There have been other great drivers and other great seasons; none, though, can match Jim Clark’s numbers of 1965. Fifty years ago the Scots sheep farmer not only won his second F1 World Championship but also the Indy 500, the Tasman Cup, the French F2 Championship and numerous saloon and sports car races. All in one year – a year of beautiful, 1.5 litre F1 cars, of gorgeous, outrageous Indy cars, of the first big Group 7 sports cars, of black Raybans, narrow lapels and headscarves for the girls. Jim Clark had won the Championship in 1963 and had come unbearably close to the title in 1962 and 1964. He had almost won at Indy – and he had lost many friends along the way. We find him, on Jan 1, 1965, on the east coast of South Africa, preparing for the first round of the F1 World Championship. His back is hurting from a slipped disc. He hasn’t had a real break. And Colin Chapman is about to give him a hard time for flying first class on the two-day haul from South Africa to New Zealand. We find Jim Clark, OBE, No 1 driver for Team Lotus, about to begin his epic year.
South African GP, East London (where the drivers need both their 1964 and 1965 licences and medical certificates!) With the latest, uprated Coventry Climax V8 powering his Lotus 33, Jim is quickest in every session, starts from the pole, sets fastest race lap (the first at over 100mph) and leads from start to finish. Jim is worried about the slipped-disc injury he has recently incurred during a snowball fight in an Italian ski resort (at a Ford promotion in Cortina featuring Jim, Jack Sears, John Whitmore, etc) but on race day at East London, wearing a corset for back support, orange lenses fitted to his goggles because of the threat of rain, he belies his lack of recent fitness. It is only in the closing stages that he begins to feel the strain – first when it indeed begins to spit and subsequently as the grueling, 2hr, 6min race winds down. Jim waves his fist at the flagman as the chequer is shown a lap early…but it all ends happily. Jim’s friend and Balfour Place flatmate, Jackie Stewart, also makes his official F1 debut for BRM, finishing sixth. (Jackie had ably subbed for Jim in the non-championship Rand GP at Kyalami on December 12, 1964, starting the new Lotus 33B from the pole and winning heat two after a drive-shaft failed on the line in heat one.) Mike Spence might have been second in East London in the other works Lotus 33-Climax but spins needlessly near the end: in Jim’s view, Mike’s interest in the female side of the Maggs family over the preceding days might have been a factor… Jim spends most of the Saturday after the race watching his mates water-skiing: he deems it best to rest his back…but then can’t resist a quick run in the late afternoon. Surprisingly, he feels the better for it. Win No 1 Tuesday, Jan 5
To Auckland, New Zealand, from Johannesburg via Mauritius, Perth and Sydney (Qantas Lockheed Electra). On the back of a menu Jim writes a letter to his girl-friend, Sally Stokes, taking advantage of the free air mail postage from Australia if given to a hostess before landing. After explaining that Colin Chapman (who was also on the flight) had “almost gone mad” when he discovered that Andrew Ferguson (back in Cheshunt) had booked Jim a first-class ticket to New Zealand, Jim starts his second paragraph with the immortal understatement, “Well, as you no doubt know, we won the race…”
Thursday, Jan 7
Auckland, New Zealand After a long, boring flight Jim and Colin check into the new Grafton Bridge Motel in Auckland. Jim’s Hertz rental car for the next four weeks in New Zealand: a grey Ford Zodiac Mk 111. There to meet them is Ray Parsons, the excellent (Australian) mechanic/driver who is to prepare Jim’s Lotus 32B-Climax for the eight-race Tasman Series. Jim has brought his own race kit from South Africa (two pairs of light blue Dunlop overalls, the dark blue Bell Magnum with white peak and two pairs of goggles) and is intrigued to see how the little 32B performs around Pukekohe. The car is based on the 1964 F2 Lotus 32, now fitted with a 2.5 litre Climax four-cylinder engine and a much larger, rounded engine cover to suit. It’s a one-off: any repairs will have to be effected locally (although a new Climax engine arrives by ship after first practice at Pukekohe); and, at a time when sponsorship on racing cars was still banned in Europe and Australia, it carries an Esso logo in liberal New Zealand.
Saturday, Jan 9
New Zealand Grand Prix, Pukekohe It’s the biggest motor racing day of the New Zealand year as huge crowds throng into the combined horse/motor racing circuit south of Auckland. Two heats will precede the New Zealand Grand Prix – with plenty of support races in between. Jim’s major opposition includes Graham Hill in David McKay’s new Brabham-Climax (ride heights set by Graham himself!), Bruce McLaren and Phil Hill in Bruce’s Cooper-Climaxes, Frank Gardner in the Mildren Brabham-Climax and some very quick locals (although Frank Matich’s Brabham-Climax is not yet ready). This Tasman is also a precursor to the tyre wars that would soon affect the world: Bruce has signed with Firestone, Mildren with Goodyear and Dunlop with Team Lotus and McKay’s Scuderia Veloce. Now with the additional support of Dunlop’s Vic Barlow (a recent arrival from London) Jim wins heat one after Bruce spins on oil and glances an ambulance attending another incident; he also takes an immediate lead of the Grand Prix later in the day. On lap two, however, flat out on the back straight, Bruce (now in Phil Hill’s older Cooper) flicks out of Jim’s slipstream and takes the inside line into the hairpin. Jim stays on the outside, is slightly ahead mid-corner – but then suddenly finds himself spinning into retirement: Bruce has run a little wide and has flicked the right-rear wheel of the Lotus. Jim returns to the pits on foot, saying “Bloody McLaren…!” under his breath as he strides towards Colin Chapman. Graham Hill goes on to win from Frank Gardner and the first local home – Jim Palmer. For more insight, watch the excellent YT video of the race (below). Watch for Spencer Martin working on the SV Brabham and future March/Shadow mechanic, Peter Kerr, chatting to Jim Palmer. The night ends in an Auckland night club where Jim gains his revenge in a bun-throwing fight with the McLaren team. Colin Chapman, due to return to England the next day (the Racing Car Show is on at Olympia and there are the F1, Indy, sports car, saloon and F2 race programmes to oversee) is still smarting from Bruce’s top speed advantage that afternoon. He exhorts Ray to work as much as possible on fuel mixtures and resolves to buy Bruce’s engine (running Repco con-rods) for Jim’s 1966 Tasman campaign. Win No 2 (heat)
Sunday, Jan 10
Pukekohe Jim’s water-skiing with Bruce and Patty McLaren, Frank Gardner and local friends. Bruce is on one side of the wake, Jim the other. Suddenly it seems a good idea to try a scissor switch. Jim angles across but then suddenly realizes that Bruce hasn’t reacted. Jim’s heading not only for the big waves but also for his mate. He bales out, missing Bruce by inches before somersaulting heavily into the foam.
