Tim Parnell

Having grown up the son of racer and team owner Reg Parnell, it’s little wonder that Tim Parnell has lived a life dominated by motorsport. Whether going to pre-war races with his father, racing himself in F2 or leading the BRM race organization, Tim Parnell has played an integral role in both British motorsport and the post-war development of Formula One. Mike Jiggle recently sat down with Parnell to review his amazing life in motor sport.

Your father, Reg, was involved with farming and motor racing. It was therefore no accident that you pursued both, yourself?

Parnell: No, you’re quite right. I followed in my father’s footsteps and have been involved in motor racing all my life. My first race was the 1938 Donington Grand Prix. Of course, I met all these wonderful people. My father shook the hand of Dick Seaman, Freddie Craner, Gillie Shields—the agent of the circuit—and all those who looked after the Donington track.

A little boy let loose in a sweet shop scenario?

Parnell: Exactly. It was unbelievable; I looked at these colossal racing machines, the Mercedes and Auto Unions. I remember how they screamed around the circuit. The whole atmosphere was amazing, the huge crowds, the smell and power of the cars, and the frailty of the wooden fencing that divided us from that power. It was the last Grand Prix before the outbreak of World War II.

But the war years intervened.

Parnell: Yes they did, but it didn’t really disappear. My father and his brother had a transport business in Derby. Like many of those involved in motor racing, my father wanted to join the RAF. I think it was the thought that they would make good pilots that drew them. But, he and his brother were used by the military to move lorries and machinery around the country. This became very fortunate for them as all the racing cars became obsolete. Many people thought that motor racing would never get going again after the war. These cars were sold to him “for a song.” The cars were transported during the night, all sheeted up, and delivered to our farm in Derby.

All my friends, the kids from round and about the farm came to play with me. We would sit in these cars having a right old time, pretending to be prewar racing greats. My favorite was the Alfa; father would come back and catch us in the cars; he played “merry hell” with us because he thought we would break the gear sticks and other bits on the cars.

From that experience, I have one lasting memory. The Alfa I played in was the 3.8-liter Alfa Romeo Dick Seaman had raced and won the 1936 Donington Grand Prix. It came from Sir Robert Arbuthnot. He had a castle in Scotland, and had telephoned my father telling him that the military were going to requisition the castle. He asked if my father would be interested in buying the Alfa. Of course it was agreed, and the car came to the farm. Sir Robert had said that if motor racing got going after the war he may buy the car back, which indeed he did. I think he raced it in some minor club meetings in Scotland, nothing too serious. He sold the car to Dennis Poore. Dennis raced against father with it many times. Dennis died and it was sold again, and so on. It ended up at one of the first Christies’ Sales at Monte Carlo a few years ago; I went to the sale as there were a few more of the cars that my father had owned. Anyhow, this Alfa sold for £5.6 million! I couldn’t believe it; the car I had played in all those years ago being worth so much! I last saw the car, a couple of years ago, at the historic car races in Phillip Island, Australia.

Your father, Reg, resumed racing after the war.

Parnell: In 1946, he bought the Johnny Wakefield 16-valve Maserati 4C—it was a jolly good car—and he entered it in the first postwar motor race in England, at Gransden Lodge. The return of motor racing was a success story for him, and in 1947–’48, he was awarded the British Racing Drivers’ Club Gold Star for his racing achievements. The award is the equivalent to being crowned champion driver of Great Britain. During this time father had enrolled me in the Oakham Boarding School, in Rutland. He really didn’t want me to get too involved in motor racing. It was very dangerous in those days. Big engine cars speeding along on skinny-width tires, no guard rails, if you “dropped off” the track, you would end up in a tree; all these things amounted to a very dangerous sport in those days. It was obvious he wanted me to concentrate on the farm and farming and not get caught up in this very dangerous sport. In his shoes, I think I would have done the same.

Despite all of this, the urge and passion was too much for you to keep away?

Parnell: Eventually, I bought myself a sports car, a Le Mans Replica Fraser Nash, and later a Cooper Bobtail.

When and where was your first race?

