Prior to 1908 the two previous Coupe des Voiturettes had been held at Rambouillet late in the year and the event was to be repeated in that year, again sponsored by l'Auto journal, but this time on the Compiègne circuit.  However, the A.C.F. had noted the huge public interest in these nippy little cars and had instituted a 'Grand Prix des Voiturettes' to run at Dieppe as part of the GP de l’ACF. meeting.  This was an opportunity too good to miss for Delage, especially after their success at Rambouillet in 1906 and make up for the mediocre performance in 1907, so a three-car entry was duly submitted.  Giving up on his entreaties about competing cars being off the shelf models Louis co-opted yet another Gad’zarts (Aix), the supremely talented but somewhat eccentric Némorin Laurent Causan, to join a team, basically comprising racing drivers such as Guyot, Thomas, Pellegrin et al, considering the design of a high-performance racing car complying with the current voiturette racing rules.  Causan had been working sporadically for Delage for a year or so and, invoking all his ingenuity and eccentricity, which were to become a hallmark of his design genius, he produced a 1257cc single incorporating 4 valves, 4 spark plugs and two flywheels.  It produced 28 bhp at an unparalleled 2800rpm which was twice that of the 1206cc De Dion twins which were listed in standard Type H form as having 13 bhp.  Causan also drew up most of the chassis and body components and, as can be seen from the above illustration, his car, designated ‘ZC’, was much more ‘modern’ in its appearance and incorporated a lowered and lengthened Type F chassis with slightly reduced front and rear track incorporating Hannoyer anti-choc springs, drilled cross members, hollow Lemoine axle and other weight saving improvements and a much sleeker body with a rounded radiator.  It made the other team cars look somewhat antediluvian. Then, having entered the twins, Louis Delâge decided not to use them in the other two entries but rely on the trusty single cylinder format so two De Dion motors were fitted; specially built and enlarged to 1257cc using a 160mm crank. The experimental Causan-engined car was ready but lead-driver René Thomas then refused to drive it citing the contrived excuse that he didn't trust the 'lightweight' stub axles.  The real reason was that he didn't expect the lightweight ‘Laboratoire’, as he called it, with its one-off engine to last the race.  Thomas was then a 22 year old upstart from Périgueux who never called a spade a shovel but this was a decision he was soon to bitterly regret.  The experimental car was duly entrusted to Albert Guyot, the racing garage proprietor from Orléans. Guyot was also a bit of a rough diamond but a highly capable driver who had been practicing the art for more than ten years. Most interestingly Guyot, who embodied the provincial Frenchman's disdain for the metropolitan elite, said that the Delage team were regarded by the upper classes (as in those inhabiting places like the rue Grande Armée!) and other members of the 'in crowd' as a bunch of 'toquards'!  This was written by Guyot in a letter to La Voiturette magazine only a week after the race.  Now 'toquard' is a most uncomplimentary moniker to put it very mildly and Guyot apologised to his team mates for using it but remarked that it had to be said.  Politely it means blockhead, idiot, oaf, bumpkin...you get the idea.  Maybe Louis, in spite of his social climbing aspirations, had not refined his Bordelais accent sufficiently and with the likes of Thomas and Guyot in the team they were regarded by the 'elite' as oiks!

Such was the diversity within the ranks of voiturette constructors that there were 28 different firms entered, some more in hope than anticipation.  Come the day of the race 5 of them had failed to appear but that still left 47 cars taking the start. The Delage team consisted of Lucas and Thomas in the De Dion-engined cars and Guyot in the experimental Causan machine accompanied by his diminutive riding mechanic the 19 year old Camille Reyrol, also from Périgueux to enhance the ‘toquard’ image.  Principal opposition was expected to come from Grégoire, the Lion-Peugeots of Goux and Boillot (in spite of their already antiquated, for a voiturette, two speeds and chain drive) and the very fast Sizaire-Naudins two of which were driven by their eponymous constructors, Louis Naudin and Georges Sizaire.  Unlike the Delages (and most of the other competitors) which had reasonable and in some cases very attractive bodywork the Sizaires were obviously out and out racers.  In addition to their Decauville-inspired i.f.s. and unique triple pinion rear axle these ingenious machines had big brakes, lightweight vestigial bodywork with the mechanic lying almost prone, wire wheels and a powerful 1414cc engine running a 180mm crank and capable of producing over 30 bhp at 1700 rpm when race prepared.  The Sizaire engines were equally as novel as the Causan motor having as they did twin flywheels, overhead inlet and side exhaust valves, twin spark plugs and no conventional throttle.  The inlet charge was controlled by adjusting the valve opening by means of a cam connected to a quadrant hand lever on the steering wheel.

Guyot had a cunning plan!  His tenet was that ‘you don’t win races by going fast round corners, a very regular average speed is the key to success’ and that he had ‘total confidence in the excellence of the Delage car having tested it for 2300km beforehand’.  It’s doubtful if this restrained plan was communicated to Louis Delâge mind you.  Naudin and the Sizaire brothers took a different view in the light of their spectacular crashes in the Corsa Vetturette Madonie which preceded the Targa Florio back in May.  Georges had set fastest lap from a standing start on Lap 1 and then went off halfway round Lap2 while Louis never even completed the first lap before having an equally lurid shunt.  This time they were going to take it relatively easy by their standards at first and get the feel for the circuit before increasing speed progressively.
The Dieppe Circuit was laid out on public roads, re-bituminised for the Grand Prix meeting and took the basic form of an equilateral triangle with near-hairpin bends at Dieppe, Londinières and Eu.  76.8km (47.7 miles) in length the circuit incorporated a lot of flat-out straights and an elevation difference of around 200 metres as the illustration below of the original circuit superimposed on a modern contour map shows.  Pleasingly it also shows that almost all the original circuit still exists.

Cars were started at 1 minute intervals with Guyot in the #1 Delage being first away.  With a decent lap time of around 1 hour the late starters would have been ‘lapped’ if all 64 original entrants had turned up but the number of starters had been whittled down to 47 so there was no danger of confusing the spectators when the last starter left the pit lane (the latter a novel new feature first seen for this race).  On lap 1 the leader turned out to be Guyot in the Delage who had completed the first lap in 56min 38.4sec. The Orléanais would then go on to reel off 5 more laps with a metronomic regularity hardly, if ever, seen in road racing.  His lap times, over a 77km course, would vary only by 2min 10sec!  This author would wager it would be impossible even today in a Range Rover fitted with cruise control to even approach this stupendous feat.  Guyot’s cunning plan was being executed to perfection.  However, that plan had a flaw; if someone is driving faster you are not going to win.  As he had stated before the start Louis Naudin in the Sizaire had completed a fast but steady opening lap.  He had spotters all round the circuit including his partner Maurice Sizaire who had stationed himself near Ancourt Bridge and with one lap completed he held up the board ‘3 minutes behind Delage 1’.  Naudin then began to increase speed but still nowhere near flat out.  By the end of lap 2 it read ‘1 minute ahead’ and by lap 3 the signal showed ‘5 minutes ahead of Delage 1.  This had all the makings of yet another Sizaire et Naudin walkover when, starting lap 4 and virtually under the gaze of his signaller, a rear tyre let go and Naudin came to a halt virtually under Ancourt Bridge; the tyre had come completely off the rim.  No matter, ‘La Poisse’, bad luck, plenty of time in hand to change a tyre except…the exit from Ancourt Bridge had a steep adverse camber and, the Sizaire having no differential, both wheels had to be clear of the ground.  The car kept falling off the jack so Louis Naudin had to push it to a flat area.  He then grabbed the Michelin air-bottle to inflate the tyre only to find the rubber pipe had been catching on the hot exhaust and burned through.  Effecting a bodge repair with tape he managed to get the tyre inflated and fitted and set off again.  This episode had cost Naudin nearly 15min and he was now 10min behind Guyot but he wasn’t worried as, barring further punctures, he knew he could make up the lost time and re-take the lead.   Now driving with less caution and with the speedo hard against the stop at 120kph on the long straights he began to reel in the Delage.   Louis Naudin shouted to his mechanic Winter “Tout va bien, c'est plus qu'il n'en faut” …was this tempting Fate?

Meanwhile, over at the Delage pit Louis Delâge was getting very agitated.  He had noted with satisfaction that Naudin must have struck trouble having done a 73min lap on lap 4 but he had now banged in a 54min time which, if maintained, would result in the Sizaire catching the Delage of Guyot before the end of the race.  He frantically signalled Guyot to speed up, the car was certainly capable of it, but Guyot was sticking to his Master Plan, come what may!  Not only that but the De Dion 1257cc singles in the other Delages were proving a disappointment with only average power and, worse, poor fuel economy requiring both Lucas and Thomas to stop for fuel thus losing even more time.
As it turned out Louis need not have worried for the dreaded La Poisse was still stalking Louis Naudin in the flying Sizaire. On lap 5 the clutch disengagement, and hence gear changing, became progressively more difficult.  The Sizaires were equipped with wet single-plate clutches running in oil. These were placed directly under the scuttle-mounted fuel tanks and in Naudin’s case the tank had developed a significant leak causing petrol to flow directly into the clutch housing thus washing out most of the oil and diluting the rest.  The intrepid mechanic Winter climbed head first into the foot well with an oil can but this hoped-for finger in the dyke technique was doomed to failure due to the flow of petrol diluting the oil faster than the mechanic could squirt it in.  With a conventional gearbox the car could probably have carried on happily with clutchless gear changes but with the triple-pinion axle that was not possible.  The pinion system was sequential so Louis couldn’t miss a gear out in the changes and had to reduce speed to a crawl to get second at the hairpins with much grinding and gnashing from the back axle.  Then he couldn’t get out of second into top so he had to come to a virtual stop, select top gear and finish the race with no further changes.  One is tempted to wonder why they didn’t try and staunch or deflect the flow of the essence but with La Poisse hanging about they would probably have set the car on fire!  Nonetheless, throwing caution to the winds and staying in top gear, the flying Naudin with his flexible little engine was able to lap in 54.4min and take 4min out of Guyot’s lead but he now had no realistic chance of catching the Delage unless it struck trouble because it had gone past the pits to start the last lap and so was not going to stop for fuel as Guyot’s team mates had; the Sizaire was getting marginal on fuel itself due to the leak.  He had, though, got within 8 seconds of Goux who had inherited second place in the Lion-Peugeot after Naudin’s shenanigans on lap 4.  Goux’s second place didn’t last long but Naudin could make no inroads on Guyot’s lead, in fact his final lap was slower than the Delage, and he finally finished 6.5 minutes behind in second place “at the speed of a wheelbarrow” to quote Louis Naudin after the race.  He then learned that the other two Sizaires had experienced exactly the same trouble resulting in Lebouc finishing 9th and Georges Sizaire 18th.  As Naudin wryly commented in the following week’s La Voiturette magazine “We should have been awarded a special medal for regularity in the breakdown 'contest’!”
Thus the metronomic Guyot crossed the line in first place and there was much rejoicing in the Delage camp for, in addition to the overall victory, Delage had won the ‘Petit Parisian’ team prize for a 3 car team but not the l’Auto Regularity prize which was won by the Lion-Peugeot team.  These were no ordinary prizes but magnificent sculptures commissioned by the ACF and Louis Delâge made the most of the awards ceremony.  Louis, Guyot and his diminutive teenage mechanic Camille Reyrol gracefully accepted the plaudits of the crowd and even Gabrielle, Louis’ wife who, unusually, was present for the event, put in a brief appearance and even had her photo taken with Louis by the Marquis de Dion with his latest gadget camera.  It appeared to be a perfect end to a most successful event and was rounded off by Louis Delâge pocketing 6400 francs as the winnings on a 400 franc bet he’d placed on Guyot at 16:1!  Unfortunately things were going to take a dramatic turn and set in chain a series of events that, it must be said, brought sideways glances if not actual discredit upon some of those involved.

