Who Won?

A few sentimental (and thrifty) competitors actually drove their cars to the race. But the quaint tradition that a sports car is a practical vehicle, designed for everyday use, seemed as antiquated as the Stanley Steamer or the solid-rubber tire. Well-heeled pros who turned up for the Florida International Twelve-Hour Grand Prix of Endurance last week brought their cars by rail or trailer, by plane or ship--any way but under their own power. The 5.2-mile course on Sebring's abandoned airfield was enough to tear the guts out of the finest engine. Mechanics needed every available minute to get an entry in shape. Minutes lost in the pits might well decide the winner.

No Cure. Ripping down the brief straightaways at full throttle, shifting down and braking for the turns, shifting up to speed again, spinning and sliding through S-curve and hairpin, drivers lost no time making work for their mechs. And even the best of them ran into the kind of trouble no grease monkey can cure. Sweeping into a wide, unbanked turn, Texan Bob Said squinted over the hood of his three-liter Ferrari and saw danger. In the middle of the track, a tiny Renault had cartwheeled onto its back. Said drifted wide to miss it. Suddenly, he was bearing down on a stretcher where Renault Driver Jean Redele, badly shaken, was waiting to be carried off. Said drifted wider and a parked Cadillac ambulance loomed in front of him. He swung his wheels hard over, skidded out of control and smashed into the ambulance. Unhurt, Said walked away. His Ferrari was finished.

Before five hours had passed, PanAmerican Winner Umberto Maglioli and his bloodred, three-liter Ferrari were on the sidelines with a ruined clutch. Another Ferrari, its gas tank leaking, caught fire. Playboy Porfirio Rubirosa slipped off the track in his two-liter Ferrari, clipped a spectator's car, and promptly substituted caution for professional skill. On the way to the pits for repairs, he was rammed from behind and knocked out of the race.

In the pits a well-drilled squad of mechanics worked steadily to keep Millionaire Sportsman Briggs Cunningham's front-running D-Jaguar ahead of the field. Scores of dockers spelled each other in the lavish Cunningham trailer as they tried to keep track of the competition, to warn Drivers Mike Hawthorne and Phil Walters when the pack was closing in.

No Brakes. Dark fell, and the race roared on. With two hours to go, overanxious pitmen poured too much oil into Associated Press the Jag. Its plugs fouled, it fumed and sputtered while Phil Hill's white Ferrari nibbled at the lead. Carefully coached by Oldtimer Rene Dreyfus (TIME, March 14), the Arnolt-Bristol team nursed their little (1,971 cc.) roadsters along, willing to settle for high honors in their own class. Manhattan Clothes Designer John Weitz, one of the few who had driven his car all the way from New York to Sebring, was pushing the Bristols hard with his chunky. 1,991-cc. Morgan. But by now, everyone was flirting with disaster.

Brake linings were worn thin, and the warm night was filled with the splat of backfires as drivers decelerated far back from the turns. Hay bales rimming the turns were flicked from position by fast-moving fenders. In the gloom drivers could scarcely distinguish the dun-colored shapes that marked the changing boundaries of the course. Strategy turned to guesswork as timers lost count, gave drivers conflicting reports on their standing.

Exactly at 10 p.m., officials touched off the fireworks, and dropped the checkered flag that marked the end of the grind. In the confusion just about all the judges were sure of was that the race was over.

They were also reasonably certain of the winners in each class:

P: Class "B": Ray Crawford, who spent twelve hours without relief at the wheel of his big (5,196 cc.) Lincoln-Kurtis.

P: Class "C": Cunningham's D-Jaguar.

P:Class "D": Phil Hill, on a three-liter Ferrari.

P: Class "E": Rene Dreyfus' Arnolt-Bristols, in an astonishing record, finished first, second and fourth. Another Arnolt-Bristol finished fifth.

P: Class "F": a Cunningham-owned Osca.

P: Class "G": Paul O'Shea, on a sleek, slope-nosed Porsche.

P: Class "H": a tiny French (748 cc.) Renault.

Top honor for finishing the most laps of any car in the race was claimed for both the D-Jaguar and the Class "D" Ferrari. Each had clocked 183 laps at an average of nearly 80 m.p.h. The big question was: Which went the distance in the shortest time? This week in Manhattan, far from the unnerving roar of the race. A.A.A. officials will puzzle over their score sheets and try to decide.

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