Denis Hulme, World Champion

Press, Volume CVIII, Issue 31579, 17 January 1968, Page 9

Denis Hulme, World Champion

Relaxing in bls London !' apartment before flying I 1 off to the Canadian Grand i 1 Prix last year, the quiet, 1 husky New Zealand I driver who has since be- ; I come world champion, I < Denis Hulme, told the i 1 London correspondent of “The Press” that if he did 1 1 win the championship it ,< would not change his way ; 1 of life. i 11 •‘I don’t think I would j change, and I don’t think it < would worry me—but it would shock other people who < think that because you arelj

[world champion you should I have big parties .... 1 am .not cut out for that sort of I thing. I “I would just think: well, I i have won it. I wouldn’t go to ! a lot of trouble to show i people that I’d done it.” The words are typical of Denis Hulme. the shy 31-year-old wizard behind the wheel. He was once the forgotten man of New Zealand motorracing, but now he is famous in his own country and all over the world. But before he won the championship, Hulme was not I in the least worried by not

being a well-known personality. “I am inclined to stay in my shell very much, to avoid the public as much as possible .... but now I realise that it’s them that pay to come to see us, so we have got to play along, really.” After plugging away on the circuits in 1966, frequently following his team leader Jack Brabham home for second places, sudden success came to Denny last year. His most memorable race? —“I think Monaco—this was my first Grand Prix win. For so long 1 had sort of been knocking at the door with second places, and suddenly Monaco came up. The fact that 1 led the South African Grand Prix in January for so long a time, 1 thought, well,

this will be it, and of course it didn’t happen; but the very next Grand Prix was Monaco and everything was justified." Hulme said he had no favourite circuit. “I enjoy most continental circuits with perhaps the exception of Spa in Belgium. This is a circuit where I have never done any good at all; and so I just don’t like the idea of going there. Up until this year I had never finished at Nurburgring (Germany) either—in two years of running I had only done a total of nine laps, but this year J completed the race and won it. I have broken the jinx.” Dangerous circuits? “Some circuits have bulit-in dangers which you never can remove, like Monte Carlo with all the streets and brick walls around it, but this is something that goes along with motor-racing. You have to come to accept it. It’s a challenge.” In practice before the Monaco classic last year, Denny could not get his car to handle as wanted at the two hair-pins. He felt he was probably as quick as anybody else on the rest of the circuit but wanted to save time at these two vital points. In 1966 with the "2.5-1 itre Climaxengined’ caWhe had found the quick way round these corners waa to brake very late and slide itrto them, but last year with the 3-litre Repco engine, he Jiad to put extra braking on- the rear wheels until at the last stages of practice he was able to halfspin spectacularly through these points, the Gasometer bend and the Station bend.

Going through the Monaco chicane (where Bandini met his tragic accident) at speed, a driver can find that he has no more than an inch to spare on either side of the car, says Hulme. “You can touch the kerbs and strawbales on the roads without too much damage, but you just cannot afford to touch the chicane at all because the walls will not give one bit. Being on an angle, as you go through it, the more you can straighten the chicane out until you just miss touching both sides, the quicker you are going to get through it ... ”

Denny does not agree with the suggestion that racing drivers are living with danger—“ This doesn’t worry me at all. Providing something unforeseen doesn’t happen, I think any of the top drivers drive within their limits. People may say, well Bandini had that terrible accident—of course. I wasn’t sitting in the cockpit with him, but from what journalists and others said and things like that, he was getting quite fatigued and just did it a bit wrong. ..." Fatigue can be a problem for any driver with the arduous racing programmes and travel all over the world from meeting to meeting. But Denny tries to relax as much as possible. “This is probably why I seem quite casual about most things, especially off the circuit. . . . The air travel doesn’t worry me. As soon as I get oh a plane, or after we have been served a meal, I can sleep until we land.” There are no keep-fit exercises or special physical

training for Denny. “None at all—l think providing you are reasonably fit in yourself you don’t have to do great, bodybuilding exercises or things like that, although obviously you do develop stronger shoulders and probably arms after a while. I don't smoke, but usually after a race I’ll have a glass of champagne or beer with the mechanics and boys.” At the Bugatti circuit at Le Mans for the French Grand Prix, last year, Denny lost the knob from his gear lever early in the race, carried on making about 19 gear changes every lap with the hard rod of metal digging into his palm and ended in second place with his right hand covered with bruises and blisters. Even without such hazards many races are physically gruelling. At the end of last year's Indianapolis race (where he came fourth qfter averaging about 160 m.p.h.) Denny, who had developed cramp in his legs and become tired by wind buffetting, was only too glad to be lifted out of his cockpit after his tight straps were undone. While Denis Hulme would be one of the last drivers ever to be described as a playboy of the track, he says that the days of formula one grand prix drivers “living it up” in their travels about the world are not entirely gone. “If the occasion arises we rdo have some great parties, but the individual glamour boy is definitely on the wayout. It's a much more serious game now.” While Denis has come into contact with other cars occa sionally in races he has never at this time had a serious collision and has never been injured in t race, “i have never stepper.

out of a big heap of wreckage —of course I have knocked the odd wheel and dented the odd chassis, but there have been no really bad moments behind the wheel." What are the Hulme tactics for winning races? “I don’t really have any race tactics, although I find in formula one' if I can make a really quick start this is a big advantage. If I find I have made an excellent start I really put on the pressure and have a big try from the word go to make a break on the field if possible. Otherwise I j Play it by ear as 1 go along and see what the opposition is doing. “1 don't mind a tussle with another car provided its being done sensibly, but there are two or three circuits in Europe where it can be dohe absolutely stupidly and you would be much quicker lapping all on your own.” Denny considers he should have a lot more driving years ahead of him. He is 31, compared with Jack Brabham, now 41, and Fangio, who was champion at 47. "Each year driving seems to get easier,” he says, so he sees no reason for an early retirement. He was born on June 18, 1936, in Nelson, the son of the Second World War V.C. holder, and christened Denis Clive Hulme (the “1” in Hulme is pronounced, and even placid Denny may begin to fume if people persistently rhynte his surname with “broom”). Soon after his birth, the family which consisted of his parents, Denis and younger j sister Anita, shifted north to I Te Puke, in the Bay of Plenty. Denny was never much of a scholar but showed an interest in engineering and was a natural mechanic. He first learned to drive at the age of eight in an old Chevrolet, At 15 he obtained his private driving licence and at

18 his heavy traffic licence. . On leaving school he drove for his father’s haulage contracting business for a time, and then worked in a local garage where he repaired not only cars and tractors but also washing machines. Next he returned to take over the maintenance of his father’s transport fleet. Today Denny attributes his success in racing to those early days in New Zealand. “I can remember being a real idiot on the roads at home. I used to drive a lot quicker than the average general motorist —I had a suitable car—and I can remember spinning it once on a wet road. 1 have never had an accident.” He always wanted his own sports car but hided his time until February, 1955, when he bought a new M.G. TF, one of the first. six shipped to Auckland. With this he was soon winning hill climbs and this led him to sprints and eventually club races. In December, 1957, he drove the M.G. on the circuit at Ardmore and won outright. From thqt day on he was determined to become a professional driver. The M.G. TF was followed by an M.G. A and this was traded in for a CooperClimax, in which he rapidly made his name, winning the Vic Hudson Memorial Trophy at Levin in early 1960. The New Zealand International Grand Prix Association then decided to send Hulme and George Lawton to Europe, just as they had sponsored Bruce McLaren in 1958 (under the now abandoned Driver to Europe scheme which was financed ’rom car park admission money at the New Zealand Grand Prix). The pair were soon a force in their black and white Coopers until

