With a title that includes the phrase “in Camera”, you would expect that a Paul Parker’s volume rises and falls with the quality of the photographs; perhaps relying on classic or iconic imagery to tell the familiar tales of post-war sports car racing. You know, playing it safe. The author almost apologetically points out that, by simple availability, color photography of the era wasn’t widely adopted enough to tell the tale only through color shots. The lack of color in the early years doesn’t hurt at all, and the photography is indeed marvelous. Even better, the author did not simply play it safe and instead edited away many of the overly familiar photos of cars and star hotshoes in favor of showcasing the breadth of cars and drivers competing in this glorious era. It is because of this that we see Skodas and Rileys and DB Panhards in marvelous representation here alongside the more familiar Ferraris and Astons and Jags. Damn, those OSCAs are beautiful, aren’t they?
With the photo selections smartly chosen and presented. How then, to best craft the story around these snapshots? The typical approach is to write statistic-filled prose that almost all readers will skip over and cut straight to the visuals. Here, however, is where Paul Parker’s book goes from good to great… Masterful, even. Virtually the entirety of the text is the captions of the photos. Rather than simply identify the driver, car, and race and move on. Parker points out in great detail the background story of the photo, the tale of the race, minor detail points of interest in the background. It is this detail and storytelling method that makes Sports Car Racing in Camera 1950—50 so bloody excellent. Observing small details in the photo, and inviting the reader into the story through them invested me in the story of the photo far more than I thought a simple photograph could. When Parker directs my attention to a can of tire black on the floor of the workshop, the unusual color of a drivers’ suit, the flurry of activity in the pits, I become a more active observer of the photograph, and I become more rooted in the time and place of the event.
This marvelous storytelling device makes Parker’s book feel very little like flipping through a coffee-table book and very like thumbing through the personal photo album of a knowledgeable friend regaling you with stories of great exploits from a personal perspective. It’s an odd sensation, but the feelings I got when reading through the book was much more like the sensation I have from reading well-crafted fiction than from what could have all too easily been just another reference book.
The book is not completely devoid of the facts and figures, each year closes with the major teams, drivers, and results of the year’s major events—usually centering around the world sportscar manufacturer championship, which was just forming in 1953. The balance, though, is such that the racing, as told through these photos and captions, is much more about the stories of the era than it is about who won or what their lap time was. This balance is usually a missed opportunity, with books either becoming an almanac of stats, or an author’s interpretation of the events. Parker has done a masterful job of giving just enough facts and figures to back up the photos’ captions.
I’ll just say it: Paul Parker’s Sports Car Racing in Camera 1950—59 is certainly my favorite automotive book of the year, and perhaps the past several years. I highly recommend it to even the most casual fan of vintage sports car racing. Exceedingly well worth picking up. Somebody will definitely thank you for this holiday gift.
Ok, maybe I’m being overly generous calling it a “factory”, but I’ve not seen this shot of the Reventlow Automobiles workshop showing a pair of Scarabs under construction. Life magazine photographer Bill Bridges captured this shot in October 1958. Chassis #001 had already been racking up victories since February of that year, but Numbers 002 and 003, although they would have both had their debut races by October, might still have been in development. Is this Scarab #002 and #003 we’re looking at here? What a treat it must have been to be hanging out with the boys that afternoon.
I’m not enough of a trainspotter to be able to identify the individuals in the shot here, let us know in the comments if you have a better eye than I do.
For a 51 year-old event, you wouldn’t think that I’d continue to stumble on information and imagery of Hans Herrmann’s dramatic crash at the end of the south straight of AVUS in the 1959 German GP. But, as we saw last week, and last year, there’s always something new to find in the world of vintage motorsport.
Images of the salt flats always have an other-worldly air about them. The landscape is so emphatically surreal. When combined with very recognizable icons in the form of 1930s coupes, the effect is almost always unsettling: Reminiscent of some of the best aspects of the visuals of THX-1138. These shots though, by Christopher Wilson elevate it to something entirely new. They are haunting; at once real and unreal, sterile and weathered. Amazing.
Via A Time to Get, which has a few more shots that will have to tide you over while Christopher’s site is under maintenance.
Flight 427, now departing through gates 1, 2, 3 and 4.
Pardon the word play, but Flight 427 is our way of informing you that Corvette can now be ordered with a 427-cubic-inch Turbo-Jet V8. We threw in the bit about the gates just to let you know our fully synchronized 4-speed’s a must with this rig.
