F1 Underdogs Vol. 3 — Small Teams With Big Dreams

Christoph Büscher
10 min readJun 29, 2017

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When you think of Formula 1 teams, you probably picture the likes of Ferrari, Mercedes, McLaren, or Williams. In other words, you think of the successful Formula 1 teams; those who fight for victories and world championships.

But behind the big players, the back of the grid belongs to dreamers. Teams like Manor, Pacific, Connew, and Coloni had little money and little success, but were still brave enough to embark on a Formula 1 adventure. Some of them didn’t qualify for a single race, others built their cars in a rented garage, and one was even deemed “unworthy” of F1 and excluded from the sport.

This series tells exciting stories from the back of the grid. Volume 3 is the lunatic edition and focuses on three particularly delusional teams that tried — and failed — to establish themselves in F1: Kurtis Kraft, Connew, and Life.

Kurtis Kraft

(1950–1960)

Origins

The American racing car constructor Kurtis Kraft was actually quite successful. In fact, Kurtis Kraft chassis even won five official Formula One World Championship races. So why is the company on this list at all?

The man who is responsible for that is Rodger Ward, a well-respected American racing driver and Indianapolis 500 winner. More precisely, it’s the crazy idea he had in december 1959 when he entered the first ever United States Grand Prix with a Kurtis Kraft midget.

But first things first. In order to understand the Kurtis Kraft story, we need to take a closer look at the early days of the F1 World Championship. For its very first season in 1950, points would be awarded at six selected races. Unfortunately, all of those races took place in Europe, which doesn’t make much sense, given the title World Championship. So the smart men behind the series decided to simply add the annual Indianapolis 500 to the calendar. Now there was a race in the US, the title World Championship made sense, and everyone was happy.

Ironically, very few European F1 drivers ever entered the Indy 500, and very few American drivers entered any of the European events. In fact, the Indy 500 even retained a unique set of technical regulations. It was at Indianapolis that Kurtis Kraft chassis won five times before the race was finally dropped from the F1 calendar for 1961.

Rodger Ward’s 1959 entry represents the only appearance of a Kurtis Kraft in any proper F1 race, which brings us to the reason why the company is on this list

A Kurtis Kraft chassis with an Offenhauser engine at the 1953 Indy 500

F1 achievements — or lack thereof

Midget racing is a unique form of motorsports that is especially popular in the US and in Australia. Small cars with powerful engines are used on short dirt tracks or on board tracks with woodden surfaces and banked corners. Midget racing couldn’t be more different from Formula One. So how did a midget car end up on an F1 grid?

In 1959 a Formula Libre race — without regulations that specify a certain type of racing car — was held on the twisty Lime Rock Park circuit. Among the starters were several powerful sportscars… and Rodger Ward in his tiny Kurtis Kraft midget. The American shocked everyone by winning the race, making good use of the superb handling of his small car.

Encouraged by his unexpected victory, Ward decided to enter the first ever Formula 1 United States Grand Prix, which took place in Sebring later that year. The Offenhauser engine of his car had to be tuned down to comply with F1 regulations. Nevertheless, Ward was sure that the supreme corner speed of the small midget would be enough to beat the technologically much more advanced cars from Europe. The organisers of the race proudly stuck the number 1 on the nose of the Kurtis Kraft midget. They, too, believed in their all-American challenger.

When the first practice session started, it soon became clear how badly Ward had miscalculated. Not only did his midget look like a toy car between the F1 machinery, it was also hopelessly outclassed. He qualified last, behind underdog cars from Connaught and Tec-Mec. In the race, he was once again embarrassingly slow. When he finally retired on lap 20 with a clutch problem, it was more salvation than punishment. Needless to say, his performance didn’t exactly improve the F1 drivers’ opinion of American motor racing.

Rodger Ward’s Kurtis Kraft Offenhauser midget at the US Grand Prix

Aftermath

Rodger Ward had, ironically, won the 1959 edition of the Indy 500. So, in spite of his disastrous performance at Sebring, he’s still an official F1 winner.

