Great Teachers #3: Lifting Jackie Stewart with the Power of Empathy

               The day Jackie Stewart was demonstrating how Keke Rosberg “comes into the corner in a flurry of feathers and blood,” got off to a slow start.

Jackie looks for the source of a rattle, Judd looks for lunch

             We were at Laguna Seca there was a cold mist coming in from the Pacific making the track slick.  Stewart was driving the “New Ford Turbo Thunderbird” and the first test shots were not encouraging.  All we could see of the 3 time World Champion from the camera car were his carefully combed hair, forehead and eyebrows.
 
                  I was a Creative Director at JWT and Granger Trip was the creative director.  In other words, Granger was my boss, the capo di capi of creative directors at the largest agency in the world.  Granger was tall and gangly with a the deep resonant voice of a radio announcer and the kindness of a country doctor.  He spoke slowly with a clarity and simplicity and told the truth. He also had that rarest and most powerful trait, empathy; the ability to understand how the world feels to you.  He was the opposite of Don Draper and we all loved him. 
 
                   So what to do about Stewart sunk below the dashboard?  Ford was paying him truckloads of money, we only had him for the one day shoot.  So we didn’t want to piss him off.

Stewart in his day job

 
                Still, a cushion was necessary, not only to see his famous face, but also so the car didn’t look like a brontosaurus.
 
                   I thought, what the hell, take the bull by the horns, be direct and get the painful part over with.  Like "Jackie, I’m sorry you’re too short.  Here’s a cushion to sit on.”
 
                   Granger shook his head.  “Jackie,” he called out, “we’re not seeing enough of you in the camera.” 
 
                     “Oh,” the wee Scot said, “would you like me to sit on a cushion?”

Merry Christmas, Happy New Year

 The Blog is taking off for the Holidays.  May yours be warm and happy.

    In the meantime there's a ton of goodies here. Scroll down for the wacky wonderful Coneheads at Silverstone. Or the flip side of that madness to the days of dope and meditation in The Volvo Years.

         if you missed the all-time-record-breaking-hit- monster blog, The Real Allard Story:give it a click.  No, I lied; last week's  tribute to the women who are as"sweet as honey and smile at you like you're made of money," attracted even more hits. And If you missed the 1979 Polish Grand Prix now's your chance.

Or, click on bob judd on the top of this page or slip down the right hand column to click on such gems as  my favorite, How You Look at the Sky.   Or The Kythera Chronicles to shake hands with Barbarossa.

Or just cruise through the links on the lower right hand side of this page, maybe come upon some unexpected little gem like  an excerpt from The Candle,  In Praise of the Belleville Midgets,  The Midgets of Belleville. Part II,  Truth in Grass: a Kansas adventure, The Story of the Larned Eagle Optic, Hollywood Calls, You Pick up the Phone, Hollywood Calls, you pick up the phone part 2 maybe my favorite My Short Happy War in Afghanistan or no, wait, wait, Fangio and the Maserati 250 F for the priceless video of Fangio in a polo shirt and helmet, absolutely relaxed driving a Maserati 250F around a beat up old race track with no run off, no barriers, no safety nothing.  My lunch with Rob Walkeris a good one even though it leaves out the Betty Grable stories. 

       You wouldn't want to miss My Short Happy War in Afghanistan

 

             Then there's Erno Goldfingers house-and-mine, which throws in Ian Flemming, no extra charge. Riding around Laguna Seca with Jackie Stewart was picked up by Jalopnik.com.

              Or Uncle John's Prayer.

               Or Clarence Judd Head-Butts a Truck.  Truck dies. That's a good one. 

             And, of course, the one that started it all, Truck Story.

               Then Virgin calls, and Forrest goes to Hollywood to star with an Electric car. And Forrest does a shoot in bed with Virgin. That one is a lot of fun. 

                Although, you might want to take a look at Pheromone Dreams to see what they are doing in bed in front of a film crew. While you're there it's just a short hop to Nurse Pelvis. 

            Or take a dip in the world's largest concrete freshwater free municipal swimming pool.

           And for a fine rainy afternoon divertimento, click on my dance with a prima ballerina.

 

              For a tasty bite with bon mots check out my friend, Gerry Freeman's foodie blog as  Hungry Gerald.heads for London and Paris.

             Or go visit Elif Batumen, San Francisco's brightest and funniest writer, a fine lady to curl up with for a good read.  Here's Elif's homepage.