The regular-version 427 dispenses 390 jp and 460 lbs-ft of torque on hydraulic lifters, while the special-cam edition turns out 425 hp and the same amount of torque on solid lifters. Which one you order depends on whether you spend your time on the observation deck or the flight line.
Otherwise, we recommend our trusty 327 cubic-incher, available at ratings of either 300 or 350 horsepower. More than enough to slip the surly bonds with, eh, Orville?
You’d better believe it.
Corvette Performance The Chevrolet Way.
’66 Corvette. Fasten your seatbelts. They’re standard.
I love that they openly mock anyone who would even consider the standard 427, or—heaven forbid—the 327. Wusses. We need more open mockery of potential consumers in today’s advertising.
When I started The Chicane a few years ago, it was mainly a way to do something worthwhile with all the time I was spending looking at, working on, and dreaming about vintage racing machines. In the time that has passed since, I’ve found that I get just as much out of your comments and emails as I do in the writing of it.
I get my say a lot on here, but I’d love to hear more from you about what you think we can do to improve The Chicane.
Take a few minutes, if you will, to respond to a little survey I’ve put together to help The Chicane become a better place.
Matt at Hell For Motors hipped us to this marvelous clip of Clark at Imola. The lack of audio is heartbreaking, but you’ll make it through somehow.
A local commenter on YouTube points out what should be obvious, but always seems to be overlooked: How startlingly different from the modern Imola this is—which has just undergone another round of updates in the past few years. Much more like a drive in the country than the contemporary, sterile, track. When does the movement to backdate racetracks start? Where can I sign up to help?
In October 1964, Road & Track published a marvelous comparison of the season’s Grand Prix cars as the drivers see them. It’s interesting to see the variety of subtle differences in both instrument layout and the hints at differences in construction. Notice the cramped quarters of the Ferrari 156 with it’s aluminum fuel tanks encroaching closely on the drivers hips versus the relatively roomy frame of the Cooper. Similarly, check out the even spacing between instruments in Clark’s Lotus 24, each with a small attached label versus Gurney’s Brabham tighter, more random, cluster with hand painted instrument labels looking very low tech, shade-tree hot rodder. As pointed out in the original article, it’s interesting that John Cooper seems to have greater trust in his drivers than the other teams, as indicated by the lack of a shift gate (although I don’t see one on the Brabham either).
Sound engineer turned Ferrari restorer Tom Yang visited Monticello Motor Club with his friends Jim and Sandy. Tom says, “Jim and Sandy prepared to do some exploratory laps in their cars. We were surrounded by modern GT3 Porsches, and some newer street cars taking their laps around the track, but when the GTO and Cobra were unloaded from the transporter, people stopped to watch!”
I should hope so. Shall we take a lap in the GTO? Probably.
More photos (in heartbreakingly small sizes) at Tom Yang’s Ferrari Restoration (careful or you’ll lose a few hours digging through his archives).
Ed Foster from MotorSport took part in August’s Citroen 2CV 24 Hour race at Snetterton. MotorsTV just posted the footage and it looks like a whole lotta fun.
With a title that includes the phrase “in Camera”, you would expect that a Paul Parker’s volume rises and falls with the quality of the photographs; perhaps relying on classic or iconic imagery to tell the familiar tales of post-war sports car racing. You know, playing it safe. The author almost apologetically points out that, by simple availability, color photography of the era wasn’t widely adopted enough to tell the tale only through color shots. The lack of color in the early years doesn’t hurt at all, and the photography is indeed marvelous. Even better, the author did not simply play it safe and instead edited away many of the overly familiar photos of cars and star hotshoes in favor of showcasing the breadth of cars and drivers competing in this glorious era. It is because of this that we see Skodas and Rileys and DB Panhards in marvelous representation here alongside the more familiar Ferraris and Astons and Jags. Damn, those OSCAs are beautiful, aren’t they?
This marvelous storytelling device makes Parker’s book feel very little like flipping through a coffee-table book and very like thumbing through the personal photo album of a knowledgeable friend regaling you with stories of great exploits from a personal perspective. It’s an odd sensation, but the feelings I got when reading through the book was much more like the sensation I have from reading well-crafted fiction than from what could have all too easily been just another reference book.
I’ll just say it: Paul Parker’s Sports Car Racing in Camera 1950—59 is certainly my favorite automotive book of the year, and perhaps the past several years. I highly recommend it to even the most casual fan of vintage sports car racing. Exceedingly well worth picking up
