American Champion

American Champion

My greatest joy from all the years I've spent with cars and motorcycles has been the people I've met. In some cases they have become lifelong friends. Many of them are “racing family.” I only see them at track events...no more than a few times a year, and yet this common bond is as deep as if we got together socially on a regular basis.

Race weekends are a literal “gypsy gathering.” Tow rigs from cars and open trailers to really high end motorhomes and big rig transporters roll in and set up and suddenly, where there was empty asphal,t a mini-city arises and connections are re-established with folks we haven't seen since the last time. And once the races end the city simply disappears moment by moment, only to reconvene at some other time and place.

Car people are, for the most part, open, friendly, warm, and down to earth. I have been lucky enough to “rub elbows” with racers whose net worth is beyond my comprehension, and yet who have treated me as an equal simply because of my love of historic cars and participation in enjoying them.

And some of these are some pretty well known names in the world of motorsports.

While I am not about to egotistically claim Phil Hill as a friend, neither was he just someone I saw at a race and copped an autograph from. On at least three or four occasions I spent some real “face time” with Phil, and found him to be every bit as charming as the press would have you believe.

Hill after winning the F1 championship at Monza
The first American to do so...1961

I first met Hill at a Ferrari Owner's Club picnic at Marshall Matthews place off La Honda Road in Woodside. In a previous post I introduced Marshall but didn't say much about him. He managed the body shop for Carlsen Porsche on the San Francisco Peninsula, but was an avid car and bike enthusiast who, like the rest of us, believed that cars and cycles were meant to be used, not just to collect dust in a museum or private garage.

Marshall was pretty eclectic in his choices...I remember at least two horse and buggy era Packards, a Bultaco motorcycle, and of course a couple of Ferraris...perhaps a 250 Lusso, and I am certain about a 250 California. There was also a 356 Porsche Speedster, and a replica Bugatti “Tank” racer , Ettore's early (and ugly) attempt at streamlining.

Marshall later owned and drove one of the replicas
His last race car before he passed away far too young

The Woodside house was on an acre or so and had a fair sized parking pad which, in that simpler era, would accommodate most of the members of the club. The pad and drive quickly filled up with some pretty exotic stuff...250TR, Tour de France, 250 Boano, 330GTC, Lusso, 250 GTO, 250LM, 421 MI, 330P3,...and lots more. Cars that today you might only see on the road for something like the California Mille, and at the track for the Monterey Reunion. But back then they were driven for club outings as well as track events.

It was at this picnic that I also met Ernie Mendicki, who was to be a force for good in my life and growth with cars until his untimely death at the turn of the century. We became friends while flipping burgers. There will be much more to say about this “Gentle Giant” in many future posts.

Despite the obvious upscale nature implied by a club requiring members to own a Ferrari, the SF region of the club was the opposite of what you might expect...really great people who could care less about how much money you did or didn't have...or whether you knew or cared how much they had. So this was not some hoity-toity catered affair. Just like all the club events, it was strictly a volunteer operation.

I had volunteered to cook burgers, and found myself next to Ernie where, over the next few hours, we became friends. I had heard Phil was at the party and that he was a member rather than a guest, but did not see him until he stood before the grill for a burger. He thanked both of us for working the event, and walked off.

But later, when our cooking chores ended, Ernie brought me over and more formally introduced me to Hill. As this blog develops there will be lots of Ernie Mendicki stories, but suffice it here to say he knew literally everyone in the car world, and everyone knew (and respected) Ernie. Therefore Ernie and Phil were renewing a relationship that was already several years old. You can get some idea of the breadth of Ernie's reach through the car world just by “Googling” his name.

But what impressed me was Phil's demeanor and quiet understated persona. He clearly was at ease with this group of people and acted and reacted not as America's first Formula One champion and world class race driver, but just another one of the club car guys. It was pretty disarming and made it equally easy to interact with him.

Another of my interactions with Hill occurred at an FOC meeting...we had those once a month, usually involving dinner, a short “business” session-usually regarding the next planned driving event- and some sort of talk or presentation. On this occasion Phil was going to show and talk about slides he took during his racing career.

