Walter Owen Bentley (1888 to 1971) was actually a trained railway engineer. Perhaps that’s why he built huge, strong, reliable and, above all, outrageously expensive automobiles from 1919 onwards. He equipped them with four- and six-cylinder engines with a displacement of up to eight litres. Because hardly any normal person could afford these “fastest trucks in the world”, as competitor and lightweight construction fan Ettore Bugatti called them with a smile, the most loyal buyers were extremely rich bon vivants – the
“Bentley Boys”
with names like Sammy Davis, Bernard Rubin, Glen Kidston, Frank Clement or John Duff.
Most of them began their careers at Brooklands. This racetrack in south London was the first circuit ever to be built exclusively for motorsport in 1907. Until the closure of the track in 1939, the races on the concrete oval were one of the most important social events for the English upper class: you had to be present at a race weekend at Brooklands as well as at horse races at Ascot, the rowing regatta in Henley or the Wimbledon tennis tournament. But while most of the products that were successful at Brooklands, almost always British, could not win a flowerpot on the continent, it was quite different with the quaint Bentleys.
BENTLEY AT LE MANS
Probably the wildest of the “Bentley Boys” was Woolf Barnato. Not only did he take three Le Mans victories for Bentley, he was also a handsome figure. And rich too: his father owned the Kimberley diamond mines in South Africa. Barnato’s fitness training for the long races included yachting holidays in the Mediterranean in the summer and extensive hunts in Scotland in the winter. When Woolf felt like it, he also bred successful racehorses. If he wasn’t chasing the even longer skirts back then. But Barnato’s favorite thing was car racing. His most legendary Bentley victory, however, was not achieved on a race track, but on public roads – and with a bet. Sometimes a few ingredients are enough to create legends. In this case, it’s Woolf Bernato, an express train, and an idea that was probably fostered by the abundant enjoyment of hard liquor. It was about the honour, a famous train and the sportsmanship of a British gentleman. Woolf Bernato claimed that he could beat the Calais-Mediterranée Express, also known as the ‘Blue Train’ and the fastest train at the time, on the route to Calais and arrive in London before the train reached the French bank of the English Channel. From Cannes to Calais: In one night, at full throttle and with the steam of the locomotive breathing down your neck. Of course, he and his very special Bentley, dressed by the coachbuilder Gurney Nutting, managed 6 1/2 litres, with ease: they even arrived in London four hours before the express train, although Barnato had previously settled down in Paris for an opulent meal. It’s stories like these that make the Bentley name immortal.
Tim Birkin wasn’t richer, but he was even more daring than Barnato. The former fighter pilot beat the heavy Bentleys over the tracks more mercilessly and fearlessly than anyone before or after him. Dr. Dudley Benjafield, the namesake of the modern fan club, also belonged to the small, select circle of about ten historic Bentley Boys. In 1923, 1926, 1927 and 1928, the bacteriologist Benjafield heaved the heavy cars around the corners of Le Mans himself, winning in 1927. Since 1923, there has been a marathon race in France that was perfectly tailored to the powerful Bentleys: the 24 Hours of Le Mans. In the second edition, John Duff and Frank Clement competed in a privately entered but Cricklewood-prepared 3-litre Bentley. And won at the first attempt against 39 French competitors. This unexpected success motivated W.O. Bentley, so in the years that followed, he sent his Bentley Boys, who had been so successful at Brooklands, into battle again and again. As with many racing cars from the late 1920s and early 1930s, driving it was anything but easy. Although the opulent dimensions make it downright opulent in terms of space, the green colossus manoeuvres like a truck. The steering with the powerful steering wheel is reminiscent of a mooring manoeuvre of the MS Franziska, the brakes are mediocre and the rickety four-speed gearbox poses problems even for experienced pilots again and again. Instead of the usual eight or twelve cylinders, the Bentley in question managed with just four cylinders. Each combustion chamber therefore had a gigantic volume of over 1.1 liters. Not much can be done without the use of the compressor, but once the Roots turbine kicks in, there is no stopping it. And the blower has a stubborn character. Sometimes the gears slip into the next gear level almost by themselves with a double clutch, throttle and powerful arm use; sometimes gears two and three can only be engaged after several attempts and with appropriate force. The Brit doesn’t feel at home in slow tempos any more than he does in winding terrain. He wants long straights and shallow corners, preferably uphill, where, as he once did at Le Mans, he fought elephant races with the roaring SSK models of Mercedes, which the old heroes still report on today. The top speed then as now: over 100 miles – 160 km/h.
When the Bentley company was threatened with bankruptcy in 1925, Woolf Barnato bought the company without further ado to keep it alive. In 1931, however, he lost the fun of constantly spending money and sold again – to the biggest competitor Rolls-Royce, of all people. The legendary Bentley Boys, all of whom had survived their years of breakneck cruising, then scattered to the winds. A case for the history books. Long gone are the days when eccentric Brits competed against steaming trains with powerful motorized automobiles. These are the ingredients that created our photo story. A little aloof, a little stately, opulent, fashionable and certainly a little crazy.
Take a look at GOHM Sportwagen/Bentley Stuttgart and marvel at the Bentleys there.