             Enjoy, Have a ball.  See you Monday, January 3.

Where to play while the blog is off fooling around

The blog is off  and will return Monday.  But if you missed the all-time-record-breaking-hit- monster blog, The Real Allard Story:give it a click.  And If you missed the 1979 Polish Grand Prix now's your chance.

Or, click on bob judd on the top of this page or click on such gems as  my favorite, How You Look at the Sky.   Or The Kythera Chronicles to shake hands with Barbarossa.

Or just cruise through the links on the lower right hand side of this page, maybe come upon some unexpected little gem like  an excerpt from The Candle,  In Praise of the Belleville Midgets,  The Midgets of Belleville. Part II,  Truth in Grass: a Kansas adventure, The Story of the Larned Eagle Optic, Hollywood Calls, You Pick up the Phone, Hollywood Calls, you pick up the phone part 2 maybe my favorite My Short Happy War in Afghanistan or no, wait, wait, Fangio and the Maserati 250 F for the priceless video of Fangio in a polo shirt and helmet, absolutely relaxed driving a Maserati 250F around a beat up old race track with no run off, no barriers, no safety nothing.  My lunch with Rob Walkeris a good one even though it leaves out the Betty Grable stories. 

 

             Then there's Erno Goldfingers house-and-mine, which throws in Ian Flemming, no extra charge. Riding around Laguna Seca with Jackie Stewart was picked up by Jalopnik.com.

              Or Uncle John's Prayer.

               Or Clarence Judd Head-Butts a Truck.  Truck dies. That's a good one. 

             And, of course, the one that started it all, Truck Story 

             You really should visit Hiltonpond.org for fabulous pictures of hawks and hummingbirds with the science to back up the beauty. And for a fine rainyafternoon divertimento, click on my dance with a prima ballerina.

 

              For a tasty bit with bon mots check out my friend, Gerry Freeman's death defying foodie blog Hungry Gerald.

             Or go visit Elif Batumen, San Francisco's brightest and funniest writer, a fine lady to curl up with for a good read.  Here's Elif's homepage.

             Enjoy, Have a ball.  See you Monday. Bob

Fooling around while the blog sleeps

                       The blog is taking the weekend off and will return Monday.  But if you missed the all-time-record-breaking-hit- monster blog, The Real Allard Story:give it a click.  And If you missed the 1979 Polish Grand Prix now's your chance.

Or, click on bob judd on the top of this page or click on such gems as  my favorite, How You Look at the Sky.   Or The Kythera Chronicles to shake hands with Barbarossa.

Or just cruise through the links on the lower right hand side of this page, maybe come upon some unexpected little gem like  an excerpt from The Candle,  In Praise of the Belleville Midgets,  The Midgets of Belleville. Part II,  Truth in Grass: a Kansas adventure, The Story of the Larned Eagle Optic, Hollywood Calls, You Pick up the Phone, Hollywood Calls, you pick up the phone part 2 maybe my favorite My Short Happy War in Afghanistan or no, wait, wait, Fangio and the Maserati 250 F for the priceless video of Fangio in a polo shirt and helmet, absolutely relaxed driving a Maserati 250F around a beat up old race track with no run off, no barriers, no safety nothing.  My lunch with Rob Walkeris a good one even though it leaves out the Betty Grable stories. 

 

             Then there's Erno Goldfingers house-and-mine, which throws in Ian Flemming, no extra charge. Riding around Laguna Seca with Jackie Stewart was picked up by Jalopnik.com.

              Or Uncle John's Prayer.

 

               Or Clarence Judd Head-Butts a Truck.  Truck dies. That's a good one. 

             And, of course, the one that started it all, Truck Story 

 

             You really should visit Hiltonpond.org for fabulous pictures of hawks and hummingbirds with the science to back up the beauty. And for a fine rainyafternoon divertimento, click on my dance with a prima ballerina.

 

              For a tasty bit with bon mots check out my friend, Gerry Freeman's death defying foodie blog Hungry Gerald.

             Or go visit Elif Batumen, San Francisco's brightest and funniest writer, a fine lady to curl up with for a good read.  Here's Elif's homepage.

             Enjoy, Have a ball.  See you Monday. Bob

My Big Crash

79 Mustang Cobra

            Ruth was very beautiful,tall and shy. Her green eyes  flinched if you moved suddenly. We were going to have a picnic in a meadow behind my cabin the next day to steal pumpkins for Halloween and get acquainted. She was living with a drug dealer at the time.

