The secret Tyrrell that started an F1 dynasty

Ken Tyrrell was on the horns of a dilemma in 1970. Long-standing partner Matra - on behalf of new parent company Chrysler - was demanding that he use its sonorous but gutless V12, whereas he wanted to stick with Ford and its gutsy Cosworth DFV.

He had approached Brabham, Lotus and McLaren - and even BRM - about running a semi-works car and been politely declined due to clashing oil/tyre deals, among other considerations. Thus the reigning Formula 1 world champions were in danger of going without. External forces were dictating what they could and could not do.

Though it would complicate matters and cost more, Tyrrell realised that his team would have to design and build its own car if it wanted to stay competitive and hang onto its prized asset: Jackie Stewart. Not that JYS knew anything about it - yet.

Tyrrell wanted his number one to concentrate on extracting the maximum from the bulky March 701 - this nascent constructor had welcomed Tyrrell's and Ford's opened chequebooks with open arms - that was filling the gap left by the beloved, title-winning Matra MS80.

"Ken Tyrrell was very much his own man," says Stewart. "He could be incredibly private. The first I heard of the project was when he sent me to Coventry. For a seat-fitting."

Stewart flew from Geneva on 23 March 1970 and a few hours later rolled up a cul-de-sac in Leamington Spa. There, in a wooden garage next to an unassuming house, lay his future - or rather a full-scale plywood mock-up of it.

He climbed aboard and immediately felt at home. He was impressed, too, by the thoroughness of the designer who had conceived it. Tyrrell, averse to freelance loose cannons, had wanted a steady, solid staffer who could keep a secret and keep to a deadline.

The unheralded Derek Gardner gave him all of this and more: quiet and unassuming, he considered every word before speaking - slowly - and dressed conservatively. He was, however, the epitome of still waters running deep.

Though Gardner had worked with Tyrrell and Stewart during 1969 as the transmissions engineer on Matra's four-wheel drive project, the call had come from out of the blue.

"People were aware that I was up to something because I was asking lots of questions about castings and such like. But nobody put two and two together" Derek Gardner

"I can't remember the precise date but it was in 1969," said Gardner, who died in January 2011, aged 79. "Ken came straight out with it and asked if I could build a Formula 1 car. That was a pretty big undertaking and so I said I'd think about it. I never make snap decisions; those are the ones you regret.

"Could I design a grand prix car? I had never done one before. I'd never even seen anyone do one. But eventually I decided that I could and we arranged a meeting in Henley-on-Thames. I was flattered to a degree by Ken's approach, but such a project needed a big commitment from him and I needed convincing that he was willing to give it."

Tyrrell was, and Gardner was convinced. The deadline for SP (Secret Project) was the non-championship International Gold Cup at Oulton Park on 22 August - the unofficial closing date for sponsorship decisions for 1971.

Gardner (pictured below, right, with Stewart) therefore set a deadline of his own: to be at the drawing board by February: "We could not afford to miss that race. Not only that but also we had to show immediately that the car was a competitive proposition. Secrecy was another absolute prerequisite. Because I was not part of motor racing's mainstream, that wasn't too difficult to achieve.

"People were aware that I was up to something because I was asking lots of questions about castings and such like. But nobody put two and two together. I hadn't designed a car before and there was no reason for people to think that I was starting now."

There was pressure, of course, but Gardner now found himself in a position that most of his peers could only dream of: a trusting, hands-off boss; no prying eyes; no diversions of conflicting demands for a Formula 2 and/or Can-Am car; and no weekends away at the track.

On the other hand he was left alone with his thoughts: "I had no background in monocoques, so I designed one from first principles. Ken provided me with some information and told me what the other teams were doing, but otherwise there wasn't much contact between us; I reported to him only when I had something to report.

"I set out to satisfy myself that my design was right and by doing that hopefully satisfy him, too. There was no budget as such: I had a reputation for not being foolish with money and Ken never questioned me on the topic. If there was a bill to pay, he paid it. We kept it simple. Eventually, however, it was vital that Jackie came along for a seat-fitting."

Stewart: "I found myself outside this house in suburbia. It was all a bit strange. Don't forget, at the time I could have driven for anyone; there were plenty of offers on the table. But I wanted desperately to stay with Ken. He had made things happen before and I trusted him.

"I'd had no say in the choice of Derek as the designer of the new car but, if Ken thought he was the right man, I was happy to go along with it."

Their keynote meeting lasted less than hour - so that tongues could not begin to wag. Gardner: "We asked each other lots of questions, made some adjustments, talked about this and that.

"Jackie, however, was slightly non-committal. Perhaps he was happy with what he saw. Back at the airport I heard a bus driver ask, 'Isn't that Jackie Stewart?' To which his mate replied, 'Here? Nah'."