Parnell: It was 1957 at Mallory Park. Later, when father was coming to the end of his career and knew I was determined to try my hand, he helped me buy an F2 Cooper. I raced it for a few years; I did reasonably well, winning a couple of races; my best was at Aintree, and I was generally progressing quite nicely. It all, of course, came to an end when my father suddenly and unexpectedly died. It was a terrible tragedy for the family. He went into the hospital over Christmas, things I suppose were a little slack, and he died of peritonitis in early January. The doctors admitted there had been serious mistakes made.

Things changed from then on. Father had formed Reg Parnell Racing, after he had been involved with Bowmaker as team manager, and had worked with Roy Salvadori and John Surtees. Bowmaker decided not to continue and allowed father to buy the team and take it over for a nominal price. One of the first drivers that caught his eye was a young New Zealand lad, Chris Amon; he thought he had terrific potential. This coincided with the decision Mike Hailwood made to change from two wheels to four—similar to John Surtees a few years before. Colin Chapman played his part, too, in selling Lotus 25’s to the team, the same cars that had brought Jimmy Clark the F1 World Championship the year before—cracking cars they were, too!

The Parnell name was to have joined the list of Formula One constructors.

Parnell: Yes. Wally Hassan was a great friend of Father’s; they had been friends for some years. Father had purchased a BHW (Bugatti, Hassan, and Wilkins); a Bugatti Special to race at Brooklands, from Dick Wilkins, and Wally had been involved in the preparation of the car. He was now at Coventry Climax preparing an experimental engine; to run in a Parnell chassis, the car was based on a Lotus 25. Everything was in position with sponsors and the like. Chris Amon was going to be the driver that was to test the car, until that tragic January. I had a meeting with the sponsors, BP, Champion spark plugs, Ferodo, and members of the team. A decision was made that they would back me for one year to see how it went, on one proviso, that I give up racing and put all my energy into running the team. Wally didn’t want to trust the experimental Climax engine to me; he knew we had one BRM engine, so he shelved the project. He had real trust in my father, but dealing with me was something quite different. I obviously lacked the experience. However, we continued with BRM engines in our Lotus 25s.[pullquote]“We were living in an era where 5% or 10% of the grid would die each year; they were pretty shocking times.”[/pullquote]

The team made a reasonable start, Chris Amon scored a few World Championship points for us, and Mike Hailwood scored some, too. The car I was to have raced, a Lotus 24, was put to one side. Peter Revson approached me and asked what I was going to do with it. We came to a businesslike agreement, and he bought a half share in it and raced it. He was a bloody hell of a driver, a damn good man. We did quite well, from that start.

How did you progress?

Parnell: Tony Rudd, of BRM, approached me and offered me a deal. He said that BRM would service and prepare all of our engines for free if I took on their third driver, Richard Attwood. That was a terrific boost to the team and our confidence. It pulled me more into the BRM organization.

When the 3-liter formula came out in 1966, BRM was offered a lot of money to run cars in the Tasman series in Australia and New Zealand, about 13 races altogether from January to the middle of March. I was asked if I would like to act as team manager. I would have three mechanics and two drivers—the drivers were Graham Hill and Jackie Stewart. I obviously agreed.

That was a great precursor to that 1966 season. The previous Formula One regs allowed 1.5-liter engines, the new regs would allow 3-liters, and the Tasman series was for 2.5-liter engines. So, you had a great responsibility to BRM for evaluating the cars that were similar chassis to the F1 cars.

Parnell: Yes, all the good drivers of the day were there with their cars: Jimmy Clark, Denis Hulme, Frank Gardner, and Chris Amon who was driving the little Dino Ferrari. It was really a tough series of races. Graham didn’t race in all of them, as he wanted to see how the new BRM was coming along, but he won one of the New Zealand races and four of the Australian races, including the Australian Grand Prix. Jackie Stewart won the New Zealand Grand Prix and other races that, when all was counted up, he had enough points to become the 1966 Tasman Champion.

