Click to enlarge to Hi ResolutionIf any single image could highlight how much racing has changed, and yet how much it has stayed the same in nearly 100 years of motorsport, this might be it. The car -The Miller Golden Submarine of 1917- is arguably the first streamlined circuit racing car. Here we see the dawn of a new age of technological advancement, yet the cage-like stone guards and skinny balding tires remind us how primitive the vehicle really was. Oldfield has the toughened, cigar-chomping look that speaks to the hardscrabble existence of many drivers at the time, who lived from race to race on starting money and worked on their own cars. But the confident look in his eye is that of a racer. And I suppose that look will never change. Click the photo above to see it in super hi res!
Last week, I wrote a piece lamenting that many of today's car books are either glossy coffee table books of car porn, or poorly-produced works by passionate amateurs, lacking in finish and presentation. This week, I'd like to tell you how Karl Ludvigsen's incredibly detailed and richly illustrated new biography of Colin Chapman delivers satisfaction on every level.
If you are a regular reader of this site, I don't need to go into much detail about who Chapman was, or the man's numerous accomplishments. But to summarize in one pithy sentence, Colin Chapman was a brilliantly innovative creator of racing machines whose ideas fundamentally changed the sport on nearly every level. And Ludvigsen's book is a definitive compendium of all the ways, large and small, in which Chapman left his indelible legacy on Formula One and Sports Car design. Colin Chapman: Inside the Innovator is --to my knowledge-- the most comprehensive volume yet written about the charismatic and ingenious founder of the Lotus marque. Ludvigsen, arguably one of the foremost automotive historians around today, has left no stone unturned in his categoric analysis of Chapman's genius. Rather than organize his book in chronological fashion, the author has adopted a thematic approach for this nearly 400 page work.
This allows a more casual reader to digest the book in sections, so if you just want to know about how Chapman approached his chassis design, you can go directly to the chapter about Chassis and Structure, and skip all the engine and gearbox bits. My favorite chapter was the "Discovering Downforce" section, which details how Chapman and his designers gradually came to understand the Ground Effect in the wind tunnel, and how they translated these experiments into devastatingly effective racing machines that dominated Formula 1 in the late 1970s. I had no idea how technically-minded Mario Andretti was, but he comes across in the book as an extremely astute strategist and test driver, aside from being a fast-as-hell racing champion. His observations and anecdotes about his time with Chapman are particularly insightful.Other sections of the book focus on technical aspects such as suspensions, engines, and chassis design, as well as less concrete topics such as Chapman's management style and his conceptual approach to design. In short, it's a huge all-you-can-eat buffet of facts, analysis, interviews, photographs, and technical drawings, and there is something for everyone's taste!
The picture of Chapman that emerges is of a charming yet un-knowable Sphinx. One might even say he had certain psychopathic characteristics such as narcissism, lack of empathy, lack of personal accountability, and his manner of instinctively knowing how to treat people according to how he could best manipulate them (either through flattery or brutality). Either way, he was a very canny reader of other people, and adept at getting the best out of those around him, even if he had to run roughshod over others' pride. The death of his dear friend Jim Clark, in a Lotus F2 car in 1968 is the only point at which we see Chapman's human emotions really come to the fore as he became engulfed in deep mourning and sorrow.Although the text is sometimes very dense in the more technical chapters, and reading the book cover to cover took me quite some time (I always read every book I review from cover to cover, folks), I found it to be a very illuminating portrait of Chapman in all his guises: engineer, businessman, side show impresario, mentor and tyrant. The only areas that the book covers very little are Chapman's personal life as well as his later financial dealings with John Z. DeLorean that might have ultimately landed him in jail for defrauding investors had he not suddenly passed away in 1982 at the age of 54. Perhaps this omission was intended to focus more on solid history than on gossip, and more on innovation than pure biography, but it seems that a work this comprehensive nature should make more than a passing mention of Chapman's involvement with DeLorean, since it defined the last few years of Chapman's life. Perhaps Ludvigsen didn't want to tarnish the luster of Chapman's genius by detailing his financial chicanery, but this was nevertheless part of what made Chapman such a complex and interesting character --he was definitely a shady dealer by all accounts-- and might have added some spice to the read.
