him.
Murray Walker, in the commentary box overlooking the start line, couldn’t believe what he had witnessed. Appalled, he called Hunt “the archetypical, loud-mouthed, totally irresponsible, hooray henry.” He also added, for good measure, that Hunt was “erratic, emotional and violent.”
Later, when Hunt had made it into Formula One and recalling what he had witnessed that day at Crystal Palace, Walker said: “It exploded all my theories and beliefs about what ought to happen.”
Ian Phillips, then of Autosport magazine was called upon to make an instant judgment of what had happened. He was watching at the finish line and, although he made no judgment about blame for the accident, he came out against Hunt’s antics after the accident, calling his actions “totally unjustified.” Hunt, Phillips determined, had “overreacted.”
Hunt had undoubtedly suffered a huge rush of blood to the head. His crashing record in 1970 had been almost exemplary and he had then spent less than UK£200 on accident repairs. He had a huge incentive to keep his car in one piece, as his otherwise generous Lotus contract stipulated that he paid for all accident damage. Colin Chapman was no fool. Now, Hunt was staring at UK£400 worth of damage all thanks to Morgan’s insane rashness at the finish and his attempt to look good on television.
If it had been a normal race, without the cameras, hardly anyone would have noticed the encounter and the matter would have ended right there, with Hunt and Morgan inevitably making up in the paddock afterwards.
Hunt was, of course, guilty of ungentlemanly conduct; that much was clear. But his conduct was quickly set aside by the media, who chose instead to focus on the issue of whether or not he had been justified in landing the punch. Everyone wanted to know who was at fault in the accident.
When he got back to the paddock, Hunt immediately gathered his fellow competitors and led an official protest to the stewards about Morgan’s driving.
There was a strict time limit on this and the protest form had to be accompanied by a fee of UK£5. Hunt kept a five pound note in the pocket of his race overalls for just such an occasion. With the protest duly lodged and the fiver paid, the stewards were obliged to meet immediately to decide the issue.
The enquiry was convened, and Hunt and the other drivers began vigorously protesting Morgan’s driving. The drivers told the stewards that Morgan’s behavior had been suspect over the whole weekend. They said his maneuver at the finish line had been irresponsible and the action of a desperate man trying to make a name for himself because of the presence of television cameras.
It looked cut and dried, but, unbeknownst to the drivers, the chief steward had telephoned RAC race boss, Dean Delamont, who had been watching the race on TV at home. Delamont was already angry about the number of accidents in Formula 3 and he knew a fatality was likely just around the corner. Wanting to put a stop to it, he decided this was the moment to act.
Believing that the continual accidents brought bad publicity to the sport – publicity that it could do without – Delamont seems to have decided at that precise moment to make a public example of Dave Morgan.
Delamont told the chief steward to arrange for judgment to be reserved and to refer the matter to him for a tribunal to be convened in London. And that is exactly what they did, ruling that the evidence before them was inconclusive. The stewards should have dealt with the matter there and then but, instead, thanks to Delamont’s intervention, the incident turned into a cause célèbre that meant the name of James Hunt would be forever remembered in motor racing, whatever else he did in the future.
The tribunal was to be convened in London at the RAC’s portalled headquarters in London’s Pall Mall. Delamont told reporters that the Royal Automobile Club, as the governing body of British motor sport, had no choice but to take action. But, secretly, he knew the incident would have been totally ignored if the TV cameras hadn’t been there. As it was, the TV tapes would be vital in apportioning blame.
The following Thursday, the whole incident was covered in a minute-by-minute dissection in the Autosport weekly motor racing magazine and the Motoring News weekly newspaper. Autosport journalist Justin Haler made the mistake of writing that Hunt was “justifiably enraged” at Dave Morgan’s driving; the inference being he was right to assault Morgan afterwards.
That comment sparked off a hailstorm of letters to the magazine, which were duly printed in the following and successive weeks. The most interesting response came from none other than Morgan’s own mother, one Bunty Morgan. In a letter signed ‘Mrs H B Morgan’, Bunty said she was “quite incensed” at her son’s treatment by Autosport’s journalists, whom she believed were biased in favour of Hunt. She said, in an eloquent passage of the letter that was clearly not written by her: “At what stage does pressing on, harrying and holding off turn from a virtue into a vice?”
Bunty’s letter triggered of a deluge of correspondence in the weeks before the tribunal. Morgan recalled later: “My mother and various aunties and uncles were writing to the press.”
Besides Morgan’s family, more mothers got in on the act, including Mike Beuttler’s, who stated that her son was “quite horrified”. She for some reason took against Hunt, writing: “The boy Hunt was being extremely beastly to my son, who, as always, drove beautifully, although his father and I do rather wish at times he had chosen a more sedate occupation.”
The letters were pretty evenly split in their support of either driver, with many criticising Hunt for his “pugilistic behaviour”, which they thought had brought the sport into disrepute. One letter writer accused him of a “complete lack of self control”, which wasn’t far from the mark.
Meanwhile, the soap opera continued in the national press. Morgan, whom no one had heard of previously, or much less cared about, was becoming a national celebrity and even appeared on some TV chat shows. He maintained that, in fact, Hunt’s punch had missed him and that he only fell to the ground because he had become “unbalanced.” Morgan said: “He missed” and called Hunt a “silly arse.” Morgan would later regret that statement once he saw the TV tapes.
Bunty Morgan revealed to journalists that, before the incident, she had been an admirer of Hunt’s. She said: “I’d first met James in the Mini days, and then he was just a nice, qu
iet, but very eager man. I felt it was a put up job.” But she said she had changed her view: “At Crystal Palace, it was announced over the loudspeakers that David was guilty while the stewards’ meeting was still going on, and in fact the meeting went on for over an hour after the announcement. It was unfair. Formula 3 is terribly competitive and there were lots of incidents, but my David wasn’t the kind to make a fuss.”
Morgan himself again attempted to explain his position: “James and I were struggling for second place in the race. Moving into the last corner, I did what you’d normally do if you were going to do another lap and came over to the pit side. I was in front and I had the position. I wasn’t chopping him off from the inside, I was just making sure he’d have to think twice about which side he was going to try and pass me on. Normally, he’d have come down the inside but he’d be trapped there, so I wanted him to change his mind and come down the outside. That would give me enough leeway to get across the line. But he kept the hammer down and hit me, and I went sideways and spun round. His car was in the middle of the track minus one wheel, and I was into the pit wall minus one wheel.”
The RAC tribunal, which would decide the issue, was extremely powerful and wholly made up of influential gentlemen of motor racing. The general mood of the members was that they believed James Hunt had not been a gentleman, and they were after his blood. As for Morgan, they wanted him thrown overboard as well.
So when both Hunt and Morgan were formally summoned by letter to appear before the tribunal and the date was set, Hunt got into a panic. Although he displayed plenty of bravado amongst his friends, he had a natural public schoolboy’s respect for authority, especially when it was convened for judgment. Gone was his rebelliousness, and he called up his friend John Hogan for help.