Prior to the event the Marquis de Dion had commissioned a prominent advertising hoarding in front of the pits/tribunes complex.  Nothing unusual in that, he was after all the proprietor of the world’s largest automobile company and he had a huge captive audience for whom to advertise his products.  The hoarding, seen above in the Lucas re-fuelling illustration,  merely proclaimed ‘DE DION BOUTON’ with no reference to the event since none of the expected front-runners in either the Grand Prix proper or the GP des Voiturettes featured any of the company’s products…none that is except Delage.  Overnight, after the victory of the Causan-engined Delage, the hoarding had been enlarged and modified prior to the Grand Prix.  Now it proclaimed ‘The Coupe des Voiturettes was won by a de Dion-Bouton engine in a Delage’!  This preposterous statement was undoubtedly the work of Jules Félix Philippe Albert de Dion de Wandonne better known simply as the Marquis de Dion (actually he was a Comte, the ‘Marquis’ was a courtesy title given to his father which he ‘inherited’ on his father’s death in 1901).  Now before we go into the ramifications of who knew what and when it would be wise to re-acquaint ourselves with the said Comte.  He was a high-ranking nobleman who could trace his ancestry back to a Belgian knight who took part in the ill-fated Fifth Crusade of 1217; he was a member of the House of Deputies (the lower chamber in the French parliament); he was co-founder and Chairman of De Dion-Bouton, until recently the largest car maker in the world and he was ultimately well-connected wielding enormous power behind the scenes in business, commerce and politics.  Though now getting a bit portly he had been a notable sportsman and was particularly famed for his swordsmanship as a duellist.  Yes, even well into the 20th Century French aristos demanded the right to settle perceived insults by duelling.  In fact relatively recent to the Grand Prix de Dion had been involved in an altercation on the lobby of the Lower Chamber with another Deputy M Gerault-Richard which was settled by a duel at Neuilly which de Dion won in the eleventh round.

De Dion was also an ultra anti-Dreyfusard and had a history of violence promoting that cause, if ‘cause’ it can be called.  This had reached its peak when de Dion clouted Président Émile Loubet on the head with his walking stick at the Auteuil Hippodrome horse racing track ten years earlier.  The Comte got 15 days in jail and a fine for his trouble.  However, behind this bluster and entitlement and, notwithstanding his previous playboy image, he had a razor sharp mind for promoting himself and his innumerable enterprises.  Did this include perpetrating an outrageously false advertising claim almost before the cars had cooled down in the paddock?  Possibly; if anyone could bluster their way through any potential disputes it was the Comte de Dion.  However, this author has come to the conclusion, having researched many contemporaneous documents that this simplistic view is almost certainly untrue.  The moot question is:  who actually knew, both before and after the race that the experimental lightweight Delage was not powered by a de Dion engine?  Obviously Louis Delâge and Némorin Causan did, also Legros and a few technicians at the factory and trackside as did the drivers; but did the Comte de Dion know?  I would hazard an informed opinion that he might well not have done.  Of course, the plot could have been cooked up beforehand between Louis Delâge and the Comte should the Causan-engined car be successful but if so it was a highly dangerous game to play.  De Dion may have had influential friends but he also had many equally influential enemies who would be quick to denounce him if they found out subterfuge was afoot.  He would no doubt have shrugged it off with his usual bluster and threats and weathered any storm but it would have reflected badly on the De Dion-Bouton Company.  For Louis Delâge, however, any such skulduggery was courting disaster.  Delage was a rapidly up and coming company destined for great things but was often skating on very thin ice when balancing finance and ambition.  If it was revealed that Louis Delâge had either connived with or, worse, kow-towed to the Comte’s bullying it could have impacted very badly on the Delage Company.  It is thus almost inconceivable that such a plot could have been hatched before Delage’s race victory.

To add insult to injury the De Dion-Bouton Company then proceeded, within days of the race, to take out extensive advertising in the press proclaiming and lauding their ‘victory’.

This, I think, is damning evidence that de Dion and his company did not know that the winning car was equipped with an engine other than that of their own manufacture and presumed that all the Delages were running the special 160mm crank De Dion motors as was listed in the official entry list. 

Now, while there was no advertising standards authority in France until ‘l’Office de contrôle des annonces’ was created in 1935 and snake oil salesmen could claim what they liked (note the Sizaire advert claiming ‘in spite of multiple punctures’ when Naudin only had one) there is no way that the world’s leading motor manufacturer would trumpet a total lie when the facts could easily be determined by any doubters. No, there is absolutely no doubt in my mind that, irrespective of any contract that may, or may have not, existed between the Comte and Louis Delâge the latter had failed to inform the Comte de Dion of the facts.  The euphoria of the prize-giving and post-race celebrations was hardly conducive for Louis to come clean and Le Comte remained firmly of the opinion that his company’s engine had powered the winning car.
Of course there is the other version of events where it is alleged that Louis Delâge could not afford to pay his and his team’s hotel expenses and that the Comte offered to foot the bill in return for Louis allowing his company to claim credit for the victory.  This is almost as preposterous as the advertising since there is no contemporaneous evidence whatsoever of such an event and, at any rate, Louis was more than capable of paying his expenses even without his winnings at the bookmakers. This is most likely an invention by some Delagiste 80-odd years later to put their hero in a better light by quoting force majeure as Louis’ excuse!
Louis Delâge was now in a highly invidious position.  If he owned up to de Dion it would have made the latter look a fool with untold consequences for Louis and his company.  On the other hand Causan had been working for Delage under contract so could not expect personal recognition however unjust that might appear; nonetheless what he most certainly could not expect was that his work would be accredited to someone else!  In the event Louis Delâge chose to keep quiet about the matter and placate Causan with, no doubt, a reminder who was the boss in this situation.  Némorin was a quiet, self-effacing fellow, slightly deaf and not in the best of health; this affair was a very rude awakening for him.  It had been his first job in the cut-throat world of the Paris motor industry.  After graduating in 1901 he’d worked in a soap factory (!) and as a draughtsman for, at first, the Paris-Lyon-Mediterranée railway company and then the French offices of the British company Babcock and Wilcox.  He then had to fulfil his deferred military service before joining the embryo Delage Company on an ad hoc basis in 1906 (he was the draughtsman Louis and Legros took on when Louis was laid low with rheumatic fever).  He ought, perhaps, to have been aware of Louis Delâge’s modus operandi.  This was the world of big business and important men, a position Louis Delâge aspired to with ruthless zeal; if anybody was going to suffer from this mess it was not going to be Louis Delâge! 
Sadly the fall guy was Némorin Causan who was persuaded, or strongly advised, to keep quiet.  To his eternal credit he never mentioned the matter in public again. He attended the celebrations at the Factory and allowed himself to be part of the team photograph before stalking out of the Delage works shortly after the photographs were taken never to return. As can be seen in the illustration below he stood apart from Louis Delâge while the latter attempts to put his arm round Causan’s shoulder…an awkward moment.

Apart from a very short period at Clément-Bayard, Némorin never worked directly for a manufacturer again and set up his own small design office and workshop at 8 Chemin du Tertre in Suresnes (ironically only a couple of kilometres away from the mighty De Dion-Bouton factory on the Quai National) where he would design and build some of the most innovative internal combustion engines ever seen up to that time but that is a subject for the next rambling dissertation. Sadly he never made any money worthy of the name and died on a visit to Cairo at the tragically young age of 55.
Louis Delâge, of course, continued his meteoric career and would soon be living in a chateau and operating his business out of a huge state-of-the-art factory making racing cars that would win ‘La Coupe des Voitures Légères, the French Grand Prix, the Indy 500 and ultimately the World Championship of Makes.  I hope he never forgot the little car that gave him his first victory…and the man who designed it.
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Acknowledgements: la Bibliothèque nationale de France for documents, papers, periodicals and photographs; ‘Les Amis de Némorin Causan’ for details of specifications, papers, patents and reminiscences; Franck Rive for his colossal info base at Forgotten Circuits and Autodiva and all the anonymous workers who maintain the État civil archives…merci à toutes et à tous! 

All text © Colin Musgrove 2019

My introduction to the products of Maison Delage and Pickersleigh Road

“Events, dear boy, events”…Rt. Hon. Harold Macmillan, 1st Earl of Stockton.

Isn’t it remarkable how a chance event in an idle moment can have a dramatic effect on the rest of one’s life?  It was October 1962 and I was footloose and fancy free and some way from being required to earn a living.  Transport was a couple of motorcycles and a Rolls-Royce 20/25 but the latter had just developed a cracked cylinder head.  This was no big deal, I thought, as I had an ‘arrangement’ with a certain ‘Alf’ at my local funeral directors who ran a fleet of 20/25s and, providing one was not spooked by picking one’s way past the coffins most parts were available in exchange for a few notes.  However, in the case of said cylinder head, Alf’s opening gambit was more akin to the price of a decent Austin Seven Special than a few notes.  What to do?  Motorbikes are all very well but they do require a certain amount of paraphernalia, notably in the sartorial department.  T-shirt and jeans may be fine, if somewhat unsafe, for California but the climate of the English Midlands usually demanded sturdier apparel such as was made by Messrs Barbour or Belstaff.  It had also not escaped my notice that girls of the calibre of which I was interested, while happy to be driven around in a Rolls-Royce while I worried about where the next gallon of petrol was coming from, rapidly found something else to do when two-wheeled transport was suggested. 