I ran the 1967 BRM Tasman series, too, but this time without Graham Hill. The Ford Motor Company had paid a hell of a chunk of money for him to drive for Lotus, in anticipation of their new 3-liter DFV engine and the Lotus 49 in the up-and-coming 1967 Formula One season. Jackie Stewart won both the Australian and New Zealand Grands Prix, but we had a bit of gearbox trouble in a few of the races, and Jimmy Clark ended up as the 1967 Tasman Champion.

When we got back to Europe for the start of the Grand Prix season, Mike Spence had joined BRM; he was one hell of a test driver. He would say that this or that was not right with the car and that we should do this or that, and straight away, the lap times would come down.

It’s great to have a good technical man in the car as well as being a good driver, a real asset to the team.

Parnell: He truly was a terrific man. Of course, I’m not too sure that Colin Chapman really wanted to lose him; he appreciated what a good test driver he was. He asked if he could have Mike to test for the Indy 500 and, unfortunately, he was killed.

The year after that Tony (Rudd) was having a hell of a time with the 3-liter engine, that H16, which was a bloody nightmare.

When one looks back, it’s rather ironic that Jimmy Clark’s Lotus BRM H16 won the 1966 U.S. Grand Prix, when Tony Rudd really sweated blood over the engine and got nowhere with it.

Parnell: Yes, it did well at Watkins Glen, but a few days later in Mexico, Jimmy went out in practice and, on the second lap, the bloody balance weight sheared off the engine and flew off just over Jimmy’s head. That engine was really nearly the end of BRM. I don’t think people realize just how much it cost the company.

Even though it was his idea, that H16 engine was a thorn in Tony Rudd’s side; it eventually cost him his job. However, he tried to develop it, but it just cost more and more and nearly brought the whole factory to its knees.

Were you very close to Sir Alfred Owen?

Parnell: Yes. He really looked after me and treated me wonderfully well, and he was a truly remarkable man. He asked me if I had anything planned for the 1968 Tasman series. When I told him I hadn’t, he asked for my thoughts. I suggested that we ask Len Terry to design a car for the Tasman races. We did a deal with Len, providing the engine and gearbox. The car ultimately became the V-12, BRM, Formula 1 Grand Prix car (the P126). That was until the arrival of Tony Southgate who designed the “new” BRMs. The period between Tony Rudd leaving and Tony Southgate arriving was extremely difficult. John Surtees had been with us briefly. Sir Alfred asked me to look after the factory, as well as the team, so I was entrusted with it all. It was great to have a man like Tony Southgate at my side—a brilliant designer, I was lucky to have a man like him with me. It is remarkable to think we had a factory with just 90 employees; we designed everything; we built everything; and we raced everything.

The people and the lads of Bourne, Lincolnshire, were truly great people. When the doors closed on the BRM works a number of years later, it was no surprise that most of them went into top industries and had top jobs. They were a magnificent group of people who would work all through the night for you if you wanted. It was reassuring to know that if something broke, or we needed a particular piece made stronger, the foreman at the factory would wake up those concerned and have them working all bloody night if necessary. They would stick someone in a car and think nothing of asking him to drive halfway across Europe to the track where it was needed. With just those 90 people, we built three Formula One cars; one year we built three Can-Am cars, too. Today, in Formula One, they have 90 people just to do the refreshments.

The greatest tragedy that beset BRM was when Sir Alfred had a stroke. I cannot think of a more remarkable man in my life. He was on the board of about 100 companies; he was a “lay” preacher—every Sunday he would be in some chapel or other; he was on the Ministry of Transport Roads Committee, the National Savings Committee, had phenomenal energy, and a colossal workload.

You were involved at the top end of motor racing when major sponsorship came in. How did this affect the sport then?

Parnell: As far as we were concerned, this came to us in the shape of Yardley cosmetics; we thought what they offered was phenomenal. It was in their colors that we won the closest and the fastest Grand Prix with Peter Gethin, a record that stood for many years. Prior to that, we had also won the Austrian Grand Prix with Jo Siffert. At the Monza race, Marlboro approached us and asked if they could sponsor us. We became the first F1 team to have full Marlboro sponsorship; Jo Siffert played a great part in this, too. Marlboro had always paid to have a decal on Jo’s race suit; he was unfortunately killed at Brands Hatch before the Marlboro livery appeared on the cars. To me, Jo was one of the finest drivers, a gentleman out of the car, but, when he got behind the wheel, a great racer.

