DRIVEN TO EXCELLENCE

[Music] [Music] automobile racing. A world of extraordinary men and the cars they drive. Paul Newman, Mario Andredy each is deeply involved with automobile racing. For Mario, it has been his entire life. For Paul, racing was a casual interest at first, but it has become a passion. Each has redefined the sport in his own special way. Racing is chaos, danger, tension, confusion, and Drey in the middle of all this is calm, supremely capable, drawing strength from the madness. Newman is the man with everything and he shows that racing offers a challenge that is worth risking everything to meet. Both men are driven to excellence. The Indianapolis Motor Speedway once each year it is filled overflowing. To this crowd of more than 300,000, automobile racing is something very special. It is the whiff of danger in the air. It is the cars, starkly purposeful yet extremely beautiful. It is the men who will race, unusual men, gifted physically with superb eyesight, balance, reflexes, hand-to- eye coordination. Men for whom the racing of a car satisfies deeply felt inner needs that cannot be met in any other way. Mario Andredy, world champion and former indie winner. here about to start his 18th Indy500 is a man who it would seem was born to race. By contrast, Paul Newman, who is part owner of Mario's team, fell in love with racing relatively late in life. He was 47, and yet he has become one of the country's top sports car drivers. Two very different men, yet both share a fascination with racing, and both have whatever special knack it is that enables certain people to control cars at speeds utterly beyond everyday experience. At Indie, Mario had qualified 11. Disappointing for a man used to starting up front. But the explanation lay in the newness of the car, a Lola imported from England. 6 weeks before, at the team's first race, Paul and Mario discussed the season ahead, knowing full well that the newness of their car would be a handicap, at least at first. >> As the Indie race neared the halfway point, Mario in the Lola was running laps at better than 196 mph. But such was the pace of the race. The highest he had been at any stage was sixth. Nevertheless, the car was running reliably, and there was still plenty of time ahead. When Mario was hit from behind, he slammed into the wall, then slid helplessly down the track. The other driver, Johnny Parsons Jr., emerged okay. And then Mario stepped out uninjured from his car, but it had been a close call. I saw that crash at Indie and for a second I thought to myself, he's done it this time. Hello, I'm Sam Posey. And one thing being a racing driver myself has taught me is that nothing, not your skill, not your fame, not people crossing their fingers for you up in the stands, can make you immune to crashes like that. They go with the territory, so to speak. Have a look at what happened to Paul later in the season at Road Atlanta, and you'll see what I mean. These were the national championships and in qualifying against the best amateur drivers in the country, Paul had set a new track record as he took pole position seemingly with ease. But that had been on a dry track and on the morning of the race, it was pouring rain. The car had worked perfectly in the dry. This was a whole new ball game. Other drivers might have been discouraged by this turn of events. Paul took it in stride. An hour before the race, the rain tapered off. As the cars were taken to the grid, it looked as if the race would be run on a track that was partly dry, partly damp. Paul made a point of showing confidence. In the psyching game, you learn to keep your doubts to yourself. As they swept down the hill toward the green flag, Paul got a perfect start and quickly consolidated his lead. At this stage, he seemed in control of the race. But on the ninth lap, his closest pursuer was right on his tail. As the two cars headed toward the hairpin, it was the moment of truth. Both were racing for the lead. In the collision, both cars were damaged. Moments later, Paul was limping toward the pits, driving blind, his hood having blown back over the windshield when two other cars, still very much in the race, came rushing up behind and tangled violently. Debbie flew through the air as Paul, only able to see through the left side window, continued toward the pits, unaware that this was one of the closest calls of his career. Fortunately, neither of the drivers was hurt. Mario at Indie, Paul at Road Atlanta. These were the times things went wrong. The real essence of racing, however, is not chaos, but order. Not danger, but danger held in check by the skill and courage of the participants. The racing driver is only rarely the victim of fate. More often, he makes his own luck, his own destiny. He is someone who is in control. In control of his car, in control of himself. The love of control may begin very early. Any kid who has just learned to ride a bike