5 replies to this topic

[Dennis David]

More than twenty years have passed since that British Grand Prix and yet it seems to me as if it was yesterday. It needs only a casual word at a party, a friend or perhaps a journalist asking me, "How was it all in the beginning, Pepito?" for memories to flood into my mind; memories of a raw, inexperienced lad from Argentina,
Since then I have received praise and congratulations from kings, princes, and statesmen in many countries. I have forgotten many races. But always fresh in my mind is 14 July 1951.
It really began earlier when I was, for my local countrymen, still Cabezon (Big Head!) Gonzalez, a driver who was content to win on local dirt circuits, thinking of no more exalted arenas. Then Don Francisco Borgonovo, President of the Racing Board of the Argentine Automobile Club, telephoned me at the beginning of 1950, asking if I would join the team which the Club were sending to Europe, under the leadership of my great friend and countryman, Juan Manuel Fangio. I accepted of course, but was very unlucky that year and did nothing spectacular. The Club were patient with me and selected me for 1951, however.
I was at Reims, ready to race in the 1951 Grand Prix de France in a Maserati owned by the Argentine Automobile Club, when something happened which changed my destiny. Nello Ugolini, then director of the Ferrari team, asked me if I could drive one of the team cars because their driver Dorino Serafini had been injured in the Mille Miglia. The request, I learned later, came from Don Enzo Ferrari himself. I was astonished that a "peasant" of very little experience would have attracted the notice of the great Ferrari. We all held him in awe and I can recall, even now, my stumbling excitement as I agreed. I had few illusions about my chances but from that moment I seemed to be living a dream and even when they took me to the workshop to be measured for the seat and for the pedals I still could not believe I was to be the driver of Ferrari’s mechanical jewel. I was nervous, happy and afraid at the same time, like a peasant who suddenly attains the love of a princess.
The dream was to be very brief. I was utterly determined to make my mark at Reims in the Grand Prix de France and after a tough battle I managed to lead the race. But when I stopped at the pits to refuel Ugolini told me to hand over my jewel to Alberto Ascari who had walked back to the Ferrari pits after his own car had broken down.
Recalling it now I suppose it was understandable. Ascari was more experienced in the Grand Prix arena than I, and since he was now available, it was obviously more sensible to let him take over. But at the time I was mystified and wounded. I assumed I had in some way failed one of Ferrari's mysterious tests. Yet nobody would tell me where I had failed.

I was just as puzzled when Enzo Ferrari sent for me. Puzzled and timid, for Ferrari was a powerful experienced man of the world while I had only recently arrived in Europe/ I had no idea how to address the "sacred monster" of the motoring world when I was led into his office. I managed to say "Good morning" in Spanish and then stood there speechless, wondering why I was there and what to do next. Don Enzo, realizing my embarrassment, helped me out by smiling and shaking my hand. And to my utter amazement he - the greatest figure in world motor racing - actually congratulated me for what I had done at Reims. I was even more astounded when he suddenly asked me: "Would you like to sign a contract to drive for the Ferrari team?" I can feel even now the almost painful thumping of my heart. This just isn't true, I told myself.
Plainly Ferrari was aware that he had confused me for he continued by saying that the terms of my contract would be the same as those for Villoresi and Ascari, his official drivers. But this did not matter to me. I was hardly listening to the details. I think I was already holding a pen - ready to sign anything. I only wanted to race, to become part of the powerful Italian team which seemed to me like attaining the highest rung of the ladder. After a very short career in motor racing I had attained the equivalent of singing at La Scala, Milan.
Ferrari had the gift of instilling confidence in its drivers. Although I was still very inexperienced I arrived at Silverstone for the 1951 British Grand Prix feeling that I really belonged in the Scuderia Ferrari, feeling eager also to pit my car's power against the almost unbeatable Alfa Romeos - and my own skill against the world's greatest racing drivers. Silverstone was the meeting place for international statesmen, industrialists, and millionaires, all looking for excitement.

During practice I had broken Farina's lap record so I shared pride of place on the front row of the starting grid beside Fangio and Farina in Alfa Romeos and Ascari, my team-mate in a Ferrari. I felt very much that we were in the public eye - just as I had in Reims - but this time I knew that nobody would take my car away from me.
The "jewel" was at the starting grid while I kept pacing back and forth under tremendous nervous tension. I wandered aimlessly in a daze while a handful of my countrymen - just a few of my own people in this crowded and very foreign arena - were talking to me, trying to calm me. I could not listen to them. My mind would not concentrate on anything but the race. It was my obsession. I even carried on a conversation with myself: "Pepito! You, a peasant, have entered a high society party." I tried to relieve tension by asking myself: "Pepito! What are you doing among so many Field Marshals? What will they all say in Argentina, in Arrecifes; what will your parents think?" And finally, when these questions did nothing to calm my nerves, I muttered aloud in a panic: "Pepito! How will you get out of this!"
It was the strident note of the horn announcing 5 minutes to race time which brought me abruptly to my senses. I had to rush to the toilet! And each time that devilish horn sounded again it increased my tension and anxiety. But at last we were in our cars. I stared at the starter, very careful not to move my car a fraction of an inch forward, since an early start meant a one-minute penalty. All the engines were revving impatiently while the crowd stood motionless watching us all on the grid. To me the grid was Hades and the engines were instruments in a hellish concert. My heart felt as if it would burst. Breathing was difficult. Then, just before I felt I must pass out, the starter's flag came down. We were away. And what a start it was. The four of us in the front row, trying to lead the pack, accelerated so suddenly that our wheels spun while the cars moved forward in slow motion, leaving behind a cloud of rubber smoke through which the other cars roared, overtaking us like arrows! When our tyres got a grip on the track we found that instead of being pursued we were pursuing, trying desperately to find a gap in the crush of vehicles to catch up the leaders who were of course, increasing their speed.
As we passed the pits for the first time I noticed that both the Alfa and Ferrari team managers were signaling the same instructions, which were in effect that we should drive our own race. The alarming start meant that team tactics must be abandoned. "Go for the lead," came the urgent message and soon as I saw that I went flat-out. By the next lap I was leading.