Tuesday, Jan 11
Somewhere between Auckland and Levin They’re in a convoy, Bruce, Patty McLaren and Phil Hill in their Morris 1100, Jim in the Zephyr. They stop in a lay-by to stretch their legs. Patty swaps places and slides in next to Jim. Bruce pulls away then stops at the edge of the lay-by to watch his race cars pass by, towed by a pick-up. Jim and Pat are chatting away, talking about this and that. Jim fails to notice the stationary Morris. He plows into the back of it. The damage isn’t serious and so they continue on their way, Jim suitably admonished. Not long afterwards they stop for fuel. They all pile into the kiosk for drinks and sandwiches. “Say, that 1100 sure takes an awful lot of gas,” says Phil, peering out at the Morris. “She’s still drinkin’ it in…” “Or not,” replies Bruce, walking swiftly towards the bowsers. “Look at this, Clark! The fuel’s just pouring out the bottom of the tank! You smashed the fuel tank!”
Saturday, Jan 16
Levin, Gold Leaf International Trophy Jim wins this one with ease – wins both his heat, the final and “The Flying Farewell” sprint at the close of play. Livery touched up by local racer Kenny Smith, the immaculate 32B performs faultlessly on a day when both McLaren Coopers were off-song. Graham Hill has also returned to the UK and is not due to re-appear in the Tasman until mid-February in Sydney. Frank Gardner and Jim Palmer again take the minor placings, although Wellington’s Kerry Grant shows amazing pace with his Brabham before spinning down the field. Wins Nos 3, 4 and 5
Saturday, Jan 23
Lady Wigram Trophy, Wigram airfield Jim’s sixth and seventh wins of the year – another preliminary victory followed by his second Tasman feature win– are again runaways, although Bruce McLaren on this occasion is his nearest rival. Jim also faces falling oil pressure in the second half of the 64min race but nurses the Climax home with typical creativity, slipping the car into neutral before braking areas and flicking it through the gears conventionally by the pits, lest the McLaren team alert Bruce to the oil pressure problem. In this respect, Jim’s mechanical sympathy is a foretaste of what is to come at the 1965 British GP at Silverstone. Wins Nos 6 (heat) and 7
Saturday, Jan 30
Teretonga International Trophy Teretonga, on the tip of New Zealand’s south island, 100 miles from Dunedin, has long been Bruce McLaren territory. He finished second there in 1958; he won it in 1959; and he memorably beat Stirling Moss on the little 1.5 mile circuit in 1962 by removing the right-hand fuel tank from his Cooper and thus weighting it for left-handers (Teretonga has six lefts and two rights.) He repeated the victory in 1963; and then, in 1964, he almost dead-heated with his team-mate, Timmy Mayer. Bruce took that win by 0.1sec. Four wins and a second, in other words, in six years. 1965 ends the sequence. Jim Clark dominates both his preliminary heat and the International Trophy, beating Bruce by 14 sec. As at Wigram, however, Jim has to tend the health of the 32B: water temperatures begin to climb as the race progresses, obliging Jim to back-off with the revs and to give the car as much free air as possible. He does so, despite constantly lapping the back-markers, to make it three Tasman wins out of four. As at Levin, a short, sharp sprint race closes the day’s proceedings; and, despite the overheating worries, Jim duly lines up for this, too, such is his commitment to the fans’ enjoyment. Bruce on this occasion takes the lead into the first corner; Jim settles for second place behind his close friend. Wins Nos 8 (heat) and 9
Friday, February 5
Geoff Sykes, General Secretary of the Australian Automobile Racing Club (AARC), organisers of the racing at Warwick Farm, has introduced Jim to Jim Hazleton, a flight instructor at Bankstown Airport. Jim has been tutoring Jim for the past few days and feels he’s ready – after a mere 15 hours – to fly solo. Jim has no qualms. He circuit-and-bumps the Cessna 172 as if he’s been flying it all his life and celebrates afterwards with Geoff and Black Jack Brabham, whose been running around in an Aztec. As he steers his little Toyota (courtesy of Arnold Glass) back down the Hume Highway to Sydney, it strikes Jim that he’s never enjoyed a racing series more: the 32B has lots of oomph; he and Ray are having a ball; he’s winning races; and now he’s managed even to find the time he needs for flying. That would never have happened in Europe – or even in the States, where he always seems to be in a rush. He’s looking forward to The Farm, too. Looks like a nicely-balanced circuit. Geoff Sykes is a gem – a man to trust – and also a fellow flying enthusiast. It crosses Jim’s mind that he ought to consult Geoff about setting up an account with the Commonwealth Bank in Sydney. Australia’s going decimal in ’66 but it wouldn’t hurt to have an account ready for this time next year. Sunday, February 14, 1965 Peter Windsor writes: my Dad arranges for a flag marshal friend to sneak me into the Warwick Farm paddock. It’s a carefully-planned operation – a bit like the army news we keep hearing on the radio these days from Vietnam. I’m to stand near the fence on the Hume Straight bank at 08:00 sharp. Mr Barker – a flag marshal – will drive by on the circuit in a cream-coloured Peugeot 403. I’m to wave him down, climb the fence and jump into the car’s boot. By the time I’m released – hopefully without anyone noticing – I should in theory be in the Warwick Farm paddock – the forbidden, untouchable place about which I had only dreamt. It works! I blink in the early morning Sydney sunshine, then peer around me. There’s the dark green of Jim Clark’s Lotus! And there’s Jim, hands on hips, shirt off, chatting to officials! I walk tentatively over to the tented area, clutching my rucksack. Inside: my copy of Jim Clark At The Wheel, purchased from Dymocks only four months before; a packed lunch prepared by my Mum; and my Kodak Box Brownie camera, hopefully with the black-and-white film correctly loaded. Has anyone noticed my sudden arrival? I turn around. The Peugeot has already gone. I seem to be in the clear. I stand and watch for a while. They are apparently talking about the Esso badge on Jim’s Lotus. The officials keep walking over to it, measuring it, pondering it. Jim seems quite relaxed. I notice Ray Parsons, in white t-shirt, waving his hands a little. I put down the rucksack and pull out the camera. These are the photos I take:
Note the Esso badge now taped over! That’s Jim, hand on hip, to the centre-right of the 32B’s rear Dunlop.