A small sports car seemed the obvious answer, relatively economical too.  Equally obvious was the choice of make and model…a TA/B/C-Type MG as used by all those dashing RAF types we saw in the films, no contest.  After some protracted maternal haggling sufficient funds were secured, the 20/25 shoved in the garage and off I went to the newsagents to get the latest ‘Exchange & Mart’.  Now, every week there were usually half a column of T-Type MGs for sale from the ‘suit enthusiast’ (basket case) to ‘perfect order (runner)…take your pick, caveat emptor, no guarantee, cash only.  This week there were none!  I couldn’t believe it, not one.   I very nearly took leave of my senses and considered using my cash as a deposit on a 1926 Red Label 3-litre (£425) or even a Healey 100/4 (£250) but common sense prevailed.  Then came that fateful moment; still staring unbelievingly at the page hoping I’d missed something I noticed out of the corner of my eye a telephone number. It was the adjacent Birmingham exchange to my own…just up the road…I looked more closely; ‘Morgan 4/4, Taxed, MoT, Excellent order. £125 o.n.o.’  “Not likely” I thought “a Morgan is the last thing I want to be seen in.”  This jaundiced view of the marque was, it has to be said, based on somewhat arguable foundations; a) total ignorance b) that my father had owned a JAP 3-wheeler of which I had been scared witless as an infant and c) that a recent girl-friend’s brother owned one and he was the most obnoxious oaf I had ever met.  No thanks!

On the other hand…I had 75 quid burning a hole in my pocket…no harm in having a look…need only keep it until I find a decent MG.  I stared at the telephone…and made the call.
An ‘appointment to view’ was duly made as in “See you there in half an hour” and so it was I met ‘NPA 46’ a flat radiator 1949 Morgan 4/4 and its vendor Ashok for the first time.  Ashok was a charming Indian gentleman and I mean ‘gentleman’ of the Nabob and Maharajah variety!  His father was a general in the Indian Army and Governor of Hyderabad while Ashok had just come down from Trinity and was working at GKN as a graduate trainee.  However, charming or not, I didn’t agree with his valuation of the Morgan.  From the front the car looked very sporting but the rear end seemed a bit odd being a sort of 2+2 with a vestigial rear seat.  Not only that but the doors and rear coachwork could best be described as ‘geometric’ i.e. totally flat with sharp corners!  Lifting the bonnet revealed an engine with “Morgan” emblazoned on the rocker cover.

“What engine is that?” I enquired. 
“Not sure” came the reply, “Standard I think”
“What capacity?”
“It says 1267 in the log book”

Ashok fired it up and I must say it sounded very sweet.  Now any rational, sane human being would have then requested a test drive, notwithstanding that no insurance cover was in place, and duly formed an opinion as to the car’s mechanical well-being.  Unfortunately I have never seemed to fit into the ‘rational’ category; after all, I’m the fellow who went to look at a Bentley for a friend and came home owning a Rolls-Royce for which I paid in US dollars…!
“It’s not worth £125; I’ll give you 70 quid for it”
 – “100?”
– “80?”
– “90?”
– “85?”
 – “OK, £85 it’s a deal”.  The handshake…“I’ll bring it round tomorrow night”.   I was a Morgan owner!
With minimal insurance arranged I awaited the arrival of my new transport with mounting excitement and car and owner duly arrived with the owner’s girlfriend in her Mini Traveller chase car.  Now it was time for my first drive in a Morgan.
“Er, I’ll take you for a demo run first” says Ashok, “just to show you the ropes, as it were, and point out a few foibles.”
Foibles?  There had been no mention of foibles, but still, no matter, off I went for my first ride in a Morgan before taking that seminal step of driving the thing.
“The gear shift pattern is opposite to normal, Meadows ‘box, might take a bit of getting used to.”
Actually it didn’t…what did take a bit of getting used to was the fact that the ‘box jumped out of third or rather wouldn’t stay in that gear at all unless one held the lever very firmly in place.
“Probably just needs the detente spring adjusting” was Ashok’s observation.
“Yes, very likely” was my fatuous response, neglecting to ask, if it was so simple an adjustment, why hadn’t he fixed it?  Still, minor problem no doubt!
Now it’s been said before, I know, but one’s first drive in a Morgan really is akin to your first drag on a cigarette or puff on an opium pipe, not that I have experience of the latter I hasten to add!  Two diametrically opposite scenarios are possible; either you detest the experience, rapidly curtail the activity and vow never to repeat it or…after initial bewilderment …common sense and reasoned logic fly out of the window.  You begin to fall under the spell of this rustic from the Malvern Hills.  The crag-hopping antiquated suspension system is ignored; the homespun build quality is deemed meritorious when it would be the subject of adverse comment bordering on derision in any other marque.  It’s a car built by artisans not craftsmen and you half expect to find the remnants of a trimmer’s sandwich behind a panel yet those who build them put a bit of their heart and soul into each car.  No two are exactly alike nor have ever been.  Even today I can recall that first drive as though it was yesterday.  It was a lovely autumn evening with a mist beginning to rise; the exhaust crackled and the Stromberg hissed but it was the scents and smells I remember most.  The hot oil smell coming back through the louvres in the bonnet, the hot mud on the exhaust but most of all the autumn scents of fallen leaves, wood smoke from the chimneys and the sense of being at one with the car and its environment.  A heady cocktail and I was hooked…this was to turn out to be a fanatical adherence to the Morgan marque and a lifetime addiction.
‘NPA 46’ and I travelled over 20,000 miles together in the next 3 years and many are the stories to be told of her (or ‘Françoise’ as she was universally known having the name of my favourite songstress, Mlle Hardy, painted on the bonnet) but that’s for another time maybe.  She never let me down except for two simultaneous punctures in Banbury at 2 in the morning, hardly her fault.  My last drive in her was from Birmingham to Christchurch in Dorset on a very crisp afternoon in February 1965 when she was part exchanged for a Plus 4, the well-known ‘SLB 930’.  While I was naturally excited at getting the power of a TR engine in front of me I was very sorry to see ‘NPA’ go because, you see, apart from serving me well she was directly responsible for my meeting my future wife and my association with the marque Delage…as we shall now see.  Subsequently Ashok and I lost contact for many years (49!) but that has now happily been rectified and here we are re-united 50 years later.  Great joy!

Now this tortuous tale takes a further improbable twist.  Ashok and I had become good friends after his inviting me to make up a four for dinner at his girlfriend’s flat.  This turned out to be a thinly disguised match-making attempt aimed at said girlfriend’s flatmate but that was destined to go nowhere fast.  However Ashok and I shared a passion for vintage and thoroughbred cars and both worshipped at the altar of Wheatley and Morgan so we decided on a course of action.  Firstly to obtain a replacement head for my 20/25 by means that didn’t involve Alf and his embalming fluids and secondly to find a suitable thoroughbred car ‘in need of restoration’.  Now, in the early Sixties ‘barn finds’ of fine cars were by no means unusual but one had to be either inordinately lucky or be ‘in the know’ to have much chance of success.  After sundry encounters with rabid Alsatian dogs and shot-gun brandishing farmers it was becoming apparent that we did not satisfy either of these requirements!  However, hope springs eternal so with Macawber-esque belief that something would turn up we carried on.
Then in the racing drivers’ bar at the ‘Dirty Duck’ I got wind of another lead.  This didn’t come from the usual wafflers but from a friend whose daily transport was a 1928 low-chassis Lagonda and, in addition to having the appearance of a vintagent straight out of a Brockbank cartoon, certainly knew his vintage cars.  Apparently an ‘old sports car’ had been discovered in buildings being demolished during yet another re-development of Birmingham’s city centre.   Needless to say Ashok and I were in hot pursuit the following day but more disappointment; a car had been unearthed, in fact an Alvis 12/50 no less, but this had been claimed by the former owner of the property.  Damn…off to drown our sorrows I introduced Ash to ‘The Cabin’ in Union Passage.  That watering hole is worth a blog post of its own so here’s a contemporaneous pic…taken in 1964:

The Cabin had a huge beaten copper round bar slap bang in the centre of the room and had a very interesting clientele!  With the place bustling as usual Ash and I were virtually rubbing shoulders with a morose-looking fellow with an expensive vicuna coat which had obviously seen better days.  We were talking quite loudly to be heard above the hubbub and naturally the topic concerned our latest dead-end whereupon, without raising his eyes from his glass, Vicuna Coat said
“I’ve got a vintage car”
“Oh really?” says I “What sort?”
“A Delage, it’s French”
“Really?!  What model?”  This was something of a rhetorical question as, apart from sketchy knowledge of their racing exploits, I knew absolutely nothing about the marque.
“D8” replies Vicuna Coat, “4 litre straight 8, Chapron drophead…lovely car, or was”
“Was?”
“Yes, I’ve not used it for over ten years; it’s stored at my yard…needs a bit of work”
“Would you sell it?”
“Might do”
Three double Glenmorangies later and the sale was agreed, price TBA and an appointment made over a handshake.  It would have to be said that I was very sceptical.  I’d met a few con artists and was somewhat more streetwise than Ashok whose upbringing been more palaces/public school/Oxbridge but I had to admit that this could be the Holy Grail that we’d been searching for. However, I still harboured the vision of Vicuna Coat casually mentioning a Georgian tea-pot or Gainsborough that he happened to have in the loft after eavesdropping other conversations that might yield a single malt or two. Still, nothing ventured nothing gained so plans were made to view and, hopefully, collect the Delage on the following Saturday…this was our first mistake as we will see!  We decided to have a 100 quid in notes about our person with a view to using as little of it as possible which itself was not easy in those far-off pre ATM days.  Then there was the tow-car;  Ashok’s A90 Atlantic was deemed unsuitable due to its hopeless reliability and the Morgan was out of the question but Ash had a colleague with a 1938 SS Jag 1 ½ saloon so this was pressed into service.  The rest of our ‘equipment’ consisted of a tow-rope, a piece of cardboard painted with ‘On Tow’ and the Jag’s registration number plus a bag of rudimentary tools including a tyre pump. Viewed from 55 years later ‘wildly optimistic’ doesn’t even come close but that’s how things were in those far off happy days.
Vicuna Coat had given us an address in Aston and my being a dyed-in-the-wool Aston Villa fan I knew vaguely where it was…not the most salubrious part of the great city that’s for sure.  When we arrived there seemed to be an inordinate number of people about, all in jovial mood with much singing and chanting and being gently shepherded along by mounted policemen…it was the day of the FA Cup semi-final at the nearby Villa Park!  The SS was parked up in a side street with its owner refusing to leave it unattended while Ash and I sought out Vicuna Coat.  To say that he was living in reduced circumstances would be an understatement.  It was all very sad as he had once obviously been a man of substance and a connoisseur of fine motor cars.  I think we knew he was genuine and we were going to find something worthwhile up in the yard and it seemed rather unseemly to haggle, in spite of the fact that we had not even got any proof of the car’s existence, let alone condition.  We put the £100 on the table knowing full well it was going to swell the profits of some Scottish distillery and the buff log book was produced along with the keys…we shook hands.
“I’ve found a picture of the old girl in better times”
He produced a photograph almost identical to the one below:

“I don’t go up to the yard much these days so you can pop the key in the post”
Ash and I could hardly get back to the SS fast enough whereupon we consulted our battered A-Z.  The yard appeared to be somewhere north of Erdington, terra incognita as far as we were concerned, but we set off negotiating the milling throng and duly arrived at the address given.  This turned out to be a field containing a load of those ancient goods trucks that could be hoisted off the train and onto a lorry similar to this:

