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Ferdinand Piëch
kfz-tech.de/YPo2
He died in mid-2019 at the age of 82. If anyone has had a decisive influence on the history of the automobile, it's him. By the way, either way, because not everything he touched was
a success.
It is rare, however, for the skills of a mechanical engineer to be so closely intertwined with those of a manager; often, one of the two takes precedence. However, this came at a cost. Piëch was obviously not an easy person
to deal with.
Perhaps he is the true heir of his grandfather, Ferdinand Porsche. There are similarities, provided they are appropriately adapted to the modern era. The highest praise from Porsche was when he said nothing.
It may have been similar for Piëch.
He obviously wasn't there to make his employees and the people around him happy. The question quickly arises as to whether this was even compatible with Ferdinand Piëch's expectations? Don't you have to make
compromises when dealing with great minds?
History seems to be doing just that, especially since its impact can still be felt today. In his book, he himself is surprisingly reserved, which is consistent with his leadership style. He was able to put this into practice early
on, after joining Porsche in 1963 and becoming head of the development department in 1965.
Those who assisted him in his work revered him as a research director and technician. The parallels with his grandfather were almost overwhelming. After all, even his successes were based less on
his own ideas than on those of his extremely talented employees. His talent lay in identifying the right ones and supporting them accordingly.
And that was exactly the case with Ferdinand Piëch, especially when we look at all the developments beyond Porsche, at Audi and VW, which, among other things, have elevated both companies to a higher level:
Quattro and Turbo drivetrains, direct-injection diesel engines, the 3 liters Lupo, the W12 engine, and much more.
| 1963: Ferdinand Piëch with his uncle Ferry Porsche in front of the engine of a 901 |
Ferdinand Piëch was born in Vienna in 1937, the third of four children of Anton Piëch, a Viennese lawyer, and his wife Louise, née Porsche. In 1943, the family moved to Zell am See because of the war. The
'Schüttgut' there was a very important place for the Piëch and Porsche families. Louise's brother Ferry also had four children with his wife.
The purchase of the estate Schüttgut and a villa in Dellach am Wörthersee presumably stemmed from the national prize awarded to Ferdinand Porsche during the Nazi era, in addition to the villa in Stuttgart, where the first
VWs were built (though they were not yet known as 'Beetles' at the time). In his memoirs, Piëch describes the two locations in Austria as a “safety net.”
Ever since his early childhood, he has fondly remembered his mother, who could change a tire all by herself. When riding with my dad, I was sometimes allowed to shift gears as passenger, which wasn't all that easy with
a non-synchronized transmission. Whenever it cracked, there was a pause for a while. Of course, until 1943, visits to his grandfather involved cars, including, on one occasion, a trip to the plant in
Wolfsburg, which wasn't called that yet at the time.
Strangely enough, even back then, young Ferdinand was almost more interested in the airplanes that were being repaired and sent back into combat. His father had taken over management of the VW plant from his father-
in-law, who was otherwise very busy, until the end of the war. In 1952, Anton Piëch died at the age of 58, presumably, like Ferdinand Porsche, as a result of his 22-month detention in French prisons.
It remains to be seen whether his willingness to take risks at the strict Alpine boarding school already sheds light on his future career. In any case, even back then, he must have visited his girlfriend, in violation of the rules
and in disguise, and likely risked getting kicked out for more than just that. Contrary to expectations, he graduated from high school there and went on to college. Before starting his studies at ETH Zurich, he just happened
to wreck his new car, a Super 90 Coupé.
With comprehensive insurance (never again after that), he used the money to buy a Carrera hill-climb race car. His marriage to the girlfriend in question and the birth of their two children seemed completely out of place,
and would likely have been unthinkable without his share of his father’s inheritance. He completed his nine-month internship at the Volkswagen and Porsche branch in Salzburg, which is run by his mother, while her
brother Ferry manufactures sports cars in Stuttgart.
He describes himself as not entirely unskilled with his hands, and the numerous anecdotes on the subject are revealing. There's something special about not only getting a Fuhrmann engine running again, but also
connecting the ignition distributor to the crankshaft instead of the camshaft. During college, the high-maintenance Carrera turned into a 'perfectly ordinary' VW. But in the end, there was an Austro-Daimler from the
grandfather after all, assembled by Piëch from two parts. But enough about cars for now.
He graduated on time with a degree in engineering, but his favorite subject was not automotive engineering, it was aircraft engineering and lightweight construction. For his diploma thesis, he designed an air-cooled F1
V12 engine. That's interesting, he was the first member of the Porsche family to earn a college degree. Whenever, even later on, when he had accomplished something, he would go skiing for three months, which he also
described as his domain. Somehow, his energetic mother and grandfather had had a considerable influence on him.
The story of the racing engine continued at Porsche starting in 1963. It was the era when the 901 and 911 were born there, designed by Piëch's favorite cousin, Ferdinand Alexander. Thus, he was involved in the
development of engine technology, including that of production engines, but focused primarily on racing engines with up to eight cylinders and a displacement of three liters. Porsche won almost everything that was
possible with this engine lineup.
Under Nordhoff, Porsche was regarded as a sort of development department for VW. After his death, these relationships were formalized in contracts, which, for example, made it possible for the 914 to have its own
organization. In addition, there was an agreement to cover two-thirds of Porsche's racing expenses with no upper limit, provided that only air-cooled engines were used, which gave the then young Piëch the idea to build the
'riskiest car of his life', the 917.
| 917, his riskiest project, shown here as 'Pink Pig' |
The problem: 25 of them had to be built for type approval. And they actually started with two six-cylinder engines welded together at the coupling ends via a gear, with a displacement of 4.6 liters, no less.
This resulted in the famous center-taper design, which also reduced the load on the crankshaft(s). In the end, it wasn't the engines that turned out to be the problem, but rather the aerodynamics, and that remained an
issue for quite some time. It's also unclear whether all 25 were actually ready to drive in the end.
Ferdinand Piëch had become too powerful at Porsche, where several members of the family were now working. The uncle and boss settled the dispute by firing everyone and essentially replacing himself by a
managing director. Piëch had the day off and went skiing for the first time in a long while. Before that, he designed the five-cylinder diesel engine for Mercedes, stole a Porsche executive’s wife, even though he already had
five children of his own, and spent a month working with Giugiaro in Italy.
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