Jim and the car are wheeled over to the Esso tent. I follow at a distance, fearful that I will be ejected from the paddock. Suddenly, to my left, I see Bruce McLaren sitting in his white Cooper. Again I pull out the pen and the Brownie: I stand and watch, shaking with excitement. Time stands still – probably for two hours, maybe more. I’m watching Jim as he chats to friends, talks to Ray Parsons, looks at the car from every angle imaginable. I even see him helping Ray with a wheel change. He sits down on a canvas chair, laughing with Ray. I summon the courage to move. I hunt for my book, searching for the right page. I fumble for my red Biro – my one and only pen. “Excuse me Mr Clark,” – my Mum had been emphatic about calling him Mr Clark should I ever meet him face-to-face – “would you please sign your book?” “Of course.Thanks for reading it. Did you enjoy it?” “Very much,” I stammer. “I bought it last year and read it right through!” Then suddenly my Dad, who also shares a love of flying with Geoff Sykes, is standing with me, hand on my shoulder. He’s working today as a start-line judge. He thinks it’s probably time for me to cross the track and join my brother in the spectator area down at Creek Corner. Even as engines burst into life and drivers begin to fidget by their cars, I walk slowly towards the paddock exit. In the marshalling area I see Jim, now in blue Dunlop overalls, preparing to pull on his helmet and climb into the Lotus. The dark blue helmet. The famous dark blue helmet with the white peak.
That’s Ray, just to Jim’s left – and the photographer to Ray’s right is the legendary Nigel Snowdon, who took the photo at Bankstown a few days before
Down at Creek the crowd is buzzing. Frank Matich, the brilliant local – and another hero of mine – is on the pole in his gorgeous Team Total light blue Brabham. Graham Hill, back from Europe after missing the previous three races in New Zealand, is second in David McKay’s Brabham; Jim is third and Jack Brabham fourth, ahead of Bruce McLaren and Frank Gardner. Could Frank actually beat the unbeatable? Keith Reagan, on the PA, builds the moment to a frenzy. A group of spectators nearby pile their Eskies on top of one another and jump the fence as the drivers begin their parade laps on the back of open sports cars. My brother and I join the throng, he with the colour film, I with eyes as big as saucers. Marshals in white coats try to hassle us back to the teeming compound. Then they’re with us. Hill. Frank Matich. And now Jim on the back of a white Sprite…with Mike Spence next to him. Mike Spence! “What’s Mike Spence doing here?” I ask Richard. “Not sure. Was it Mike? Are you really sure it was Mike?” As sure as any 12-year-old who’d only seen foggy black-and-whites in old magazines could ever be. We look at our watches, my brother and I. “They’re running late,” says Richard. “It’s all these people on the track. Let’s go.” We wait. It is hot and humid – but then suddenly the PA is shouting: “And they’re off…….! It’s Matich – Frank Matich leads into Paddock….!” We haven’t seen them prior to this start; there have been no “out-laps” apart from the drivers’ parade. We have no idea about what the cars will actually look like, what the sound will be, what the perspectives of speed will be. Now, in seconds, they will be upon us. We can hear a steadily-rising roar. I’m squeezed as near to the track as I can be, pushing the fence wires into a bow almost until they touch the black wooden sleeper fence. “It’s Matich in front…..!” says the voice of Keith Reagan. The crowd screams. Girls yelp. It’s baking hot. Much bigger people are pushing me from both sides and into my back. I’m actually finding it hard to breathe but I don’t know if it’s from the crush or from the explosion of the moment. And then they are suddenly there, engines crackling on over-run, drivers flicking down the gears, car noses dipped and bobbing under brakes. It’s the red SV Brabham of Graham Hill in front! Jim is nearest to me, with the light blue Matich Brabham down the inside. Dust, smoke and noise fill the air. The leaders are accelerating out of the hairpin; still the rest of the field is diving into the corner. I can hear the PA voice above the now-fading engine notes: “And Graham Hill leads the field into the Esses. It’s Clark up to second and Matich has slotted into third…” I’m jumping up and down, up and down, up and down… It is an afternoon of neck-craning and heat, of tip-toes and thirst. I’m hoarse from screaming. Jim Clark is following Hill and I’m willing him on as I’ve never wished for anything in my 12-year-old life. I notice, as they leave Creek Corner, a piece of paper caught in the nose of the Lotus. I note too, for the first time, that Jim is wearing a white handkerchief over his nose and mouth. He sits back and low in the Lotus, perfectly in harmony with the car. Hill’s Brabham seems to move with an abruptness; everything about Jim is fluid. I see flashes of red as