 There were no outbuildings where a car could be stored.
“You’ve been had” was Jag’s helpful comment.
“No, it must be in one of those trucks” said I hopefully, “let’s start looking”. 
So we did; God knows how long the trucks had been there, the pins in the door bars were all virtually rusted solid and had to be hammered out and the drop-down doors seemed to weigh a ton.  Some of the trucks were piled on top of one another and seemed extremely precarious but on we bashed.  After the fifth empty truck spirits began to fall, maybe Jag was right or, perish the thought, someone else had got there first.
The sixth truck…bash, bash, lower the door and…
“This one’s full of wood shavings”. 
I made a desultory poke with a stick at the shavings and, metaphorically blinking in the daylight, a huge Marchal headlamp appeared!!  Now I don’t actually know how Howard Carter felt when he first cracked open Tutankhamun’s tomb but I have a very good idea!  I can’t remember if we danced a jig or screamed deliriously but I expect we did.  Hastily we pulled out the wood shavings and there in all its glory was the magnificent Delage radiator with its emblematic blue and gold logo.  The car was covered in these shavings and cardboard boxes and one match would have sent the whole lot to kingdom come. Feverishly we removed all the ‘packing material ‘to reveal a beautiful drop head coupé just as we’d seen in the faded photograph.  The soft top was a typical coupé set up and much more substantial than the ‘hood’ shown in the picture above…and it was up.  The car was almost as wide as the container truck and we wondered how the owner had got out when he’d parked it.  Ah, there was another drop down door adjacent to the driver’s door.  More pin-bashing, heaving and straining with expletives (deleted) and we managed to get it open.  The driver’s door opened as if it had been closed only half an hour ago and I slipped behind the huge steering wheel and had a good look around as far as was possible in the gathering gloom.  Obviously rodents had been in and the rear seat particularly was pretty far gone with springs sticking up everywhere but the rest of the interior looked in amazingly good order, even if covered in dust.  I tried the brake pedal and was relieved to note it was not seized albeit with a long travel while Ashok reported that there was still some air in all of the tyres.
“We’d better get it out, it’s getting dark”
Now we were going to find out if the brakes worked or if indeed the car was even movable.  The SS, (now looking a lot smaller than previously!) was backed up, the tow-rope attached and I got behind the wheel.  I half expected the brakes to be seized resulting in either the rope breaking or the back end of the Jag being wrenched off but no, the Delage rolled sweetly forward and I tried the brakes gently…they worked; they required a mighty effort but they worked…first recovery hurdle overcome.  Slowly we eased it out; it was now almost dark and the only light we had was a bicycle flashlight but what a glorious sight.  We’d discovered the barn find of our dreams!
Jag produced a tyre pressure gauge from his car’s toolkit and we set to pumping furiously.
“We can’t tow it with no lights” opined the ever-helpful Jag
“We’ve got the flashlight, the battery might last” says I
“It’s not red, it has to be red” Captain Obvious Jag again
Whereupon I spotted two teenage girls who had been watching our antics and I rushed over,
“Has either of you young ladies got a lipstick by any chance?”
“Yes we both have”
Now it says a lot for those happy and so much safer times that two young girls would happily walk into a gloomy field with three scruffy weirdos and hand over their make-up, but they did and, smearing the lipstick over the flashlight lens, we had a tail light.  I gave them 10 bob to buy more lipstick of a superior brand to the Woolworth’s stuff they had.

With the tow rope fitted we were ready to roll.  Problem was, while we knew our destination, the GKN works in Smethwick where Ash had booked space in the Motor Club workshop, we had no idea how to get there.  Out with the A-Z again and under a streetlamp we plotted a route that avoided any main roads into the city and also, hopefully, any ‘Peaky Blinder’ territory!
The trip was, to put it very mildly, interesting.  The tow rope broke at least three times rendering it shorter each time, we had hoots and insults from vehicles backing up behind us, the SS huffed and puffed and had to be given a rest to cool down but…we made it.  With the Delage safely tucked up we had time to make it to the ‘Dirty Duck’ and take centre-stage recounting our exploits to an incredulous audience!
Now I expect indomitable readers who have stuck it out thus far will expect the finale to be Ashok and me enjoying the fruits of our labours bowling along in one of the finest cars ever built.  Sadly this was not to be the case and black clouds lay ahead; that will be the subject of a future post…cue dramatic end of episode music!

©Colin Musgrove 2019

Another slightly nerdish diversion before we get back to something more typical of this journal.  While I loudly applauded Ms Seymour's virtual single-handed resurrection of Mariette's life story it would have to be said that 'Bugatti Queen' borders on the chick lit in many places. Fanciful speculations are made and conclusions drawn which have absolutely no basis in fact, notably regarding the Delangle's time in Boissy-le-Sec (renamed Boissy-lès-Perche in 1924) and Mariette's childhood in Aunay-sous-Auneau.  In addition there have been some wildly preposterous 'details' of her ancestry posted, frequently by people who should know better.  So...I have traced and tabulated her ancestry on both paternal and maternal lines through 4 generations .  Every event, 'hatched, matched or despatched', has been verified by viewing the actual confirmatory document from original commune records.  This has only been possible by the Herculean efforts of all those dedicated souls who have made the documentation available on line.  A huge 'merci' to all of them!  You may view a pdf here:  kvisit.com/Pw/iZcP

Someone asked me for a 'crib-sheet' a couple of years ago as he was officiating at Retromobile when 5 of the 6 cars were re-united.  Having just completed work on 'Champion du Monde' I was in a good position to put this together.  Rather than let it fester on my computer I thought others might find it useful so here it is.  You may download it from my Google Drive here: lineage_with_captions1.jpg

Paul joins Delage
As can be seen from Paul’s military record above he had a great deal of which to be proud but his adventurous spirit wanted more and this led him to come knocking on the door of the Delage factory.  Little is known of Paul’s initial duties but he graduated to the competition department quite early in his employment as mechanic and test driver.  This must have been heaven on earth for any aspiring young racing driver.  Here he was at the state of the art facilities of a manufacturer which had already won voiturette and Grand Prix races, had won the Indy 500 and was developing invincible sprint cars, one of which was to briefly hold the World Land Speed Record.  In any event young Torchy had sufficiently impressed Louis Delâge and probably his ace driver and head of the competition department René Thomas to be given the co-driver’s seat alongside the dependable Charles Belben, another mechanic/tester who had been with Delage since 1911, to handle the Delage entry in the inaugural Le Mans 24 hours.  The 2 litre DE entered had no chance of overall honours and was entered purely as a demonstration of Delage quality and reliability.  This it did in the capable hands of Belben and Torchy finishing 13th overall. 

Young Paul was now a racing driver…or so he imagined!  He would have known also that Louis Delâge had the intention of re-entering Grand Prix racing having seen the abortive ‘Strasbourg’ 2LC 4 cylinder car at the factory.  By the time of his Le Mans exploits this car had been developed into the 2LCV with Planchon’s jewel of a V12 engine and a month later Delage did indeed re-enter Grand Prix racing with Thomas’ less than successful outing in the GP de l’ACF at Tours with the original 2LCV (which became the Coty/Béquet Speciale in later life). 
The story of Planchon’s difficulties in extracting more power and reliability on the dyno from the V12 is a matter of record leading to Louis Delâge, aided and abetted by Thomas, firing the unfortunate Planchon and handing over development to Albert Lory. Four brand new cars were produced for 1924 and Paul Torchy was one of the race team mechanics (but not riding mechanic even though they were still required in 1924).  Picture below shows him, standing 4th from left, with Divo’s car at the Lyon circuit for the European Grand Prix.

Only two Grand Prix were entered by Delage in 1924, the French (European) at Lyon and the San Sebastian on the Lasarte circuit.  While no victories were obtained the 2LCVs acquitted themselves well but it was obvious that they were at a power disadvantage against the blown straight eight Alfas.  Lory set about rectifying this by totally restructuring the cylinder heads and incorporating twin Roots-type superchargers, one for each bank of cylinders with the net result that the V12 was now capable of pumping out close to 200 bhp for flash readings with 175+ hp for sustained running.  Five brand new cars were laid down with the intention of entering a full team of four at the French GP to be held at Monlhéry in July.  However the AIACR (forerunner of the FIA) had introduced the World Championship of Manufacturers in 1925 with four events counting towards the championship…Indianapolis 500, Belgian GP, French GP and Italian GP, participation in the latter being mandatory to qualify.  Few European manufacturers were thought likely to compete at Indy (only one did, Bordino in the FIAT 804) and likewise no US manufacturer was expected in Europe as the regulations differed, principally in that the US cars were single-seaters even though the weights and capacities were similar.  Nonetheless, for whatever reason the Indy 500 was included.
 
Baptism by fire – The Belgian Grand Prix at Spa Francorchamps – 28th June 1925
This put a different perspective on things and Louis Delâge decided to enter a full team of four cars in the Belgian GP to be held at the demanding Spa Francorchamps circuit on 28th of June.  Only problem was that none of the new cars was remotely race-ready.  A wise move would have been to withdraw the entry but Louis Delâge wouldn’t countenance this so one new car was got just about ready and handed to Divo while three of the 1924 cars were cobbled up with the supercharged engine for Thomas, Benoist and…Paul Torchy!  Yes, young Paul had been promoted to Grand Prix driver with the most august of company, not least within his own team.  This was no 24 hour jolly trundling round la Sarthe in a comparatively pedestrian DE mind you.  He was sitting on the grid in the most viciously powerful Grand Prix car on the planet with road-holding barely, if at all, capable of handling it.  Alongside him was Gastone Brilli-Peri, in front on the second row was the roly-poly opera-singing Giuseppe Campari and Albert Divo with the front row comprising René Thomas, Antonio Ascari and Robert Benoist; the absolute crème de la crème of mid-twenties Grand Prix drivers. A baptism by fire indeed!  Picture below shows Paul in the ‘interim’ 2LCV #12 during practice.

The euphoria didn’t last long however as Paul was forced to retire the car after 2 laps of the scheduled 54 with a duff magneto.  This was one lap better than was achieved by Robert Benoist who split his fuel tank on the opening lap and only fractionally worse than the fate of Thomas whose car caught fire and crashed on lap 6.  Divo, however, performed creditably in the new car and was keeping pace with Campari in the second Alfa although Ascari had disappeared into the distance.  Divo lasted until lap 29 before retiring with various mechanical maladies described in the race report as ‘valve trouble’.  This had been a very inauspicious debut for the new supercharged engine but hardly surprising in view of the rushed preparation and the hybrid 1924 cars.  Worse was to follow.  After the race it came to light that Thomas had done deals with accessory manufacturers and had pocketed the proceeds.  When Louis Delâge found out he sacked Thomas on the spot, both as driver and Head of the Competition Department and furthermore made sure than any such future contracts were made and signed only by him not individual drivers.

