How Tyrrell’s post-Stewart era descended into a fight to survive
Glory days for Tyrrell became increasingly infrequent after Jackie Stewart’s retirement. But in the latest instalment of his history of the team for Autosport's sister title GP Racing, MAURICE HAMILTON recalls how Ken Tyrrell’s plucky and defiantly small team stayed bold enough to innovate – springing a surprise with F1’s first six-wheeled car
Tyrrell won the 1971 championship with a team of 19 people – in total. The list of employees included Ken, his wife Norah (secretary/timekeeper/lap scorer) and Eric Baker (accountant). The rest, from Derek Gardner (design director) to Robin Coleman (transporter driver and racing mechanic), had done all that was necessary to build and run cars capable of winning seven of the 11 grands prix.
The final victory at Watkins Glen had been important for two reasons: a $267,000 prize fund made the US GP the richest by far in F1; and a maiden win for Francois Cevert not only earned Tyrrell $50,000 but also signalled the Frenchman’s continuing rise as a serious contender.
The competitiveness of Elf Team Tyrrell might have seemed set to continue through 1972, but its fifth season of Formula 1 would fail to meet the high expectations generated with such apparent ease by the previous four. In fact, it was so poor by comparison that 32-year-old Jackie Stewart would be written off as having passed his best. The Scotsman had indeed lost his edge – but not because of the ageing process.
As a sign of only 12 grands prix on the calendar, Stewart had been able to accept a drive with Carl Haas in the CanAm series to go along with a hectic round of commercial appearances. Ken Tyrrell chose not to veto this decision so long as the relentless transatlantic commute didn’t affect his driver’s performance. But, unknown to Jackie, that’s exactly what was happening.
The most obvious and surprising indication of impending trouble would come when Stewart spun for no apparent reason during the Spanish GP – and did it again in the rain at Monaco. Goodyear’s wet-weather rubber may not have been up to the job but, having felt continually fatigued and out of sorts, Stewart knew the problem went much deeper than a lack of grip.
When a bleeding stomach ulcer was diagnosed, the full effect of Stewart’s punishing schedule was revealed. There was no alternative but to miss the Belgian GP. At the same time, a win for Emerson Fittipaldi at Nivelles consolidated the Lotus driver’s position on top of the championship, where he would remain mid-season and encourage further rumours of the reigning champion’s impending retirement. Stewart, making a rapid return to fitness, knew that track performance was the best way to deal with the doubters.
Spin for Stewart in the wet at Monaco in 1972 illustrated that the three-time world champion wasn't at his best
Photo by: Rainer W. Schlegelmilch / Motorsport Images
He won in France, finished on the podium at Brands Hatch and was set to close the gap on Fittipaldi in Germany on a day when the Lotus driver suffered a rare retirement. Going into the last lap on the Nurburgring Nordschleife, Stewart was challenging Clay Regazzoni for second place when the Ferrari driver shamelessly barged the Tyrrell off the road. Stewart was livid.
Today, such a significant collision would promote an instant chorus of indignation from the wounded team’s pitwall. In 1972, even allowing for the incident being out of sight, Ken Tyrrell’s reaction was indicative of different times. While Stewart protested vehemently to the organisers and representatives from the sport’s governing body about their failure to discipline Regazzoni, Tyrrell got on with packing up.
He offered sympathy and agreed with his driver about the loss of important points but, as far as Ken was concerned, the race was over. What was done, was done. If Stewart wished to pursue the matter elsewhere, that was up to him.
Thoughts that Stewart’s sublime talent would be compromised were disabused by five commanding victories, with the most brilliant drive of all coming in a race he didn’t win
Tyrrell had other things on his mind. Since Fittipaldi was on course to wrap up the championship, Ken was keen to have Stewart race a brand-new car for the first time at the next GP in Austria. Tyrrell 005, with its slab sides and stubby appearance, was lower and shorter than its predecessor. Stewart’s first two races with 005 were bedevilled with teething problems but, for the season’s North American finale, the Tyrrell team was back into its stride.
Stewart won at Mosport and headed a one-two finish at Watkins Glen. Given the substantial purse on offer in the US GP, Ken had entered a third car for Patrick Depailler, who finished seventh in his second GP. As the three blue cars returned to the pits in formation, the grandstands rose in applause. Elf Team Tyrrell was the yardstick once more. Thoughts of Stewart’s retirement faded away. But not for the man himself.
In April 1973, Stewart would tell Tyrrell and Walter Hayes of Ford that this season would be his last. No one else was to know; not even Jackie’s wife, Helen. Thoughts that Stewart’s sublime talent would be compromised were disabused by five commanding victories, with the most brilliant drive of all coming in a race he didn’t win.
A third championship for the Scot was a formality by the time they reached Monza in September but, on race day, it seemed the necessary few points would be denied when Stewart picked up a puncture. He rejoined from the pits in 20th place, seemingly out of contention on a very fast track with few opportunities to make gains.