he fingertips the Lotus steering wheel mid-corner; the sun catches the car’s chrome exhaust. Richard is keeping a lap chart in his race programme. No 1 – Hill. No 9 – Clark. No 4 – Brabham. No 3 – Matich. The race – the day – thunders on. Will Jim pass Hill? The crowd still yells loudly for Frank Matich. I join them. My perfect result? Clark first, Matich second, McLaren third. Lap 35. Ten to go. I’m as nervous as a calf on branding day. Jim is right behind Graham. I’m fearful there’ll be an accident – just like the one I’d seen at Bathurst in Easter, ’64. My brother thinks Hill’s in trouble. The Brabham sounds ok where we are. Then, almost as if in slow motion, Jim is now moving to the inside and out-braking Graham into Creek. Right in front of us! Jim Clark takes the lead! Graham falls away and then spins. Jack Brabham inherits second place after a strong drive in his new car; and the fabulous Matich retains third place. I am aware only the heat and the dust and the sweat and the tension as the last lap approaches. Bang! The Howard Brothers’ fireworks announce Charles Brittlebank’s waving of the chequered flag. The crowd begins to surge ever-forward. I’m caught in the mayhem. They’re jumping the fences, running the track. I’m fearful but I won’t miss it: I won’t miss the sight of Jim Clark on his Lap of Honour. I wave to him and I think he waves right back. His dark-lensed goggles are down, the face mask is down. I can see his smile and the crest on his tan, kangaroo-skin gloves. We listen on the PA to the prize giving. Dan MacFarlane of the Australian Jockey Club (AJC), owners of Warwick Farm, hands out the trophies under the auspices of Geoff Sykes. We’re all milling around down at Creek. There are still more races to be run. Yet we’re on track, chatting to the flag marshals, asking them about the race. Did you see Clark’s pass? What happened to Hill? He spun and stalled? Where? No-one knew. What I did subsequently discover, after reading Sports Car World a couple of months later, was that Jim, if you please, lost third gear on lap 2 of the 1965 Warwick Farm International 100. All the time he was behind Hill he had been learning how to drive the 32B minus third. He avoided second for fear of never finding a way out of it. He took fourth gear out of Creek and held it there, balancing the 32B on the torque of the Climax 2.5 litre 4, all the way to the pit straight, where he could take fifth. This he held until Creek… It was, by any standards, one of Jim Clark’s greatest drives. And I saw it. I saw him on the day it happened. Win No 10.
Post-script: years later I finally managed to sit in the famous 32B. It still wore its original steering wheel – the one I saw Jim massaging through Creek Corner as he played with the torque of the Climax 2.5. With thanks to Colin Piper and the Nigel Snowdon Collection (Sutton Images) for additional photographs
Sunday, February 21, 1965:
Sundown Park Tasman International, Melbourne Although Jim today clinched the 1965 Tasman Series this wasn’t a great weekend, for on Saturday we lost Lex Davison, that most gentlemanly of gentleman drivers. He ran wide in his new, red Brabham in the esses prior to the penultimate straight but seemed to have it all under control as he bumped over the grass near the horse-track railings. Then, suddenly, launched by a dangerously-sited slab of concrete in a dip, the car flicked sideways into the white fencing. With little cockpit protection – Lex had only recently switched from a “shorty” helmet to an Everoak and still wore polo shirts matched with a colourful bandana – it was over very quickly. An institution in Australian motor racing, Lex was a father-figure to many and a standard-bearer for all. A cloud descended over Sandown Park. For once, Jim didn’t need to learn a Tasman circuit, for he had made a low-key, one-off appearance at Sandown in 1962, ostensibly to secure for Colin Chapman a buyer for the Springbok-winning Lotus 21. In 1965 Jim finished second after racing Jack Brabham hard for most of the distance. Jack’s new compound Goodyears, flown in by Fred Gamble directly from Akron, for the first time appeared to be quicker – and more resilient – than Jim’s Dunlops; and, besides, Jim’s well-used Climax began to lose oil pressure as the race unwound. Even so, he finished only five seconds behind Jack on this fast circuit, with Phil Hill and Bruce McLaren taking third and fourth places in their Firestone-shod Coopers. Frank Matich was again right on the pace with the light blue Team Total/Laurie O’Neill Brabham, qualifying third behind Jack and Jim, but was an early retirement with a broken distributor. Jim’s 33 points were enough to clinch the Tasman Cup with one race still to run (Longford on March 1-3) before the non-championship race at Lakeside on March 7. With grateful thanks to Graham Howard, whose biography of Lex Davison remains an industry standard, and to Peter Bakalor, who was, and still is, way ahead of his time.
