Land Speed Record Pt.3; The Last Hurrah of the Aero-Engined Monsters

In the early 1930’s the Land Speed Record (LSR) belonged to one man; Captain Malcolm Campbell. With the death of his great rival Sir Henry Segrave and an absence of any credible challengers, Campbell had no competition and was left alone to raise the speed time and again in the quest to reach 300mph.

The final incarnation of Campbell's Bluebird

Daytona Beach was still the venue of choice and in 1931 Campbell finally eradicated Segrave’s name from the record books with a speed of 246.09mph (396.03kmh) driving a still-further modified Bluebird. This achievement gained him the recognition he so desperately craved in the form of a Knighthood.

Subsequent attempts at Daytona Beach saw Campbell raise the record, first to 253.97mph in (408.71kmh) in 1932 and then to 272.46mph (438.46kmh) in 1933. In 1935, with Bluebird drastically remodelled (all at his own expense), he added a meagre 4mph to his record at Daytona, suffering from terminal wheel spin.  He realised that the sands had yielded all the speed they were going to give and that a new venue must be found if the magical 300mph was to be reached.

Despite the difficulties he had suffered at Verneuk Pan in South Africa some years before, Campbell realised that this was the sort of venue that would be essential to reach 300mph. But this time it was to Utah and the Bonneville Salt Flats that he turned. Using the remodelled Bluebird now fitted with a 36.5litre Rolls-Royce R-type aero-racing engine developing 2,300hp he finally broke the 300mph barrier with 301.129mph (484.60kmh). At first the timekeepers told him he had missed the mark by mere fractions. Campbell immediately resolved to try again the next day but the wind was taken out of his sails when the timekeepers revealed they had made a mistake and he had in fact surpassed 300mph. Campbell was furious, feeling that he had been cheated out of his moment of glory.

He had earlier stated that he would retire from record breaking once he had reached 300mph and he was good to his word. Nine times the LSR holder, he turned his attention to the water speed record, which he took four times, leaving it at 141.740mph (228.108kmh). He died in 1948, aged 63.

Campbell had been very active between the wars at Brooklands race circuit in Weybridge, Surrey. Two of his contemporaries at the track were the next men to forge a bond of competition for the LSR.

Eyston's mammoth Thunderbolt under construction in the Bean
works at Tipton in Staffordshire

John Cobb was a wealthy fur broker in London who, with painstaking and infinite care, eased his way into racing and eventually to the LSR. George Eyston, First World War hero, sailor, pilot, engineer and inventor, made a career out of breaking records of different durations in different sizes of car, setting over two hundred individual records by 1935. As much as he was an enthusiast, he broke records for profit, figuring that this form of motor sport brought greater rewards than circuit racing.

Cobb had shown his skill at handling large and powerful cars when he commissioned the building of the Napier Railton, powered by a 27 litre Napier Lion broad arrow W12 engine and designed by Reid Railton, an acknowledged engineering genius who had worked on Parry Thomas’s LSR car and Campbell’s Bluebirds. With this car Cobb was to set the all-time Outer circuit lap record at Brooklands of 143.44mph (230.84kmh) as well as numerous 24-hour records at Bonneville.

For the LSR, Cobb and Eyston followed different design approaches. Cobb opted for the scientific approach, once again employing Railton as designer. The Railton Special employed two W12 Napier Lion, 1,250hp engines mounted on an S-shaped backbone chassis; the forward engine driving the rear wheels and the rear engine the front wheels. The whole was fully enclosed in a futuristic one piece teardrop body that gave maximum aerodynamic efficiency.

Eyston designed his own car and opted for brute force. His ‘Thunderbolt’ car weighed 7 tons and used twin Rolls Royce R-type engines developing 2,350hp each, mounted in an 8-wheeled (four up front to steer, 4 mounted on one axle at the back for drive) chassis of massive proportions. It had twice the power of the Railton but weighed twice as much.

Bonneville was the de facto venue for record attempts by now and Cobb and Eyston conducted a duel for the LSR that saw the record change hands five times in 2 years, their battle only halted by the Second World War.

Cobb's Railton Special showing how the bodywork could be removed in one piece

Eyston fired the first shot in 1937 - over two years after Campbell had broken the 300mph barrier. The huge untried car, which had astonished locals with its size when it was unpacked from its transport crate, suffered from clutch problems, although the engines ran perfectly. He persevered and at one point ran one way at 310mph, only for the clutches to break again before he could start a return run. Finally, just before the weather broke he went for it, raising the record to 312mph (502.10kmh) with runs of 305 and 319mph.
Knowing that Cobb was preparing for an attempt and that his own car had hardly been extended, he went back to Bonneville a year later, but this time Cobb and the Railton Special were there also and battle was well and truly joined.

Eyston set the first marker, but it was not without drama. His first run was 347.155, faster already than his old two-way average. Art Pillsbury, the official timekeeper was blunt and to the point about the return run; ‘Get it done, and make it good,’ he told Eyston and so that’s exactly what he did. To Pillsbury’s horror, however, on the return run, he realised that no time had been registered on the timing tape. As Eyston bounded up, confident that he had done enough, Pillsbury could only burst into tears.

Illustrating the position of the
engines in the Railton Special

However, Eyston was no Campbell and mildly put his arm round Pillsbury’s shoulders and told him not to worry, that they would tell the press that it was just a trial run. Eyston was a big man in more ways than one.
Three days later, on August 27th, 1938, with the sides of Thunderbolt painted black to avoid a repeat of the timing error, Eyston tried again and shattered his own record with 345.50mph (556.01kmh).

Now it was Cobb’s turn. He put in several trial runs while teething troubles were ironed out and then, on September 15th, he went for it. ‘John’s got it,’ were Eyston’s words as Cobb flashed through the timing traps and, indeed, he had, averaging 350.20mph (563.57kmh).

Well knowing that Cobb’s car was capable of massive speeds, Eyston had not been sitting still and had devised and implemented a change to tank cooling for the great engines, blanking off the old radiator inlet at the front of the car. The tail fin was removed, the car was wheeled out the day after Cobb’s record effort and Eyston calmly re-took the record with 357.50mph (375.32kmh).

That was the end of it for 1938 but, late in 1939 as war clouds were gathering over Europe, Cobb was back at Bonneville to take up where he had left of the year before. He raised the record with the minimum of fuss to 369.70mph (594.95kmh). He knew there was still more to come and the magical 400mph beckoned enticingly but, with the world on the brink of all-out war, this was no time to be playing with fast cars.

Thunderbolt gets a push start at Bonneville

Cobb wasn’t done with the LSR, though. In 1947 he dusted off the Railton, now called the Railton Mobil Special in deference to the main sponsor, and headed back to Bonneville. There were a few problems with the course and the car, but nothing that was insurmountable and, on 16th September he made two runs at 385.645mph and 403.135mph for a record of 394.196 (634.38kmh). On a smother course he could have undoubtedly taken the record over 400mph, but as it was, the weather turned the very next day and that was the end.

Like Segrave and Campbell before him, Cobb turned his hand to the Water Speed Record, only to lose his life on Loch Ness in 1952 whilst travelling at over 200mph.

Cobb’s was the last LSR for a piston engined car and the record was to stand for 17 years (officially! Unofficially it stood for 16) and when the next contenders stepped forward the turbine and the jet would be the motive power. The second chapter of LSR history had come to an end, but an even more astounding era was about to start with speeds spiralling rapidly towards the speed of sound.