Hill was an accomplished photographer, and had some great and entertaining comments about shots he took at places like the Targa Florio or LeMans. But set up, of course, involved more than connecting a computer to an electronic projector. There was a heavy and clumsy screen, a projector, and numerous “carrousels” of slides to carry in from his car. I was walking by as he was starting this process and offered to help. As we dragged each load in we swapped a few stories that made me feel like a real driver even though I had just begun my early track experiences.

Phil's wife Alma walked along on one trip, while Phil was inside setting up. She thanked me for the help, saying “you know, Marty, Phil is past 50 after all.”

Hmm...at the time that did not seem an odd comment at all, as I was more than a decade younger. But now, at a more “mature” stage in my life, the comment just makes me giggle. It took almost ten years past my 60^th for my son to stop saying “Grab the other end of this, Dad, and we can lift it onto the bench.”

50, eh?

Phil at Monterey in about 1989
Wonder what he's measruing?

Then there was the time at Monterey Phil borrowed a tool from me. He was pitted across the aisle from me, and was on the ground underneath a Bugatti he was driving. The mechanical brakes were not working to his liking. Bugatti brakes did not use hydraulics to increase clamping pressure, and could be tricky to adjust. If not done correctly it could be a real handful to stop.

It is notable that Phil was under the car himself. He had no problem at all getting his hands dirty. In fact, people passing by saw only a disembodied pair of legs in somewhat dirty white overalls peeking out from under the car. Of course they had no idea who it was.

“Hey Marty!” I heard him shout. “Have you got a ____?” I have forgotten exactly what it was he asked for, but I did indeed have one and told him I'd bring it over, but before I finished the sentence he was out from under the car and crossing the aisle...suddenly followed by a whole entourage of spectators who now knew who the grease monkey under the Bugatti was.

The final memory was at one of those FOC track days after the Monterey Historic Races. These were on Sunday until the races expanded to two days, whereupon they moved to Monday. Though I had promised Sherri to never again put the Ferrari on the track after I got my own vintage racer, I was asked to be the pace driver for run groups.

The club track events were not races, and cars and drivers were grouped together based on performance potential of both. Passing was limited to the main straight and only if “waved by,” and the first couple of laps were run behind a pace car with an “experienced” driver to make sure things were under control. I was flattered to be asked and of course immediately violated my pledge to Sherri.

After a few sessions had gone smoothly (I only had to advise the steward to black flag two drivers, one in a 250SWB and another in a 308GTB, neither of which had any clue what a driving line is and were all over the place on turns) Jon Masterson came up to me and asked if I would give up the pace car role for the next session so Phil could drive Jon's 512BB LeMans.

The 365 Berlinetta Boxer and succeeding 512 were not legal in the US, though some “grey market” cars made it to these shores. An aside is that Porsche had to add a “t” between the “x” and “e” in Boxer for their 550 tribute, calling it the “Boxter” when Ferrari politely told them that the name “Boxer” was trademarked.

The street car looked somewhat like an enlarged 308

365/512BB

, but the LeMans racing version looked considerably wilder with its elongated tail. 

512BB/LM

“Sure,” I said to Phil, who was standing next to Jon and made it clear he did not want to interfere with the operation of the event.

“On one condition...you take my son with you.”

Hill readily agreed and I borrowed an obviously oversized open faced helmet and sort of poured the kid into it.

So I'm sitting there on the pit wall with Alma and their son Derek, who was perhaps 10 or 11 at the time, watching this beast slam by at 140 or so.

“Don't worry, Marty” Alma said. “Phil is a very safe driver”.

“I'm not worried, Alma...I'm envious. What was I thinking? That should have been ME in the car.”

When they pitted and Adin exited the car the helmet was twisted almost sideways and his knees wobbled. Sherri has a picture around here somewhere of them before entering the track, shot through the windscreen. The kid looks like a helmet with no one in it, and you can't even see Phil, but...

Every time the topic has come up Adin gets this faraway look in his eyes and they sort of glaze over. I guess he had a good time.