F1 in Las Vegas

Siegel took a look at Las Vegas, and envisioned it as an Eldorado for gamblers, a place which would keep the underworld fed and watered for ever and a day. Showing great foresight, he therefore built the Flamingo Hotel, and that was the start of the Vegas boom.

Unhappily for 'Bugsy,' he wasn't around to see his Xanadu come to fruition. Dissatisfied in some way with the financial side of the Flamingo's construction, his business partners decided upon a parting of the ways. In mid-1947, Siegel was found in a Hollywood apartment, his head ventilated.

Ah, but how he would have rejoiced today! All his life he wanted class. And, having acquired money, he decided to buy himself some. Las Vegas. City of Dreams...
Wherever you look, there is class. Are there bigger cars anywhere, with more chrome? Answer me that.

What can compete? New York? Don't make me laugh, man. You seen that Carnegie Hall? Like a goddam morgue, not a neon light anywhere. No class... Who they got there this week? Andray Preevin and some band, right? Man, you'd go to sleep there. In Vegas you got class. You can choose whatever you want, from Tom Jones through Liberace to Englebert Pumpernickel...

You wanna eat? So whadda you do in New York? Go some place where you gotta wear a jacket, where you can just barely hear the music, where the meal takes all goddam night? Hey, who needs it? In Vegas, lemme tell ya, we got places where you can eat all you want for three ninety-nine. Class, man, you can't beat class... Every thin's better here. We got more slot machines, more lights, more hookers.

Why, man, now we even got ourselves a gen-u-ine Gran Pree track. Does New York have one o'dem? No way, no way. Sure, we know there's one in Long Beach - but what attractions do they have, huh? What else can they offer? Some old boat stuck dere, and that's about it. Where's the class in that, man? Betcha can't go there and git all you can eat for three ninety-nine...

See, dese other tracks, in Europe and places like that, they ain't near anywhere. You gotta drive to 'em, leave your car in a parking lot. Well, we had a better idea, man. In Vegas you walk here from your hote - and we use the parking lot as the race track! Clever, huh?

If this nightmare persists, I shall consult my doctor.

As I watched the first qualifying session, Pete Lyons walked up. "This," he said, "is the future of Grand Prix racing?" "Looks that way," I mused. "In that case," replied Pete, "I'll be seeing you..."

I was going to begin this piece by saying that Las Vegas was the most dreadful place I had ever visited. On reflection, I didn't like it as much as that. Ninety-six percent, say the statistics, of all the people who go to Vegas leave the place saying they had enjoyed themselves. I would like to know the circumstances under which the question is posed. Maybe I just got no appreciation of class.



However much I may have detested the city itself, the Las Vegas track was something of a pleasant surprise. Or perhaps I mean that it wasn't as bad as I expected. The surface was first-class, and there were one or two really good corners. The average speed was higher than expected, the organisation generally good - particularly since this was an inaugural event.

I must go with Lyons, however. As a once-a-year bit of fun, the circuit was just about acceptable, but if more similar venues are to follow, then Grand Prix racing is set for a fall.

Max Mosley has often said that spectators really don't count for much anymore, that the future lies in television coverage, and the Caesars Palace Grand Prix really brought that home. It was like being present at the filming of a TV Special. For those in the grandstands, it was a dead loss. A friend who watched from there told me of looking at concrete walls, his sight of the cars confined largely to the tops of helmets and roll-over bars. It hardly gave the impression, he said, of motor racing in the Grand Manner.

Most of the drivers discussed the track in cautious terms. Early in the week, Jacques Laffite suggested that it was unsuitable for Grand Prix racing, and his remarks were published in the Italian daily Gazzetta dello Sport. Immediately, Caesars Palace announced a multi-million dollar lawsuit against the journal. Here was something new: criticism was not permitted...

Alan Jones, however, was predictably without reticence. "It's like a goat track, dragged down from the mountains and flattened out," he said, "what a bloody place to be ending your career."