Sunday, March 3
Longford Tasman International, Tasmania Jim Clark didn’t score many fighting fifth places in his career, let alone in 1965 – but that was the story of the Longford Tasman round in early March. This was a three-day race meeting on the fast and dangerous Tasmanian road course, beginning with practice on Friday, a sprint race on Saturday and the Australian Grand Prix on Monday. And, for most of it, Jim struggled to stay competitive. On the long Mountford Straight, with its Flying (measured) Mile, the Lotus 32B’s long-stroke Climax was hardly a match for the short-stroke (Repco-developed) Climax in Jack Brabham’s new car – or for the McLaren Cooper short-strokers; and that was when Jim’s Climax was running well. When it wasn’t, which was the case for most of Friday, despite Jim quickly adapting to yet another circuit new to him, the engine was virtually a waste of time. Ray Parsons fitted the spare Team Lotus Climax for the Saturday race but Jim was out-powered by all his nearest opposition, even though he of course pushed the 32B to the limit all the way, passing and then re-passing the rapid 1964 Cooper of Phil Hill. He had to be resigned, though, to finishing only fifth. Bruce McLaren won his second AGP – and his first and only Tasman race of 1965 – after a dominant performance from the pole (and despite a slipping clutch in the closing stages); Jack was a strong second after losing time lapping the 1.5 litre cars of Roly Levis and the Queenslander, Glynn Scott; Phil Hill was an excellent third in the white McLaren Cooper, delighting Bruce, who had remained convinced of Phil’s ability despite his three lean seasons in F1; and Graham Hill was fourth in the Scuderia Veloce Brabham. About the only consolation for Jim was the thought that he would be using Bruce’s engine in 1966 and that the Tasman Cup was now officially his. There was more tragedy, however – more of the type of accidents that typified racing in the 1960s. Rocky Tresise, Lex Davison’s young neighbour and protege, had at first decided not to race at Longford, so distraught were he and the family after Lex’s passing. At the last minute, though, Rocky was persuaded to race the old Davison Cooper – “as a tribute to Lex”. Rocky, a cool, good-looking young Victorian in the mould of Daniel Ricciardo, didn’t qualify well. The mood in his camp was down; the circuit was daunting. I spoke about this not so long ago with John Youl, the rapid Tasmanian who was a bystander on the grid that year. “I looked across at Rocky and his eyes were as big as saucers,” said John. He looked like a lad who was just scared out of his wits.” As he began lap two of the AGP Rocky pulled left to pass the battling 1.5 litre cars of Roly Levis, Bob Jane and Glynn Scott. He mis-judged the move slightly, dangling a left-rear wheel over the track verge, kicking up stones and dust as he did so. Then, almost as this was a bad B-movie, his red Cooper flicked itself sideways and barrell-rolled down the grass beside the pit straight. By the time it came to rest Rocky was dying from severe neck cuts – and the very talented photographer, Robin D’Arbrera, was dead. The 25-year-old cameraman had hitched a ride to Longford with Frank’s Total Team rig and only a few minutes before had been helping to push the light blue Brabham onto the grid. His friend, the equally-talented Ray Simpson, was also standing in the path of Rocky’s Cooper. He dived backwards in miraculous avoidance; Robin, said Ray later, seemed transfixed by the scene, unable to move. The ironies – the losses – were too great to contemplate. The only response was to race on, to race on… For the Longford weekend of speed was a festival – a motor racing party for Tasmanians young and old. Local holiday-makers danced in the streets on the Friday, Saturday and Sunday nights; the racers annoyed restaurant managers with napkin fights and other, more complicated, frolics. The local council paid for an extension to the race control tower, for re-surfacing on many parts of the circuit and even for some run-off area on some corners. Even so, people died and were injured. As well as Rocky and Robin, a young motor-cyclist, Dennis Wing, was killed on Saturday in an accident just after the Viaduct. Wing had been given his bike – a 350 Norton – for his birthday a few days before. And Robin Pare suffered serious injuries when he rolled his Lotus-Cortina. Such was road racing in the 1960s. Longford’s support races were always good: in 1965, Spencer Martin (Mark Webber’s guest at the 2013 USGP) won two of them in David McKay’s gorgeous 250LM Ferrari, recording 184mph on the straight (approx 10mph faster than the Tasman cars) as he did so. Bob Jane was also a star in his Lotus Cortina – the car owned today by Alex Lynn’s father. Bob, a fast and prolific racer, had been disqualified at Sandown but at Longford ran a close second to Sir Gawaine Baillie’s much more powerful 7-litre Galaxy. A young Alan Moffatt won the last race of the three-day festival with his recently-acquired ex-works Lotus Cortina and would return to the States in May to help Jim win the Indy 500. With grateful thanks to Barry Green, whose labour of love, “Longford: Fast Track Back” continues to occupy pride of place on my bookshelf.
Sunday, March 7
Lakeside 99, near Brisbane, Queensland And it was all for the fun of it. It began with the Lakeside circuit promoter, Sid Sakzewski, offering Jim Clark £1000 (Australian) if he could break the 55 sec barrier for the Lakeside lap – a seemingly impossible feat that would result in an average speed of 100 mph. Clark was enthralled. Throughout his career he had fully endorsed the principle of driving – and racing – for prize money. It would not be easy. Lakeside is a circuit so flowing, and so relatively short, that there isn’t really a point at which you can re-boot: it’s a bit like an oval. One lap determines the next – the exit from the last corner, and the corner preceding the last corner, determines the stability of your platform as you approach the daunting kink beyond the start-finish line. Thus the practice crowds were treated to lap after Jim Clark lap. 56.0. 55.5. 