Children of the revolution: Deep Sanderson DS301 vs Ogle SX1000 vs Mini Jem vs Unipower GT

By Greg MacLeman

| 25 Feb 2022

Classic & Sports Car – Children of the revolution: Deep Sanderson DS301 vs Ogle SX1000 vs Mini Jem vs Unipower GT

When the Morris Mini-Minor first broke cover in 1959, it revolutionised the way people thought about a car’s space, practicality and usability.

A triumph of both form and function, Alec Issigonis’s design soon made the transition from workaday saloon to icon.

But the clever transverse engine and front-drive layout didn’t just offer a spacious cabin; it opened up a raft of possibilities for small-batch manufacturers.

It took the factory two years for the performance potential of the Mini to be exploited, and in September 1961 hot Cooper variants joined the line-up and brought with them success in the British Saloon Car Championship and on the World Rally stage.

‘The DS301 is an angry thing, with an 8000rpm redline and physics-defying levels of grip’

John Cooper was far from the only person to see something more in the little workhorse.

But while the Formula One supremo toiled to add performance to the existing model, a number of garagistas and dreamers were drawn to the car’s peppy and tunable A-series engine and compact drivetrain, and they set to plundering the BMC parts bin to realise their own dreams.

Outcomes were as varied as the approaches, some allowing home mechanics to get on the road cheaply, others helping shoestring race teams to make their mark.

All were different, with a range of layouts and configurations that bore little resemblance to their famous donor.

The engine and ’box combination was moved back to drive the Deep Sanderson DS301’s rear wheels

One of the first to put the engine somewhere else was Chris Lawrence and his Deep Sanderson DS301, which took advantage of the Mini’s transaxle and integrated, transverse alignment to mount the A-series behind the driver.

The engine drove the rear wheels of a backbone chassis designed by right-hand man Andrew Wallace, with front suspension via Lawrence’s patented Lawrence Link – a trailing-arm set-up that had been fine-tuned on Formula Juniors bearing the DS name.

Few would argue that the first ‘Deepy’ was a successful styling exercise – Lawrence himself generously described it as ugly yet functional – but, despite its slightly goofy appearance, the DS301 was a force on the track, performing well before an encounter with a tree at the Nürburgring Nordschleife.

It’s noisy in the Deep Sanderson, but the grip, handling and acceleration are superb

Lawrence took the opportunity to restyle the car into a more attractive fastback shape – all smoothed-off curves with a slippery body and purposeful beak – crafted in aluminium at great cost by Williams & Pritchard, the outfit responsible for numerous bespoke sports-racers of the time, from Lolas to Elvas, and road cars such as the AC Aceca.

In 1963 the newly restyled Deep Sanderson showed its competition credentials at Le Mans, powered by a 998cc Downton-tuned engine and driven by Lawrence and Chris Spender.

But ‘2 ARX’ eventually fell foul of the minimum average time rule and was disqualified, only to return the following year, this time with a 1296cc engine built at Abingdon by Syd Enever.

It’s a snug racer’s cockpit for the Deep Sanderson DS301

On its second attempt, the aluminium-bodied DS301 reputedly cracked 150mph on the Mulsanne thanks to a drag coefficient of just 0.29Cd.

And while owner Robi Bernberg is unlikely to hit those speeds during his outings to the Le Mans Classic, the frightening pace is a world away from the other cars in our set.

It’s an angry little thing with an 8000rpm redline, a screaming straight-cut gearbox and physics-defying levels of mechanical grip.

Any attempt to rein in this machine proves futile, resulting in grumbles of discontent from the lumpy, bucking engine: it just wants to run and run.

The DS301’s slippery restyle hides its Mini origins

Let it, and it’s difficult not to get carried away as the addictive combination of blistering acceleration, incredible roadholding and that deafening racket leaves you yearning for one more lap – although that may be a different story after enduring 24 hours at full chat.

Fellow owner Guy Loveridge is no stranger to the Deep Sanderson.

He pulled this very car from a barn in 2010 before commissioning a full rebuild by its creator, but today he’s in another Mini derivative that was also built in 1962.

The Ogle SX1000’s sleek glassfibre body gives a beautiful shape

David Ogle unveiled his take on the Mini just two months after the launch of the Cooper, taking a very different approach to that of Lawrence.

Unlike the rear-mid-engined Deep Sanderson, the Ogle SX1000 made more use of the existing Mini structure, retaining the bulkhead, inner wings and floorpan, and keeping the engine, gearbox and subframes in the same position.

It is front-engined and front-wheel drive, so owners might have been disappointed by the fundamental similarity with the production car, but for a sleek and sexy glassfibre body that totally transformed its character.

The Ogle’s Tom Karen design is the best resolved

At just £550 the Ogle was an attractive proposition for those who were looking for a small, eye-catching alternative to the Mini.

The firm did well enough for BMC to sanction the conversions and supply parts, provided no mention of the Mini was made – backtracking on an earlier decision to distance itself.

The plushest and best-equipped of our derivatives in standard form, the SX1000 was more boutique grand tourer than sports-racer: despite the glassfibre body, the car was actually heavier than the standard Mini.

But with famed racer Sir John Whitmore as a company director, it was only a matter of time before the Ogle made its way on track.

The 998cc A-series engine remains up front in the Ogle SX1000

That change came in 1962 with the arrival of a more sporting Lightweight GT, which featured a crash-diet bodyshell with a built-in rollbar, a spartan interior with racing buckets, and a lower, stiffer suspension set-up.

Loveridge’s 1962 example – chassis 037 – went first to the USA, where Whitmore tried but failed to sell the dream.

He parted with the car to fund his passage home, and it eventually found its way to the circuit, where it was developed for use in Sports Car Club of America events.

