The shock Rindt win that overlooked one of the great F1 game changers

To mark 50 years since Jochen Rindt was killed at Monza, McKlein Publishing has released a new book celebrating the 1970 Formula 1 world champion's life, A Champion with Hidden Depths.

Written by Dr. Erich Glavitza, who knew Rindt well, the richly-illustrated book contains many anecdotes that reveal a different side to Austria's impetuous first world champion, including interviews with his half-brother Uwe.

But it was Rindt's stubborn refusal to drive Colin Chapman's innovative Lotus 72 - instead preferring the old Type 49 - at the 1970 Monaco Grand Prix that would prove crucial in securing one of his most famous wins.

For the planned premier roll-out of the Lotus 72, a camera team with Lucky Schmidtleitner and his right-hand man Gerry Morth, the leading Austrian action-sport cameraman, travelled to Norwich.

Jochen arrived an hour and a half late, just as Lucky had expected, in an ugly Ford Corsair, rushed across and hissed, "Get it done quickly - I have to be off straight away!" What a promising start for a creative team that had come to England and had been made to wait for 90 minutes in the cold Norwich fog!

Jochen then took up position, and in a nasal tone drawled something about the new Lotus. What was it called? ...

"Ah yes, Type 70 - no, then what?"

Lucky: "What?"

"Errrr, 72 ... and the Cosworth engine has ... Lucky? How much horsepower?"

Jochen's barometer stood at changeable to stormy, and after trailing Jackie Stewart's March by almost two seconds, he saw no fair weather ahead

It was just crazy. When the crew had the interview more or less in the bag, he was ready to hurry off again.

Morth packed up his Arriflex, pointed to the back wall of the hangar, said to Jochen that his Lotus was standing over there, and asked if Jochen had tried it out or seen it. Jochen shook his head and got straight into his car.

Then Morth asked if he didn't at least want to look at his new racing car. Jochen replied brusquely, "No, I'll see it soon enough", and drove off. So much for Rindt's overwhelming interest in racing cars - especially in his new model for the approaching season.

He made no bones about the fact that he regarded racing cars purely as a means to an end. Test drives were absolutely out of the question. Racing cars like the Winkelmann [F2] Brabham or factory Porsches - in which he simply needed to park himself in the pre-warmed seat, as it were, and they were ready to go - they were ideal for Rindt, the 'natural driver'. Throughout his career he thought nothing of set-up and fine tuning - nothing at all!

Sometimes, on the other hand, he could veer to the opposite extreme. Halfway through the season, he was inspired to make the following comment: "The 72 is so superior, I can drive away from them [his competitors] practically with one hand!"

In Monaco, however, Rindt was not yet ready for the new Lotus 72. After the problems in the Spanish Grand Prix, he refused to drive it in Monte Carlo - and demanded the old Type 49, in spite of Chapman's protests. Since the previous year, the tension between the two of them had been like that of a violin string that gives the top notes.

PLUS: Formula 1's great Lotus landmarks - Lotus 49

The team's second driver, John Miles, was ordered by Chapman to drive the Type 72. The poor man had no chance at all on the urban circuit with all its corners, where only a vehicle that was adapted to be soft and elastic had any prospect of success. The extreme anti-dive prevented any sensitive feedback to the driver. On the course, then three kilometres long, Miles did not even manage to qualify.

Jochen's barometer, too, stood at changeable to stormy, and after trailing Jackie Stewart's March by almost two seconds, he saw no fair weather ahead. Remarkably, two March Ford 701s, Stewart ahead of Chris Amon, took the first two starting positions!

Jochen had his work cut out to take the old 49, with which Graham Hill had won the Grand Prix of Mexico in 1968 and he himself the Grand Prix of the USA the previous year, to eighth place behind the Matras driven by Beltoise and Pescarolo. His mood had reached rock bottom. Chapman and Rindt took care to avoid eye contact and kept well out of each other's way.

In the race, the two March cars roared away at the front, followed by drivers in the order of their starting positions. Rindt joined the procession unenthusiastically. Then the usual Monaco incidents began.

Jacky Ickx was the first to get the blues when on lap eleven his Ferrari exited with a broken universal joint. Then events happened thick and fast: Surtees, McLaren, Beltoise, Oliver, Stewart, Courage, Amon and Siffert stopped and switched off their engines - some of them on the track, while others made it back to the pits. The scrap heap had grown to include half of the cars that had entered. Suddenly Rindt was in second place behind Jack Brabham - by only nine seconds!

Chapman was hopping about like Rumpelstiltskin - because Jochen, after receiving the news held up on a board, pulled out all the stops! Spectators along the course and watching on TV (the race was broadcast live) jumped out of their seats or armchairs.

Brabham had two cars ahead of him that were to be lapped. He really only needed to saunter through and he would have won. Then he noticed the Lotus drifting behind him and tried to overtake the two backmarkers before reaching the hairpin. He miscalculated by a thousandth of a second and skidded into the wall with his front wheels locked. Rindt drove past on the inside and crossed the line in first place.

Rindt went over to Brabham, put an arm around his shoulder almost touchingly, and consoled him. Sometimes, if extremely rarely, he showed feelings

This all came as such a shock that even the race director Louis Chiron holding the chequered flag let Rindt race through without reacting or waving at it. He was waiting for Brabham, who finally made it to the line in his wounded car twenty-three seconds in arrears. After all the fuss of the victory awards with the prince's family, Rindt went over to Brabham, put an arm around his shoulder almost touchingly, and consoled him. Sometimes, if extremely rarely, he showed feelings.

By the end of the race, Brabham was running out of steam. He had worked all night with his fellow Australian Frank Gardner and the house mechanic Ron Dennis. His engine had expired in practice. At first, they thought the oil pressure indicator had gone mad, but then it dawned on them that a big-end bearing had given up the ghost.

They made a quick call to England. Shortly after midnight a replacement engine was flown in to Nice and then fitted to the chassis in the early hours of the morning. According to Gardner, Brabham had actually fallen asleep in his chair while taking a late breakfast - absolutely against doctor's orders for a murderous race like Monte Carlo that required fitness...

For more information on A Champion with Hidden Depths and other McKlein products, visit the McKlein Store here.