Thirst for Thrills

All his life Alfonso Cabeza de Vaca, 17th Marquis de Portago, thirsted for thrills. He found them in speed and sport. He was tempted by any activity tinged with danger, finally decided that the second-to-second uncertainty of auto racing brought him nearest to his heart's desire. When he wheeled his 3.8 liter fire-red Ferrari into the start of Italy's Mille Miglia last week, "Fons" de Portago was a happy man. Perhaps (although none can say) he died so.

Fine Style. The wicked, 1,000-mile route that winds south from Brescia along the Adriatic littoral and then curls north across the Apennines was used by Benito Mussolini as a monument to Benito Mussolini. Having made his trains run on time, the Duce was determined to prove the quality of his roads. For Fons, 28, the race was simply a chance to prove his hard-earned skills. Short years ago the dark-skinned Spanish nobleman was known for his heavy-foot driving, the careless speed that sent his cars tumbling off the track as often as they finished. Now he knew better. He had learned that every stretch of road, every curve has its optimum speed, that a fraction too little would surely lose, that a shade too much might mean disaster.

As the race ground through grey dawn and a fine spring day, Fons blazed along in fine style. Coming into the last lap, less than 25 miles from the finish, he was running third. He could not have known, but the Ferrari team had the race won. His grizzled teammate, Piero Taruffi, 50, had already finished in first place. Far back, Britain's Stirling Moss, driving a Maserati, the Ferrari's only strong competitor, had lost his brakes and almost crashed in a roadside cemetery. The other Maserati competitors had also either folded or faded.

Up to there, the race had been a pleasant contrast with the 1938 race when a car crashed into a crowd and 23 were killed, and last year's when seven were killed and 17 injured.

Grim Statistics. Alfonso de Portago was not a man to let such grim statistics disturb him. He had not only playboy inclinations, but also the talents of a natural athlete. The more spectacular a sport, the more he liked it. For a while, he favored jai alai and polo. He had barely learned about the dangers of bobsledding when he was picked to represent Spain in the winter Olympics. "The mere fact that we race requires no courage on our part," he wrote in SPORTS ILLUSTRATED. But he was frank to admit that he was often afraid. "I think what frightens me most is that when I have actually lost control of the car there is absolutely nothing I can do except sit still, frozen with fear, and wait for events to take their natural course. All it requires is one very small error and one is embarrassingly dead."

Fons made no error. He was whipping along at more than 90 m.p.h. when a tire blew. The Ferrari flattened a milestone, caromed off a telephone pole and somersaulted into the thick crowd that lined the curb. Alfonso de Portago could do nothing to save himself, or his co-driver, who was cut in half, or the 15 spectators (including four children) who were killed with him in the deadly Mille Miglia.

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