            I was living in my log cabin on Hatch Pond during the week and in New York City on the weekends. 

I wasn’t working on a book and had plenty of time to go to the local Ford Dealer in New Milford and try out the new Turbo Mustang Cobra. It was an all new car and getting a lot of press.

 

 I had a 66 Shelby GT 350 Mustang, same color as the one on the right and I thought a comparison of the old beast and the hot new lightweight might make a good article for Road & Track. The salesman tossed me the keys and said, "be careful, it's very fast." Luckily he stayed behind in the showroom.

            I took the shiny new Turbo Mustang Cobra up route 7 heading north and floored it.  Even after the wait for the turbo to kick in, it wasn’t very fast, nowhere near the grunt of the my 66 Shelby GT 350  Mustang.  I stomped on the brakes see if it stopped better than it accelerated and the car yawed left.  Fortunately the road was clear and I wasn’t worried.  There was plenty of time to catch the skid and I steered into it. 

         Jackie Stewart would have caught it but I didn’t. The car was gone, sliding sideways past a farmer’s vegetable stand and into a telephone pole.  That vegetable stand was another bit of luck.  The farmer told the cops I wasn’t going that fast, maybe 55.  Which was true. Looking at the car, wrapped around the pole, you’d have thought I was going 90.

after Bob's test drive the car was headed in two directions

            The telephone pole sailed through the passenger door as if it were wide open and cracked my pelvis.  If the salesman had been with me he would have been ketchup.  Another piece of luck, I had my arm up as the door window shattered so the glass severed the tendons of my arm instead of my face and neck.
          

click to enlarge

  The dealer was really pissed off.  "You owe me for the car," he said.  I didn't blame him for being pissed off and I didn’t think it was my fault. But I couldn’t be sure.  We settled out of court for the two or three grand profit he would have made on the car if he’d sold the car.

              My friend, playwright and professor Dave Ward, pointed out that there had been several mysterious Turbo Mustang crashes in that first month after the new Turbo Mustang came out. Dry road, no other traffic, driver sober and alert, car found upside down in a ditch, that kind of thing.  A year later I learned that there had been a production computer error on the very first turbo Mustangs. A proportioning galley in the brake system was too small, (or too big, I forget) causing the right front brake to lock up.
   

  Ruth came to see me in the hospital and brought a bottle of champagne.  I was there for a month but I never saw Ruth again.

Cartoonist Don Silverstein waves from the drivers side where the door was pried off with the Jaws of Life to get me out of the wreck. He took these shots of the car behind the dealer's showroom. (click all the images to enlarge)

The Blog is Taking the Weekend Off

The blog is off for the weekend, but don't go away.          

                                            

Click on bob judd on the top of this page or click on such gems as  my favorite, How You Look at the Sky. Or just cruise through, maybe come upon some unexpected little gem like an excerpt from The Candle,  In Praise of the Belleville Midgets,  The Midgets of Belleville. Part II,  Truth in Grass: a Kansas adventure, The Story of the Larned Eagle Optic, Hollywood Calls, You Pick up the Phone,
Hollywood Calls, you pick up the phone part 2 maybe my favorite My Short Happy War in Afghanistan or no, wait, wait, Fangio and the Maserati 250 F for the priceless video of Fangio in a polo shirt and helmet, absolutely relaxed driving a Maserati 250F around a beat up old race track with no run off, no barriers, no safety nothing.  My lunch with Rob Walkeris a good one even though it leaves out the Betty Grable stories. Then there's Erno Goldfingers house-and-mine, which throws in Ian Flemming, no extra charge. Riding around Laguna Seca with Jackie Stewart was picked up by Jalopnik.com.
              Or Uncle John's Prayer
             And, of course, the one that started it all, Truck Story 
             Or go visit Elif Batumen, San Francisco's brightest and funniest writer, a fine lady to curl up with for a good read.  Here's Elif's homepage.
             Enjoy, Have a ball.  Bob 

Wait, wait, there's more

You may have missed yesterday's story about newlyweds Jackie and Helen Stewart in Monaco because Facebook would not print the pic on the left, but insisted on a dopey pic of a racing car.  

         Anyway, click on bob judd in the title above then scroll down for yesterday's blog on the story of the newlyweds in Monaco.

The blog is off for the weekend, but don't go away.