Through Ludvigsen's meticulous and expansive documentation of Chapman's exploits, one comes to understand the incredibly fertile nature of Chapman's mind and the incredible passion for success at all levels that drove him and sustained him through peaks and valleys in F1 as well as the production car and boat businesses. Interviews with colleagues and drivers, as well as a wealth of historical documents and photographs weave a vibrant and fascinating portrait that is at once informative as well as fun to flip through and just look at the pictures. One can spend hours studying the reproduced technical sketches drawn in Chapman's own hand, or reading facsimiles of his manifesto-like design briefs for his engineers. The thematic nature of the book serves to reinforce the breadth and depth of Chapman's genius. When you come to understand all the various skills and principles he had to master in order to design his cars, from gearboxes to fluid dynamics, not to mention all the balls he had to keep in the air as a businessman and team manager, it's nothing short of a remarkable life. In my opinion, Ettore Bugatti and Henry Ford are the only other geniuses of this type in the history of the motorcar, who did everything from technical design to administration, to management, and did it so very well. Much has been written about the other two men. At last there is a book that elucidates Chapman's staggering talents in such a complete way.
Frank Lockhart is a name that has faded into relative obscurity, but in the mid 1920s he was one of the finest racing drivers in North America. After winning the Indianapolis 500 on his rookie attempt, in 1926, Lockhart and his Miller racing car went from track to track winning races and breaking records on the great wooden board-paved speedways that were common to the era.
With dashing looks and speed to match, Lockhart was a youthful success: He had just turned 23 when he won Indy. But even more impressive than his bravery and skill behind the wheel was Lockhart's innate engineering ability. He began modifying his Miller racing car to make speed runs in California on dry lakes, achieving new records in 1927. This success attracted the attention of the Stutz automotive company in Indiana, who financially backed Lockhart as he designed and constructed a purpose-built car for an all-out assault on the world land speed record at Daytona Beach in 1928.
Aside from its breathtaking beauty and gorgeous streamlined shape, the Stutz Black Hawk bristled with innovative design features. In an era when Malcom Campbell's Bluebird record cars weighed thousands of pounds and were powered by enormous aero engines of massive displacement, Lockhart's design was a tiny white and silver dart in comparison. Not much larger than a Miller Indy car, the Black Hawk was dwarfed by most contemporary record cars, and featured a compact 16 cylinder engine, which was essentially 2 straight eights mated together. The body and undercarriage were completely faired in, with low frontal area. Suspension and wheels were enclosed in sleek aluminum spats for even greater drag reduction. Because the car was intended only for record runs, the spats remained fixed and did not turn with the wheels, which had only a few degrees of lock. Instead of radiators that would increase drag, cooling was achieved using an internal ice container!
(Click the image above to enlarge)
Lockhart's first runs in the car in February of 1928 were disappointing, but it was soon discovered that overzealous streamlining was robbing the car's engine of air. Modifications were made and the car gained in speed. Unfortunately during a subsequent run, Lockhart hit a nasty bump in the hard-packed beach sand, causing his car to be tossed into the sea with him trapped inside. Thanks to intrepid spectators, the hapless driver's head was kept above the surf until he could be extracted, saving him from drowning. He was otherwise not seriously injured.
The car, however, was seriously damaged and required a rebuild at the Stutz factory. This mishap represents a turning point Lockhart's fortunes. Because of the unexpected cost of rebuilding the car and staging a second record attempt, Lockhart's funds were in serious trouble. He had been using race-proven Firestone tires up to this point, but in order to scrounge up more sponsorship money, he switched to Mason Tires, which was a less reputable brand.
By April, Lockhart was back in Daytona with a freshly rebuilt car running on Mason Tires. At this point in the season, the beach was not in optimal condition, but with his money running out Lockhart knew it was his last chance to break the record. His third run, against a headwind, saw him top 200mph. The record to beat was 207mph. Feeling that victory was within his grasp, Lockhart quickly had the car turned around to make his 4th run, which would hopefully break the record. In his haste to complete the final run before high tide came in upon the beach, Lockhart did only a cursory inspection of his tires, and failed to note that a seashell had damaged one of his tires on the previous run.
So it came to pass that on April 25, 1928, Frank Lockhart made his fateful final run in the Stutz Black Hawk. At approximately 225mph, his damaged tire exploded, causing him to completely lose control of the car. The vehicle overturned multiple times, throwing Lockhart from the car and killing him instantly. Legend has it that Lockhart's lifeless body landed not far from where his wife was watching in horror. He was only 26 years old.
