Outskirts Press, INC.

Meet the Men Who Raced into History

Rare photos and insightful text pull you into the triumphs, tragedies and destinies of grand prix drivers of one of F1’s most golden yet blackest eras. See for yourself the gnawing tensions of life-and-death racing, and witness intimate moments not possible to capture today. Mary Heglar saw the inside of early F1 as few ever have. Armed with a camera, tape recorder and press credentials, she worked F1 back when journalists were allowed to roam the pits—access unheard of these days. The world of Formula One was (and still is) a closed universe, sealed inside its own pressure-cooker bubble. But you can step inside simply by opening this book. WHAT THEY SAID ABOUT HER EARLIER BOOK, THE GRAND PRIX CHAMPIONS: Mario Andretti called her book “an absorbing portrayal” in his review in the Allentown, PA Call-Chronicle. In the Indianapolis News, reviewer Bill Pittman wrote that “[the author] knows of what she writes. Crisp, authoritative, and informed.” “Mary Heglar is an extremely perceptive and talented writer who is able to convey a feeling of warmth and personal interest in the lives of those about whom she writes.” C.B. in Antique Automobile.

Graham Hill, OBE England (February 15, 1929 - November 29, 1975, Age 46) Graham Hill came to epitomize The English Racing Driver--direct and amusing, charming and outrageous, and with a mustache trimmed for all occasions. His mane of hair added the British Lion aspect, as did his acid grit, unflagging persistence, and ready bite. I can still hear Graham commenting in many places and many ways, "The bigger the challenge, the bigger the effort." His effort and his leadership kept first the BRM team and then the vaunted Lotus team in the game. For example, after Jim Clark's death at Hockenheim in April 1968 and then Mike Spence's that May at Indianapolis, Graham took the Lotus employees and F1 team on his back. "Colin Chapman," he told me, "just didn't want to know about racing, which was understandable, so we sort of pressed on on our own, really." What Graham's tenacity and empathy did was bring home the double 1968 World Championship--the Con-structors title for Lotus and a second driving title for himself. . . The man never drove a car until he was 23 years old--and just ten years later, he was the driving champion of the world! He climbed from welfare to wealthy, from scrounging rides and sleeping in haystacks to filling his trophy cabinets and running his own F1 team. Formula One was just emerging from its commercial childhood during his years of success in the 1960s. Once when we were discussing this, he said that he didn't have a PR firm, that he had an agent who helped him, but "no one actually looking out for work on that score. I haven't even got a secretary . . . I think probably I have missed out on it all . . . Perhaps I should have made more of the fact when I was World Champion." (Or after he won that crown jewel of F1, the Monaco GP, five years out of seven.) He didn't need any PR among Grand Prix people. His was a dominant presence. No man was more fair-minded or better liked among his tough-minded colleagues. With his panache and humor, he could be great good company, and all kinds of people flocked around him. He loved to hear people laugh and he had a priceless stock of stories, one-liners and sharp asides. "I like slapstick," he told me, "I like looking at the old films" such as Charlie Chaplin and Buster Keaton. He loved to dance, loved to sing, and was something of an exhibitionist at both. He was drawn to children and they to him, and he and Bette had three of their own: Brigitte was born in 1958 and Samantha in 1965. In between in 1960 came son Damon, who would become the 1996 World Champion--the only father-son pair to each win the title until exactly 20 years later when Nico Rosberg joined his father Keke, the 1982 champion. Damon, like Graham, served as president of the Grand Prix Drivers Club, and continues his involvement in F1 affairs. Damon was also the childhood hero of five-time champion Lewis Hamilton. Graham could be wonderful company, but you had to tread lightly His tongue was his weapon of choice, and he wielded it with rapier precision. A few deft strokes and you were smartly sliced and diced. The year after his second World Champion-ship in 1968, he suffered a horrendous crash in the USGP at The Glen . . .