has felt the first rudiments of the sensation. The more speed, the more power your beck and call, the better. A go-kart is better than a bike, and a sports car maybe comes next. The top of the ladder is the racing car built for professional racing. These are machines designed to be highly responsive to the driver. The steering is fast. The suspension transmits every undulation of the road. The seat is fitted to the individual driver. The instruments can be seen with barely a glance away from the road. After a few laps, the driver is aware of the car in only the most subliminal way. Really, it has become an extension of himself. And he is going through the corners at 120 mph. He controls centrifugal force. He cuts through the wind. In the perfect merging of the man with the machine, the man becomes the master of movement. [Music] [Applause] [Music] This was Riverside, California. The race, one of a series called the Trans Am. Paul, like Mario in the Indie Car Series, was running a new car, a turbocharged Dodson. And in this race, it was performing well. [Applause] [Music] [Applause] [Music] at the checkered flag. He was third, beaten only by the two cars that had dominated the entire championship. On the winner stand with David Hobbs and Willie T. Ribs, Paul looked pleased. And Willie Ribs, well, the control he shown in the car, there was no need for that now. The control of the immense energy of a racing car has its correlary in the arts. Consider the actor in a powerful role. Paul, of course, has dealt with both. >> How you really set me up, kid. >> I asked his wife, Joanne Woodward, how he prepares. >> Do you think there's anything in his acting background that might have helped him in racing? >> Uh, possibly. I think the the discipline of acting more than anything because act acting is a an enormously disciplined thing to do in terms of work of preparation and Paul is extreme about preparation for any film whether he's acting or directing and uh I think all of that kind of preparation lends itself to the work that you have to do as a racer that you can't just leap into the car and start driving you know you really have to know what it's about. It is interesting to see Paul making a movie as he is here on the set of Harry and Son. He pays strict attention to the smallest details, willing to put in tremendous amounts of behind-the-scenes time in order that the final product be as good as possible. This is the mark of a confident man, someone who knows that he is capable of giving the sort of performance that will justify the work that goes into preparing for it. Consider this clip from the completed movie. >> Senior editor Oh, it's a real pisser, ain't it? >> Yeah. The actor and the racing driver both must do what they do entirely on their own. In racing, there are teams, of course, just as there are production companies in the movie business. But just as the actor is finally alone in front of the camera, the racing driver is alone in his car. The racing team operates sequentially with responsibility shifting in stages from the designer to the fabricators to the mechanics and lastly to the driver. [Music] Alone in his car, the racing driver is also alone in the pits before the race. And signing autographs and making small talk with strangers only seems to deepen the isolation. But this is as it should be. In the hours before a race, the driver begins to shut himself off from anything that could affect his concentration. In any case, the people he knows best at the track are his own mechanics, and they are preoccupied with the last minute preparation of the car. At the track, the car is the driver's alter ego. It receives as much attention or more than he does, and any success he may achieve must be shared with the car. On one hand, the driver wants the best car he can get. But when it is too good, the driver's role is diminished. Paul Newman once won a race with a car he described as being so good, surely Temple could have won with it. And he wasn't happy when he said it. One solution is to be closely identified with your car. To be a great test driver. Mario Andredy is this way. This was a track called Road America in central Wisconsin. On the card for a midsummer weekend of racing, an unusual double header, a race for the Indie cars with Mario competing, and a Trans Am in which Paul would race. These events were held on the same day, although not at the same time. Paul began his race in fourth behind the Camaros of Hobs, Ribs, and Forbes Robinson. Mario in his race later in the afternoon started from the pole. The Lola now much improved as a result of extensive testing. Both cars have been carefully prepared by their respective crews. And at first both appeared to run perfectly. Paul continued in fourth in the Trans Am, although dropping back slightly, while Mario and his race dropped back to third. What no one in the Baz crowd could know was that aboard Mario's