Stewart destroyed the lap record time and again. After 20 laps, he was 11th. By lap 40, he was sixth. Finishing fourth was good enough to secure the championship with a drive Ken Tyrrell reckoned to be on a par with Stewart’s mesmeric win in Germany in 1968. Praise indeed.
Stewart bowed out with the title in 1973, a season tinged with tragedy for Tyrrell as it lost his successor in Cevert
Photo by: Rainer W. Schlegelmilch / Motorsport Images
Throughout this campaign, Cevert had emerged as a strong and competent number two. Indeed, Stewart went so far as to say the Frenchman was the quicker of the two as they dominated on the Nurburgring Nordschleife and could have taken the lead had he been so minded. But the fact that Cevert stayed in the master’s wheel tracks demonstrated a willingness to continue learning while respecting a powerful team ethic that continued to form the company’s bedrock. Ken was in no doubt about Cevert’s future as Stewart’s replacement.
With the championship settled, the team was in a relaxed mood as they arrived amid the rich autumnal colours of the Finger Lake region of New York State for the final race of 1973. That sense of warm well-being at Watkins Glen was to be torn apart, along with Tyrrell 006, when Cevert lost control at the fast uphill Esses and was killed instantly.
The enormity of the accident was such that it would live forever with those – Stewart included – who stopped and ran to a scene of terrible devastation. Tyrrell had no hesitation in withdrawing from what should have been Stewart’s 100th Grand Prix. One week later, Stewart formally announced his retirement.
With the first race of 1974 due in less than three months, Tyrrell had no time to lose. He had already spoken to Jody Scheckter with a view to having the fiery South African join Cevert. Now, with the team’s circumstances having been changed so drastically, Scheckter would be thrust into the lead role with the even less experienced Depailler in support.
It was the anthesis of the Stewart/Cevert partnership that had been regarded as the strongest on the entry list. Even worse, the novices had difficulty getting their heads around the nervous 005 (Depailler having driven 003 in France and the US). The best Tyrrell could manage was fourth in the third round in South Africa.
Help was at hand in the more elongated shape of Tyrrell 007, Gardner’s answer to the shortcomings of its predecessor. Scheckter, in particular, felt more at home, as proved by fifth, third and then second in Spain, Belgium and Monaco.
A seemingly impossible continuation of the mathematical sequence occurred with victory at the next race in Sweden, Depailler adding to the sense of disbelief by setting fastest lap on his way to second place. A month later, Scheckter would win again at Brands Hatch. And Ken had thought his team would be fortunate to score a couple of podium finishes by the season’s end.
Tyrrell's all-new lineup of Scheckter and Depailler scored a remarkable 1-2 at Anderstorp in 1974
Photo by: David Phipps
At least Tyrrell had been ready to maximise the success. Francois Guiter, the astute head of promotions for Elf, had spotted an opening by providing a watering hole for journalists otherwise at the whim of the paddock burger van or occasional scraps from the table of a friendly team or trade supplier. Eoin Young, a freelance writer with an intimate knowledge of the bona fide media – not to mention fine wine – was hired to act as maitre d’. The Elf Team Tyrrell motorhome became the most sought-after ticket among members of the fourth estate. This nuturing of positive PR would prove useful when, apart from an emotional win for Scheckter in South Africa, 1975 turned out to be a comparatively mediocre season. Meanwhile, Tyrrell had something in mind that would generate lively editorial copy for years to come.
On 22 September 1975, Guiter brought a party of French motorsport media to a London Heathrow hotel, where they joined other journalists keen to know what could be so important at this time of year. When the sheet was slowly removed from the rear of a single-seater, there were audible gasps – followed by stunned silence – when the reveal finally reached the front.
A six-wheeled F1 car had been produced in total secrecy despite the need for outside suppliers to manufacture special wheels, brakes and tyres. Gardner told the audience that the car – known as Project 34 (P34) – was a concept for research purposes that might, or might not, have racing applications. There would be no doubt about the latter when competitive times were set during winter testing.
That Tyrrell could not pin-point the reason for the P34's success would become apparent as results gradually began to slip south. The problem lay mainly with front tyre development being hostage to Goodyear’s understandable prioritisation of standard rubber for championship contenders Ferrari and McLaren
The P34 made its race debut in Spain, the fourth race of the 1976 season. Any lingering doubts about the feasibility of the concept began to be removed when Scheckter and Depailler finished second and third at Monaco. Misgivings vanished completely following an extraordinary one-two in Sweden. The fact that the team, in truth, could not pin-point the reason for this success would become apparent when the results gradually began to slip south as the season rolled on.
