Back when Joe Hoppen saved the Trans-Am The Trans-Am may well be the longest running professional road racing series in the world. However, it is also something else: the longest running soap opera in motorsport. During its nearly 40-year lifetime, the Trans-Am has undergone so many changes in format to keep on breathing, that its transformations rival those of a plastic surgery devotee seeking one last face lift prior to being committed to the grave. Originally created in 1966 as a means of validating Detroit’s then growing muscle pony car set, the Trans-Am flourished through 1970 when no less than six different brands’ Ford’s Mustang, Chevrolet’s Camaro. Pontiac’s Firebird, American Motors’ Javelin, Plymouth’s Barracuda, and Dodge’s Challenger were all represented by factory supported teams. It was the year after that when things began to unravel as the factories cut back, wanting to be politically correct by concentrating on emissions and safety as a means of easing the pressure from Washington. Bambi vs. Godzilla By 1973, the situation had become bad enough that the SCCA scrapped its original format focusing on Detroit, and admitted the foreigners, such as Porsche as full fledged contestants. The SCCA title chase had been reduced to what was a weak clone of IMSA’S Camel GT Challenge – ironically the product of IMSA president John Bishop’s inventive mind; the same John Bishop who had given birth to the Trans-Am as the Executive Director of the SCCA. The problem for the SCCA was that IMSA did it better, and with the oil crisis in the fall of 1973, and the winter of 1974, the Trans-Am was in deep trouble, Indeed, just a handful of events were held during the latter year, as once again SCCA officials sought a solution. Their answer was found in the largely amateur ranks of their National Championship program. Under the new formula, the Trans-Am would draw its entries from the A, B and C Production categories, the amateurs racing for purses less than modest, but still more money and the trophy only prizes they were used to on the National scene. What the SCCA discovered was that few people cared; so few in fact that potential undertakers were gathering by the end of the 1975 season. Hoppen Along It was at this point that Josef Hoppen entered the picture. In terms of “White Knights,” Hoppen was probably the most unlikely candidate for the job. Born in the decade before the Second World War, Hoppen, who had worked in Porsche’s competition department as a young man, came to the United States in 1957, going to work for a Volkswagen dealer in Daytona Beach, while racing a series of Porsche Spyders in the SCCA. By the first part of the 1960’s he had gone to work for Volkswagen of America as a field representative, coming back to VWoA’s New Jersey headquarters as a rising executive in the middle of the decade. Because of his motorsport background, VW’s management sent Hoppen to look after the company’s interests in Formula Vee, the new clan of Volkswagen powered open wheel single seaters, at such special events as the Nassau Speedweeks. In 1968, Hoppen was made the boss of VWoA’s Special Vehicles Department, the purposely vague title hiding its true mission to utilize motorsport as a marketing tool, especially in light of the fact that as of 1969, VWoA would be importing and selling Porsches, as well as Audis in North America. For Hoppen, the plunge was to be deep. Within months, he was involved in the Can-Am, putting together a program that brought Jo Siffert to the series under the banner of VWoA’s newly established Porsche+Audi division in the Porsche 917 P/A Spyder. It was to be a precursor to a multi year program that Hoppen hoped would bring Porsche victory over the then dominant McLarens by 1971. Although winning in the Can-Am would take a year longer and involve much politics, not to mention the development of the specialized 1000 plus horsepower 917 open cockpit Turbos, Hoppen’s dream would become reality – so much so that when the SCCA decided to kick the 917s out by rendering them uncompetitive for 1974, the change killed the series. By this point, however, the scope of Hoppen’s activities had broadened to include John Bishop’s newly formed International Motorsport Association, founded by John Bishop in 1969 with the help of NASCAR’s Bill France, Sr., after being forced to resign from the SCCA in as power struggle that didn’t go Bishop’s way. One of the first people the ex-SCCA executive sought out for help after establishing his sanctioning body was Hoppen, who at the time was looking for an alternative to the SCCA. Over Under Sideways Down “The SCCA was giving us a hard time about the 911, having made it ineligible for the Under Two Liter Division of the Trans-Am, and had also been unhelpful with getting our 914 National Championship program off the ground. John seemed to provide not only a balance to that, but a venue where we could display the attributes of both models to our customers.” It was to be a long marriage, one extending into the 1980’s when Hoppen retired and Bishop sold IMSA. Still, it wasn’t always a happy one. “Sometimes, I think John didn’t understand that I worked for a company which sold street, not race vehicles. What we were not was in the race car business, our involvement in motorsport was intended strictly to help boost the recognition and sales of our street products,” In short, Hoppen’s largess came with strings that either Bishop didn’t see, or didn’t want to see, at least not in the beginning. By 1973, though, the commercialism of which Hoppen was so well aware, and which has for so long driven Porsche’s competition activities, became imbedded in Bishop’s psyche, much to the IMSA founder’s dismay. For Bishop, the secret to the success of Camel GT was close competitive racing. Likewise, the secret to IMSA’s success was a large diverse competitor base that would form the underpinnings of that exercise and provide the kind of on-going revenues IMSA needed to survive and prosper. In fact, there was much of both. Unfortunately, for the most part. The competitor base used Porsches. Likewise, the close racing was a fratricidal clash among