By Stephen Mitchell
I was talking to a Ferrari friend coordinating a visit to the Ferrari factory in Maranello for another Ferrari friend and it looks as though my friend will get to enjoy his Ferrari tour but what became clear is how different things are today than they were in Enzo Ferrari’s time. My visits to the factory weren’t planned, choreographed, orchestrated or stage managed; I just showed up.
The first time I darkened the door of the factory in Maranello was in 1970. I had flown from Los Angeles to London where I stayed a few weeks looking for Bentleys to buy and ship back to California for resale. I scoured the landscape purchasing cars among them a pristine James Young R-type discovered in Surrey and a beautiful S1 I found (after enjoying a first class lunch aboard the train) in Southampton. It was a wonderful life and I experienced meals at Claridge’s, cricket at Lord’s, pub lunches in the countryside and plays in London’s West End–on that trip I saw Agatha Christie’s The Mousetrap and Sleuth starring Anthony Quayle at the St Martin’s Theatre. I was wined and dined by my very good friend W.J.D. Clarke and his family in their homes and ventured into some very interesting antique shops. I had been making these trips to London since I was 16 and knew where to go and what to do.
On this trip, however, I did not return home after consigning my cars to the shippers and instead took an Alitalia flight to Milano where I would attend the Italian Grand Prix at Monza (and meet Enzo Ferrari in the process) and absorb some Italian atmosphere and culture. The Grand Prix was exciting and Clay Reggazoni won in his Ferrari though the weekend was spoiled by the death of Jochen Rindt who suffered a fatal accident during practice. Jochen became the first and only posthumous World Champion.
On the Monday after the Grand Prix, I took the express train to Bologna and then doubled back to Modena. After walking around the town and finding that the Ferrari customer service department in Modena to be closed for lunch, I found a restaurant and enjoyed a wonderful and leisurely-paced luncheon along with some pleasant conversation with the proprietor. I was especially interested in his thoughts on the famous neighbors, Ferrari and Maserati, and his appreciation of their legendary efforts in racing. I told him I was visiting the Ferrari factory after lunch and he asked if I had an appointment. Without seeing beyond his question, I told him that I did not. He called a taxi for me and I took my leave.
“Maranello,” I told the taxi driver and with a smile he steered the familiar course and about twenty minutes later he was dropping me at the factory gate. Approaching a door near the archway over which the familiar Ferrari logo confirms your arrival at a place of legend, I rang a bell that was answered after several minutes by a man in a suit. “Hello. I would like to take a tour of the factory, please,” I told him in Italian. He asked if I had an appointment. I felt like Monty Python’s John Cleese when he would answer an awkward question with “Not as such” but confined myself to a simple “No”. I added that I had come from Los Angeles and that I owned a Ferrari GTO. Though I had, in the course of the previous two days at Monza, met Enzo Ferrari and the Formula 1 team manager Franco Lini (whom I had originally encountered some months earlier at a Ferrari Owners Club meeting in Los Angeles), it did not occur to me to mention this to him. He asked me to wait.
Whatever conversation (or series of conversations) had taken place, the result was that I was beckoned to enter and was taken on a full tour of the factory by a nice gentleman whose name was Pietro de Franchi. I saw the production line that included an example of a new model that had not yet been revealed to the public (it would debut later as the 365 GTC/4), witnessed an engine undergoing a dynamometer test (what a glorious sound!), paid a visit to the foundry and–Holy of Holies–the racing department.
Did I ask to see Il Commendatore or Franco Lini? No. I’d met them two days earlier and had nothing new to say or ask of them, but I have to confess that it was impossible to walk around the factory without feeling Ferrari’s presence. Whether he was observing us or I was feeling his proximity via the cars that were his life’s work, I don’t know. It was, however, hallowed ground and, as my friend Paolo Migliorini Brizzolari said to me, “…it was a very special day impressed in your memory.”
It certainly was.
[Source: Stephen Mitchell]
A beautiful, unassuming and enlightening recount of a doubtlessly unforgettable experience
Thank you, Dieter!
I had a smilar experience at the Ferrari factory. In 1962, after picking up a factory prepared MGA in Abingdon, I set of on a 3 week tour of the continent including Le Mans.
While there fellow Texan, Carroll Shelby, suggested I tour the Ferrari factory ” tell them I sent you”.
So off I went.
After ringing the same bell a guard appeared and I said, I was here for the tour. The guard got on the phone and the man in the suit appeared with a grin and ask me if I was a spy from Maserati. Assuring him I was not, he opened the gate.
I received the same tour but was only allowed a look through the door at the competitions dept.
Not a bad reference, Joe! 🙂
Carroll convinced my mom that sports car racing was not dangerous!!
It is said that Carroll convinced a lot of people of a lot of things–his special talent! 🙂
I really enjoyed reading your recollections of the Ferrari factory tour Stephen. I can quite imagine the feeling that il Commandatore was watching your every move. I look after a 250 SWB & a 250 GTO for a customer of mine and when working on them can often almost sense the input, passion and presence of the great man himself.
Ferrari’s presence is hard to ignore, isn’t it? I’ve not had that feeling with any other make of car. Perhaps driving a Bugatti might give the feeling of being in the presence of Ettore…