Formula One has always seen teams come and go — sometimes quietly, sometimes with drama — but rarely does an entire operation vanish in a single heartbreaking moment. And rarely does a team disappear just as it finally looked ready to bloom. That fate belonged to two-time World Champion Graham Hill’s own creation: Embassy Hill Racing.
What To Know?
- Embassy Hill Racing was founded by Graham Hill after leaving Brabham in 1972
- Young star Tony Brise became the team’s breakthrough talent
- The team ended after the fatal 1975 plane crash, killing owner, driver and key team members all on board
Without our rose-tinted glasses, Embassy Hill is not remembered for podiums, titles or dominance. Their statistics won’t fill F1 history books. But results alone don’t tell the whole story. By late 1975, there was a sense of promise in the air; something was clicking. A competent car was emerging, a star driver had arrived, and the horizon for once seemed bright.
The journey started back in 1972. Graham Hill, frustrated and underwhelmed, walked away from Brabham after two lacklustre seasons. At 43, he wasn’t the driver team bosses were lining up to sign. Experience he had — but youth he did not. Many assumed his best days were past. Yet Hill wasn’t prepared to let others decide his ending. As the old phrase goes, “if you want something done properly, do it yourself.” He took that literally.
Hill announced the creation of a new Grand Prix team, one he would manage, own, and also drive for. Romantic? Absolutely. Risky? Undeniably. But for Graham, it was the only route that kept an F1 seat open for 1973.
What followed was astonishing even by modern standards. A startup team, with no on-track record, fronted by a driver labelled over the hill (in more ways than one), managed to land title sponsorship from Embassy, a major tobacco brand. It’s difficult to overstate how extraordinary that achievement was — and still would be today.
The technical package came together through Hill’s reputation and relationships. Embassy Hill acquired the proven Cosworth DFV engine, the backbone of 1970s Formula One. The chassis, however, was the customer Shadow DN1 — competent, but far from cutting-edge. Still, on paper, it was enough to go racing, and Hill assembled a loyal team around him.
Then reality arrived. The 1973 season was punishing. Hill was simultaneously organiser, competitor, leader, husband and parent — responsibilities that would exhaust anyone. While mechanical reliability was surprisingly decent, the performance simply wasn’t there. They finished races — just not near the front.
Yet Embassy Hill had presence. The white-and-red cars looked magnificent, the kind of purposeful beauty that only 1970s Formula One could produce. It was an era where danger, style and speed came first. Costs and caution were afterthoughts. One could argue it’s been reversed ever since.
Progress came slowly. In 1974, the team expanded to two cars, signing Guy Edwards and moving from the Shadow chassis to a Lola design. The improvement was gradual but real. Sweden delivered Embassy Hill’s first championship point when Graham brought the car home sixth. But the season was littered with DNFs and DNQs, each one growing heavier on morale and resources. The strain was starting to show.
1975 pushed Graham to his limit. Still using the same car, at age 45, he failed to qualify for Monaco — the race with which he was most synonymous. Mr Monaco, unable to make the grid. That moment broke through the bravado. He chose retirement as a driver.
It was painful, but necessary. Freed from driving, Hill could finally concentrate on leadership full-time. A former Formula One driver once said at Silverstone Classic, “Formula One is like a good buffet – it’s very difficult to know when to stop.” That line carries weight — and Hill must have felt every word.
Stepping back opened the door to something bigger. Hill rebuilt his structure, brought in new technical staff, and then made his most pivotal acquisition — young British F3 sensation Tony Brise. Brise walked into the garage, full of fire, and announced: “I’ve arrived, where’s my bloody car?” It was the perfect first impression.
Tony Brise
F1 Debut 1975 Spanish Grand Prix
Current/Last Team Hill
Brise had been offered a long-term seat by Frank Williams Racing Cars — a name that would later reshape Grand Prix racing — yet he turned it down to join Embassy Hill. He wanted to learn from Graham, to grow under a man who had done it all.
And soon, he proved why Hill believed in him. Just nine races into his F1 career, Brise qualified sixth — ahead of Hunt, Reutemann, Peterson, and Andretti. A roll call of greatness. The engine failed during the race, but nobody forgot the qualifying session. Embassy Hill modified the Lola into the GH1, giving Tony machinery capable of snapping at the leaders’ heels.
Finally, Hill had what he needed — a young driver ready to lead the team forward. Brise earned their second championship point in Sweden, funding increased, and for once the project felt like it was building toward something real.
Then came the biggest milestone of all: a new, ground-up car for 1976 — the GH2. It was lighter, slimmer, more refined. Tests at Silverstone and Paul Ricard gave Brise confidence, and for the first time team members spoke openly of what could be achieved next season. Optimism was back.
Brise sent a jubilant message home:
“Car now brilliant, test ended, see you all Monday morning.”
Hours later, he boarded the team’s Piper Aztec with Graham Hill, team manager Ray Brimble, designer Andy Smallman, and mechanics Terry Richards and Tony Alcock. They were flying back to Elstree.
The night of 29 November 1975 was cold, dark and shrouded in fog. The aircraft struck trees near Arkley Golf Course and came down. There were no survivors.
In a single night, Embassy Hill ceased to exist. Graham Hill — two-time world champion, racing icon and holder of motorsport’s Triple Crown — was gone.
Graham Hill
F1 Debut 1958 Monaco Grand Prix
Current/Last Team Hill
Tony Brise — one of the most promising drivers Britain had ever produced — gone with him. It was Formula One’s own Munich, sudden and irreversible. With only three team members left, operations stopped. The remaining equipment was sold. Momentum, future, identity — erased.
What might have been? Wins, poles, maybe even titles? We’ll never know. But the possibility was there, just beginning to take shape.
So if you ever wander through the paddock at Silverstone Classic or the Goodwood Revival, stop when you see the Embassy Hill GH2 out on track. It never raced a Grand Prix, yet it carries a story few cars ever will — the promise of a future lost in a single moment, and the memory of what was almost great.
Seen in:
