Williams at 40, part 1: Frank’s rise from poverty to power

As a schoolboy, Frank could recite the specifications of almost every road car listed in the weekly motoring publications. Intoxicated by the thrill of movement on four wheels, he would hitchhike rather than travel by train. He recalls receiving a lift in a Triumph TR3A (the sportscar of popular choice in the 1950s) and being “speechless with excitement in this car with its open top, overdrive, four-speed gearbox – and doing 100 mph!” 

In 1967, Frank would have seen the Festival as a place of both worship and business. His adoration of top racing drivers was matched by a desire to be in their midst and speak the language of motorsport.

In fact, Frank was a natural linguist and his fluency had provided a bridge between aspiring young racers from abroad and the British manufacturers of the cars they drove – and frequently crashed. By following the Formula 3 circus as it crisscrossed Europe, Frank would procure spare parts and bring them to the next race – adding a modest sum for his troubles, of course.

His profits eventually allowed the purchase of a racing car that he entered for Piers Courage, the two having struck an immediate friendship as Frank recognised the dashing young Etonian’s burgeoning talent. Together, they would move from F3 to F2 and, in 1969, into F1 in the days when it was possible to buy a Brabham and go Grand Prix racing. 

Actually, that’s not quite true. Jack Brabham had no intention of letting one of his cars go to someone as competitively threatening as Courage. This particular Brabham chassis had been sold to a privateer on the understanding it would be converted for Formula 5000, a domestic series unconnected with F1. Frank, using his considerable charm, helped persuade the man to sell the car, into which Williams then inserted a Ford DFV, bought off the shelf from the manufacturer, Cosworth Engineering. Brabham’s concern was to prove well founded when Courage finished second in the 1969 Monaco and US Grands Prix.

The Williams-Courage partnership was to reach a terrible end the following year when the much-loved Englishman perished as his De Tomaso (Williams having struck a F1 deal with the Italian manufacturer) crashed and caught fire during the Dutch Grand Prix. Frank was totally devastated. But it was no surprise when he quietly gathered himself together and somehow managed to carry on.

The next few seasons would be a massive test of his resolve as he built his own F1 car with money from Politoys, a toy manufacturer. It was such a disaster that the very small team lived hand-to-mouth, Frank frequently having to borrow cash on his return to Heathrow in order to release his car from the car park.

His two mechanics, meanwhile, would scrounge enough from F1 insiders to fund the fuel necessary to get the truck home from a European Grand Prix – but only after they had gone to Goodyear and rooted through the tyres discarded by Ferrari and others in order to find a half-decent set good enough for practice at the next race. Frank would return to the workshop and discover that a visit from the bailiffs, plus unsettled phone bills, made it necessary to conduct his business from a phone box outside the nearby Reading Speedway.

Despite the endless hardships, Frank’s enthusiasm never dimmed. He at least looked the part by setting aside enough money to remain immaculate thanks to using Doug Hayward, the Mayfair tailor famous for celebrity clients. The little hair Williams had left would be expensively coiffured at Trumpers in Curzon Street.

Appearance was everything and the spotless turnout of his cars was enough to have Walter Wolf, an Austro-Canadian millionaire, take a financial interest in the team. That may have paid the long-standing bills and put money in his pocket for the first time but Frank was no longer in charge of his own destiny. In 1976, he went out on his own again.

Taking on board lessons learned the hard way, Frank gradually gathered together enough sponsorship and hired Patrick Head, a bright young engineer, to design a car. With backing from the airline, Saudia, Williams completed the package by signing Alan Jones, a tough young Australian driver who fitted in perfectly with the no-nonsense team.

Williams took their first Grand Prix win in 1979, Jones taking the championship the following year. Having established the triumphant template, there was no stopping Williams Grand Prix Engineering as further wins and world titles followed. 

Frank’s passion for racing would prove to be a double-edged sword in 1986 when, in a moment of over-enthusiasm at the wheel of a hire car in the south of France, he crashed and suffered severe spinal injuries. Frank’s adoration of both his team and the sport would help him come to terms with what he termed his ‘different kind of life’ as a quadraplegic.

No longer could he indulge in a passion for running; no more would he fizz with energy while rushing around, enervating his workfroce in the factory and the pitlane. And yet he remained the very definition of this great team: a fighter; an utterly determined ‘racer’, venerated by his employees and a loyal fan base, all of whom fully approved of Frank’s knighthood in 1999.

There has never been a hint of bitterness about his personal life having changed so much. “Driving too fast. I cocked it up!” he says with that infectious grin. “I’m lucky to be alive and have such a great team around me. I can’t wait for the next race.”

Photography courtesy of LAT Images