1925 Le Mans

1925 — Bentley’s victory in 1924 summoned increased international interest in the 24 Hours. W.O. Bentley himself entered a factory car for the ’25 test. Sunbeam entered a pair of OHC 2.0-liter tourers for Sammy Davis and ‘22 Tourist Trophy winner Jean Chassagne and American-born Henry Segrave and Duller. Italy sent a quartet of Diattos and three potent 2.0-liter, side-valve O.M. (Officine Meccaniche) 665Ss, plus there was the usual contingent from ‘23 winners Chenard-Walcker, La Lorraine and a lone Chrysler (Model 70) – the first American car to appear at the 24 Hours. In all, 68 entries were received.

Spectator turnout nearly trebled, and the whole affair had – in just two years – taken on a fine holiday atmosphere. A team of slide-rule wielding British fans crossed the channel and took up 24-hour positions on Mulsanne to record each lap time and every lap, presaging the British Le Mans spectator invasion of the ‘60s. The sweltering solstice weather encouraged the crowd to don all sorts of resort costumes, including Plus Fours and pith helmets and the stylish new glasses with tinted lenses. The potent holiday mood was dampened during Saturday morning’s warm-up when Andre Guilbert crashed his Ravel with fatal results.

Le Mans organizers continued to fiddle with the rules. One new paragraph changed the character of the race for years to come, compelling all drivers to run across the road to their cars, erect the folding tops and side curtains and – only then – start the engines.

Winner of the ‘24 24 Hours Capt. John Duff’s Bentley was first away from the new starting line near the hippodrome at Hunaudieres. The organizers had not been able to come to terms with the local owner regarding new grandstands at the regular start/finish line at Les Raineries on the road to the Pontlieue hairpin. As they had in ’24, those in the impressive new grandstands gave Duff a peal of applause for his rapid work with the Bentley’s high technology top and side curtains.

The Sunbeam of grand prix star Henry Segrave was the sixth car to leave, and the crowd was stunned, 10min later, to see Segrave lead the first lap in the screaming green 2.0-liter Sunbeam. Ken Moir on the works Bentley was possessed and pursued the Sunbeam with the sort of enthusiasm that would not be out of place in a contemporary Le Mans first-hour grand prix. Capt. Duff made it British cars one-two-three at the end of the first lap.

After two hours of relentless pursuit, Moir shoved his Bentley past Segrave’s Sunbeam just past six o’clock, only to have the grand prix driver practically attach himself to the Bentley. The Sunbeam was running close with two wheels constantly in Moir’s considerable dust wake, probing to regain the lead.

Moir finally slowed when the cap on the oil level overflow pipe disappeared. Segrave went back into the lead while Moir fitted an improvised Vichy water bottle cap and made for the pits. But the fast running battle between Segrave and Moir with the tops deployed put the lead Bentley out of the race through nothing more telling than higher than expected fuel consumption.

At sunset both Bentleys were missing: Moir had run out of gas just outside the 20-lap minimum for fuel, lubricant and coolant replenishment. (That’s Moir, pictured above, mucking about with his petrol-deprived No. 10 works car.) Moir’s fraught race with Segrave’s Sunbeam simply had consumed too much fuel, and the rules compelled the Bentley to retire after 19 laps.

Meanwhile, Duff’s Bentley had stopped at the other end of the circuit near Pontlieue with a cracked fuel line. The good Captain ran back to the Bentley pits through the woods, seized a replacement and vanished into the night. A half-hour later, Duff returned the London Bentley to the pits for permanent repairs. He rejoined five laps – over 50 miles – in arrears.

Young Marius Mestivier died almost instantly when a front brake locked and pitched his 1100cc Amilcar off the road at Mulsanne on his 18th lap.

Duller had taken over from the heroic Segrave, only to retire with clutch problems after 32 laps, and the British battle for Le Mans evaporated quietly in dark.

At the halfway mark at 4:00 a.m., the Lorraines of De Courcelles/Rossignol and Stalter/Brisson led to the bleary delight of the crowd. Nearly half the spectators had stayed on during the night to eat, drink and celebrate the Jazz Age with all the energy and style they could muster.

French cars led at dawn, with the surviving Sunbeam third, three laps down. Duff and Clement were sixth, seven laps off the pace of the leading Lorraines twins. An hour later, Jean Chassange had retrieved a lap and split the Lorraines for second with the 2.0-liter Sunbeam. Nearly 60 percent of the 49 starters had survived the night, including the lone Chrysler of Desvaux and Stoffel. The American car had run with the almost-monotonous regularity of the remarkable record it set on the high-banked boards of Fresno, where 1,000mi were covered in 786min. With three hours to race, the field was down to 25; and by the 4:00 p.m. finish, only 19 cars were running. That included the number-seven Chrysler, which had raced 2032km and was sixth on the road but had not covered the minimum distance required for the over-3.5-liter class.

De Courcelles and Rossignol covered 2233.982km. Sammy Davis and Jean Chassagne won the 2.0-liter class with a fine second overall. The first and last Tri-annual Cup went to the 1100cc Senechal/Locqueneux Chenard-Walcker "tank" that was classified 13th.

Le Mans had instituted its signature start and suffered its first fatalities. The appearance of the Italians and the lone Chrysler invested the race with an international flavor that had been absent. More spectators, many speaking English, and a vivacious party atmosphere set Le Mans’ course as something more than a mere tool for the improvement of the practical touring car.

The abandonment of the Tri-annual Cup was fine evidence that a single Le Mans victory was an achievement of sufficient engineering and commercial gravity to stand alone. And the fans were unwilling to wait three years to anoint a winner. They liked the thrilling new starting procedure as well, and called it "the Le Mans start" to illustrate a knowledgeable affection for Les Vingt-Quatre Heures du Mans.

After the flowers had been thrown and the champagne consumed, several senior A.C.O. officials called upon the gentleman who owned the land near the traditional start/finish line at Les Raineries and made him a firm offer. He accepted.