CART: the series F1 once feared – born of necessity, died of neglect

On the down side, it had a staggering lack of leadership, a greedy mob of owners who took the company public, countless conflicts of interest among the membership and no regard for controlling costs.

In its heyday, both Bernie Ecclestone and Bill France Jr feared CART. In its final days, neither Formula 1 nor NASCAR gave it a second thought. It was born of necessity and died of neglect.

“We had something very special for a long time,” laments Mario Andretti, the 1984 CART champion who drove for Paul Newman and Carl Haas for 12 seasons before retiring in 1994 at the age of 54.

By the time Newman/Haas opened its doors in 1983, CART had a nucleus of Pat Patrick, Roger Penske, Jim Hall and Gurney. Can-Am survivors Doug Shierson and Rick Galles joined up in the early ’80s along with Jim Trueman. Patrick and Penske had taken the offensive, spent some of their own money and scored PPG Industries as a title sponsor. (USAC had Marlboro as its title sponsor back in 1971 but lost it after only a year because of incompetence).

Midway through the ’80s, CART controlled all of Indycar racing except Indianapolis and an uneasy truce existed each May. On the racing side, CART had replaced F1 at Long Beach, branched out into Canada, found a popular home at an airport in Ohio and rejuvenated road racing in North America at Mid-Ohio, Laguna Seca and Elkhart Lake.

But off track there was a flaw that would prove fatal down the road. Not only could the owners seldom agree on anything, they usually opted to pick a president who could be manipulated or knew nothing about racing – or both. The litany of lawyers and leeches who occupied the front office was rivalled by the revolving door in the marketing department. Patrick and Penske called the shots and there was a distinct divide between the haves and have-nots by the late ’80s.

Not taking George seriously was followed by CART taking its stock public but, instead of re-investing some of their millions in their product, the owners cashed in. CART’s next gaffe was failing to technically ride herd on Honda and Toyota and a controversy over manifold pressure at Detroit in 2000 was the impetus for both Japanese manufacturers to bolt.

Penske, who had quietly but constantly criticised George for wrecking open-wheel racing, then did the unthinkable. He left his beloved CART for the IRL in 2002 with Toyota and Honda in tow. Chip Ganassi was the next big domino to fall, followed by Michael Andretti, who had joined with Barry Green’s brother to start his own operation. Three-time CART champ Bobby Rahal joined George’s club as did Adrian Fernández and that meant CART’s nucleus was supporting the person and series it supposedly despised.

Kevin Kalkhoven and Gerald Forsythe had bested George for CART’s assets in the bankruptcy court in 2004 and called it Champ Car. They spent millions and millions on television, races and teams before Kalkhoven told Forsythe “no more” last winter.

The delicious, if not depressing, irony of this 12-year open-wheel war is that all of the IRL’s original concepts (American short track drivers, American cars and engines, no engine leases and all ovals) failed, so George adopted CART’s mantra almost to the letter even before unification.

In 30 years, CART gave us great racing, exciting venues, a pioneering safety team and some memorable drivers. But what it couldn’t deliver was common sense and leadership.

“There’s no doubt Indycar racing had more potential than NASCAR in 1979,” says Gurney. “Had open-wheel been given equal leadership, it would still be bigger today than NASCAR.

“Now it just limps along and that’s one of the great crimes of the ages.”