Born: Unknown (circa 1900), Australia (assumed)
Died: Unknown
Country most active: Australia
Also known as: NA
Racecar driver Marie Jenkins rose to prominence in 1920s Australia, including racing at the Maroubra Speedway opening meeting in December 1925. She became the first woman to win a race at the steeply banked and notoriously dangerous circuit (two other racers had died while practicing), beating the likes of Phil Garlick and Hope Bartlett the following month. The Newcastle Herald reported, in standard misogynistic fashion, “though she owed her victory to the generous way she had been treated by the handicappers. She is the first woman to win an event at the Speedway, and she received a great ovation from the spectators, particularly the fair sex.” In her Type-13 Bugatti Brescia, the Yarra (Melbourne) resident repeatedly placed first in her races, earning the moniker “queen of speed” by The Australian Woman’s Mirror. But it wasn’t all victories – shortly before her first Maroubra race, she’d rolled her car in a race at the Aspendale Motordrome. As reported in the 9 November 1925 edition of Broken Hill (NSW)’s Barrier Miner:
WOMAN SPEED MOTORIST NARROWLY ESCAPES DEATH
Melbourne, Monday, Miss Marie Jenkins, a champion woman driver, narrowly, escaped death, when racing in a handicap at the Aspendale speedway on Saturday. Her car skidded, when travelling at 55 miles an hour and somersaulted. Many people thought that she must have been killed, but she sprang to her feet merely shaken. She said she would not give up racing.
The following was originally published in The Sporting Globe (Melbourne) on Wednesday, 11 November 1925 on page 10.
Marie Jenkins, Australia’s Lady Champion, Talks of Motor Thrills
“Though many may think that I miraculously escaped from sudden death on the Aspendale speedway on Saturday, I enjoyed every moment I was on the track. I regard motor racing as a great and thrilling sport, and, believe me, I have no intention of quitting the game, as I shall be trying myself on the Maroubra (N.S.W.) speedway on Boxing Day. When I was a child, I was passionately fond of horses, but now–well, give me a fast motor car, and I am in my element.”
Gifted with a pleasing personality, Miss Marie Jenkins, regarded as Australia’s champion lady motorist, was the centre of attraction at the Aspendale motor speedway on Saturday, when 5000 spectators gathered to see Victorian and Australian champion motor cyclists and motor drivers take part in the carnival promoted by Ron Hipwell, the well-known motor racing cyclist, who was making his debut–an auspicious one– as a promoter.
“Marie”–as she is better known among the motoring fraternity– is a girl who is fond of adventure, and the fact that she had entered her Bugatti car for the handicap of ten laps for cars of 1450 c.c. and over, aroused intense interest. As usual, she had her mechanic, Bob Sellick, who for two days had worked unceasingly to tune the car up.
She arrived early on the ground with a girl friend and brought with here a black cat–a Felix–for an invalided digger. She handed it over to him, saying: “I have no time for cats, but perhaps Felix will bring me good luck today.”
With Harold Cooper (Ballot) and P. Fisk (Delage) failing to appear, Marie Jenkins was the virtual scratch competitor, being on 48sec. Many expressed the opinion that she was handicapped out of it, but she made no secret of the fact that her “bus” would be “flat out” to it from start to finish, as she had put up smart times in practice.
The other competitors were N. Brown, in Bayford’s special Ford (55sec), W. Guy in a special Dodge (75sec) and Marcus Clark’s Cleveland, piloted by F. W. Wichers.
The throbbing of the engine of her racer attracted considerable interest, and once Marie got on her way she began to liven up matters. In the straights she was tearing along at 80 miles an hour. There were shouts of “Go it, Marie.” She was the idol of the afternoon. Everyone wanted her to win. She handled her car with wonderful coolness.
In the eighth lap of the race there was a shriek of excitement from all parts of the ground. “She’s killed,” many voices called out with breathless excitement, as Miss Jenkins’ car skidded, turned right about face, and then did a double somersault, throwing the driver and mechanic.