He would go on to win at Indianapolis for a second time in 1962. He also entered one more Formula 1 race, the 1963 United States Grand Prix at Watkins Glen. This time, he chose a proper Formula 1 car — a Lotus chassis with a BRM engine. Ward qualified a respectable 17th out of 21 starters before retiring with a gearbox problem in the race.

With the overdue exclusion of the Indianapolis 500 from the Formula 1 calendar in 1961, the name Kurtis Kraft disappeared from the F1 circus. Soon afterwards, it vanished from the American racing scene as well. Rodger Ward’s performance at Sebring in 1959 remains one of the most famous cases of hubris and miscalculation in the history of Formula 1.

Connew

(1972)

Origins

The story of Peter Connew’s Formula 1 team sounds like the plot of a Hollywood movie. Considering the insane amounts of money it costs to run a team in today’s ultra-complex Formula 1, it seems impossible that someone could just build their own F1 car in a rented garage. Yet, that’s exactly what Peter Connew did. Indeed, his self-made F1 machine even made it onto the grid of an official World Championship race. Delusional dreamers of the world, listen up: this is a story for you.

Peter Connew, a trained design draughtsman, first visited a Formula 1 race with a friend in 1969 and fell in love with the technological side of the sport. He immediately found a job at the Surtees F1 team, re-designing components that he’d never heard of before in his life. While working for Surtees, Connew decided he wanted to build his own racing car. Unlike many people with similarly grand dreams, he actually ended up doing it.

Did Peter Connew know how to design a racing car? No, he just went with what looked good. Did he ever consider entering junior formulae before trying his hands at F1? No, because the only racing category he actually knew anything about was Formula 1. Did he have any financial means at all? No, nothing except his monthly salary.

Nevertheless, Connew rented a lock-up garage and got to work. He left Surtees to work at an engineering firm, where he produced bits and pieces for his F1 car during his breaks. The Connew Racing Team was expanded to include three more people, one of whom, Connew’s cousin, was a much bigger motor racing fan than the boss himself.

All team members pumped all the spare money they had into the project. Some parts were given to them for free. Yet, they didn’t have enough money to finish the first chassis for the start of the 1972 Formula 1 season.

The Connew PC1 in front of the garage it had been built in

F1 achievements — or lack thereof

Eventually, Peter Connew managed to complete his chassis. He also, somehow, got an old Cosworth DFV engine and a gearbox from the McLaren F1 team. Now all he needed was a driver.

He found one in François Migault. The Frenchman had quite successfully raced in Formula 3 before and was actually paid to drive in F1 by Connew. The team, which didn’t own any spare parts at all, wanted to enter the French Grand Prix at Clermont-Ferrand. They turned an empty Ford truck, obtained by Migault, into a makeshift transporter and boarded the ferry for France.

As was to be expected, a serious of disappointments followed. First, the transporter broke down before the team reached the French GP. They arrived at the next race, the British GP, where Migault lapped several seconds slower than his competitors in practice. Then a rear upright cracked, and Connew were out before qualifying had even started. At the German GP, the small outfit wasn’t granted an official entry and had to watch the race from the sidelines.

Along came the Austrian GP. By now, the underdogs were embraced and supported in the paddock. Moreover, this time around the car didn’t break down, and Migault qualified for Connew’s first race — albeit three seconds down on the rest of the field. That, however, mattered little to Peter Connew. He had made his dream a reality. His garage team was taking part in a Formula 1 World Championship race.

The real surprise of the weekend turned out to be François Migault’s race pace. The Frenchman shockingly charged through the field, leaving several other cars behind him. The miracle ended on lap 22 with a suspension failure, but by then Connew had turned heads and written their name into every Formula 1 history book.

Migault driving the Connew PC1 in the 1972 Austrian Grand Prix

Aftermath

After that beautiful, surreal day in Austria, Connew never again took part in a Formula 1 World Championship race. There simply was no money left.

