Go Like Hell: Ford and Ferrari's War of Speed

In the spring of 1963 Henry Ford II—the larger-than-life grandson of Ford Motor Company's founder and one of the richest men in the world—had a vision. He saw the future of the car market not in America but in Europe, and he invested the future of his family's empire overseas, gambling more than he could afford to lose. How to prove that his American cars were the best in the world and that customers in Europe should line up to buy them?

Henry II ordered his engineering brain trust to design and build a racing car that could win the most famous speed competition in the world—the 24 Hours of Le Mans in France—a feat no American manufacturer had ever achieved.

The 24 Hours of Le Mans was (and still is) a sports-car race. But in the 1960s it was much more than that: It was a remarkable marketing tool. A win instantly translated to millions in sales. The basic rules: an 8.36-mile road course, a team of two drivers to each car, one man in the cockpit at a time. The car that covered the most laps after 24 hours won. Le Mans was deeply controversial because of its extreme speeds and danger. In 1964, the first year Ford entered cars, Car and Driver called the event "a four-hour sprint race followed by a 20-hour deathwatch." It was "probably the most dangerous sporting event in the world."

Henry II's nemesis would be Enzo Ferrari, who at the time was enjoying the greatest Le Mans dynasty ever. The cars that rolled out of Ferrari's factory in Maranello, Italy had won Le Mans four years in a row. They were as famous for their speed as for their beauty. The battle between these two industrialists would make for one of the greatest grudge matches in sports history. Looking back, one can see this rivalry as the first chapter in everything that was about to unfold in the automobile business, a long story that has now reached its climax: Detroit car companies battling for international supremacy in the era of globalism.

See footage from the 1964 Le Mans start:




Based on three years of research and nearly 30 interviews, this account of the 1964 Le Mans reconstructs the first battle between Ford and Ferrari, in which Ford unveiled a car called the GT40. The major characters:

Phil Hill: Racing for Enzo Ferrari's team at the 1961 Italian Grand Prix, which took the lives of 14 spectators, Hill became the first American to win the Formula One World Drivers' Championship. Now, in 1964, Hill had signed with Ford and was leading the American effort to beat his old boss.

John Surtees: Number one on Ferrari's team. The Italian fans called this Englishman Il Grande John.

Carroll Shelby: A chicken farmer turned racing icon, Shelby was a Le Mans champion (in 1959 with Aston Martin), but a bad heart forced him to retire. That's when he began building his own cars. In 1964 Shelby was attempting to win the GT class (made up of cars customers could actually buy, as opposed to the purpose-built prototypes Ford and Ferrari created to win the race outright) with his Shelby Cobra, a car that commands millions at vintage auctions today.

No one believed the Americans stood a chance. It would be a miracle if they beat the Ferraris in their debut at Le Mans. In fact, it would seem a miracle if they could keep their racing cars on the road. But then, in the spring of 1964, people had grown used to the unexpected, to heroic events and shocking headlines. In the previous 12 months John F. Kennedy had been assassinated, the U.S. Congress had passed the first civil rights bill, and the Soviets had launched the first woman into space. Cassius Clay had knocked out Sonny Liston in Miami Beach, and Martin Luther King had marched on Washington.

The Ford team checked into the Hôtel de France in La Chartre sur le Loire, as did an army of Ford men from Dearborn, Michigan: carburetor specialists, tire and engine men. Wednesday through Friday were practice and qualifying days, and the race started at four p.m. Saturday. It all had to go like clockwork, down to the customs papers to get the Ford cars into the country.

On the morning of the first practice session, the pit lane filled with cars painted in national racing colors: red Alfa Romeo Giulia TZs, silver Porsche 904s, green Jaguar E-Types. Ferrari's lead driver, John Surtees, was spotted, as was the American Phil Hill. Carroll Shelby arrived with a pair of Cobra Daytona coupes, painted Guardsman blue with white stripes. There was no way to measure the man-hours, ingenuity and soul that had gone into these cars. Shelby was a fan favorite in France. When he walked out onto the pavement and looked up at the empty, towering grandstands, it all came back to him: the magic of this place. If his Cobras could win the GT class, his little automobile company would be assured survival.

"Outside of the United States," Shelby told a Sports Illustrated reporter, "the Le Mans race has more prestige than all the other races put together. Le Mans receives throughout the world probably five times as much publicity as Indianapolis. Any automobile manufacturer who wants to make a name for himself in racing has to do well at Le Mans."

The first engine sounded, and soon revs were coming from all directions. The air stank of exhaust and hot pavement. One by one, cars motored onto the circuit. Stopwatches clicked off vital seconds. The press box grew loud with the sound of thumping typewriters. Facing the three Fords and two Cobras, Ferrari had entered four cars, and a number of privateers were racing their own Ferraris, also prepared at the factory by Enzo Ferrari's men, bringing the total to eight entries branded with the prancing horse.

From the first day of practice it became apparent that the race would move at historic speeds. One after another, Ferraris cut deeper into the circuit, shattering the Le Mans lap record: 3:47.2, then 3:47. By the end of qualifying, the crowds that had begun to amass were left with a cliffhanger.