His win-on-debut of 1928 was a nail-biter. Partnered by Australian-born Bernard Rubin, he had to coax home the year-old 4.5-Litre ‘Old Mother Gun’ as she threatened to seize due to a lack of water. The second was more straightforward, Barnato heading home the Cricklewood concern’s dominant 1-2-3-4 of 1929.
On the latter occasion he was co-driven by Henry ‘Tim’ Birkin, a flamboyant friend and closest rival for ‘Head Bentley Boy’. Birkin had set fastest lap – as he had in 1928 and would do so in 1930 – but Barnato’s steadying influence and clockwork consistency was the ideal foil. His rakish co-driver was every schoolboy’s hero – but Barnato was WO Bentley’s pick of the bunch: fast, he rarely made mistakes and always obeyed orders.
Though he was Bentley’s chairman, Barnato never pulled rank – bar making it known that he was no longer keen on closing stints after his 1928 drama. And although he was always pushing WO to innovate, he preferred to stick with what he knew when it came to racing; his decision to use ‘Old Number One’ in 1930 would pay off handsomely.
Victory in a rain-hit Double Twelve alongside Clement was the perfection preparation for playing against Kent 2nd XI – and, of course, Le Mans.
That year’s Grand Prix d’Endurance boiled down to a fleet of Bentleys ramping the pressure on the lone Mercedes-Benz of Rudi Caracciola, co-driven by Christian Werner. Birkin’s role in this has been rightly lauded: the sacrificing of his Blower Bentley – deemed highly unlikely to finish after an enforced fuelling switch to benzole – to the cause.
But it was Barnato, ably supported by Glen Kidston, who took up the cudgels to keep the pressure on the 7.1-litre Merc, its shrill supercharger – activated only under full throttle – whining noticeably more as the race progressed.
Caracciola was feeling the pressure, too, for Werner was unable to match the Bentley’s sustained speed. The former later admitted that his strategy had been plotted against the performance of the Speed Six in 1929. A telling underestimation.