Click on bob judd on the top of this page or click on such gems as  my favorite,  How You Look at the Sky Or just cruise through, maybe come upon some unexpected little gem like an excerpt from The Candle ,  In Praise of the Belleville Midgets,  The Midgets of Belleville. Part II,  Truth in Grass: a Kansas adventure, The Story of the Larned Eagle Optic, Hollywood Calls, You Pick up the Phone,
Hollywood Calls, you pick up the phone part 2 maybe my favorite My Short Happy War in Afghanistan or no, wait, wait, Fangio and the Maserati 250 F for the priceless video of Fangio in a polo shirt and helmet, absolutely relaxed driving a Maserati 250F around a beat up old race track with no run off, no barriers, no safety nothing.  My lunch with Rob Walker is a good one even though it leaves out the Betty Grable stories. Then there's Erno Goldfingers house-and-mine, which throws in Ian Flemming, no extra charge. Riding around Laguna Seca with Jackie Stewart was picked up by Jalopnik.com.
              Or Uncle John's Prayer
             And, of course, the one that started it all, Truck Story 
             Or go visit Elif Batumen, San Francisco's brightest and funniest writer, a fine lady to curl up with for a good read.  Here's Elif's homepage.
             Enjoy, Have a ball.  Bob

Helen & Jackie Stewart 's first trip to Monaco

 

               On the way down to Monaco in Jackie Stewart’s jet I asked Helen Stewart why she'd hooked up with the scruffy kid who worked in his Dad's garage in Scotland,  "Oh," she said with a big smile, "I always fancied him."
             Then she told me the story of Jackie’s first win at Monaco.

           
        “We were just married and living in a flat in London, and we were going to drive down to Monaco for the Formula Three race.  But when we got to Dover, Jackie realized the last time he’d seen his passport and wallet they were on the top of the car.  So we hared back to London and his wallet and passport were in the drive.  But now it was too late to book another ferry and Jackie said he’d have to fly.  I said you’re not going without me.  I certainly  was not going to stay home while he went to Monaco.
           "Eventually we got a flight that stopped over in Geneva and Jackie got there just in time for the first practice.  This was 1964.  He was driving a Cooper for Ken Tyrell and this was the first time he’d ever driven round the course. 
           "I told him he had to win because we’d spent all our money on the plane and we didn’t have any money at all for the trip back.

            "And he did, he won the Formula Three race. Rob Walker lent us his car for the drive back.  By the time we got to Switzerland, Jackie was so tired he said, “I’ve got to stop. We'll  stop at the first hotel we see.”  So we did. And it looked pretty fancy but we didn’t care.  And we were both so tired I don’t think we noticed what we had for dinner.  In the morning when we checked out, Jackie said the room and dinner were so expensive we had to give them all the prize money.
               "But of course, after that first win, we never looked back."