Home soil The GP de l’ACF – Montlhéry – 26th July 1925
The next race on the calendar was Delage’s home race, to be held on the full circuit at Linas-Montlhéry on the 26th of July.  Delage entered four cars for Benoist, Divo, Wagner (taking the place of the demoted Thomas who was nonetheless in the Delage pit on race day) and Paul Torchy.  In the event only three cars were presented but they were all the latest 1925 spec with modified chassis, steering and bodywork as compared to the 1924 cars and, of course, they all had the latest supercharged engines.  The three cars were allocated to Divo, Benoist and Louis Wagner with Paul Torchy as reserve to share the driving as required. By 1925 Louis Wagner was a veteran of 43 years old and had raced with great success some of the most mythical racing cars since the dawn of the sport.  One of his first races was the Paris-Madrid and he had been victorious on both sides of the Atlantic including winning the Vanderbilt Cup in 1906, the American Grand Prize in 1908, second in the 1912 French GP driving for FIAT and second again behind team-mate Lautenschlager driving a Mercedes in the legendary 1914 French GP.  After the Great War Wagner had driven for Ballot before joining the all-conquering Alfa Romeo team for 1924.  He was a driver of high principles and great skill from whom the young Paul Torchy could learn a lot.

For those readers not too conversant with 1920s Grand Prix racing it should be pointed out that the heroic drivers of the time bear no comparison whatsoever with the namby-pamby ‘elite sportsmen’ of today; neither do the circuits. Unlike many, the Circuit Linas-Montlhéry was designed and built purely as a motor racing track and opened in 1924 thanks to the good offices of Alexandre Lamblin who wanted France to have a track to rival or out-do autodromes such as Brooklands, Indianapolis and Monza.  With the addition of a demanding road circuit incorporating the east banking the track was ready to, hopefully, host a home victory.  These hopes were pinned on the Delage team as the normally aspirated Bugattis were only competing in the ‘Touring’ category.  The race was run on the full 12.5 km ‘Grand Circuit’ including the ‘Biscornes’ complex and, being recently laid, the surface of tar on macadam and the concrete banking was in very good condition…in the dry at least!     

This was in favourable comparison to the previous Grande Épreuve at Spa-Francorchamps where the public road circuit had been in a diabolical condition in places. Race distance was the mandatory 800km and it was expected to last around 10 hours with the start scheduled for 08.00 hrs (!)  The grid was selected merely on race number in ascending order and assembled in a 3x3 formation to incorporate a rolling start. 

This needs a bit of explaining.  The allocation of grid positions by drawing lots or by number order was merely that, in the twenties and before, it was considered that in a mass-start race lasting 800+ kilometres the starting positions were of little importance as, indeed, neither was a wheel-spinning blast off the line jockeying for position.  At Montlhéry for the start of the Grand Prix the grid was lined up stationary behind two dignitary-bearing road cars which duly trundled off with the race cars following.  The officials’ cars peeled off into the paddock and the race was on when the competitors crossed the timing line.  From period video footage it is pleasing to note that the drivers had already floored it before the officials were out of the way and Pierre de Viscaya in his 'Touring' Bugatti had made a flyer from the outside of the front row. Ascari had made  a lightning start from Row 2, going wheel to wheel with the fast starting Masetti in the Sunbeam with Divo coming up fast.  Campari in the #3 Alfa had stalled it on the front row whereupon his faithful mechanic rushed out in front of the field and swung it!  High drama with the race barely under way!  Ascari took the lead even before Deux Ponts and such a manoeuvre was usually the last any competitor would see of him.  Make no mistake, out of the car Antonio Ascari may have had the appearance of a slightly portly well-to- do farmer, his father was a corn dealer, but behind the wheel of a racing car he was blindingly quick, almost certainly the fastest of the early post-war generation.

His technique, as he charmingly wrote in an article which ‘Motor Sport’ magazine posthumously published in the August 1925 issue, was to go flat out from the start and break the opposition, either mechanically or mentally.  This tactic seemed to be working again as on lap 4 Divo’s Delage lost power and was heard to be popping and banging necessitating a pit stop.  His mechanics changed the plugs and sent him out again, now dead last, but the problem was obviously terminal and the car was retired 2 laps later with what turned out to be a broken supercharger drive.  Hardly the start Delage wanted and the spectre of Spa looked to be stalking them again, however, this was to prove to be the only problem that the Delage team would experience.  Divo’s retirement left Ascari with a 2 min lead over his team-mate Campari with the vastly experienced Wagner in the leading #14 Delage another two minutes in arrears.  Meanwhile Benoist in the #10 Delage had been acclimatising himself to the tricky conditions caused by the continual drizzle and had begun to move through the field with his trade-mark smoothness.  By lap 15 when Ascari made his pit stop for fuel and tyres Benoist had gained 4 places and when Campari pitted on lap 18 the Frenchman took over second place.  However, in spite of gaining places Benoist was actually still losing time to the flying Ascari. With the rudimentary pit signalling of the time it is unlikely Ascari was fully aware of Benoist’s progress.  He was certainly made aware of it during his pit stop.  Whether this had any bearing on the tragic events that were soon to unfold is moot but, with Ascari’s record and temperament it is almost certain that he resolved to drive absolutely flat out to extend his lead even though the rain had started again.  Such was Ascari’s speed that, in spite of his pit stop, he had not lost the lead and had, in fact, increased it to 3 min 40 sec over the yet to stop Benoist.  As Ascari set off on his 22nd lap the rain was falling steadily.  Heading back towards the autodrome Ascari accelerated hard out of Gendarme and would have been flat out before lifting slightly for the kink just past the 9km post and approaching Chateau d’Eau.  The organisers had erected a paling fence around the apex of the corner in this ultra-fast section as they had done around a lot of the other sections of the circuit to deter drivers from cutting corners. Some drivers, including Ascari, had remarked after practice that these temporary structures were potentially dangerous…their comments went unheeded.  Pressing on, Ascari fractionally misjudged the apex; the nearside wheel hooked the palings dragging the Alfa into the deep ditch immediately behind the fence causing the car to first somersault end over end and then barrel-roll a number of times to a standstill upside down in the trackside ditch.  The unfortunate Ascari was at first trapped in the car during its violent aerobatics and then ejected only to be hit by the vehicle as it came to a halt.  He was mortally wounded with horrendous injuries.  The intention was to transfer Antonio to the Piccini Clinic in Paris but the ambulance had only got as far as Linas before the great driver succumbed.

As was normal practice at the time the race continued unabated so on the 22nd lap the #10 Delage of Benoist made its scheduled pit stop allowing the #3 Alfa of Campari to take the lead.  During the Delage’s pit stop the two Sunbeams of Masetti and Segrave had also gone past into second and third places.  When the #10 Delage re-joined it was Divo at the wheel, fresh from only having driven six laps and now began the most exciting part of the race.  On lap 25 Divo was 4 minutes behind Masetti’s Sunbeam but only 20 sec behind Segrave’s similar car; more to the point he was 5 min 11 sec behind race-leader Campari.  A lap later Divo had disposed of Segrave and was gaining on Masetti hand over fist but that little battle was curtailed when both Sunbeams came in for scheduled stops on lap 27.  Divo was now second, 5 min 4 sec behind Campari and he began to apply the pressure taking chunks of time out of Campari’s lead every lap.  By lap 35 the gap was down to 4 minutes.  Setting fastest lap after fastest lap and equalling the lap-record in far from ideal conditions Divo was hauling in Campari…to the intense delight of the partisan crowd.  By lap 40 the gap was down to 2 minutes and shrinking at over 20 seconds per lap.  Then on lap 40 more high drama and emotion when the leader Campari came in for his scheduled stop.  Pulling into the pits he leaped out as normal and began attending to the car which was already up on jacks having the wheels changed when the driver stopped his work, took off his goggles and slumped on the pit wall sobbing…he had been told of his team-mate and compatriot’s death.  The Alfa remained stationary alongside the third team car, the #12 P2 of Brilli-Peri who had endured a terrible race beset with rough running and mis-firing almost from the start.  The Count had already made six pit stops including four for plug changes before the car was finally retired on lap 33 after running dead last for a number of laps.  Brilli-Peri could have taken over Campari’s car but he’d had time to reflect on Ascari’s fate and was probably in no mood to do so.  In any event, work ceased in the Alfa Romeo pit and it was announced within 20 minutes that Nicola Romeo was withdrawing the team ‘as a mark of respect to their fatally injured driver’.  This was the honourable thing to do and should be applauded but…viewed dispassionately 90-odd years later it can be seen that Alfa had little option.  They had one car wrecked; another already retired with terminal mechanical maladies and two drivers who showed no inclination to continue and had been sitting in the pits for 20 minutes.  Add to that the rate at which Divo had been overhauling Campari it is clear that, after the pit stops, the #10 Delage would have taken the lead within 6 laps even if the remaining Alfa had completed a normal pit stop.  Now one cannot write history on ‘what ifs’ but the facts as they unfolded on that day in July 1925 totally give the lie to the interminably regurgitated statement that the Delages gained only a Pyrrhic victory.  They did not; they won the race fair and square.  One cannot describe every victory where cars in front of the eventual winner crashed out or retired as Pyrrhic!  Yes, if Ascari had not made that one fatal mistake he would have won by a country mile but that was because he was Antonio Ascari, the fastest racing driver on the planet, and would probably have won with whatever car he was driving provided it held together.
While all this drama was going on the redoubtable Wagner had been running a steady 4th around 5 minutes behind Masetti in the #7 Sunbeam and had handed over to Paul Torchy at their scheduled stop on lap 33.  This was the first time Paul had got his hands on the latest spec Delage in anger and, it would have to be said, these were not the ideal conditions to re-acquaint himself with the 2LCV’s surfeit of power over grip and road holding!   Paul drove neatly and steadily for his opening laps and kept the gap to Masetti steady at around 6 minutes but on lap 39 he had an almighty tank-slapper and spin which lost him 4 minutes to Masetti and even allowed the ‘Touring’ Bugatti T35 of Costantini to get past.  Torchy collected his thoughts, soon reeled in and passed Costantini and set off after Masetti.  There were to be no more histrionics and Paul drove exceptionally, taking around 90 seconds a lap off the Sunbeam so that, when he handed over to Wagner on lap 59 the #14 Delage was only 2 minutes in arears. By lap 68 Wagner had caught and passed Masetti to take second place behind the leading similar car of Benoist.  So the race petered out to its muted conclusion, the dismal skies and now-continuous rain adding to the gloom that had descended as a result of the announcement of Ascari’s death.

After the prize-giving and team photographs Robert Benoist led his team-mate Wagner and Masetti in the Sunbeam on a somewhat self-conscious lap of honour.  At the site of Ascari’s accident Benoist halted the convoy and the drivers laid their victory garlands at trackside; a fitting tribute by his fellows to a great driver.  As far as the World Championship was concerned the result meant that Delage and Alfa were tied on points; the championship would be decided at Monza.

