Avus race director Gerhard Gottlieb turns 90: A personal birthday letter

An Avus race director simply had to be tough, have strong nerves and be fearless. After all, these qualities also applied, in a way, to the drivers competing at the Avus. It was simply a racecourse for real men and not for wimps – at least from your point of view.

Zwei ADAC-Macher: Ex-DMSB-Präsident Lyding (li.) mit Gottlieb 1996

Foto: Archiv ADAC Berlin

The motto was: nothing can or should rattle an Avus race director. Whatever he decreed was law for the duration of the weekend. Anyone who kicked up a fuss, started arguing or even stirred up fellow drivers always knew they’d come to the right man in you, dear Gerhard. Although you always listened to everyone with a friendly smile, you never let anyone take the reins from you.

After a heated discussion with team bosses and drivers about whether to have a rolling or standing start, you once said to me, quite indignantly: ‘Where on earth would we end up if the racing teams were already dictating how things are run here?’

In the annual wrangling over rules and race formats, you were always, to me, a sort of cross between a diplomat and a dictator. You mastered this role with great skill. Often enough, it seemed as though you embodied the greatest virtues of several famous race directors, complete with their signature soundbites:

the carefree cheerfulness of Kurt Bosch: ‘Herbert, tell Agostini that he’s an arsehole’;

the military-style brevity of Ali Schatz: “Anyone who doesn’t toe the line will get to know me in a different light”;

the trust in God of a Gernot Leistner: “For me, a handshake still counts for more than any contract”;

the straightforwardness of Peter Rumpfkeil: “There’s nothing we can’t sort out”;

the self-assurance of Wolfgang Wilcke: “Only one person makes the decisions here – and that’s me.”

Dear Gerhard, I have so many wonderful memories associated with you and Avus – you could easily fill a whole book with them alone. There are things in there that nobody would believe us about today… Here’s just a small selection.

Avus-Herrscher: Rennleiter Gottlieb 1984 im Interview mit Autor Braun

Foto: Archiv ADAC Berlin

BRAUN 3

The scene of the action: the Südkehre in 1987. During the Formula 3 race, Wolfgang Wilcke – positioned there at the turning point as race director – suddenly has a brilliant idea. Because a few raindrops were falling and Bernd Schneider was sending his Dallara crashing into the crash barriers after some spectacular spins, Wilcke bellowed at the marshal: “Red, red immediately, bring out the red flag.”

As a track reporter, I’m standing right next to him; I call out via the mic to my friend Kalli Hufstadt at the commentary box in the main grandstand and report that the race has been stopped with a red flag. He, too, excitedly announces over the track radio that ‘there’s not a red flag to be seen far and wide, and besides, it’s bone-dry. The field has just thundered past here at full throttle again’.

I then caught wind of your fit of rage, dear Gerhard, over the internal radio. “Wolfgang, have you completely lost the plot? Put that red flag away immediately – the race is still on. If anyone’s going to show a red flag here, it’ll be me. Do you understand me?”

Meekly, Mr Wilcke has the red flag packed away again and immediately instructs the bewildered marshal: “Show green again now.” The race continues until the scheduled finish, after which a clamour of protest rises from those who, upon seeing the red flag, did what the sporting regulations require – continuing to drive slowly to the start and finish line and refraining from overtaking. You later brushed off all the rowdy protesters without further ado and explained to them that they must have been seeing a mirage. “The race director never ordered or displayed a red flag, and that’s that.”

Or the mass collision in the 1978 Renault 5 Cup. Lap 2, disaster strikes when the ‘Young Wild Ones’, Christian Danner and Peter Oberndorfer, collide, dragging half the starting field into a massive pile-up. Around 15 cars were wrecked, with an hour’s break for towing and clearing up. Afterwards, the race restarted with the remaining drivable cars, which immediately crashed into each other again, but at least a few Fives still made it to the finish line.

Also quite amusing was the miraculous disappearance of what was already a meagre field of 1985 two-litre Ford sports cars. After practice alone, the field in the one-make series dwindled from ten to seven cars following accidents and engine failures. By the time the race gets underway on Sunday, only six two-seaters are left on the grid, three of which collide on the very first approach to the Südkehre. Two more come to a halt against the crash barriers on lap two, whilst the last remaining lone competitor laments the loss of a wheel on lap three. Instead of the planned ten laps, the ghost race is over after just three laps due to a lack of participants.

Because of the 6.00 pm deadline imposed by the authorities, we’re always under huge time pressure anyway, and you clearly see this bizarre turn of events as a godsend. Just to be on the safe side, I ask what’s going to happen now. Your answer is as spontaneous as it is pragmatic: “Nothing, call the next race; we’re back on schedule now.”

In your 20 years as Avus race director, I’ve witnessed the full range of your moods:

Cheerful and relaxed when an Avus weekend has gone like clockwork;

nervous, when the 700 PS Porsche 935 Turbos from the old racing championship in the late 1970s disappeared down the straight in the rain at 350, shrouded in an impenetrable cloud of spray;

relieved that the feared major crash at the 1980 Procar M1 race, featuring twelve Formula 1 drivers, never materialised;

depressed, because the fatal accident involving STW driver Kieth Odor in 1995 was a human tragedy and the low point in the recent history of the Avus;

feeling sentimental when, on 1 May 1999, you directed an event at your beloved Avus for the very last time at the grand farewell finale.

As my very own personal gift for your 90th birthday, I have today taken another, I hope, entertaining journey through your years as race director at the Avus.

Even though it was sometimes chaotic, stressful and the commentary box was crampier than a broom cupboard – I spent some wonderful, unforgettable years as a reporter with you at the Avus. And you, dear Gerhard, played a rather large part in that.

I’d like to congratulate you on your 90th birthday and simply say thank you once again. Stay healthy, lively and in good spirits.

Warm regards

Your old track commentator, Rainer Braun