Helen and Jackie Stewart a few years later with their sons Mark and Paul

1979 Polish Grand Prix. by Forrest Evers

     If Nigel hadn't made all that noise about winning more GPs than Stewart I wouldn't even mention the `79 Polish Grand Prix. It certainly didn't do anything for my career.  But Stewart still won't talk about it and I think it's time to set the record straight. 
     I was nineteen, dragging my first Formula Three car across Europe behind a clapped out Cortina.  I was in Hockenhiem, scrounging the pits for a used half-shaft when Jackie Ickx introduced me to a tall, pale man in a pin-stripe suit who said he represented Count Jazelrewski, Grand Nephew of King Karol of Roumania.  He didn't look like he represented anybody, he looked like he had been sleeping in doorways.  So when he asked if I would I care to race in the Polish Grand Prix the next weekend, I had to smile.
     "Is not a joke," he said.  "The Count needs to make up the field.  £500 cash."
     £500 was a fortune. £500 meant I could swap my lump of an engine for a Judd worth rebuilding.  But the Polish Grand Prix????
     The plane landed in the dark and slid on the wet grass.  In the semi darkness, I could pick them out moving toward the open door. . . Andretti, Hunt, Ickx, Lauda, Schecter . . . I don't know what they promised Stewart to lure him out of retirement  and ignore the obvious shortcomings in safety (Hunt said it was over £50,000).  Stewart was the first down the ramp, scurrying across the lawn towards what looked like Dracula's house.
      The Count shook hands as we walked into cold entry hall.  He was smiling, saying "Good Morning, thank you for coming.  I am Chairman Polski Fiat, Count Jazelrewski."
      I liked the Count.  He was a short intense man in overalls, with the presence of a corporate chairman, offering us a glass of Jazelrewski `69 in the ballroom for our driver's briefing.  "You must forgive me for rushing you," he said, "but the plane has to be back with Air Poland in Cracow before dark." 
      The Count explained that he had `borrowed' a 77 Ferrari 312 T2, for replication by the Polski factory, "accurate, I assure you, to the last detail."   He and FISA were going to sell the 26 replicas to rich collectors in the West to demonstrate Polish engineering skill, attract foreign capital etc. etc.  My mind wandered to the doorway where a hauntingly beautiful young woman was fiddling with the button on her blouse and staring at me. 
       The Count droned on; limited crew and flag marshalls, a cameraman at each of the more important corners to record the event, "maybe to sell to TV." 
      "No spectators," he said,  "Too bad.  The regime maybe not understand importance to Polski Fiat, to Poland and World Peace.  6.3 kilometres to the lap, 70 laps.  Qualifying would be from 10 to 11.  Perhaps you wish to walk the course before."
       The "course" ran from the front of the castle down to the lake where it plunged into the gloom of the Polish forest, emerging after a mile long uphill straight on a high ridge, two fast curves along the ridge, then it dove down through the forest again to a nasty decreasing radius turn in the semi darkness before the track emerged again from the forest, swept along the shore of the lake and rose up to the "pits" in front of the castle.  Something like a narrow Spa with wild boar droppings.  
       Practice was tough.  The cars were accurate replicas except for the last detail.  The tires were the best racing tires in Poland; stolen off the limousines of foreign diplomats.  I had never driven a Formula One car before, let alone on street tires, and qualified 21 out of a field of 21.  As Marjeanna was later to point out, I had a lot to learn.
       There was a wall of tire smoke at the start.
         I saw very little of the race.  My tires seemed to be made of a wood substitute and it didn't make much difference whether I stood on the brakes or put it into a broadslide, it wouldn't slow down.  Which didn't matter because flooring the accelerator just spun the wheels. It was a pig on ice. I did three cautious laps and Stewart flew past me. In the two corners I was privileged to watch, he was so smooth he never seemed to touch the ground. I went off trying to replicate his technique, spinning into a marsh at the end of the lake. 
        When I got back to the castle to wash off the mud, a slender hand on my shoulder stopped me. "I am Marjeanna, daughter to the Count," she said.  "I want to show you the other Poland." 
        Later, flying back to Berlin in, none of the drivers, not even Stewart, would speak to me.  And when I go back over the day two questions go through my mind. Did the Count and Marjeanna set up the bedroom scene, the Count knocking the door off its hinges, to get out of paying us?  And do FISA, in their archives, have a record of the race which had gone 47 laps, Stewart leading every one, before the Count ran out on the course, waving his arms and screaming, stopped the race?  Either way it is all on film somewhere in the castle.  I would love to see it. 

The Blog is off for Labor Day Weekend. Back on Tues. Sept. 7

                  While the blog takes a break, you will find a truffle or two scrolling down through earlier blogs.   
              The best one is  "The News". Scroll down to the bottom of the page and click on "older posts." 
              Then there's the lap around Laguna Seca with Jimmy Vasser. And Jackie Stewart showing you how Keke does it with feathers and blood. And an in-car video with Juan Manuel Fangio in his Maserati 250F, Jimmy Clark, James Joyce.

               Scroll down, you'll find them.  And the Bugatti Veyron, lit like Michaelangelo's La Pieta.
               Monza's coming up next weekend so you might also take a look at Grand Prix Plus 
                GP+is a fine, 80 page, in depth report on the Formula One races a few hours after the race. My friends, Joe Saward, and David Tremayne, have been sticking their noses over the rail at Formula One races since you were in short pants/skirts.  So they have a huge amount of knowledge to draw on.  Here's how they describe their electronic pdf rag:
                'Grand Prix + is an 80 page magazine for passionate F1 fans. Long-established motor sport writers Joe Saward and David Tremayne have joined forces with celebrated F1 photographer Peter Nygaard to bring you the latest cutting edge electronic magazine. Between them they have the cumulative experience of more than 1000 Grands Prix - and they continue to attend every race.'
                      Meanwhile, they've been at it in Omaha.  Check out  The Top 28 Lemons of the Mutually Assured Destruction of Omaha 24 Hours of LeMons for the funniest names in racing.