"It's not bad," said Gilles Villeneuve, "but maybe I'm biased because I'm in a Ferrari. Here the corners are slow for everyone, not just Didier and me! I'll tell you what," he went on, "it's going to take a lot of stamina, 75 laps of this track. Your neck muscles get used to clockwise circuits, with more right-handers. Here it's the other way round. My neck's aching for the first time in a long time. I think, for sure, that Carlos is going to be World Champion, because he is much stronger than Piquet..."

If you were a betting man (and why else would you have been in Las Vegas?), your money - during the days of qualifying - had to be on Reutemann for the title. The Argentine was on scintillating form, simply oozing confidence, on and off the track. Stunning practice laps from Lole are nothing new, of course, and he produced one in Vegas for pole position. But we might have expected the pressure of the championship to make him even more reclusive than usual.

Not so. Throughout practice, Reutemann positively beamed, radiating bonhomie, granting interviews left, right and centre, behaving like a man who knew he had the title in the bag. The three title contenders appeared on a TV chat show the night before the race, and Carlos dominated the proceedings. The tension was in the faces of Laffite and Piquet. And Nelson, we knew, also had a variety of physical ailments with which to contend.

As for the race, well, we know how it all turned out. For the last six months, I have been firmly convinced that Jones was 'going to win this weekend,' virtually irrespective of the venue. I remained that way in Vegas, sure that whatever the outcome of the World Championship, the Australian was going to annihilate them in the race. Actress Susan George, togged up in Williams team gear, strengthened my resolve when she said she had never seen Alan lose a Grand Prix.

Who could resist advice like that? I headed for the only betting shop in town which offered odds on the race. After perusing the board for a little time, and discarding the likes of Peron (the well-known Argentine dictator now driving for Ferrari), Grabbiani, Munsell, Stohr (at home in Italy, presumably, and therefore unlikely to figure strongly) and Cheevers, I stuck with Jones. Ten bucks, at four to one.

Thanks, Alan. My winnings compensated in part for the hundred dollar bills removed from my pocket earlier in the week . . .



After the final practice session, there was general British rejoicing in the paddock for Derek Warwick, who had qualified for the first time. Even members of the Toleman team were a mite surprised, for they had none of the monobloc Hart motors in Nevada, and had hardly expected the tight Vegas track to suit their cars.

Warwick, who has shown amazing resilience this season, got the car into the race by the simple expedient of seizing it by the scruff of its neck and forcing it round faster than it cared to go. A lot of folk came by to shake his hand afterwards, and he was plainly a very happy man, if a little concerned for his race fitness: "It's been more than a year, you know, and everyone reckons this place is going to be tough; anyway, I'll just have to do the best I can..."

There was another reason for his broad smile, too. "I stand to make some money out of this, whatever happens," he said. "At mid-season, Jack Oliver bet me that I wouldn't qualify the Toleman at any race this year. 'All right,' I said, 'how much?' 'Whatever you like,' he said, 'a thousand, ten, twenty-five...'

"So we settled on twenty-five grand, and there was a witness. I'd better go and speak to him about it."



Was Las Vegas Mario Andretti's final appearance in a Grand Prix car? The man himself refused to say, although he did allow that his season at Alfa Romeo had been a great disappointment to him.

"I'd really hate to leave Formula 1 in these circumstances," he said. "When I left Lotus I was hoping for, you know, one last good season, something to leave me with happy memories. I've enjoyed a lot of things about driving for Alfa, but it's been very frustrating. I've felt all along that all the basic ingredients were there, and I've been happy with my own performances. I don't kid myself about things like that.

"Somehow, though, it just hasn't all come together, and that's what's been so frustrating. I've really enjoyed working with Ducarouge, and we've made good progress since he joined. But I hoped that Duca would have been given more of a free hand..."

Andretti's name is, of course, frequently linked with the rumoured Ensign-Eagle-Essex project, but Mario said he had made no decisions yet. "Like always, I want to leave it to the last second. In my own mind, I'm pretty sure that a turbo is going to be necessary in Formula 1 next year - either that or a Williams...

"But, you know," he continued, "I've been across the Atlantic 36 times this year, and you really need some impetus, some real hope of success, to keep that going. It'd be so easy to stay home, just race the Indycars again..."