55.0. Fifty-five zero but not fifty-four nine. The pole was Jim’s – but the money remained with Sid. Frank Matich, now with a decent cylinder head on his Climax (robbed from the Total Team Lotus 19), was half-a-second away. Frank Gardner, in the Mildren Brabham, was third. Matich had stunned the overseas drivers by taking the pole for the 1964 Warwick Farm International 100. In 1965, on the same circuit, he had finished a strong third behind Clark and Brabham. Now, for the first time since that race, his light blue Total Team car was running beautifully. Frank seized the lead as the flag dropped. Matich led Clark into the kink and then into the banked Karussel. Frank stayed there, in the lead, smooth and confident, for 18 laps. Then his engine began to mis-fire. He pulled into the pits. Jim now led easily. Barring mechanical failure, the race was his. Frank and his mechanics quickly traced the fault to a cracked distributor rotor button. They replaced it. Frank rejoined the race several laps in arrears. He did so just ahead of Clark. Momentarily off-balance as he settled again into to his rhythm, Frank found himself having to make way for Jim. Two laps later, however, Frank pounced back. “It was beautifully clean racing,” Matich would say later. “I had total confidence in everything Jim was doing – and I think he felt the same way. We were literally wheel-to-wheel. I could anticipate everything Jim was going to do – and he did it beautifully. He told me later that this was one of the most enjoyable races of his career.” Was Jim playing? Was he putting on a show for the crowds? Somewhat. The punch line, however, is that Matich and Clark, in that order, began to lap quicker and quicker as the afternoon unfolded. With 15 laps to run, Jim took the kink flat for the first time, kicking up puffs of dirt as he finessed the oversteery Lotus to within a millimeter of the edge; then Matich, with impeccable hand- and footwork, did likewise. Lap times came down from the mid-51s to the low 50s. Then Clark lapped in 54.9. Then Matich equaled the time. The crowd was on its feet…but of course the question – the question of whether Frank could actually have beaten Jim Clark on this day in early March – remained unanswered. Statistically speaking, Jim won easily from Gardner and Spencer Martin (in the SV Brabham previously driven by Graham Hill). Within the essence of the race, though, it was a different story: Frank was omnipresent, a genuine star, in the minds of all who had been at Lakeside. Rarely do race laps surpass those of qualifying. Jochen Rindt’s would at Monaco in 1970, in his chase of Jack Brabham. At Lakeside in 1965, Jim Clark had every reason to win at the slowest possible speed. Instead, racing to the finest of margins against Frank Matich, he won at record pace. Frank shared a cold beer with Jim and the Lotus Lads as the day wound down. Broken distributor or not, it had been the most enjoyable day’s racing he could remember. The shadows were long now but the day would live forever. Then, suddenly, the mood changed. Over the PA he heard Jim Clark’s name. “Jim Clark wanted at the stewards’ office. Jim Clark.” Jim looked puzzled, put down his beer and walked over to the control tower. Frank joined him but waited outside. It wasn’t long before Clark emerged, looking stunned. “What’s going on? What’s the problem?” asked Frank. “Would you believe they’re going to disqualify me for having a beer?” said Jim. “Some nonsense about it being illegal to drink alcohol in the paddock. I tell you, I’m going to think twice about coming back to Australia again after this…” Frank strode purposefully into the Stewards’ enclave. “What do you guys think you’re doing?” he said in Australian vernacular. “Do you realize how this is going to go down when they hear about it overseas? And I tell you this. Unless you let this whole thing drop I’m never going to race in Queensland again…” They did drop it. Little more was said of it. And the friendship of Clark and Matich was cemented for evermore. Born of mutual respect, it blossomed that day at Lakeside. Race win No 11
Saturday, March 13
Race of Champions, Brands Hatch, Kent, England Jim had barely a moment to reflect upon his success in the Tasman Series. Including the South African GP, he’d now been on the road since late December, 1964 – and that had been a road of non-stop racing or travel. On the plus side, he’d been extraordinarily successful; he’d even gone solo in a Cessna. Less positive was the pace of his schedule. Upon landing at Heathrow after the punishing 707 flight from Brisbane, via Sydney, Singapore, Bangkok, Karachi, Calcutta, Tehran, Beirut, Athens and Frankfurt, he made his way immediately to Sir John Whtimore’s flat in Balfour Place, Mayfair. And there he collapsed. “I don’t think I’d ever seen Jim look so exhausted,” said his friend, Jackie Stewart. “He was absolutely shattered.” Nor was there time really to recover, for immediately ahead lay the European racing season. The Brands Hatch non-championship F1 Race of Champions (billed incorrectly as “the first F1 race of 1965″: the South African GP took that honour!) would take place that weekend – in exactly three days’ time. Then it would be up to Silverstone for a sports car race, followed straight away by a trans-Atlantic flight to Miami. There he would race an America Ford Cortina Lotus in the Sebring Three Hours (single-handedly on this occasion). All this – and a month of May at Indianapolis – stared Jim in the face as he tried to settle into the UK time-zone. Andrew Ferguson in addition needed Jim up at Cheshunt to review expenses and prize money. Then there was the matter of Jim’s road car. Ford of England wanted him in a Cortina Lotus and Lotus Cars in an Elan. All this required more and more paperwork. Jim had barely enough time to breathe. There was almost a sense of relief, then, when Jim set off early on Friday morning for Brands Hatch. Alongside him in the white Radbourne Elan (featuring much-modified interior fittings): Sally Stokes – his girl-friend, timekeeper and date for that night’s black tie gala at the Park Lane Hotel (music courtesy of Nat Temple and Kathy Kirby!). In his Leston track bag in the Elan’s boot: the Harrods camel-coloured cardigan Sally had given Jim for Christmas. The feel of the Lotus 33 – and the sheer pleasure of driving it around Brands – quickly blew away any feelings of fatigue. Wearing his new cardigan in the car on this crisp, late-winter’s day, Jim qualified on the pole and won 100 bottles of champagne along the way. As in South Africa, he worked in perfect harmony with both the circuit and the car – and the large practice day crowd appreciated every second of it – particularly those out at Hawthorns and Westfield, where Jim was drifting the 33 at high speed with fingertip grace. Graham Hill was over half a second away in the BRM and Mike Spence, Jim’s team-mate, the same gap away in P3. Race day – Saturday – began as Jim Clark days invariably do. Jim easily won the first of the two 60-lap Race of Champions heats and seemed destined for an easy victory overall. True, Dan Gurney had driven beautifully through the field to finish second in the new Brabham-Climax – and would therefore line-up alongside Jim for the second, 60-lap race – but Jim, surely, would cruise to overall victory on this glorious, action-packed day? Before we had that answer, Jim was out for the 20-lap Ilford Trohpy race in the Ford of Britain 