Old-time champions looked on with stern-set faces. Had the worst happened? It seemed an age, though it was only a few seconds before Miss Jenkins and her attendant jumped ot their feet and frantically waved waved to the crowd–some quarter of a mile away–that everything was all right. Then there was a round of applause, which grew in volume, as she was towed round to the finish, looking as calm as possible.
“Don’t worry, we are all right. It was certainly a miraculous escape, but as we are safe and sound, why all this excitement?” broke in Marie Jenkins.
“The only damage is that my mascot on the car–a miniature policeman–has been broken, while I have ruined a pair of silk stockings through acid saturating them.
With wonderful presence of mind she had removed her glass goggles, just as the car was overturning.She lost her wristlet watch, but it was discovered buried in the sand an hour later.
The car was only slightly damaged, and as Miss Jenkins strolled into the competitors’ enclosure she laughed and joked with friends. For one so near to death she displayed remarkable coolness.
“On Monday I had a special interview with the heroine of Saturday’s race. She seemed disinclined to talk about her experiences, and dismissed the matter by saying: “Oh! It’s all in the game. Life is full of risks, so why should I not be in the swim?”
Still in her early twenties, Miss Jenkins, who was born in Glenelg (South Australia) has always been fond of adventure. As a child of three, she had her Shetland pony, and when six years of age, she mounted her hack and galloped across the fields, clearing all manner of obstacles. On one occasion, she had a nasty fall. Dazed, she pluckily remounted her favorite horse and arrived home. Then she collapsed. It was not long before she recovered. Hunting was her favorite hobby. She was always out with the hounds. Then a few years ago she was attracted to motoring. She bought a motor car and secured her licence after two lessons. Once she got out on the roads and “stepped on the gas” she felt the thrills of motoring. Much as she liked them, she parted from her hunters. Last year when the Aspdendale speedway was opened, she purchased a racing car and tried herself out in practice–“just for fun, as she expressed herself. But the lure of the speedway was too much for her, and she made a successful appearance. At subsequent carnivals she appeared and impressed onlookers with her coolness and daring. Driving on the Motordrome track she scored successes and finished second to Wizard Harold Cooper in his Ballot car.
Now she is an ardent motorist. She has entered for the car competitions at the new Maroubra speedway in New South Wales which opens next month, but she will not compete until the Boxing Day meeting.
Marie’s Challenge
Through The Sporting Globe she has issued a challenge to any lady motorist driver in Australia to meet her on a hill-climbing or track contest.
“Let them all come,” said Marie, “and if I am beaten I will extend the glad hand of congratulation to my rival.”
Miss Jenkins was one of the first girls to go up in an aeroplane during the war period, and says she would like to secure a pilot’s licence.
“No doubt some people may think that I am crazy, taking on motoring; but I can assure you that I enjoy every moment of it.
“Now that my accident is over, I feel that I will get a good spin. Certainly, I met with mishaps early this year, but that was nothing compared with last Saturday. Like a cat, I must have nine lives.”
She is a member of the Victorian Light Car Club and is a much travelled girl. Her big ambition is to go to America to compete in the world-famous contests at Indianapolis. If fixity of purpose is any criterion, Australia’s girl motorist is likely to represent Australia in the U.S.A. in the not distant future.
Followers of motoring have asked: “Why does such a fascinating girl run such risks? What a great spectator she would make!”
Adventure is in Miss Jenkins’s blood, and there is as much chance of getting her to quit motoring as there is of planing a knot out of a piece of fine timber.
Insert: Game as Ned Kelly
“I met some pretty game lads at the front, but Marie Jenkins is just one out of the box–in fact, she is gamer than Ned Kelly,” remarked Harry Nathan, one of the oldest patients of the Caulfield Military Hospital, as he excitedly waved to the champion girl motorist after she returned ot the competitors’ enclosure at Aspendale on Saturday. She was none the worse for her adventure–her racing car skidded while tearing along at 60 miles an hour, double somersaulted and threw out Marie and her mechanic, Bob Sellick. Both were uninjured.