Lawton was tragically killed at Copenhagen the following September. Denny returned home for the 1960-61 season and clinched the New Zealand championship driving a Yeoman Credit car for the late Reg Parnell. But then he returned to Europe and became a forgotten man in New Zealand motor racing; no-one showed much interest in having him come back to race and he began a long, heart-breaking struggle for success in formula junior racing in Britain. Brabham had taken Bruce McLaren into the Cooper racing team in 1959 and formed a high opinion of Kiwi drivers. He took Hulme on as a Brabham team mechanic in 1962, and Denny worked on his own car in his spare time. As Jack's confidence in Denny grew, he became promoted to one of his racing mechanics and then a works formula junior driver. His aggressive driving made him recognised as one of the best in Europe in this closely contested category. Formula two was born in 1964 and then Denny really got into his stride. He carried the Brabham banner with credit, winning at Clermont Ferrand and runner-up to Jack himself in the French formula two championship.

Between races he was still a factory mechanic and gaining much experience as a test driver, for which he is particularly suitable. At first it seemed he would never break into formula one, but in 1965 he partnered Dan Gurney in the work Brabham team in six championship events, finishing fourth in the French and fifth in the Dutch Grand Prixs and being placed eleventh in the year’s table. The 1966 season was Denny’s first full season in for--1 rnula one and he finished

fourth in the drivers* table, with 18 points. His best performance was a second to Jack Brabham in the British Grand Prix, but he regarded his hardest drive as Monza, where a team effort by the Ferraris prevented him from challenging for the lead and eventually put him back into third—although it was a near thing. The race he enjoyed most in 1966 was the Mexican Grand Prix in the closing stages when he was catching up Richie Gintber in the Honda. "Eventually he realised that I was only a couple of seconds behind and pat on a spurt with about six laps to go. It was a good tussle, which began to close the gap on the leaders, and during which Richie set a new lap record. I only just managed to pinch third place from him on the last lap. . .” And 1966 was also a memorable year for Denny in formula two and sports car racing, perhaps his best successes being his win in a LolaChevrolet of the R.A.C. Tourist Trophy at Culton Park, England. In the 24hours race at Le Mans, Denny was in the secondplace car, just beaten by the two other New Zealanders, Bruce McLaren and Chris Amon, making this very much a Kiwi triumph. Denny’s style of driving is now often compared with that of Jack Brabham. "This is of course because I virtually started coming up in my career with Jack. I copied his way of setting up a car and I copied his style of driving —partly because he has shown me the way it should be done. We look the same in the cars, from the various photographs I have seen." Denny does not regard being “number two” driver in Jack’s team as a great dis-

advantage, and says that in formula one it is “every man for himself” and it has not arisen that he has had to slow down to let his team leader pass him. “It is only the odd occasion where Jack may say ‘We have only got one of this—l’ll have it to try out and you can have it next week’ and this is where you think maybe the product will give him a few horsepower or something else and so you are at a disadvantage for a week and therefore you feei like a number two driver. But I must say that in 1967 we have always had similar cars and similar equipment and if something goes wrong with Jack's he doesn’t suddenly rush over and say ‘l’ll have yours’; so in a way we are both individuals in one team.” Denny travels thousands of miles each year. The longest he has been in London, where he maintains an apartment in Surbiton, has been about four weeks, between March and April last year. Since then he has been away at least every week-end. Sometimes his wife Greeta, who is also from Te Puke, accompanies him to meetings, but since son Martin was born this has become more difficult, and Greeta is more likely to watch Denny on television. Of Greeta, a charming blonde, Denny says: “It’s rather strange. We went to school together apparently. I can’t remember her although she can remember me ... I met her at a dance in Tauranga about 1958—she was a nurse. I came over here, then I went back and we got engaged. She came over to England nursing and private nursing, and then we both went back home to New 'Zealand and got married. We have been back and forth quite a lot of times. Martin was born in New Zealand."