1965 Lotus Cortina, now fitted with leaf-spring rear suspension. He out-dragged Roy Pierpoint’s Mustang into Paddock and for a while thereafter treated the crowd to a perfect demonstration of high-speed, precision three-wheeled motoring. The Cortina flew way over the kerbs at Bottom an South Bank Bends, its inside steel wheel at least two feet in the air. Jim sat comfortably back in the Cortina’s racing seat, his arms – frequently crossed – giving at least some idea of how hard the acrobat was working. Then – as if in portent – it was all over. Jim suddenly peeled into the pits, complaining to Bob Dance of a wheel vibration. Several laps were lost while the four nuts were re-tightened on each front wheel, but Jim’s race ended for good when he lost a wheel at Dingle Dell. In the context of Kimi Raikkonen’s recent retirement from the Australian GP, I guess this shows that nothing in racing really changes. In the context of Jim’s 1965 Cortina season, it was an indication of how much more load was now passing through the hubs into the drive pegs. That disappointment behind him, Jim now looked forward to Heat Two of the Race of Champions. Would he cruise to the win with ease, taking advantage of his 20-sec margin over Giurney in Heat One? He could have done so. Instead, Jim and Colin Chapman were intrigued by the performance of the new Goodyears on the factory Brabhams. How did they really stack up against the Dunlops of Team Lotus? Could they sustain their pace? What would be their degradation if really pushed? How big a problem for Dunlop were they going to pose over the season ahead? These were the thoughts that occupied Jim’s mind as he cruised up from the dummy grid. Jim won the start and initially drove flat out, as was his wont. Gurney stayed with him. Jim smiled inwardly. Good old Dan. A class act – a gentleman. And the only F1 driver Jim truly respected as an equal. Jim eased off a little, searching for renewed Dunlop grip. He found it. He pushed hard – and still Dan was there in his mirrors. Jim began to analyse their comparative laps. He seemed to be able to pull away on the quick corners around the back – and through Paddock Bend – but Dan was right on him into and out of Druids, where braking and traction counted. And so they raced on. The crowd – fed by brilliant PA commentary – was on tenterhooks. The race for third place was inconsequential, for Jim Clark had officially just become the first driver ever to lap Brands at 100 mph (1min 35.4 sec). Then – suddenly – the impossible seemed to be happening. Jim, busy with his rear vision mirrors, ran a little wide out of Bottom Bend. He rode with the bumps, over the grass…but then suddenly the Lotus hit a culvert, bounced upwards and then plunged nose first into the earth bank on the right. The impact was big – it was the sort of accident that had so recently cost the life of Lex Davison. Bodywork, clods of earth and general debris flew everywhere. Jim Clark had crashed with no seat belts and no inbuilt “deformable structures”. It could have been disastrous. Instead, he was ok. He lifted himself from the wreck. Marshals ran to his aid. Sally was there with a jacket in the pits, Colin with an arm of comfort. Jim was initially dazed but quickly snapped out of it. He’d made a mistake. It happens. Perhaps it was a function – a small function – of his recent schedule. Perhaps it would have happened anyway. The lesson was simple: just race. Don’t think too much about the opposition. Don’t over-analyse. Jim was quiet and not a little bruised as he drove back into London. At last, over the next couple of days, he could take it easy and rest. Ironically, Dan was to retire his Brabham with victory in sight. Mike Spence won the day from that other talented Number Two – Jackie Stewart. Race win No 12
Saturday, March 20, 1965. Silverstone, Northamptonshire, England Jim still carried a few war wounds up to Silverstone the following weekend. This was to be his first race in the latest (Mk 2) version of the Lotus 30 sports car – Colin Chapman’s answer to the big-banger Group 7 cars being built by Lola and Bruce McLaren. The philosophy was simple: a sculpted, flowing bodywork was mounted over a backbone steel chassis (reminiscent of the Lotus Elan’s). No more the space-frame of the Lotus 19 or 23, in other words. The 30 would initiate a whole new stream of Lotus customer sales, although in the back half of 1964 Jim had found its 4.7 litre Ford V8 to be more than a match for the 30’s less-than-rigid chassis. The 19’s space-frame chassis had been stiffer – as, of course, were the single-seater monocoques naturally associated with Chapman. The Mk2 Lotus 30 was a little better in this department – but still a handful. Jim won, though, from the pole at Silverstone, using the torrential rain – and new Dunlop R7s – to nullify the 30’s handling gremlins. Such was its flex, indeed, that it actually proved to be a supple car for the slippery conditions. None of that, however, should detract from Jim’s ability to extract the utmost from this big beast of a car on that flooded circuit – or to put on a show for those who braved the elements. The race was shortened for safety reasons but few who were there would forget the image of Clark dancing through the standing water, flicking the 30 from lock to lock in this relatively unimportant national sports car race that was in reality the supporting event for the Senior Service 200 F2 Trophy. Jim’s opposition was solid, too: John Surtees qualified second in his gorgeous Lola T70-Taco Olds (and would finish second, despite diving into the pits for cover even before the chequered flag was waved early!); and Bruce McLaren was third-quickest in his new McLaren-Elva. Jim qualified fourth for the F2 race but its abandonment meant that the new F2 season, complete with Honda power in Jack Brabham’s BT16, would now not take place until Oulton Park the following weekend (minus Jim). Delighted to have won at Silverstone – but soaked to the skin – Jim then made a hasty getaway for Edington Mains. There he would spend two days before his departure for sunnier climbs. Note: Charlie Crichton-Stuart (pictured here with Carlos Reutemann) finished fourth in the F3 race at this wet Silverstone meeting after starting from the pole in his SMART – Stirlng Moss Automobile Race Team – Brabham). Race win No 13
Friday, March 26