As soon as Miss Jenkins realised the thrill of horror experienced by on-lookers, she quickly jumped to her feet and signalled to her Digger friend: “Everything is all right.” Then followed a great sigh of relief from the Digger, who proudly waved back a big black toy cat–a Felix–given to him by the girl motorist a few minutes before the accident.
The following was published in the 21 April 1925 edition of The Australian Woman’s Mirror, titled “A Queen of Speed” by I. M. Brodie.
Women in England, America and on the Continent take part in motor racing, and a few weeks back Baroness Avanzo, an Italian visitor, was seen on the speed track at Penrith (N.S.W.); but the pioneer Australian woman racing motorist is Miss Marie Jenkins, of Melbourne.
This nervy little Victorian is as generous as she is plucky. I asked her the other day what constitutes a successful racing motorist, and she looked demure and answered briefly: “A perfect D.F.P and a good mechanic—like Bob.” Every racing man knows there is something else needed as well, and that is good nerve and unfailing judgment; but they are just the things Miss Jenkins doesn’t mention.
The “D.F.P.” is the name of the little alumnium “baby” touring car with sporting body, which Miss Jenkins drives not only on race days but practically every other day of her life as well, and “Bob” is the clever young mechanic who “tunes up” the little lady’s car to its utmost before a race and then accompanies her for a run on the motor racing track at the rate of sixty or seventy miles an hour. The time gained in “taking” the corners is of the utmost importance in a motor race, and it is here that an enthusiast like Miss Jenkins’s mechanic is literally worth his weight in gold, for it is the weight of his body hazardously swung as far out over the side of the care as he dares that helps to keep the racing machine on the track when its terrific speed tempts it to fly off.
“Really,” mused Miss Jenkins on one occasion to me, “I don’t know how he hangs on. I know I wouldn’t do it [I regret, as a strong feminist, to have to repeat her words here] I wouldn’t do it—with a woman driver.”
I spoke up for my sex, and Miss Jenkins and I travelled far from motors and mechanics before we got back, so to speak, to the Aspendale Park Motor Racing Club.
This daring lady entered for her first race last year at Aspendale, and up till the present has won two second prizes at Aspendale, as well as two heats at the Melbourne Motor-drome, and in the last Saturday of March secured a tremendously popular victory by winning the Two-Litre Handicap for cars under 2000 c.c., five laps, winning the race by one hundred yards from her nearest competitor.
Speaking unofficially Miss Jenkins gauges her speed average at Aspendale at 64 miles an hour, and at the Motor-drome at 75 miles an hour. To hold the wheel of a machine travelling much faster than an express train requires considerable strength, and to use that speed to advantage demands courage and judgment.
Miss Jenkins is a little under average height, slim, with gloriously dark eyes and clear brunette complexion that neither outdoor sport (nor her bad habit of drinking strong tea without milk for sugar) have had and power to spoil, and her appearance certainly does not suggest the strength she undoubtedly possesses.
She confesses to having had a curious feeling the first time a car passed her in a race. As it drew nearer and nearer behind her, she says, she felt as if it were hitting her. But, bad as that was, she declares, it was just nothing to what her feelings were when it passed her! For the most part, however, she says she has no sensations at all while racing—all her thoughts are concentrated on trying to be first at the winning post, and that leaves no room for any other feeling.
She declines a mascot, preferring to carry with her the good wishes of her friends.These same wishes, she explains, are called out heartily to her as she starts in a race, and she acknowledges them joyously in the spirit in which they are uttered, but not one word can she hear of them for the noise of her machine. The applause at the end when the race is won is what can be heard—and enjoyed. Miss Jenkins is an immensely popular figure at motor race meetings. Her youth, her good looks, her breezy unaffected manner, coupled with her great pluck, have won her heaps of friends.
As a recreation, she loves riding, but even here stipulates for a horse “not less than sixteen hands high, one that can get over the ground.” Pace, and plenty of it, is her ideal.