The Fast Life of Johnny Dumfries Transcript (Scotland: A Scottish History Podcast)
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Scotland - A Scottish History Podcast
Episode 54 - The Fast Life of Johnny Dumfries
It is 13th July 1986.
They say that living with privilege is difficult.
It isn’t.
Shunning that privilege? Maybe a little bit tougher.
Being heir to a huge fortune has never been a barrier to getting into your particular chosen profession. In fact - it’s usually a huge bonus. Hundreds of millionaire dads with frustrated dreams of excitement have paid for their kids to get into the industry.
You’re pretty sure your dad would never have given you the money for this. After all, you’re John Colum Crichton-Stuart, the Earl of Dumfries, first in line to one of the richest hereditary fortunes in the United Kingdom.
Sport was the plaything of the nobility, it was never something to be seriously pursued. You had friends at Ampleforth College, an incredibly exclusive boarding school run by Benedictine monks, who excelled at polo, rugger… all of the usual stuff. But your obsession lay elsewhere.
You dropped out of school, much to your parents’ chagrin. Because John Colum Crichton-Stuart didn’t want to follow in his father’s footsteps.
He wanted to drive.
He wanted to make it to Formula 1.
This is Scotland. A podcast about history and where we made it. I’m Michael Park.
13th July 1986 was the British Grand Prix at Brands Hatch. You start the race sandwiched between fellow British drivers Derek Warrick and Martin Brundle. But there you are, saltire emblazoned across your helmet, seven places behind your teammate Ayrton Senna who qualified third.
The race had to be restarted when another driver crashed head-on into a barrier, breaking both his legs. It didn’t take much to remind you of the risks when you were hitting corners at nearly 100 miles per hour.
Lap 1. Out of the final corner, down the pit straight into the tightening bend at Paddock Hill. Keep your eyes out for cars diving down the inside - this was where the accident happened.
Twenty six drivers started the race - only nine would finish it.
Carry as much speed as you can through the rise and into Druids, the viciously tight hairpin that takes you towards Surtees and into the long run down Pilgrim’s drop where the car hits its top speed, over 200mph of internal combustion and highly flammable fuel contained in a little carbon fibre shell.
Make a mistake?
That could be it.
You feel your hands grip the wheel tighter. The g-force makes it feel like you’re a couple of inches below where your body actually is. Driving this Lotus is like an out of body experience.
Nobody knows you as John Colum Crichton-Stuart here. Nobody calls you the Earl of Dumfries or the future Marquess of Bute.
Everybody knows fine who you are, not that you’re exactly parading it around the paddock.
But they know you as Johnny Dumfries. The kid who got a job driving a van for one of the teams and then worked as a painter and decorator to scrape together enough money to go racing in the lower formulas.
You touch the apex at Stirling, carrying a load of speed into the corner. You feel the car twitch horribly underneath you but you pull it back.
You’re here because Senna didn’t want a competitive teammate - he wanted someone who would be a pure number two driver. You don’t care. You’re here. You’re racing in your first British Grand Prix.
If it’s your last time too - for whatever reason - then so be it.
Through Clearways, round the Clark Curve.
One more lap down. Only seventy three more to go.
You finish the race, seventh of the twenty six starters. The fact that only nine drivers finished the race is by the by. You go onto score a few points through the rest of the season but Lotus quietly let you go at the end of the season.
The Formula 1 dream is over. But hell, at least you did it. You got there, you tested yourself against the best drivers in the world and you did it on your own merits, without using your family’s money. Influence? Maybe… money, no.
But there are other cars out there. Other races. Other glories. It’s been a long time since you’ve tasted victory.
It is 1988. Formula 1 might be gone. A lazier narrator might say that it’s in your rearview mirrors as you cross the line in your biggest race yet. Between you and your two teammates - Jan Lammers and Andy Wallace - you’ve just driven 3313.8 miles over 24 hours which is roughly the equivalent of driving from Edinburgh to Damascus in Syria in a day.
The superpowered Jaguar you drove to victory is stuck in fourth gear as Lammers brings it home, across the line, finishing just under a lap ahead of the previously dominant Porsches.
Jaguar were back on top. And Johnny Dumfries had just won the most prestigious race in the world: the 24 hours of Le Mans. You’re on the top step of the podium again, covered in champagne, bedecked in a wreath of flowers.
By 1990, Johnny Dumfries was gone, retiring from racing to run the family’s many businesses. With his father passing on, Johnny ascended to the Marquessate of Bute and became one of the richest men in the nation.
Known as a reluctant aristocrat - must be tough - he began the process of selling many of his holdings to both private investors and the communities as soon as he could. It’s said that he doesn’t have much interest in the dynasty of his family and still prefers that people call him John Bute, or just Johnny.
In 2020, the Marquess of Bute was, along with his family, charged with breaching Covid-19 travel restrictions by travelling from London to his home at Mount Stuart near Rothesay. His daughter put the trip on Instagram.
They say that living with privilege is difficult, even for the reluctant gentry.
Apparently not.
What’s the quote from that old old film about the bat who is also a man? You either die a hero, or you live long enough to see yourself become the villain.
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You’ve been listening to Scotland, it was written and produced by me, Michael Park and is a production of Be Quiet Media.
The music for every episode of Scotland is by the human book of love poetry, Mitch Bain, you can check out more of his work at mitchbain.bequiet.media.
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Thanks for listening, we’ll see you next time.