by Gerald Enzinger
Jo Ramirez experienced the best years of Formula 1 from the very epicenter of the action.
On his way from Mexico City to the Ennstal, he found himself caught up in the turmoil of the Prost–Senna conflict. He worked with and for Tyrrell, Stewart, Fittipaldi, and Dennis. It all began with a letter of recommendation from Juan Manuel Fangio.
It’s an utterly, utterly crazy world in which Jo Ramirez, born in 1942 in a suburb of Mexico City, has spent his life. Tens, perhaps hundreds of millions of fans around the globe crave stories from the best, most thrilling, and most dangerous years of Formula 1—but he was right in the middle of it as history unfolded.
He was a colleague during the iconic Prost vs. Senna team wars, a friend during the rise of the Rodriguez brothers. He was at Tyrrell when triumph and tragedy struck the small world championship team. But his greatest achievement—beyond all the accolades as a “legend” and “one of the architects of Formula 1”—was recognized by none other than Bernie Ecclestone, who asked him a single question: “How is it possible to be in this circus for so long—and have no enemies?”
Perhaps it’s because Jo Ramirez is a whirlwind, yet completely at peace with himself. The position of team manager, which he held during the last two decades of his career at McLaren, was made for a man who can remain both cool and humble in the inferno of egos and a haven of hysteria. One of the few who, in this microcosm of madness, stayed thrillingly close to the action yet healthily detached. Even today, well into his 80s, he seems to have more petrol than blood running through his veins. He can still spend weeks looking forward to traveling from his home near Malaga to a MotoGP race, or cruising through paradise in a Porsche 912 with the Ennstal Classic—to the very place where he once met his lifelong love, a woman from Vienna.
After all the years of being asked and asking, he still says “thank you” for the interest and shares stories from his life—much, but not all. For a man who, thanks to his closeness to legends, often knew too much, he skillfully walks the fine line between trust and disclosure.
His life reads like an adventure novel of the old (and good) school. At 20, he dropped out of university against his father’s wishes while studying engineering, and—still defying his father and short on money—managed to get to New York with a ticket arranged by a friend at a government office. From there, he traveled back to Europe aboard the legendary ocean liner, the Queen Elizabeth—the continent of his longing.
For there, his fellow countryman and friend from their karting days, Ricardo Rodriguez, was just then conquering the world as a Ferrari driver.
From England, Jo traveled straight to Sicily, where Ricardo introduced him at the start of the Targa Florio to Mauro Forghieri, who was so impressed by Ramirez’s dedication—and the effort it took him to get there—that he actually offered him a job with the team. “We became friends for life,” says Jo, recalling the magic of the beginning: “I did every shitty job and made the coffee, but I was happy, and every day I got closer to the cars.”
But in those years of motorsport, luck often had a half-life of just a few race weekends. Ricardo traveled to his home Grand Prix in Mexico—and never returned; he tragically lost his life in an accident.
Jo, who couldn’t afford the trip home, was now alone in Italy and without a plan—but with a highly influential acquaintance: Juan Manuel Fangio. The five-time world champion didn’t hesitate to write a recommendation for Ramirez, which allowed him to introduce himself at Maserati. And, of course, he was hired.
His next mentors bore legendary names like Dallara or Lamborghini (“I was their sixth employee”), but he realized there would be no racing opportunities there. Once again, Jo chose the brave path over the easy one. He drove his Fiat 500 to England in search of his fortune in motorsport.
This was a bold move, especially since a) he knew no one there and b) his English was limited. “So I listened to the radio soap opera The Archers to get used to the language,” he recalls. Even with those skills, he sent applications to seemingly every workshop on the island.
Soon after, he worked on John Wyer’s Ford GT40 and met Dan Gurney, conveniently a big fan of Mexican cuisine. Together they went to the USA for two years—Dan, a brilliant inventor and great driver, enjoyed success, and Jo earned enough to return to England and buy a house. With Wyer and drivers Jackie Oliver and Pedro Rodriguez, he won at Daytona 1971 in the Porsche 917—with Jo himself as a hero, having led his crew to change the gearbox in record time during the race.
A wonderful period followed at Tyrrell, then the best Formula 1 team in the world. “The atmosphere was amazing—so good that Jackie Stewart turned down huge offers from Ferrari. We were all friends, and despite our great successes, a small team.”
Yet, once again, luck in this sport only lasts until the next race weekend. Francois Cevert tragically crashed at Watkins Glen in such a horrific way that witness Jody Scheckter stepped in front of Ramirez: “You don’t need to see the crash site now.”
Amid all the shock and grief, one piece of news mattered to Jo: everyone who witnessed the crash confirmed that the Tyrrell he was responsible for had no technical failures.
And then there was that moment on October 6, 1973, when Jackie Stewart, holding the steering wheel of his own car in the pits, asked him: “Jo, can I keep this?” It was the moment it became clear that this legend of the sport would never race again.
Jo also left the team soon after, on the best terms with Ken Tyrrell. Emerson Fittipaldi was recruiting top talent for his own team with significant government backing. It was a flop—and for Jo, the beginning of an odyssey through the back rows of the grid: Copersucar, Shadow, ATS, Theodore. A time filled with stories and little luck, but one in which his talents were always evident. Then, just before the 1984 season, Ron Dennis brought him to McLaren as team manager, where he stayed for 16 years until retirement.
He was there for the Lauda vs. Prost duel and witnessed Prost gradually taking control of the team. He saw the showdown between “the Professor” and Ayrton Senna. “At first, they had a really good relationship. Only in 1989, when Senna began dominating qualifying, did things get complicated.” The young Brazilian worked obsessively for success, spending hours with the Honda engineers, while Alain, who also enjoyed a round of golf, perhaps underestimated the seriousness of the situation.
Senna’s aura was unmatched, yet Ramirez always speaks with the highest praise of Prost. Having truly been there, he rejects the simplistic good-vs-bad narrative often seen in documentaries. “I have so much respect for Prost. I think he was sometimes too soft—which, as team leader, hindered his success.”
Ramirez, however, stayed close to that success until retirement: with Mika Hakkinen, he won two more World Championships, rounding off an impressive career for the man who had once arrived in Europe on an ocean liner in search of fortune.
The statistics record it plainly: Jo Ramirez worked at 479 Grand Prix, was involved in 116 wins, ten Drivers’ Championships, and seven Constructors’ titles. He worked with eight F1 teams and was a sports car champion in 1971. Yet perhaps his greatest achievement is having survived all those years in the spotlight without burning his character.
At races, he is a welcome guest. He appears in the clinically pristine VIP clubs like a being from another world—the one who was there when it all happened, witnessing what today’s (self-proclaimed) Formula 1 stars only read about or hear. An eyewitness to the most thrilling era of Grand Prix racing.
Jo Ramirez in full flight (top left) and in Gröbming with Ennstal-Classic organizer Michael Glöckner.