Francois Cevert: A Date With Destiny?

Cevert’s family background was unusual. He should really have been known as Francois Goldenberg – that was the surname of his father Charles and his roots were as Russian as French.

“My great-grandfather had money,” reveals Jacqueline. “It was an old family, and nobody had to work. When he thought the revolution was coming, he sent his family from Russia to France, Brazil, the USA. We still have family everywhere in the world.

“My grandparents, father and his brothers all came to Paris. Afterwards, the money kept coming from my great-grandfather, but then he was killed, and the money stopped. So at ten years old, my father and uncles had to work in the streets to get some money. It was very hard for my father when he was young.”

Against the odds, Goldenberg built up a successful jewellery business. One day in 1938 an attractive girl walked into his shop; her name was Huguette Cevert. They fell in love, but war was around the corner. Charles was Jewish, and the relationship remained secret.

When he joined the resistance, Charles became a prime target for the Nazis. He lived in hiding in a maid’s room in the attic of an apartment building, while Huguette stayed several floors below.

“He was registered as a Jew, and did not live with my mother because he was afraid the Gestapo was coining. He was a wanted man. It was very difficult for them, very dangerous…”

During the war children Elie, Francois (born in February 1944) and Jacqueline were all registered with their mother’s surname, as was a third son, ‘Petit’ Charles.

“My mother gave her name to my brothers and myself, and after it stayed like that. A long time afterwards my father said your name is Goldenberg, but we said everybody knows us by the name of Cevert, we can’t change. After the war my father wanted to marry my mother, but she said ‘We have the time, we’ve passed five years without being married, let’s wait a little bit.’ They waited another 45 years, until he died they never did marry.”

Growing up in affluent surroundings, Francois developed an early interest in wheels and speed. “My father liked sportscars very much, and my mother too,” says Jacqueline. “For Francois, it was always cars. In France, we say ‘une auto’; my mother says when he was young, he could not say it exactly he always said ‘toto, toto.’ This was his first word.

“When he was 15 he told my mother every day, ‘It would be better for you if you had a scooter to do your shopping.’ So my mother bought a Vespa, but she never rode it; Francois took it and began racing friends in the streets. After that he had a Morini 125, and and then, when he was 19, he had a Norton.”

An obsession with bikes led to a shortlived career on two wheels – one event at Montlhery, to be precise – before Francois turned to cars. National Service put plans on hold, until in 1966 the 22-year-old completed a course at the Le Mans race school.

His ambitions did not go down well at home.

Later he switched to the school at Magny-Cours, where the carrot was the Volant Shell scholarship – and the prize of an Alpine F3 car. Francois and Nanou worked all hours in mundane jobs to pay for his tuition. He qualified for the scholarship final and beat the favoured candidates – including one Patrick Depailler.

At Watkins Glen, Tyrrell signed Scheckter for 1974. Although Stewart and Crombac deny it, Ken insists Francois did know that Jackie was about to stop. Did Tyrrell tell Cevert that weekend he was to inherit JYS’s seat, with Jody as team-mate? Certainly if the Frenchman had heard about the Scheckter deal he would have been unsettled, perhaps less so if it had been made clear that Jackie was quitting. But for whatever reason, he was on inspired form.

“He was confident,” says Ramirez, “His first win was there and he wanted to do it again. I think he’d made the decision to get pole and win the race. The number sixes were probably another thing which contributed to his determination, the feeling that everything was going to be alright.”

“When he went out he said, `I’m going to put this car on pole now,’” says Tyrrell, “and he’d gone out to do that when he lost it.”

Cevert was fourth and had set his two fastest laps when he went missing; witnesses said he seemed just to overdo it. In a further twist, the first man on the scene was Jody. What he saw coloured forever his attitude to motor racing; Francois was beyond help.

“I was waiting for my second baby,” says Jacqueline, “which is why I wasn’t in America. I was not well, and I didn’t want to travel. We were out, and my brother Charles heard from somebody who phoned and just said “Francois is dead.” We came home, and he was terribly shocked. It seemed impossible. I tried to get Jean-Pierre in Watkins Glen, and, half an hour later, he called.”

The year after the accident, Nanou Van Malderen first told the story of Cevert’s visit to the medium in an introduction to the biography, A Contract With Death. It set the family thinking.

“There was one strange thing,” says Jacqueline. “In the last year of his life, 1973, he was always second. He had good success. One day I was with my mother and we met him in the street at Neuilly, at home. He was sad and nervous, and mother said, ‘No problem, everything is good. You’re always second, it’s fantastic.’ Francois was a little upset. ‘Yes, l am second, but I won’t be World Champion this year.’ We were very surprised. She said, `Ah, but it will be next year.’ After he died we thought about that. It was so strange – why did he say that at this time? Did he believe the medium?

“My mother wanted to see this woman. She took a photograph of Francois when he was 12 years old – you could not recognise him – and gave this photograph to the woman, and said ‘Speak to me about him.’ The woman was very, very old. She put her hand on the photo, she shut her eyes, and she said, ‘I see many successes, many great things, it will be fantastic, he is recognised by the whole country.’ She didn’t say he was a racing driver, but that he would have a great career. Then she stopped speaking. She opened her eyes. She was so surprised, and so afraid. She looked at my mother and said, ‘He is dead…’”