Marlboro 250, Sebring As in 1964, Jim was delighted to accept an offer from Ford of America to race a Team Lotus Cortina in the preliminary race for the big Sebring 12 Hour sports car classic. Contemporary writers made no mention of the irony – of the world’s Number One driver flying all the way to Florida merely to race a saloon car in the pre-game show – but today it has to be seen in the context of a Lewis Hamilton flying to Brazil to do a stock car race with his mate Rubens Barrichello. Or not. Anyway, fifty years ago, Jim raced one factory Cortina in the (three-hour) Marlboro 250 – cigarette advertising was on the rise – and his friend, Jack Sears, the other. Bob Dance, who had just turned 30, was on hand in support, as was Ray Parsons, Jim’s team-mate in the same race the year before. Against light opposition (that included, at the last minute, Pedro Rodriguez in a BMW 1800Ti!), Jim and Jack dominated the event, even to the extent of trying to stage a photographic dead-heat (with Jack in reality finishing two laps behind after some dramas). A slightly abashed Jim took the plaudits in Victory Circle, but there was no real time to celebrate – or to watch friends like Bruce McLaren finish second in the 12 Hour race in the blue-and-white factory Ford GT (as it was known then, without the “40” nomenclature): Jim was due to race the Lotus 33 at Syracuse the following weekend. Exhausted still from the recent globe-trotting, he boarded yet another 707 in Miami before seeking some sleep. Race win No 14
Sunday, April 4
Syracuse Grand Prix, Sicily The second F1 non-championship race of the year, the Syracuse Grand Prix was held on a ruthlessly fast road course in the ancient city: walls and Armco barriers lined the track – and a few spectators sat mighty close too. This was basically a start-money show for Team Lotus, with Colin Chapman taking a large-ish bag of gold for giving the race some stature. Ferrari entered two cars for John Surtees and Lorenzo Bandini but BRM, Brabham and Cooper stayed away: their lesser starting money could not justify the long trip south. It wasn’t an easy weekend. It was hot; the gear ratios were too short in practice; and, in the race, his engine, whisping smoke under acceleration, quickly lost power. Even so, he drove in classic damage-limitation mode, using all his prowess to keep the 33 up where in theory it belonged. Jim’s Syracuse laps were all about reducing revs and minimizing braking and steering “spikes”. Of course, no F1 teams used telemetry back then: had Team Lotus done so, “the engineers” would have seen plenty of curves on Jim Clark’s data. Jim duly won the pole but the race was another matter: Ferrari’s John Surtees was fast – as was the dynamic Jo Siffert, Rob Walker’s driver in the dark blue Brabham-BRM. Surtees led – then Siffert led. Jim, refusing to push the Climax hard in the early stages, watched from third place. Would Jim have won had the others not struck trouble? Probably not. Reality, though, is that Jim did the best possible job of keeping his car in one piece in the torrid race conditions; the Ferrari faded – and so did the Walker Brabham. Jim Clark eventually won the Syracuse GP going away. Images: LAT Photographic Race win No 15
Saturday, April 10
Snetterton, Norfolk, England. Autocar F2 Trophy Although Jim practised the new Ron Harris Lotus 35-Cosworth in the wet at Silverstone, he didn’t race it for the first time until this Snetterton meeting. The entry was outstanding – as detailed in another post. The 35, like the 27 and 32, was art on wheels – a smaller Lotus 33, in effect, built around the Chapman trademark monocoque. It was finished in Team Lotus green and yellow, with “Ron Harris Team Lotus” signwriting on the flanks. Jim drove one car and his F1 team-mate, Mike Spence, the other (powered by a BRM engine). Jim wore his customary blue Dunlop overalls and Bell Magnum with white peak. The Lotus 35 (above) featured a central exhaust from its 1-litre Cosworth. Otherwise, it was basically a scaled-down Lotus 33
Jochen Rindt took the pole in the Winkelmann Brabham (in a phrase that would become familiar over the next three years), ahead of Graham Hill, Jackie Stewart, Mike Beckwith, Jim, Alan Rees, Jack in the Brabham-Honda, Denny Hulme and Mike Spence, but, with Jochen running into ignition problems at the start, Heat One fell wide open. The leading bunch: Stewart, Brabham, Beckwith (who we featured strongly in our 1963 Clark posts: very under-rated!) Hill, Clark and Rees. The Brabhams had the handling and top speed advantage but Jim used the tow and all of his skill to keep the 35 up there. Jim led across the line after seven laps – and was then swamped again as the pack responded. Thus they entered the final lap. The crowd was on tenterhooks; the atmosphere was electric. Graham Hill led into the last corner but Jim pulled up alongside him, failing to win by a margin smaller than even the timekeepers could measure. Graham Hill drove brilliantly too in Heat Two, scything John Coombs’ Brabham back through the field after a sluggish start. Jim was leading as the chequered flag loomed….well….at this point I must stand aside for Gregor Grant: “Moustache quivering, Graham Hill was in the throes of one of his astonishing last-minute efforts to track down and pass the leader in the second part of the Autocar Trophy race when, all of a sudden, victory was handed him on a plate when Jim Clark’s Lotus went sick, to crawl over the line with a blown engine. Both Hill’s Brabham-BRM and Clark’s Lotus-Cosworth virtually dead-heated in the first part, so wherever was adjudged winner of the second was victor overall…” The verdict in this second race, again by the tiniest of margins, when to Hill. The brilliant Mike Beckwith finished second overall for Normand Racing, with Jim third. Nor did the entertainment end there: Jim was also out in the factory Lotus Cortina, on this occasion finishing second in class to Frank Gardner’s Willment Cortina. Jim lost a little time when he was nerfed by team-mate Jack Sears (with whom Jim and Sally were staying overnight!) and was subsequently slowed when the new BRM-tuned twin-cam in the Ford Lotus Cortina lost power. Grant summed up the day’s racing thus in the Autosport editorial of that week: “Last Saturday’s race meeting at Snetterton was one of the closest seen in this country for a long time. Graham Hill, Jim Clark, Jack Brabham and others tried all they knew. Few will forget the attempts of Clark to wrest the lead from the wily Hill as the pair flashed down the start-finish straight lap after lap. Clark tried the right, the left and he attempted to slipstream the Brabham – but each time he fell back as they approached Riches. The last lap was tremendous, as Clark drew up alongside Hill so that they virtually dead-heated. The BRSCC ran a first-class meeting, the weather actually stayed fine and, all in all, it was a very good day indeed.”
We will continue to update Jim Clark’s 1965 season as it happens. Next race – the Goodwood Easter Monday meeting on April 19, 1965. Jim will drive a Lotus 33-Climax in the Sunday Mirror F1 International Trophy race, the Lotus 30 in the Lavant Cup sports car race and the Lotus Cortina in the St Mary’s Trophy race.