Stand at Becketts this weekend as the historic demonstration runs howl past and you could be forgiven for thinking the calendar has slipped.
The blue-and-gold of a Rothmans Williams, the screaming yellow of a Benson & Hedges Jordan, a Tyrrell in Elf colours, a McLaren still wearing its day-glo Marlboro chevrons: to a certain generation these liveries are as evocative as the engine notes. Yet look closely at those sidepods and you are not looking at a paddock. You are looking at a corporate graveyard.
The British Grand Prix that surrounds them could not be more different. A record crowd of well over half a million, a sprint format, a global streaming audience raised on Drive to Survive, and a sport that, as Business Matters reported this week, is now worth £12bn a year to the UK economy. But in the 1980s and 1990s Formula One was a very different commercial proposition: a rolling billboard held together by tobacco money, corporate vanity and the occasional fraudster. The teams, Williams, McLaren, Jordan, Tyrrell, survived, evolved or were absorbed. Many of the companies whose logos paid the bills did not. Their fates read like a potted history of three decades of business upheaval.
The tobacco giants: regulated out, swallowed up
No sector defined the era like tobacco. By 1995, nine of the top ten drivers in the world championship carried a cigarette brand on their overalls, and the sport’s aesthetic was effectively designed in the marketing departments of London and Winston-Salem.
Rothmans is the most instructive case. The brand arrived at Williams in 1994 and turned the FW16 into what one Italian commentator called “a cigarette packet on four wheels”, white, blue and gold, and utterly unmistakable throughout the seasons that carried Damon Hill and Jacques Villeneuve to their world titles. Yet within two years of leaving the sport’s front line, Rothmans International plc ceased to exist as an independent business. In 1999 it was swallowed by British American Tobacco in a merger waved through by the European Commission, and the Rothmans, Dunhill and Player’s brands disappeared into BAT’s portfolio, where they remain. The company that once wrote some of the biggest cheques in world sport is now a line item in someone else’s annual report.
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