In 1972, in our Marlboro car, we won the Monaco Grand Prix with Beltoise. I couldn’t believe it; at the time, Monaco was one of the only races televised worldwide; everyone at Marlboro were overjoyed.

Recently, I had a conversation with Jean-Pierre Beltoise about that race. I was surprised when he told me he didn’t think it ranked among his greatest races. Yes, it was wet, other cars were unpredictable, but it was a question of, if he finished, it would be very possible he would win.

Parnell: That bloody race just went on, and on, and on, for hours. I think it was over 3 hours long. It went on so long that the FIA decided that F1 races would run to a maximum of 2 hours after that race.

You know Beltoise was a hell of a bloody good driver. However, he could have been a lot better if he had had two strong arms—he had a problem with them. I remember at the International Trophy race at Silverstone, he was racing with Fittipaldi. He lost the race by about 2 seconds. After the race, he came to me and said, “Tim, if only I had two good arms, strong arms, I could have won.” It was the only time, I believe, he admitted to having a disability. The wet Monaco race suited his “condition,” as the car slid on the wet surface as he drove.

We couldn’t talk about BRM without talking about Louis and Jean Stanley. What are your thoughts?

Parnell: Jean Stanley was Sir Alfred Owen’s sister. There were three of them originally, Ernest Owen was the third. They were in charge of possibly one of the biggest companies in the country. As for Louis Stanley, Jean’s husband, he always seemed somewhat jealous of Sir Alfred. When Sir Alfred had his stroke, he “dropped out” of it all and Louis Stanley became chairman of BRM.

Outside of BRM, he was responsible for, and provided, the Medical unit that traveled to most European races. Really, without a doubt, he did a lot of good with it. We were living in an era where 5% or 10% of the grid would die each year; they were pretty shocking times. He excelled in helping drivers who had been involved in accidents. He would have them flown back to England or wherever to different top hospitals or home, and he would assist their families. Credit must be given to him for this; he seemed to excel in dealing with these things.

One story I remember involving the Stanleys was in Monte Carlo; young Attwood had been drafted into the team after the tragic death of Mike Spence. He wanted him to drive a BRM, but he was entered under the Parnell Racing banner rather than the official BRM team. Richard had driven for me in the previous year’s Monaco Grand Prix, in our BRM-engined Lotus 25. He was dicing well with Bruce McLaren until the rear suspension broke. Attwood had a damn good race and finished a very creditable 2nd, behind Jochen Rindt. At the end-of-race prize-giving dinner, Richard Attwood took his place at our table. We had just got settled, when “big” Louis came over and said, “We would like you, Richard, to sit at our table.” So, Richard left and was “honored” by sitting on the “top” table.

What was your last season in racing?

Parnell: It was the 1974 season, Sir Alfred had passed away and his son David was looking after affairs. He made the decision not to continue racing and to withdraw Rubery Owen’s support of BRM. He left Louis Stanley to consider if BRM should continue racing and handed all control to him. It carried on for a year or so before closing, due to financial difficulties.

Although I finished with running a team, I did work with the FIA and Bernie Ecclestone, looking at the modern F1 racing scene, and of course, I have been a director of the British Racing Drivers’ Club.

It was always said that Formula One contributed to the car design of road cars. In your time, did you believe it to be true?

Parnell: Oh, undoubtedly. Brakes, fuel injection, and other elements of car design have been thoroughly tried, tested, and developed in Formula One. I believe that Formula One is the pinnacle of technology and attracts those designers, engineers, and technical people who are at the top of their game. I feel strongly that it should remain the pinnacle of technology, as well as being a sport. In America, racing regulations are put in place to allow the spectacle of entertainment; if any team gets ahead, something is done to alter the rules to level the playing field. While I feel Formula One racing should entertain, the overriding factor is that it remains the height of technical excellence.