I could not hear them but I had the feeling that the British crowd had forgotten their usual restraint. They were jumping and waving and, it seemed to me, yelling like mad. "Pepito. You are ahead of the Field Marshals," I thought, and kept my foot hard down on the accelerator pedal. Then suddenly my rear-view mirror showed a red car, growing bigger and bigger. A signal from my pit as I shot past told me it was Fangio's Alfa Romeo. "Pepito. Don't do anything foolish. Don't panic. Even Fangio will have to do a re-fuel."
When Fangio caught me in the 10th lap I let him overtake, placing myself directly on his tail. We traveled in tandem, our two cars seeming to be roped together. Even whe

[Keith Steele]

What a great story. My heart even got moving a little, anticipating the outcome.

[Don Capps]

It is something to consider what Gonzalez might have accomplished if the fire hadn't been so diminished after the death of Onofre Marimon at the Nurburgring in 1954.

Gonzalez was quite a racer and has always been one of those that I truly admired.

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Yr fthfl & hmbl srvnt,

Don Capps

[Fast One]

One of the best episodes of "Legends of Motorsport" showd that great Silverstone race. The cars were so open then that it was easy to watch the drivers work at their craft. I loved watching Frolian saw at the wheel as he tossed that "big" Ferrari around. He seemed to really relish racing and took a joy in it that really came across in his style. Plus, he was mighty fast!

My interest in Gonzales was first peaked by a R&T PS photo of a plump Frolian in the '60s, staring at the fat rear tire of a then modern F1 car. The caption: "In my day the drivers were fat and the tires were skinny!" It is still one of my favorite PS's.

What a great thing these shows are that let us see thes men actually drive.

[Dennis David]

Everything that I've read about him gives you the sense that he was one of the real decent men of that period and lacked that mean streak to go further. Do you think that the Legends of Motorsport is worth the money? Some of these videos just drone on any you can hardly hear the cars. "I gots to have my noise."

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Regards,

Dennis David
Yahoo = dennis_a_david

Life is racing, the rest is waiting

Grand Prix History
www.ddavid.com/formula1/

[Ian McKean]

Dennis

I loved this story and wondered where it came from. Was it from an autobiography? I never heard of a Gonzalez autobiography before.

Gonzalez, known as "the Pampas Bull" was a charismatic figure because of the way he threw the car around. Probably the South Americans of that era had developed their good car control on the dirt road races before taking up circuit racing. Gonzalez also drove magnificently at Le Mans in 1954 in the 4.9 litre Ferrari, a race that was very wet.

But the 1951 British GP was unquestionably his greatest triumph and memorable also for the first defeat of the 1.5 litre supercharged 159 Alfa by the 4.5 litre unblown Ferrari. I remember that even fifteen years later Joan Head, wife of Michael Head who had raced C-Type, D-Type and Cooper-Jags in the 1950's (and mother of Patrick of Williams fame), used to enthuse about Gonzalez' performance at Silverstone.

Clearly Gonzalez generated a lot of excitement for the spectators. In his early days he looked like an accident waiting for somewhere to happen (although his car control was such that he always got away with it). I have a photo of him in the 4.5 litre Ferrari well crossed up at Abbey Curve (the fastest corner on the track at Silverstone). As John Eason Gibson wrote, "...to Gonzalez grass verges and kerbstones were mere incidentals on the way to the checkered flag".

So Gonzalez looked wild, but was quick and didn't have accidents. Why did he never become World Champion?

In 1951, as well as winning at Silverstone he came second in Spain and Italy and third in Germany. But Ferrari had no need of quick foreign drivers after Alfa withdrew and in 1952 and 1953 both Gonzalez and Fangio drove for Maserati. Gonzalez became a more polished driver but was still quick as fastest laps in 1952 at Monza and Modena proved. Frequently Gonzalez would act as the hare for Ferrari to chase but the Maserati was too fragile to challenge for a Championship. For 1954 he rejoined Ferrari as first string and repeated his win at Silverstone, beating team-mate Hawthorn into second. Unfortunately the cars did not handle too well and were usually off the pace.

I do not think he raced in Europe after 1954, but I remember him competing in a Formula Libre event in Argentina (the Temporada I think it was called) against the visiting F1 teams from Europe. I think he drove a Ferrari with a V8 Chevrolet engine. Can anyone cast any more light on what happened to him after the 1954 season?

Somewhere I have or had Hawthorn's book "Challenge me the Race" which would be interesting since they were team-mates at Ferrari in 1954, buy I can't find it at the moment.

To conclude, a big thanks to Dennis for starting all these interesting topics. I don't know where he finds the time; a real enthusiast. And to all who have contributed to the Nostalgia forum.

Ian