Below is an "accident report" that diagrams the path of the car in its final moments.
I have been fascinated by this tragic story since boyhood, but only this week did I learn that there is actual newsreel footage of the fatal accident. You can see Lockhart's body being ejected as the car makes its final gruesome somersault. A warning: Though the footage is grainy Black and White, sensitive viewers may still find it disturbing.
Last night I had the distinct pleasure of attending the opening of the new exhibit at the Museum of the City of New York. As its name implies, this new show explores the relationship between the Automobile and the City. On the face of it, one would expect a polemical exhibit that focuses on urban planning crises wrought by the car, and how Robert Moses and his road and bridge building almost destroyed steet life in the city. But in fact the exhibit avoids these well worn themes, and should be really edifying to the casual visitor because it reveals and celebrates the fact that until the decay of the 70s, the city's relationship with the automobile had many positive aspects, and that in fact New York offered many far-reaching contributions to car culture across the country. Moses is still presented too, naturally. But he is shown within a larger context which makes the viewer better understand the general optimism and enthusiasm for the car that formed the cultural backdrop for his actions.
For example, the very first auto shows in America were here in New York. They were held in posh hotels and geared towards the very wealthy who were in the market for bespoke luxury automobiles -- usually chauffer driven. It was a far cry from the uniform black GMC Yukons that convey the wealthy and powerful around Manhattan today. As the mass produced automobile became a commercial reality, the first real auto show for the masses was also held in New York. It was GM's Futurama at the 1939 World's Fair. The Motorama changed the auto show from an elite event into the mass spectacle that it is today. And it all happened right here! The exhibit has some really wonderful artifacts and ephemera from the Motorama, as well as period footage of the event. The exhibit also covers, among other things, the Vanderbilt Cup races held on Long Island, which were the premier racing events held in the United States nearly a decade before the Indy 500 even existed. There were also many fascinating renderings of urban planning proposals for car-oriented architecture. A Paul Rudolph proposal for a multi-use complex built over the approach to the Williamsburg bridge leaves one breathless with its MC Escher-esque complexity.
This historical, political, and cultural survey flows across two large rooms filled with original artwork, drawings, models, and ephemera that are truly rare and special to see. There was so much great eye candy, my photos don't really come close to doing it justice, even though it is not a large exhibit.
Some selected highlights:
Original Hugh Ferriss drawings I had never before seen, even as reproductions. Ferriss was a master renderer, used by many major architectural firms in New York to delineate art deco skyscrapers. Here he envisions a riverside highway that precisely presages what FDR Drive would end up looking like!
This is a design model for a Pontiac concept car from the Bill Mitchell era at General Motors. The model is stunningly executed, oozing appeal from every angle. Truly a treat.
Original Frank Lloyd Wright drawing for the showroom of Max Hoffman's Manhattan auto dealership. But Hoffman was not just some car dealer. Hoffman was to cars what Murray Moss is to the world of high design: a tastemaker who brought the best of Europe's offerings to a sophisticated New York audience. Hoffman was the first to import the VW Beetle to the United States. He was first to import BMW's here, and also was the sole importer for Porsche and Jaguar in the 1950s and 60s. In short, Hoffman was a critical conduit through which European sports cars reached our shores, and his influence on the sports car market can't be overstated.
Original period model for Norman Bel Geddes' ideal automobile, known as Motor Car no. 9. Bel Geddes was not only a New York based Industrial Designer and one of the founding fathers of the field, but he was also the master planner of the GM Futurama exhibition.
Thursday, October 20, 2011 at 11:29AM 
Click to enlarge to Hi ResolutionIf any single image could highlight how much racing has changed, and yet how much it has stayed the same in nearly 100 years of motorsport, this might be it. The car -The Miller Golden Submarine of 1917- is arguably the first streamlined circuit racing car. Here we see the dawn of a new age of technological advancement, yet the cage-like stone guards and skinny balding tires remind us how primitive the vehicle really was. Oldfield has the toughened, cigar-chomping look that speaks to the hardscrabble existence of many drivers at the time, who lived from race to race on starting money and worked on their own cars. But the confident look in his eye is that of a racer. And I suppose that look will never change. Click the photo above to see it in super hi res!
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