The Connew PC1 was entered in a non-championship Formula 1 race — those existed until the 80s — at the end of 1972. The Cosworth engine — the only one the team possessed — broke down before the start of the race. After that, the car was converted to Formula 5000 regulations and entered in three races in 1973. Now powered by a Chevrolet engine, it crashed heavily at Brands Hatch and was damaged beyond repair.

With the direction Formula 1 has taken since the 70s, Peter Connew’s story will likely never be repeated. It will, however, always serve as an inspiring tale. If a man who has no idea about designing racing cars can built his own Formula 1 car, enter the World Championship, and even beat a few competitors, then everything is possible.

That’s what the Connew story teaches us: dedication will get you anywhere.

Life

(1990)

Origins

Rodger Ward’s Kurtis Kraft midget and Peter Connew’s original F1 car may have been hopelessly outclassed, but at least both started a Grand Prix. Life Racing Engines didn’t. In fact, the team never even came close.

The story of Life begins with another team, FIRST Racing. Lamberto Leoni, who had run a Formula 3000 team for several years, founded the team and planned to enter Formula 1 in 1989. He commissioned Richard Divila to design a chassis and bought an engine from Judd. Gabriele Tarquini, who was affiliated with several F1 underdog teams in his career, was going to be the driver. In pre-season testing, however, the FIRST chassis was deemed unsafe. It later failed the mandatory FIA-crashtest. FIRST Racing consequently withdrew from F1 before the start of the season.

One year later, Ernesto Vita, an Italian businessman, was looking for a Formula 1 chassis. He had recently bought the rights to an unconventional W12 engine designed by ex-Ferrari man Franco Rocchi. Vita was unable to sell the engine, which he had rebranded Life, to an existing team. He then decided to run his own Formula 1 team to show off the potential of the engine design.

The Italian bought the fragile FIRST chassis, installed the Rocchi-designed W12, and entered the 1990 Formula 1 season. Gary Brabham, son of former world champion Jack Brabham, was the team’s driver.

The FIRST F189 Judd

F1 achievements — or lack thereof

At the United States Grand Prix, the first race of the 1990 Formula One season, it became clear just how disastrous the Life effort was. The old FIRST chassis was too heavy, the W12 engine too weak, and the team ill-prepared.

With thirty-five cars entered, some teams had to prevail in a pre-qualifying session to enter qualifying. In said pre-qualifying Gary Brabham was more than thirty seconds slower than the next faster car. Life did beat the similarly outclassed Coloni-Subaru, but that hardly counted as a success. In fact, the Life L190 was even slower than Formula 1’s main feeder series, Formula 3000.

In Brazil, Brabham failed to set a time altogether and quit the team. Bruno Giacomelli replaced him from the third race onwards. The Italian had driven for Alfa Romeo and McLaren before, but his last F1 start had been in 1983. With the given material, Giacomelli couldn’t work wonders. He never made it through pre-qualifying, continously lapping several seconds slower than even the Coloni.

Giacomelli repeatedly voiced concerns over the safety of the car and its lack of speed. In Italy, he was no less than twenty seconds off the pace, which finally prompted Life to replace the original W12 with a conventional Judd engine for the Portuguese GP. Still, Giacomelli didn’t pre-qualify. Two races before the end of the 1990 season, Life Racing Engines withdrew from the sport.

Bruno Giacomelli driving the Life L190

Aftermath

In fourteen attempts, Life never came close to even attending an official Formula 1 qualifying session. This makes the Italian outfit one of the least successful — if not the least successful — F1 teams of all. It also makes Life one of the most iconic. In 2009, the L190 chassis was fitted with the original W12 engine and became one of the biggest attractions of that year’s Goodwood Festival of Speed.

While Peter Connew taught us that with a healthy overdose of dedication dreams can indeed come true, Ernesto Vita taught us that some ideas are simply rubbish.

Read about more F1 underdogs in Vol. 1 and Vol. 2 of the series.

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Christoph Büscher

Lyricist. Star Wars expert. In love with vintage racing cars and extinct species. Not exactly pageant material.