Firebrand: A Tobacco Lawyer's Journey by Joshua Knelman

Author:Joshua Knelman [Knelman, Joshua]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: Penguin Canada
Published: 2022-09-06T00:00:00+00:00

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The entire day was tightly choreographed for the VIPs, and here’s how it unfolded.

Early that morning, each guest was picked up by limousine at their front door, the driver ringing the bell and opening the limo door. “Good morning, ma’am, sir.”

The limousine whisked them to a farmhouse in Northamptonshire, where they were ushered into a barn with tables bearing tablecloths and fine place settings for a very classy morning meal. The VIPs were served a hot breakfast, complete with free cigarettes.

While they enjoyed breakfast in the barn, the guests would hear the whirl of an approaching helicopter. The helicopter hovered and touched down in the field next to the barn. When breakfast was finished, the first group of VIPs stepped up into the chopper, then lifted off, bypassing all the weekend traffic below; traffic was for average customers, the airspace above was for the elite, who were too glamorous to be stuck in gridlock.

The chopper swooped over the grandstands at Silverstone motor racing circuit and landed right in the middle of the racetrack—the most audacious entrance possible. Each guest then exited the chopper onto the asphalt and felt for a moment, perhaps, like a gladiator in the Colosseum, taking in the full scale and spectacle of this glorious event from the eye of the storm.

All around them were the sleek bodies of Formula One cars, the sleek bodies of models and drivers, and the gathering crowd of thousands entering the stands. Engines were revving, and the VIPs felt the whirl of their helicopter lifting off to retrieve the next group of valued guests. The air stank of burned rubber and gasoline.

Once on the ground, the VIPs were greeted by a hostess in a golf cart. She wore the tobacco brand on her shirt and hat, and it was emblazoned on the cart. The hostess was cheerful, polite, and attractive. She buzzed them over to the company’s hospitality suite, where a champagne lunch had already been set—an all-you-can-smoke-and-drink feast attended not only by the VIPs but also two special guests: race car drivers from the team the company was sponsoring.

The dashing drivers would glide into the suite for a moment before the race for a personal hello: big smiles, photo ops, all included in the sponsorship deal.

Let’s put this into context in terms of the money behind the deal.

His company had sponsored a decent racing team, with skilled drivers. But unless there was a fluke, they would not be the day’s winners; the team might finish third or fourth, if they were lucky. In a way, his company was knowingly paying big money to lose. They were simply not paying enough money to sponsor the likely winner: Ferrari or McLaren.

Marlboro had sponsored Ferrari, and those cars, the most beautiful in the world, were decked out, of course, in the red and white Marlboro colours.

West, a German tobacco brand, had sponsored McLaren.

The cost for sponsoring a third- or fourth-place team was in the multi-million-dollar range. If the company wanted to sponsor Ferrari or McLaren, it could be tens of millions.

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