The AIACR World Championship…and two bombshells!
Let us first examine the regulations laid down by the AIACR which governed the first World Championship of Makes (Note ‘makes’ not ‘drivers’) in 1925.  The championship was to comprise four designated races (originally five but the ‘British Grand Prix’, which was never a serious possibility, was dropped).  These were nominated as the Indianapolis 500 Miles, the Belgian (European) GP, the French (GP de l’ACF) GP and finally the Italian GP.  Participation in the Italian GP was mandatory but others could be skipped with a points penalty.  Points were awarded for one car only per team (to avoid multi-car teams being at a disadvantage over single entries) and were allocated as follows:  1st place – 1point; 2nd place – 2 points; 3rd place - 3 points; all other finishers – 4 points; non finishers -5 points and non-starters – 6 points; the best of three nominated events, including the Italian GP, to count.  The manufacturer with the lowest combined score would be Champion; in the event of a tie there would be a run-off at Monza within 48 hrs of the Italian GP. All competing cars must comply with the then current AIACR regulations of a maximum displacement of 2 litres, superchargers optional, minimum weight of 650 kg and a minimum body width of 80 cm.  It has been inferred that the inclusion of the Indy 500 was merely to justify the title ‘World’ in the championship with no realistic expectation of transatlantic competition.  This has been shown to be untrue insofar as the Italian Club at least, if not the AIACR, had intimated early in the year that the American cars could compete, at least at Monza, if suitably modified to comply with the cross-sectional dimension requirement.  In any event the AAA regulations governing Indy and all other American Championship races were very similar to the AIACR with a maximum displacement, blown or unblown, of 122 cu.in (1999 cc) and a minimum weight of 1400 lb (635 kg).  The latter could easily be brought within AIACR regulations by the addition of ballast if necessary although, in practice, none of the 1925 Indy competitors weighed below 650 kg.  The only potential fly in the ointment regarding the two disciplines competing together was the body width but it had been inferred that this could be accommodated.  Under AAA rules there was no stipulation on body width or number of seats so all serious competitors ran a minimum width single seater configuration with centre steering.  Such cars would have been ineligible for the AIACR Championship but were given the necessary dispensation for the Indy 500.  There would have been nothing to preclude the European cars from running at Indy but in the event only Bordino’s FIAT did.  The AIACR, in their usual high-handed manner, assumed the Americans would have their ‘sideshow’ and take no further part in the World Championship or if they did they would have to modify their cars.  This assumption lasted all through the summer until after the French GP which had left Alfa-Romeo and Delage tied on points at 12 points each.  Obviously both those teams would drop the 6 points incurred for missing Indy so the Championship was going to be decided at Monza in the Italian GP until…

Bombshell #1 The Yanks are coming!
On August 1st Duesenberg announced that they had submitted entries for the Italian GP and two cars were ready for shipment to Italy!  The two cars were in American AAA specification with the addition of front-wheel brakes but Duesenberg had been assured by the organising Italian club that they would be eligible providing they carried ‘plates’ giving an overall width of 80 cm to the single seater bodies.  Drivers had been nominated as Tommy Milton and AJ ‘Peter’ Kreis.  While the immensely likeable Kreis was a wealthy amateur who had finished 8th in that year’s Indy 500 Tommy Milton was an absolute top-line driver who had already competed in 7 Indy 500 Miles, uniquely winning two of them and coming 3rd in another in spite of having only one eye (it was said that he memorised the sight test-card to pass his racing licence medical!).  A notable absentee from the Duesey line-up was Pete De Paolo; the Indy 500 winner had announced that he was staying home to concentrate on the AAA Championship.  This turned out to be economical with the truth as he had been in negotiations to drive for Alfa-Romeo which at first seemed to be unlikely.  However, Alfa, still in shock from the loss of their superstar Ascari, could not obtain their first choice of third driver, Masetti, and being unable to strike a deal with Bordino they accepted De Paolo’s offer at the last minute.  It was ‘fortuitous’ that De Paolo was in Milan bearing in mind it took the best part of a week to travel by sea from New York to Genoa in 1925!  There was a great deal of money flying around for this race and the Duesenberg team had been offered ‘very substantial appearance money’ according to Motor Age.  When the Duesey team arrived it was immediately apparent that these were no ‘appearance money specials’.  They had an inordinate amount of kit, top mechanics, special tyres and even their own special fuel; they were in it to win it!  This put the cat among the pigeons as far as the World Championship was concerned.  Hitherto considered just a straight fight between Alfa and Delage; whoever finished ahead in the top three would be champions, if neither finished in the top three there would be a race-off.  Now with Milton and Duesenberg quite capable of winning the race people hastily got out their pencils and paper to work out possible scenarios.  It was quite simple.  If Duesey won and a Delage or Alfa was second then there would be a race off, Duesenberg versus the second place marque as both teams would have 14 points with a 6 point discard leaving both on 8 points.  There were various other permutations which would result in a Duesey/Alfa/Delage win or a race off but, in view of the opposition, these were considered unlikely.  Thus the scene seemed to be set for a titanic battle between the three makes until…

Bombshell # 2 Delage withdraw!
Delage, who had been strangely quiet in the lead up to the race, had entered 4 cars for Benoist, Divo, Paul Torchy and the re-instated Thomas. On August 10, less than a month before the race, Benoist, in an interview with Italian journalists, made an extraordinary statement.  He intimated that Delage might withdraw from the race ‘due to insufficient time to get the new cars ready’!  On the face of it this was a preposterous comment.  Delage had a state of the art factory with a skilled and experienced Racing Department and they had dyno testing facilities with two of the dynos specifically set up to test and tune the 2LCV V12 racing engines

If anybody could turn around and race prep four cars between the French GP in July and the upcoming Italian GP in September it was Delage.  Besides which there were no ‘new’ cars.  Five brand new cars had been constructed for the 1925 season and there would never be any more.  By 20th August this withdrawal was confirmed by Louis Delâge in a letter to Arturo Mercanti, director of the organising club the Automobile Club of Milan.  However Delâge had turned the excuse on its head by saying that there would be insufficient time to turn the team cars round before the San Sebastian GP, which he had entered, if his team competed in both events.  This may well have been true, up to a point with the results of the rushed preparation before the Belgian GP being indicative.  However, this was intensely bad publicity for Delage and quite what possessed Louis to take this action was, and, to a certain extent, still is, beyond comprehension.  Firstly it was a diplomatic faux pas of the first order by simultaneously upsetting the organising club by dramatically reducing the spectacle and potential attendance of their Blue Riband event while giving the AIACR a slap in the face by inferring that their World Championship was worthless and Delage could profit more by winning a non-championship race in Spain! Arguably the San Sebastian GP should have been included in the championship; that it was not was either due to the overwhelming influence of the Italians in the AIACR politics or that the organising club were strapped for cash as usual.   Nonetheless, the facts of the matter were that it was non-championship and Alfa Romeo were not going to be taking part.  The obvious inference was that Delâge was fearful of being beaten by Alfa and had effectively thrown in the towel.  Now Louis Delâge had not risen from an impoverished kid in Gas Street Cognac to the Château du Pecq and one of the richest men in Paris by throwing in towels!  Nearly 100 years later and with no personal papers to consult one can only speculate on this apparently baffling decision.  It may well have been that Louis, who was spending more and more time at his palatial new offices on the Champs-Elysées rather than at the factory, was influenced by Max Fallery the Sales Manager who had a history of acting above his pay grade and being pessimistic about Delage’s prospects in the racing field.  Worst case scenario would have been that the 2LCVs would have been defeated by the Alfas and then, ill-prepared, would have struck trouble at San Sebastian and been defeated by the Sunbeams or worse the underpowered Bugatti T35s.  The most likely reason for the insistence on the Spanish race was that Delage had a very small foothold in that country’s market, particularly with the recently introduced DI and DIS models.  To hopefully rectify this Fallery and Co hatched a plan for an ‘ambassador’ to tour the Basque region after success (hopefully!) in the GP demonstrating the model and setting up dealerships.  No less a person than Robert Benoist was entrusted with this ambassadorial task!  One might say in hindsight that it was a pity he wasn’t booked for his day-job and driving in the Italian GP rather than encourage a few Basques to buy a Delage but that was that…Delage were out and hence disqualified from the Championship.

The Decider.  Italian GP Monza 6th September 1925

The Italian GP was to be run on the full 10 km Monza circuit incorporating the high speed banked oval and adjacent road course. Alfa Romeo entered a 3-car team comprising Campari, Gastone Brilli-Peri and Peter De Paolo pitted against the Duesenberg team of Milton and Kreis. Then the previously expected titanic battle began to hit yet more trouble.  The Dueseys were presented for weighing and scrutineering with their twin 6 inch square plates bolted to the sides of the cockpits to ‘comply’ with the special dispensation granted by the organising club who were presumably satisfied.  However the AIACR scrutineers were most definitely not satisfied and, what’s more, told the organising club that they had no business granting such waivers of the rules and had exceeded their authority in doing so!  Tommy Milton apparently went ballistic but to no avail.  If Duesey were to race, and get the bags of lire appearance money, then they must remove these bits of tin and make a cockpit that was 31 inches wide over at least most of it.  The AIACR would, however, allow the Duesenbergs to retain their central steering and waive the rule that the two seats must be side-by-side.   The Deusey mechanics had no option but to set-to and produce the required bodywork.  One can only say that they made a damn good job of it as can be seen in the photos below of Milton’s Duesey #7 alongside De Paolo’s Alfa #10 on the grid and the full grid with the two Dueseys on Row 2 with obviously central steering.  The seat must have required some contouring or extra side support to avoid Milton and Kreis rolling around like a pea on a drum but his is not immediately apparent on the pictures below.

After practice it was obvious, and disquieting for the tifosi, that the Duesenbergs were indeed very quick and a match for the Alfas.  De Paolo was also on the pace showing the calibre of these top American drivers with little or no experience of road racing but in their element on the banked high speed Monza oval. On race day over 140,000 spectators turned up along with members of the Italian royal family and, of course, Benito Mussolini.  It was said that over 20,000 vehicles carried spectators to the circuit without any traffic hold-ups.  Obviously ‘Il Duce’ had not only got the trains running on time but had sorted out the traffic congestion as well!  Grid was, as usual, by number order but this time a standing start flagged off by Crown Prince Umberto.  Campari in the Alfa shot into the lead closely followed by the three Americans in the order De Paolo, Kreis and Milton.  On lap 2 Kreis forced the Deusey past Campari and took the lead but regrettably (and predictably!) this success was very short-lived as he had a wild slide on lap 3, hit a kerb damaging the suspension, and was out.  Kreis was, however, credited with fastest lap which must have been on Lap 2 since this was the only flying lap he completed! This left Milton in the sole remaining Duesenberg running in 4th place behind the three Alfas of Campari, Brilli-Peri and De Paolo.  Milton was having trouble selecting second gear which got rapidly worse effectively limiting him to top gear only.  This only appeared to trouble the driver from Saint Paul through the tighter turns of the Lesmos as he was pulling over 140 mph on the pit straight. Just after the 50 km mark he passed the Alfas for the lead which he held for another 30 laps up to half distance when an oil pipe fractured on the Duesey costing Milton the lead and a loss of 3 laps.  In his book ‘Wall Smacker’ De Paolo oddly dismisses the Dueseys as being ‘outclassed’ which is at total variance with the facts and unbecoming of someone whose racing successes had come almost exclusively in Duesenberg cars.  De Paolo himself hit trouble around the halfway mark when a carburettor flange broke and needed replacement.  The result was a win for Brilli-Peri, who had a trouble-free run, with Campari in the other P2 second thus giving Alfa Romeo the title of ‘World Champions’.  Milton and De Paolo finished 4th and 5th respectively within 2 minutes of each other after 800 km racing.  Thus ended the first contest for the World Championship and one can only surmise what Paul Torchy and the other Delage team drivers thought about the matter.  Two years later Delage would sweep imperiously to victory at the same venue and secure a clean sweep in the championship but on this day in history it was Alfa Romeo who claimed the laurels which they proudly added to their radiator badge.  For Delage there was now the small matter of the San Sebastian Grand Prix at Lasarte in 2 weeks time.

