Long before the billion-dollar deals there were… buns and biscuits. The early bird might not always catch the worm but, in the case of a young Bernard Charles Ecclestone, the early riser had already done two paper rounds – and then, on the way to school, invested the proceeds in a mixed bag of fresh-from-the-oven comestibles from the local bakery to sell to fellow pupils for an incremental profit.
This enterprise set the tone for a life of visionary entrepreneurship.
Bernie arrived in motorsport as a competitor, racing against the likes of Stirling Moss in Formula 3. At a time when top-level motorsport in the UK was the province of the well-heeled, the establishment’s dismissive attitude towards those who worked for a living was palpable in press descriptions of him as “the Bexleyheath motorcycle trader”.
Two wheels led naturally to four and Bernie soon became one of the UK’s most successful used-car dealers.
“Because of his reputation,” wrote the late Max Mosley in his autobiography, “other dealers would come from all over the UK to try to get the better of him. Some of them ended up phoning him from a motorway service area on the way home to clarify exactly what deal they’d done…”
Big fish, small pond. Second-hand cars represented trifling transactions to an individual with Bernie’s gifts. Commerce in motor racing would become his metier – but this world’s denizens didn’t know it yet.
During the 1950s Bernie acquired the assets of the defunct Connaught marque and managed the affairs of Stuart Lewis-Evans. Connaught’s cars were uncompetitive in grands prix and the death of Lewis-Evans tragically robbed Bernie of a friend, and motor racing of a bright young talent.
Bernie returned in the 1960s as manager of another huge talent, Jochen Rindt, sadly destined to become F1’s only posthumous world champion. In 1969, as Jochen and Bernie juggled offers from teams which seemed incapable of presenting cars that were both fast and reliable, the obvious solution was to go it alone. Rindt’s untimely passing in September 1970 meant he would play no part in Bernie’s next step, the acquisition of the Brabham team. And yet even as the owner of an increasingly competitive F1 marque, Bernie’s potential wasn’t quite fulfilled.
Next he turned his attention to what was effectively a cartel of race promoters. Over the following decades Bernie would unionise the teams to secure better deals, challenge the power of the FIA’s sporting committee (which at that time protected the interests of the promoters at the expense of the competitors), and harness the power of television coverage to grow F1 into a global sporting spectacle.
It's no exaggeration to say Bernie transformed F1 from a cottage industry into a multi-billion-dollar enterprise.
“I think I’ve been bloody lucky," said Ecclestone. "I think it is a case of having people supporting, if they see what you are doing is reasonably correct, they will support you - I think that is what happened.
"It is difficult to remember, everyone has been so kind and nice and helpful so I wouldn’t want to pick out a number one.
“Remember I used to leave halfway through the race when I used to have a team or otherwise as I had done my job so I left. I’ve never been on a podium in my life. I never won anything!”
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