car, there was a problem. The clutch had failed, and now Mario was having to mesh the gears cautiously with each shift. Paul was suffering no such handicap. His car was running perfectly until until with no warning. The most trivial thing happened deep in the engine compartment. The air intake hose collapsed and the engine just stopped. Not with a bang, not boring smoke. The spectators might have imagined that Paul had pulled off for no reason at all. While Paul, who only moments ago had been in full command of 600 horsepower, could only sit on the grass and hope for a ride back to the pits. A broken clutch may be a lot more expensive to fix than a collapsed intake hose, but it doesn't stop the car. Nor would Mario's next problem, the failure of the valve that controls the turbocharger boost. This meant his engine was making less horsepower and his speed was slower on the straight. He tried to radio the crew so repairs could be made during a pit stop, but the radio wouldn't work. Other drivers might have been furious with the car or mad at the crew or even aware that the crowd, not knowing what was wrong, might think the driver himself was slowing down. But Mario and did not waste his energy in this way. At each pit stop, he would face the problem of getting the clutchless car underway again without stalling. Tricky and timeconuming. Strangely, however, despite Mario's problems, he was moving up as breakdowns and crashes thinned the field. His crew signaled that he was fourth, then third. Paul stood with Mario's crew and marveled at Andre's skill. But you got to remember for over a third of that race I was driving with no clutch. And for him to park that thing, take on fuel, get a push, mesh the gear exactly in first gear and not stall it and still go uphill out of the pits at Elcart. And that to me is I can't describe the reverence that I feel for anybody that is able to do anything like that. That's just extraordinary. Knowing how to cope with a problem like a broken clutch is one thing. But racing an imperfect car and not letting it mar your concentration, that's another. Mario naturally has been through it all before in the course of his long career. In racing, character can mean as much as pure speed. Usually, the driver must share his glory with his car. Today, this victory is a triumph of tenacity more than anything else. When you win, you forget all about those things. Uh all of a sudden, you didn't have any problems. Uh but again win is always a win. It's like the first time is you know just uh that's why we want to keep doing it because it's a great reward. [Applause] I'm not bored with what I'm doing and I'm thankful for that. I don't need a hobby per se. I do other things. I don't have a steering wheel in my hands every day. But uh but again I think I do this probably more than anything else. In a full summer of racing, there is no time off. Consider the travel. The Trans Am was comprised of 12 races, 11 in the US, one in Canada. The Indie cars raced 13 times, and both Paul and Mario added numerous other races to their schedules. In his life of non-stop traveling, there are times when a racer hears his crew chief's knock on his motel room door, looks around in the halflight of early morning, and has no idea where he is. It is a life of restaurant meals, of hurried phone calls home to your family. Interviews with the local media lose their meaning as you hear yourself using stock answers to questions you've answered dozens of times before. Questions like, "How's your car? Why do you race? Aren't you afraid?" For the teams, today's racing season is a logistical maze. The big semis that carry the cars crisscross the continent on the road day and night. In this world of never- ending change, there are a few constants. The crowds are always there. Both Paul and Mario are adored by the fans who chant, "We love you, Mario." and hound Paul for autographs. In fact, much of the strength each man brings to racing comes from a sort of collective consciousness of people rooting for him. Standing around the car while adjustments are made. This you do by the hour. Drivers chat with each other, but it's rarely more than small talk. You want to keep your guard up, not let the other man know what you're really thinking. But it is being in the car that is the real essence of the driver's summer. The tracks change under your wheels and the scenery flashing by looks a little different. But always there is that roar in your ears, the feel of the wheel in your hands, the sweaty cocoon of the cockpit. Mostly there is that deep welling of personal effort, of trying as hard as you can possibly try, afraid of failure, dreaming of success, too busy with the road ahead to think of anything else. Now and then that road leads you somewhere special. Somewhere where everything seems that much more vivid, Indian. It's like that there. And for Paul, Limerock. Limerock is a track set in