Gardner had not set out to design a 'British Matra', but a lot of what Stewart saw that day rang a cheering bell: short wheelbase; low, centralised weight; and low polar moment of inertia. He'd already had his fill of that "bucking bronco" March and the mock-up was the (very distant) light at the end of the tunnel.

"I left firm in the belief that Derek was a good, cautious engineer," says Stewart. "That suited me fine: I wanted a strong, safe car underneath me that I could stretch like elastic, if needed."

This, however, is not to consign Tyrrell 001 to unthinking, unswerving conservatism. Gardner was no slave to convention - he had in 1968 pitched the idea of an Indy four-wheel-drive six-wheeler to STP boss Andy Granatelli.

"Ian Mills pointed out that I was the only car designer to have asked him for information. That made me feel that perhaps I was finding angles that others had missed" Derek Gardner

Another of his innovations was the 'discovery' of carbonfibre filament: "At that time it was only available in long hanks and you spun it like wool. The only place I could find an expert on how to do this was at Lanchester College in Coventry. I also found a fibreglassing company in Leamington Spa that was able to work with the material.

"Once again, both of those companies had no connection with motor racing, so our secret was safe. We used the carbonfibre to brace the nose; two men could stand on either end of the nosecone, quite a big item on this car, and it would take the strain easily.

"I had no benchmark from which to judge my design but I did get some encouragement during the later stages [of this process]. There was going to be a TV programme about this wonderful new March car and I invited Dunlop tyre designer Ian Mills to watch with me - after he had given me a lot of information that I found very useful.

"I was most impressed with what I saw and thought, 'How can I compete with that?' March had masses of people working for it; Tyrrell's technical department was, well, me. Plus March had done all these tests. It was then that Ian pointed out that I was the only car designer to have asked him for information. That made me feel that perhaps I was finding angles that others had missed.

"I made another discovery that gave me hope. Nearly everybody at that time was using steering dampers and I could not understand why. I worked out all the stresses and forces and decided that they were nowhere near enough to have to bother with one.

"I made what I considered to be a very robust steering linkage yet they soon became known as 'Gardner's knitting needles'. We never had any problems with them, though."

Designing the car was one thing, building it was another. Gardner had never been to the Tyrrell, ahem, 'factory'. He got a shock: the main building was a wooden ex-army barracks transported from Aldershot. There were two, in fact, bought for £50 each when Ken was feeling flush after landing the works Mini deal in 1962; joined together, they made for one long, thin and draughty workshop.

"The big shed was unusual," understated Gardner. "You wondered how on earth the job could be done in a such a building. But that was the way it was. The one thing that gave me cause for hope was an impressive piece of welding kit. Until I discovered that it wasn't connected. In some ways these hardships helped: there was a very strong esprit de corps at Tyrrell."

Design finalised by June, Ken's overworked but intensely loyal mechanics began the bit-by-bit build: Maurice Gomm's place in Old Woking fabricated the main chassis parts, while suspension elements etc were done in-house; machined items followed a similar pattern of subcontracting.

Gardner: "The car turned out quite a lot different from most of the others and people felt that perhaps we had not gone in the right direction, but I had to have the courage of my convictions. Of course, the only true test comes on the track."

The Oulton Park deadline was kept and Gardner began to fret: "It was raining, miserable, and we couldn't get the car started. I was worrying about everything."

To such an extent that he considered quitting motor racing for good, there and then.

Stewart, in contrast, was encouraged, despite the fuel surge that forced him to start from the back row (he could have started from the second row in the March but chose not to), the stuck throttle that caused him a big moment on the opening lap of the first heat, and the piston failure that kept him out of the second.

"001 was a very good package: neutral, well balanced and driveable. I could 'create' with it, whereas with the March I had just been 'reacting'" Jackie Stewart

The bottom line was that the car felt good and had set the meeting's fastest lap in the presence of Jochen Rindt's benchmark Lotus 72.

"001 was a very good package: neutral, well balanced and driveable," says Stewart. "I could 'create' with it, whereas with the March I had just been 'reacting'. It was not yet at the level of the MS80, but it was quick and gentler to drive. Derek and the team had done an incredible job."

After another technical hiccup at Monza - a front stub axle broke and the team decided to race the March for safety's sake - 001 was shipped to the Americas for the Canadian, United States and Mexican GPs. Following a difficult test at the rollercoaster Ste Jovite - "I would not have liked to drive the March there" - it clicked in qualifying and Stewart took pole. He would be leading comfortably when another stub axle broke after 31 laps.

He qualified second at Watkins Glen and led for 82 laps, at which point 001 was sidelined by an oil leak. He qualified on the front row at Mexico City, too, only to retire from a chaotic race when he hit a stray dog at 160mph.

Though some frustration remained - 001 never would win a race - Stewart was content now that he and 'Uncle Ken' would continue to make history rather than be history.

"He and I had recognised that we had a unique relationship and 001 allowed us to stay together and build on what we had already achieved," he says. "That makes it a very important car for me."