von Brauchitsch made the obituary page in The Economist. I though that you might be interested!
Manfred von Brauchitsch, titan of motor racing, died on February 5th, aged 97
AKG
DONINGTON HALL is a 17th century house in the English Midlands. In the 1930s its owner was persuaded that motor sport was a suitable interest for a gentleman and arranged for a racing circuit, two miles long, to be built in the grounds. It soon became popular, with the smell of motor fuel blending with the scent of the woodlands. In 1937 there was an air of particular excitement among the frequenters of Donington. The Germans were coming. In racing circuits throughout Europe two German teams, from the factories of Mercedes-Benz and Auto Union, had created something of a legend, and indeed a sense of fear, among their competitors as a result of their prowess. Some 50,000 people turned up at Donington to check the legend. The German who seemed to catch everyone's eye was Manfred von Brauchitsch, a driver in the Mercedes team.
He had a bearing that seemed to confirm his Prussian military background. He drove as though he were leading his men into battle; pushing his car to its limits, seemingly intent on destroying the engine, smashing the gear box, ruining the tyres and wrecking the brakes. And what a car it was. The regulations at the time limited the weight of a grand prix car to 750kg, but put no limit on the size of the engine. The mighty engines of the German cars tended to lift the rear wheels at speed, especially on Donington's bumpy track. You could see the driver's elbows rise and fall as he sought to control the car. “We had to hold on to the wheel tightly to avoid being thrown out,” Mr von Brauchitsch recalled. Nor did the driver have much protection if he lost control: a thin leather helmet, overalls and no seat belt.
The British drivers at Donington that day had believed that their more obedient cars and their familiarity with the track would give them an advantage over the Germans. But the Germans won easily, their slowest cars outpacing the fastest British ones. The spectators were not disappointed. Nostalgic fans of motor racing talk of 1937 being the year of the titans such as Mr von Brauchitsch, even if they were not born then.
When a car breaks up
What has changed in motor racing since the days of the titans? Perhaps two developments are worth mentioning. The sport has become safer; or, rather, less dangerous. In a modern racing car the driver is encased in a protective capsule designed to remain intact in a crash even though the rest of the car may disintegrate. A crash can still destroy a driver's nerve, but the days are past when it was usual for several top-class drivers to be killed during a racing season. In Formula One racing no driver has been killed during the past eight years. Motor racing is no longer seen as a blood sport. Michael Schumacher, whose Ferrari team won 11 of the 13 races in the most recent Formula One season, is an unflamboyant entertainer. The sight of the German's red car consistently ahead of its rivals delights those who appreciate his extraordinary skills, although it may no longer be attractive for millions of television watchers seeking more obvious thrills.
The other change is that Mr von Brauchitsch and many of his fellow German drivers were fiercely nationalistic. It is unclear whether the Prussian landowner much cared for Hitler, who came to power in Germany in 1933. But he approved of Hitler's decision to subsidise German motor racing teams and dispatch them to triumph on the tracks of Europe and Britain. His preferred career had been the army. In 1924 he had joined the country's defence force, the “army” of 100,000 men allowed to Germany by the victors of the first world war, but he left after he was injured in a motor-cycle accident. (An uncle rose to become Germany's army chief at the start of the second world war.)
Mr von Brauchitsch borrowed a sports car from a cousin and learnt the rudiments of racing on minor tracks. In 1932 he decided to try for the big time. By now he had his own Mercedes, and entered a race in Berlin against some of the country's top stars. He was the outsider, but it was worth a try. He fitted a streamlined body to his car to give it an extra edge. He won the race and was immediately offered a place in the Mercedes team.
Mr von Brauchitsch won 45 grand prix races over six seasons. He could have won more had he driven his cars less ruthlessly. Sometimes he would be within yards of winning when his flogged engine gave up the ghost. Nor did he spare himself. Because of his injuries he was given a desk job during the war, for a period as secretary to a general. He never returned to motor racing and in 1955 he suddenly, and surprisingly, moved to East Germany, announcing that he could not stand Konrad Adenaur's government. Nor could many other Germans, but the communists were hardly a better choice.
However, the von Brauchitsch ancestral estates were in communist hands. Could he have them back, please? The communists were delighted to welcome one of Germany's most famous sportsmen and made him president of their motor sports association. But the land question, he had to understand, was very difficult. Of course, the lands were never handed over. Perhaps Mr von Brauchitsch never really expected to win against the odds. But it was always worth a try.
Incidentally, the following link was also on the site:
Weblink:
Racer.demon provides information and links to other sites on motor racing..