III Gran Premio do San Sebastan  Circuito Lasarte, 19 September 1925

Unlike Monza or Montlhéry the Lasarte circuit was hugely demanding 17.815 km tortuous course run entirely on public roads temporarily closed for the event.  In addition to its myriad bends it had steep changes of gradient, flat out blasts through wooded sections, blind crests and towns and villages to pass through en route.  Said to be second only to the Targa Florio in difficulty the Circuito Lasarte was indeed a severe test for man and machine.  

Delage made a big song and dance of their presence with Louis Delâge and other top brass from the factory in attendance and had entered four of the final specification cars in what was to be the 2LCV’s swan-song in Grands Prix with all four cars entered being present. Drivers were nominated as Divo, Thomas, Benoist, Torchy, Morel and Wagner, the latter two acting as relief drivers as required.  This meant that, at last, young Paul Torchy was going to start a Grand Prix in the final spec 2LCV. 

On paper the entry list for the race, 20 in all, was reasonable.  In addition to Delage, there were cars from Bugatti and Sunbeam most of which were listed with top-line drivers of the calibre of Masetti, Conelli and Segrave (Sunbeam), the de Viscayas, Goux and Costantini (Bugatti) and Alfieri Maserati and Materassi in the blown straight eight Diatos.  However, come race day a number of potential front runners failed to appear, including Segrave, Materassi and Conelli.  While the Bugattis with their superior road-holding were quick in practice it looked as if the race would be a walk-over for Delage which were, not surprisingly, blindingly fast when given their head.  Grid positions were by number order as usual which meant that 2x2 grid had #1 Divo on ‘pole’ alongside #4- Jean Gras in the la Perle (this latter being another little gem, 1500cc supercharged, from the shamefully underrated genius Nemorin Causan), Benoist #9 was on Row 3, Paul Torchy, #13 on Row 4 and Thomas the final Delage #15 on Row 5.  Paul is supposed to have remarked “Today I win or kill myself”.  This is almost certainly untrue and most likely can be attributed to René Thomas years later.  Thomas told a good story but could never resist embellishing the facts.  This was only Torchy’s second actual start from the grid and unfortunately Paul’s inexperience showed; as the Hispano-Suiza carrying the King and other big-wigs pulled off Paul floored the throttle and promptly bogged the engine.  This novice error could well have been a major contributor to the events that were to unfold.  By the time Torchy had got the Delage running cleanly on all 12 most of the field, including Thomas had gone past and Paul had a lot of work to do.

Lasarte was by no means the easiest track on which to overtake but by dispatching some of the slower cars and by Foucher’s crash in the Bugatti on the opening lap Torchy crossed the line 7th on Lap 1.  He then hauled in and passed Pierre DeViscaya's Bugatti on Lap 2 and got by the similar car of Costantini on the 3rd lap; he was making good progress and was now in 5th place with Masetti’s Sunbeam next up.  Coming through Andoain on the 4th lap young Torchy, spurred on by glimpses of the Italian’s Sunbeam up ahead, resolved to add another scalp.  However, Giulio Masetti was a very different kettle of fish to the other drivers Paul had disposed of in his climb through the field.  ‘The Count’ had earned the soubriquet ‘Il Leone delle Madonie’ with every justification.  He was an absolute virtuoso on this type of circuit having, incredibly, won the Targa Florio twice with a 2nd and 4th to add to his record all within 4 years and he wasn’t going to let the young tyro by without a fight.  Catching up the Sunbeam through Urnieta Torchy harried Masetti through the sweeps of Hirnani. This was Lap 4 of 40, there was plenty of time to dispose of the slower car but Paul was desperate to join his team mates and make it a Delage 1,2,3,4.  Instead of waiting for a safer overtaking spot on the home straight Paul tried a wildly optimistic move round the outside of a tight bend approaching Irubide.  It was a very dangerous place to try to overtake let alone attempting to take Masetti round the outside of a tree-lined left-hander.  It didn’t come off. Paul got on the loose and at 45 degrees hit a tree which jammed itself between the rear right wheel and the bodywork before becoming uprooted.  While causing little structural damage other than to the right side of the cockpit and ripping the rear springs out it brought the car to a virtually instantaneous stop.   It came to a halt resting against an adjacent tree with no frontal damage to the car at all.  With no restraint Paul’s body smashed against the steering wheel and column resulting in catastrophic injuries to the chest and head from which the unfortunate driver sadly died almost instantaneously.

In the Twenties Irubide was an isolated hamlet and it took some time to get medical assistance, not that it would have aided Torchy who had died virtually on impact.  Assistance in extricating Paul had been given by the two marshals Balmaseda and Aldecoa and a soldier who managed to transport the body to a nearby cottage before two doctors, Tortosa and Usandizaga, arrived some time later.  All they could do was pronounce Paul Torchy dead.  How long it took to get the news and severity of the accident back to Race Control, Louis Delâge and the Delage pit is not accurately known or indeed if Louis communicated the information to his drivers prior to the end of the race.  News of the fatality was not announced to the spectators until after the race however.  The race had only run a tenth of its scheduled distance at the time of Torchy’s accident but there has never been any suggestion that Louis Delâge considered withdrawing his cars as had Nicola Romeo at Montlhéry.  The race continued but the only realistic opposition to the Delages was Masetti’s Sunbeam but after that car’s retirement with steering problems on Lap 28 the three remaining 2LCVs cruised to victory in the order Divo/Morel, Benoist and Thomas.  Fastest lap however was accredited to Costantini in the Bugatti prior to his crashing out in spectacular fashion one lap after the Torchy accident.  Costantini emerged with barely a scratch even though the car was totally wrecked.  This prompted Thomas in his memoirs to express his incredulity that, when passing both crash sites in the race, he later learned that the fatality occurred in the car that appeared to be hardly damaged.  This quirk of fate was also picked up in an article in ‘Voitures Legères’ entitled ‘Luck and Fatality’.  Winner Albert Divo’s pensive expression at the prize presentation would indicate that he had been told of Torchy’s death.

Perhaps the biggest irony of all however is that Count Giulio Masetti with whom Paul Torchy was dicing in the #13 Delage 2LCV would himself, only seven months later, be lying dead under another Delage 2LCV also bearing #13 in the 1926 Targa Florio.  In fact it would be one of the Delage 2LCVs contesting this very race in San Sebastian.
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So was ended the brief life of Paul Torchy.  A young man who had distinguished himself in everything he had done; a decorated soldier for his country, a rowing champion and a mechanic who rose to become a valued and highly popular member of an elite motor racing team.  The funeral service was held at Courbevoie church attended by a large congregation including members of his family and all the senior executives of the Delage Company including, of course, Louis Delâge who gave an emotional oration.  The coffin was borne by his team mates Thomas, Benoist, Divo and Wagner who had kept vigil over the body since its arrival in Paris.  A very sad occasion but we must remember the attitude to life and death of these young, and some not so young, racing drivers in the early Twenties.  Most had fought through and survived the carnage of the Great War.  Many had been airmen when life expectancy had been frequently measured in days.  Driving a racing car expressed their joi de vivre and, while mindful of the risks, must therefore have seemed a relatively safe activity, incomprehensible as that may be to today’s sanitized society.  Paul Torchy is not the first name that comes to mind when recalling the great racing drivers but nonetheless it should forever be remembered by enthusiasts of the sport.  We will never know how Paul would have handled the 1500cc 15-S-8 in 1926 and ’27 and which would take Delage to victory in the World Championship but it is safe to assume that he would have acquitted himself with honour and distinction.  
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All text © Colin Musgrove 2019

I bought the super hi-res version of this Bill Brunell pic of Delage2 thinking it might show 'J Taylor' driving it. It didn't and for one minute I thought it was that bounder Sir Alastair Miller who imported Delage1 and 2 but thankfully not! Its Mr K Donsky, an Irish gentleman of note...Surbiton MC event, Brooklands, Sept 1928. Nice pic, part of a series. (Protip: You can tell Delage1 and 2 apart in period by the drilled x-member under the rad on Delage2)

Kaye Don spent a little time in clink too after the TT mechanic fatality incident on the IoM...it's a small world!

This really is my reply to a question on The Nostalgia Forum but I thought a slightly wider audience might find it of interest.  By no means anything other than sketchy as forum posts are to avoid the dreaded 'tl;dr' but I'll add a few more details and pics later.
There is another Delage magnum opus in preparation which will give all known details of these cars c/w chassis numbers but it won't be out this year!
OK, firstly the 'Strasbourg' car was built using a four-cylinder engine and was known as the '2LC' being an abbreviation for '2 Litre Course'.  It was a neat design incorporating some clever touches including the interior-mounted spare wheel and mechanic's arm rest as seen in the montage I've done below.  Notable was the Frontenac-esque nose cone as tried on the Torpille (hence the name) but discarded in the latter due to overheating problems.  The 2LC looked good but the performance of the engine was pretty useless and would have fared badly against the Fiats, Bugattis and Sunbeam and while it was entered for the GP de l'ACF at Strasbourg it wisely was withdrawn. 

Charles considered various configurations and architecture and finally decided on the jewel of a V12 as we know...and the 2LC became the 2LCV.  The chassis and some bodywork was duly modified and the first V12 installed in the erstwhile 2LC and thus 2LCV #1 was born in 1923 just about in time for the GP de l'ACF at Tours on the 3rd of July 1923.  This was against the better judgement of Louis D who was being pressurised to an extent by René Thomas.  The car lasted 8 laps and DNF'd.  That was the only time the 2LC/2LCV hybrid ever appeared in a GP

No more cars were produced in 1923 and the prototype 2LCV remained at the factory until it was sold, less engine, to Raymond Coty and Maurice Béquet who, of course, fitted the V8 Hispano engine and the car still exists. Louis Delâge stipulated that the Delge radiator badge be removed and that it should not be entered in any event as a 'Delage'.  Thus it was entered as the Coty Spéciale if and when it appeared (rarely!) and the 'Béquet-Delage' moniker is a comparitively recent application.