the northwestern corner of Connecticut. You could call it Paul's home track. He lives about an hour and a half away. And this is where he first raced. Joanne usually comes to watch him race here, and this time was no exception. Superstar or not, Paul is like the rest of us in that he loves to do well when he races in front of his family. This was Labor Day. The race, not a Trans Am, but a national, which is run to slightly different rules and requires a different car. Hall raced nationals whenever he could wedge them in between other events. His early successes were in races like this. And even with the pressures of his schedule, he continues to race nationals, thriving on the challenge of running two different cars in the same season. Here's Mario talking about Paul. Uh, a lot of people think have a tendency to really say, well, of course, Paul Newman will have the best. He does have good equipment. Uh but he uh he's doing a good job with that equipment and um and that's the important thing. So again, he blends into the quality as a race driver in quality equipment. He has the results to to show for that. Paul has raced and won nationals at Summit Point, Brainard, Mid Ohio, West Palm Beach, Riverside, Mid America, Watkins Glenn. Twice he has won national championships. On this day at Limerock, it was another convincing victory and the winner's circle looked like a family reunion. >> This was the start of the Las Vegas Indie Car race. Mario third fastest in qualification. They're off. Tio Fabi, the Italian, takes the lead. John Paul, the rookie sensation, is second. Mario fourth into turn one. A moment later, he's sixth. It's a short track, roughly a mile long. Five turns, all left-handed. This is the desert out behind the parking lot at Caesar's Palace. A strange artificial place for a track, but this is great racing. Last turn, first lap. John Paul now leading. Derek Daly second. Bobby back to third. Pete Halls fourth. Now Mario. Close traffic at 120 mph. This is where the driver needs all his driving technique plus his sense of tactics and the knowledge of his opponent. Cockpit temperatures are high, 130° or more. The driver's heart rate is three times normal. The car changes steadily as the fuel load lightens. The brakes wear down. The tires lose their early grip. There's oil on one of the turns, sand on another. The wind changes direction. The driver accommodates all this with a steady flow of decisions. He breaks earlier here, later there. He changes his approach to the turn, not by yards or feet, by inches. It's a game of details, thousands of them. But the challenge doesn't daunt the driver. It exhilarates him. This is what he lives to do. This is what he can never describe, never even remember afterwards. It is to be lived now and only now. The risk, the endless travel, the anxiety of his family, all this is part of an equation which is rendered meaningless now. And then there is something else. We love it. He doesn't just uh win or lose. You want to win. And if you don't win, you're just mad. And and you're not a good loser because if you're a good loser, you're a fool. Winning. That's something dreamed about a lot in this city of lights. But the racer's vision of winning is different. It's something to be achieved on his own terms, not with the turn of a card. Late in the race now, Andreddy Le, a man driven to excellence. World champion 1978, winner of the Indie 500, winner dozens of major races around the world. These achievements, like Paul's best movies, don't cushion a failure, they make it harder. Because when you succeeded, you know what it's like. That's why a winner will always take a loss harder than someone used to losing. One pit stop to go. The driver has become so accustomed to speed on the track that it's being stopped that seems strange. He won't feel right again till he's back at speed. Last lap and the checkered flag. Mario Andredy wins another one. I think uh we had the best car out here today for sure. And uh that's tremendous satisfaction for all of us. Everyone that worked so hard to make this happen. And uh that seems like makes up for all the lost ground that we had up to now. >> What a moment for Paul and Mario who had started the season so badly. Through their mutual efforts, they had turned it around. Each spoke highly of the other. >> He is something that is out of a different mold. I mean, he is such a complete professional and >> he's very valuable because at least when we talk shop, uh, certainly does understand what I'm talking about and, uh, >> and he keeps the crew up and keeps them mindful. I mean, I'm just lucky to have an association with him. >> U, he's he's been great. He's, uh, he's been a total asset to the team. Uh, not only just as an owner, just to have him around. Two men, two lives that came together through the shared passion for a very special sport. [Music] [Applause] [Music] Heat. Heat. Heat. Heat. [Music]