the Porsche Carrera RSR set. Such was the domination of the 911s from Zuffenhausen that BMW’s factory CSL coupe operation, which the Munich company believed would have little trouble using IMSA’s Porsche privateers to wipe the pavement with, lasted but a year before returning to Germany at the end of 1975 in defeat. Had Hoppen’s mandate been different, Bishop possibly could have gotten the Special Vehicles Manager to back off a bit. But, since it wasn’t, and since Hoppen intended to pursue it to complete success, Bishop had to find another way. That turned out to be the homegrown, tube-frame All American GT silhouette racers. In effect. These were front-engine Can-Am cars clothed in production body shells whose admittance to the Camel GT was controlled strictly by Bishop and IMSA. As a plan to foil the Porsche crowd, the AAGT concept was perfect at least as long as the opposition was based on Porsche’s non-turbo Carrera RSR. Unhappily for Bishop, Porsche had discovered the joys of turbocharging in the Can-Am, and had transferred that knowledge to its 911 universe in the form of the 1974 bewinged, Martini sponsored Carrera RSR Turbo which finished second overall at Le Mans that June behind a full blooded Matra V-12 sports racing prototype. The Turbo RSR was a true prototype in that it was the predecessor to the 934 and 935 Group 4 and Group 5 coupes that would vie for the FIA’s new silhouette World Championship of Makes in 1976. Initially, the much more modified 935 was intended as a “factory only” entry, while the more “stock” 934 would become the customer car Porsche hoped its Carrera RSR owners would purchase to replace their current racers. Ultimately. Bishop would be faced with the problem of what to do with the 935 once it was released for customer sale in 1977. However, in 1975, as the German firm began development work on the 934, the sole issue before the IMSA president was how to introduce it into the Camel GT family without furthering Porsche’s domination of the series. Hoppen saw the issue simply: “For 1976, only the 934 would be available to our IMSA customers since we would cease production of the Carrera RSR after 1975. When I explained that to John he accepted it, and said that the 934 would be allowed to compete in the Camel GT for 1976.” Bishop was uneasy about his decision, especially after the trip he and his wife Peggy took to Porsche’s famed Weissach test center in the summer of 1975 to see the new 934 in person. While the 934 was by no means perfect with its high (more than 2400 lb) weight, narrow 12-inch wide rear rims and low downforce aerodynamics, Bishop saw a car with tremendous potential when compared to its predecessor. After coming home he polled his Carrera RSR owners for their opinion on the issue of the 934’s suitability as replacement for the current 911s. Universally they complained about the increased costs of their intended 1976 mounts, which was all Bishop needed to change his mind. \ “I was in Weissach with Peter Gregg and Al Holbert,” remembered Hoppen, “doing some final shakedown test on the 934 in October when John called me to say that he had changed his mind and would not permit the 934 to race in IMSA. Because I was surrounded by Porsche’s management, I simply said that we would discuss it later when I go back to the United States and hung up. However, I can tell you I was truly shocked. It was an unpleasant surprise.” Payday Payments Indeed. as was Hoppen’s usual custom, he had committed on behalf of VWoA to purchase nearly a dozen of the new car for onward sale to his customers. Perhaps even more importantly he had done so, again as he usually did, without telling Volkswagen of America, which generally didn’t care about such matters as long as the cars were resold quickly. Now, Hoppen was the proud possessor of a bunch of expensive vehicles, for which, unless he could find a quick solution, he had no customers. “Even though I was able to get Porsche to take back some of the cars, there about five or six for which I was still on the hook. Believe me, I was really scrambling to find a way out.” Hoppen’s position wasn’t helped when Bishop stuck to his decision during a subsequent meeting in New York where Hoppen’s arguments for the 934 proved fruitless. Still, the VWoA man’s resourcefulness could not be discounted as he arranged a second New York meeting, this one with Cameron Argentsinger, whose family had first brought racing at Watkins Glen, and who then headed the professional end of the sport for the SCCA. “I told Cameron,” said Hoppen, “that I would bring the heart of the IMSA Camel GT to the Trans-Am if he would allow the 934s to run in the series. Given the fact that it was on its deathbed, I thought such an infusion would be attractive to him.” So attractive that Argentsinger accepted the offer, creating a new category where the high profile IMSA set could play, and where the orphaned 934s could find a home, thus removing Hoppen from his potentially embarrassing financial obligations, With promotional support from Volkswagen of America, the Trans- Am’s profile grew, as no less than four 934s battled each other for the championship honors in the newly established Category II title contest (Category I being retained as the home for the National arena production cars of 1975). With Friends Like These…. With drivers like Holbert, Hurley Haywood, Paul Miller and George Follmer, who would win the crown for car owner Vasek Polack, the Trans-Am arose to again become a viable professional motorsport property, and all because of necessity on Hoppen’s part. Bishop attempted to rectify his mistake by changing his mind once more in the summer of 1976, permitting the 934 to compete in the Camel GT. But, by then it was too late. The Trans-Am had re-established itself as a competitor to the IMSA championship. As Bishop so candidly put it, “It’s not good to get Porsche angry at you.” More to the point, it wasn’t smart to leave someone such as Hoppen holding an invoice that couldn’t, or didn’t want to pay. On such ironic twists the fates thrive, and, in this case the Trans-Am and its future were the beneficiaries. |
Bill Oursler |