Thomas, never one to call a spade a shovel, grumbled incessantly about the engine not producing the expected power on the dyno and eventually Louis D, tenuous family connections notwithstanding, fired poor old Charles Planchon and entrusted the development to Albert Lory.  This was grossly unfair on Planchon who then disappeared into virtual obscurity but that's how it was at the Delage emporium.  That Lory made many improvements in the execution of the original design is incontestable notably with regard to the engine lubrication and crankshaft.  However, this could equally have been done as a team with Planchon.  Lory also made mistakes when fitting the superchargers but luckily for him these were identified and fixed in-house.  These errors were apparently glossed over but René Thomas had a tale to tell...as usual.  Lory went on, justifiably, to be fêted as the designer of the all-conquering 1500 cc 15-S-8 while Planchon is virtually forgotten.  All engineers and enthusiasts with a love of racing engines should never forget that it was Charles Planchon who had the idea for this wonderful jewel of a V12 and it was he who designed 95% of it.

Four brand new cars were produced for the 1924 season and a 3-car team was entered for the GP de l'ACF at Lyon where they performed most creditably...much better than the subsequently much-vaunted Bugatti T35s!  2nd, 3rd and 6th with Divo finishing less than a minute behind Campari in the P2 Alfa.  The Bugattis were expected to turn the tables at San Sebastian with their superior road-holding on the twisty Lasarte circuit (chassis design was never Lory's strong point!) but, of course, everybody had forgotten about Segrave in the Sunbeam who won.  2LCVs 3rd and 4th behind Costantini in the T35 with Benoist DNF after an off.  That was it for 1924 as Delage did not contest the Italian GP at Monza.

Five brand new cars were laid down for the 1925 season and the intention was to run four of these, fully tested, at Montlhéry for the first time at the GP de l'ACF aiming for a home victory.  However, Delage decided to give them a trial-run in the Belgian GP at Spa a month before the French event.  This turned out to be a big mistake.  Only one of the 1925 cars was (just about) race-ready so it was decided to wheel out three of the 1924 cars but fitted with the latest-spec engines now running twin superchargers and giving flash readings of over 200 bhp on the dyno.  There was some aggravation as to who should have the new car and it was given to Divo, probably to Thomas' disgust.  The three '24 cars retired relatively early but Divo put up a creditable performance in the new car, running close behind Campari in the Alfa, but Ascari had disappeared into the distance.  Divo ultimately had to retire with various problems which left the 2 remaining Alfas circulating alone, much to the displeasure of the paying public.  However, the 'picnic' story about Marinoni and Alfa 'humiliating' Louis Delâge is pure invented nonsense first appearing 50 years after the event.  Here's Thomas giving the older car the beans...yes, that's Spa-Francorchamps!

Three of the latest cars appeared at Montlhéry and Benoist achieved a somewhat Pyrrhic victory after the fatal accident to Ascari and the withdrawal of the Alfa team.  Delage sat out the Italian GP at Monza and Paul Torchy had to wait until the San Sebastian GP to get his hands on the new car.  Sadly he was killed driving it in the race where Delage scored a 1, 2, 3 with all four 1925 cars starting.  That was the end of the 2LCV's GP career but the Works supported the Targa Florio with them in 1926.  Tragically Masetti was killed in his example, running Number 13 as had Torchy at San Sebastian.

So, the result of all this rambling is that TEN 2LCVs were built one of which, the first, was the reconstituted 2LC.  Where are they now?  Well there's two, a '24 and a '25 not fifty miles from where I'm typing this. there's Lukas' '24 and there's the Brequét...that's four so far.  I'll continue this later...

Well, there's a turn-up for the book...as it were!  'Champion du Monde' has been awarded the hyper-prestigious 'RAC Specialist Motoring Book of the Year Award' for 2017.  While Daniel and I were delighted when we heard that the book had been shortlisted it would have to be said that we were more than a little surprised!  After all, half the text is in French with the English version on the same page, a layout some don't like apparently.  The likelihood of a book by a French author, published in France about a French car being chosen by an august bunch of English judges (most of whom probably don't speak much French!) seemed on a par with Accrington Stanley winning the FA Cup. 

Daniel's painstaking research and phenomenal archive of Delage documentation and photographs certainly deserved international recognition, as did the specific research on his own car by Christophe, but these accolades don't always go to the most deserving.  I alone spent over 800 hours on the project and Daniel probably four times that amount...and it's a lonely path the author treads...frequently in the small hours.  I'm surprised the fibre-optic cables in Normandy and Warwickshire didn't melt with the email traffic...often every 15 minutes!

By working over Christmas and the New Year we managed to meet the deadline by literally a few hours and the book was duly on sale at Retromobile to coincide with the first time five of the six cars had been together since they were dismembered in Uncle Reg Parnell's garage!

So...this recognition is a fabulous reward, not just for Daniel, Christophe and me, but for all those who sweated bricks helping out but with a very special mention and thanks to Sophie Jauneau the young lady responsible for the design and layout of the book.  How she sweetly put up with our, almost hourly, alterations and corrections I'll never know.

​We dedicate the award to the glorious memory of a great man who drove for France, fought for France and sadly died for France at the hands of the Nazis in Buchenwald....Robert Benoist.

The RAC press release reads:

Peter Read, the Chairman of the Club’s Motoring Committee, said. ‘The Club’s library at Pall Mall is already among the finest in the world, and fortunately for us there’s no shortage of exceptional new titles we’d like to add to it. Our independent judges undertake an incredible task for us, and it’s satisfying that the 2017 winner Watching The Wheels by Damon Hill is an excellent read with the widest possible appeal.
‘Meanwhile, Delage – Champion Du Monde, is an example of fresh research and beautiful production of which we wholeheartedly approve.’

The judges for the Award were leading specialist bookseller Ben Horton of Hortons Books; Gordon Cruickshank of Motor Sport magazine; Mark Dixon, deputy editor of Octane; commentator and reviewer Henry Hope-Frost; Mick Walsh, international editor of Classic & Sports Car magazine; Christian Whitehead from London bookstore Foyles; and Tom Wiltshire of Auto Express magazine.

Colin Musgrove 05-11-17

When idly scrolling through some photographs of the 1929 San Sebastian GP by a couple of excellent Catalan photographers of the period I came across the above pic by Ricardo Martin. Now, notwithstanding my interest in aviation history causing me to note the British registered Avro Avian, I was really taken aback by the appearance of the four poseurs with it.  Apart from, maybe, the Homburg that pic could have been taken in the late fifties yet it was taken in 1929!  The cut of the gent's suits, hairstyles etc not to mention the girl's pleated skirt and general 'look' are all straight out of the start of the rock'n'roll era.  Who were these avant garde fashionistas?!  Well, you'll be disappointed to hear that I don't actually know for certain...yet!  However, I have a pretty good idea so all will be revealed.  First clue to follow was the '---elia' painted on the side of the Avian...'Delia'?  'Ophelia'?  'Amelia'?  Avians have been involved in many deeds of derring-do with the likes of, for example, Earhart, Hinkler, Guy Menzies and Bill Lancaster (who crashed in the Sahara having avoided a session with 'Old Sparky' the Florida electric chair (!) and whose mummified remains were found 30 years later by the Foreign Legion!) but 'Amelia' was obviously a red herring since there's not enough room to get that name plus the rest of the registration in...anyway Earhart's Avian was famously registered G-EBUG.  Time to wade through as many pics of Avians as I could find in ever more obscure places!  Lo and behold, on some Spanish blog I found this...

The pic shows Catalan aviator Josep Canudas and his wife aboard, not an Avian but, a De Havilland DH60 Moth with a Cirrus engine at Hatfield aerodrome, UK, where they had just taken delivery on behalf of the...NELIA Chocolate Company of Barcelona.  So the mystery word was 'Nelia'.  Obviously they had not had time to do proper sign-writing but the outline of the company and the Spanish 'M' registration can be clearly seen.  Señor and señora Canudas were about to set off home in hops by way of Croydon, Le Bourget, Lyon, Nimes, Montpellier, Perpinyà and finally Barcelona.
The 'plane was to be used for 'advertising purposes' but further delving into the activities of the Nelia organisation revealed them to be chocolate makers and a very forward-thinking outfit! 
The Nelia company was founded by Barcelona entrepreneur Rafael Massó who had been for a 'flip' over Barcelona with Canudas and had hit upon a demon advertising scheme.  Nelia were locally well-known for their 'Chocolate con Leche'...a sort of Cadbury's Dairy Milk of the day and they unashamedly used their trademark brand image to promote it.  I say 'unashamedly' in this PC world because the image was 'Little Miss Nelia' a sexy little Betty Boop type character (which is interesting in itself since she pre-dated the Betty Boop cartoon by two years)...here she is...

So...why the title 'Manna from Heaven' for this post?  Ah well, Señor Massó's demon scheme was to use the aircraft he had bought in an innovative advertising stunt.  The 'plane would be loaded with hundreds of little chocolate bars attached to mini-parachutes.  Having first bombarded the inhabitants of Barcelona and then other towns with leaflets and newspaper announcements detailing the time and place the aircraft would fly overhead, at the appointed time  'Miss Nelia' would then hurl out the goodies which would float down on the little orange parachutes and be collected by the kids (and bigger 'kids')!  Having scoffed the chocolate said kids could save the wrappers and exchange them for prizes!  10 cents and 10 wrappers got you a paper aeroplane "which flies splendidly" and 10 wrappers plus 50 cents got you a metal badge (button hole or pin to choice) depicting the sexy Miss Nelia!!  Top prize for the ten people collecting the most wrappers was no less than a flight in the Moth or Avian.  All this is explained in the advert...

Needless to say these stunts caused absolute pandemonium with kids shinning up trees and clambering on buildings, not to mention bun-fights and general mayhem, to get at the chocs!  So much so that the good Burgers of Barcelona soon put a stop to it but other towns and villages were more accommodating...hence the requirement for a second aircraft in the form of the Avian.  Pic below shows the Moth but another advertising card illustrates the Avian.

This, of course, brings us back to the opening photograph with the fashionable crew.  Who were they?  I don't know yet but I'd like to hazard a guess that it's Señor Massó and friends...even the prototype Little Miss Nelia.  I don't know what happened to the Nelia Chocolate Company, Spain was heading for civil war and ultimately the Franco era but at least  Miss Nelia lives on in the internet age...that is a good thing :-)

© Colin Musgrove 2017

Staying on the Delage theme for a bit here's a little insight into how the great marque got started.  Whether I continue this is a moot point at the moment but I think I will!  There are a myriad of great stories surrounding the progression of the Delage marque, most of which concern Louis himself!  A book from the Musgrovian viewpoint might just augment the learned tomes with a bit of pathos and humour :-)
http://online.pubhtml5.com/cycj/dgge/

à bientôt

Colin :-)