The problem lay mainly with front tyre development being hostage to Goodyear’s understandable prioritisation of standard rubber for championship contenders Ferrari and McLaren. When Scheckter decided to quit and join the fledgling Wolf team for 1977, he described the P34 as ‘rubbish’. Never a man to mince his words, Scheckter nevertheless had warm praise for the team itself.
Tyrrell’s reputation remained compelling enough to attract both Ronnie Peterson as Scheckter’s replacement and First National City Travelers Checks as co-sponsors with Elf. Money from the US bank would help establish a research and development department. Led by Dr Karl Kempf, this would be ground-breaking on several fronts as the technically articulate American scientist began constructing a mathematical model for the P34, placed electronic instrumentation on the cars and installed a computer (state of the art in 1977) in the team’s headquarters in Surrey. But not quickly enough for the here-and-now needs of F1. When Tyrrell failed to win a race for the first time since 1968, the P34 was canned, Peterson signed for Lotus, and Gardner quit.
Despite Peterson's best efforts, the radical six-wheel P34B didn't win a race in 1977 as Tyrrell's regular successes began to fade
Photo by: Andre Vor / Sutton Images
Turbocharging had arrived with Renault in 1977. For the foreseeable future, however, Tyrrell could see no reason to abandon the Ford-Cosworth DFV. It remained a sound choice, particularly when Depailler won the 1978 Monaco GP in 008, designed by Maurice Phillippe, formerly Colin Chapman’s right-hand man at Lotus. This gritty drive would be the season’s highlight. Depailler claimed three more podiums whereas his new team-mate, Didier Pironi, was lucky if he reached the top six.
The 1978 season had been dominated by the Lotus 79. Phillippe produced 009 for the following year but, unfortunately for Tyrrell and everyone else, Williams went one better with FW07, a clever development of Chapman’s ground-effect phenomenon.
Just as significant for Tyrrell, but in a different if crucial direction, Elf and City Bank had called time on their financial support. Tyrrell had come to rely completely on these two major players without thinking about nurturing sponsorship from anywhere else; the pair of royal blue 009s defiantly carrying nothing but the maker’s name in large letters on each side was a stark indication of such naive folly.
If fifth place in the 1979 constructors’ championship was bad, the following season would be even worse: Tyrrell drivers Jean-Pierre Jarier and Derek Daly endured more accidents than finishes in the points (awarded down to sixth place). The absence of money for development actually suited team members forced to spend most of their time rebuilding damaged chassis. Ken didn’t augment his staff of 43, but the fact that no one chose to leave was a gratifying indication of an enduring family spirit within the Tyrrell Racing Organisation.
It was therefore a sign of how difficult things had become in the winter of 1980/81 when Ken was forced to keep a skeleton staff while making everyone else redundant for a brief period. Tyrrell didn’t owe any money – but there was none coming in. Pay drivers would be a temporary solution in the second seat alongside Eddie Cheever. But you didn’t need to look far for signs of the Tyrrell decline: rain highlighted the outline of ‘Candy’ after the sponsor’s name – on board for most of 1980 – had been picked off the team’s rather shabby umbrellas.
As a token of Ken’s determination to continue fostering young talent despite his financial problems, he gave Michele Alboreto a chance in May 1981. After a couple of failures to qualify, the decision began to pay off with increasingly deft performances from the Italian. Despite the team’s worst season – 8th in the 1981 championship – two fourth places early in 1982 helped attract support from Candy once more, along with other Italian backers. Alboreto’s blossoming confidence matched his promotion to lead driver in a team that continued to struggle.
Jean-Pierre Jarier and Derek Daly's Tyrrells were among the cars eliminated in the 1980 Monaco Turn 1 shunt
Photo by: Motorsport Images
The number of employees had been reduced to 33. Ken would examine every invoice and bill, no matter how small. When the stock of DFV engines ran low just before the high-profile race at Monaco, Ken brought one from the test bed to the south of France in the back of his Ford Granada estate car, saving man hours and freight costs at a stroke.
Mediocre race results may have been scant compensation for this hardship but, when Alboreto finished fifth at Monza, it was impressive enough to trigger support from Denim going into the final round in Las Vegas. The aftershave company would come out of it smelling of roses.
The heady days of having a team of 19 people win 60% of a season’s races were long gone
On a zig-zag temporary track laid out in a hotel car park, the normally aspirated Tyrrell 011 would be competitive against the increasing performance advance of the turbos. When the leading Renaults fell by the wayside, Alboreto calmly picked up his maiden win – and the first for Tyrrell in four years.
Ken wouldn’t have to wait so long for the next one – which would be the last. The heady days of having a team of 19 people win 60% of a season’s races were long gone. Simply surviving would take precedence over everything else as the sad and slow drift towards the exit gathered momentum.
Alboreto's engineer Brian Lisles stands on the pit wall to greet the Italian as he scores his first GP victory at Las Vegas in 1982
Photo by: Motorsport Images
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