Like the Deep Sanderson, it’s an out-and-out racer, with all creature comforts stripped for the sake of lightness.

Inside, the Lightweight GT spec ditches the luxuries of Ogle’s original SX1000

Sharing the standard Mini’s layout makes the Ogle the most conventional machine, with the gearlever and controls where you would expect them to be.

The cabin is huge compared with our other special Minis, but despite the space there are still compromises, the most egregious being a pedalbox obstructed by a section of chassis that requires you to fold your foot sideways to operate the accelerator.

When you do get on the gas you’re treated to a sharp throttle response and a noise second only to the DS.

It’s understandably less focused than the Le Mans machine but nonetheless a riot thanks to its hot 998cc A-series, fed by a downdraught Weber, which replaced the original 997cc Cooper ‘S’-spec mill during former owner Tony Roth’s stewardship.

The Ogle’s stubby body hints at its donor

A high state of tune and racy camshaft mean you have to have a heavy right foot: anything less than full attack results in woofly running.

Keep the revs up and it’s a dream, sticking to the apex and powering out just like a well-sorted Mini.

Despite its obvious shortcomings, the Ogle project was a near success cut short by tragedy: in May ’62 David Ogle was killed while travelling to Brands Hatch when the Lightweight GT he was driving hit a lorry.

The firm passed into the hands of SX1000 designer Tom Karen, who promptly pulled the plug. Just 69 examples of the little coupé had left the Letchworth works when production ended in 1963.

‘The Jem is planted in the turns, and the engine is a rev-happy fireball that suits the car beautifully’

Perhaps the most recognisable – and certainly the most successful – Mini derivative was the Mini Marcos.

It was born of Dizzy Addicott’s DART project, for which Jem Marsh had helped build glassfibre bodyshells from the steel prototype – and the Marcos man eventually went his own way, creating a more competition-focused machine from a rejected styling exercise.

The Marcos proved a huge hit both with homebuilders and racers, finishing Le Mans in the hands of a privateer in 1966 and spawning hundreds upon hundreds of examples.

The Mini Jem’s distinctive Kamm-tailed rear shape

But although Marsh walked away from Addicott, the project lived on through Jeremy Delmar-Morgan, who bought the business in 1965.

With the resultant Mini Jem, not only did he use a name that no doubt wound up Marsh, but he also sold his kits for just £189 – a tenner less than his rival’s Marcos.

The similarities didn’t end there: as well as competitive pricing, each was front-drive and used the Mini’s engine, subframes and running gear, bolted to glassfibre monocoques that – from the front, at least – even their creators would struggle to tell apart.

At the rear, Delmar-Morgan opted for an attractive Kamm-tailed shape that has aged well.

The Jem’s Oselli head helps liberate extra pace from the 1071cc ‘four’

It was possible to build a Jem at home for just £350, which no doubt made it popular, but it was also the Marcos’s equal on track: Delmar-Morgan himself raced a car at the Nürburgring 500km in 1966, finishing 18th and second in class.

Goff Allen was an early Jem convert, buying his first in 1968 from Robin Statham, a year after the latter acquired the company from Delmar-Morgan.

“I was 20 and used to buy Hot Car magazine, which had an article on building a Jem on the cover of issue 1,” he enthuses.

“I had to have one. I bought the shell in October and it was rolling by January. I used a smashed-up Mini – I couldn’t wait to get it on the road.”

This Mini Jem’s cabin has been retrimmed superbly

Allen’s second Mk1 Jem was recently restored from a bare shell.

“The body wasn’t too bad,” he explains. “I think it had been a racing shell because it was very lightweight.”

Fittingly, it’s finished in period BMC colours of Toga White over Florentine Blue, a two-tone scheme that perfectly complements the Jem’s lines.

The cabin will feel familiar to anyone who has sat in a Mini Marcos, with a conventional layout similar to that of the Ogle – although in right-hand-drive specification – and a low roofline that will have your head touching the ceiling if you’re anywhere approaching 6ft.

The Jem is a near twin for Marsh’s Mini Marcos

As a road machine the Jem is up there with the best, with a wheel-at-each-corner layout that makes it feel planted and assured in turns.

The engine is a rev-happy fireball that suits the car beautifully for our short and winding test track; where the Deep Sanderson’s long stride made it difficult to get out of second gear, the Jem feels much more at home.

“The engine is an oddball,” reckons Allen. “It’s a 1275cc with a Cooper ‘S’ Mk3 head, but destroked with a South African crank in it, which takes it down to 1071cc. It’s a really high-revving engine – it’ll go to 8000rpm.”

‘As a road machine the Jem is up there with the best, with a wheel-at-each-corner layout that makes it feel planted and assured in turns’

By 1966 a number of people had tried turning the Mini’s humble components into something more exciting, and almost as many had failed spectacularly.

Rootes engineer Ernie Unger was more considered, enlisting professional help from the outset to realise his own mid-engined dream.

A chance meeting with designer Val Dare-Bryan led to the production of a Mini 850-powered rolling spaceframe chassis, with the exterior design handed to Ron Bradshaw, a stylist with the GT40 project.

Progress was swift and encouraging, and with Issigonis’s blessing of the aluminium-bodied Robert Peel & Company prototype came free access to the BMC-sourced running gear, including Mini uprights and modified arms that offered all-round independent suspension.

Only the tiny wheels reveal how small the well-proportioned Unipower GT is

Unger deftly navigated the potential pitfalls of small-batch production, and by the 1966 Racing Car Show had unveiled the car – dubbed the Unipower GT, a name inspired by backer Tim Powell and his Universal Power Drives firm – to an expectant crowd.

Available with either 998cc or 1275cc engines, the Unipower impressed not only in terms of its driving dynamics, but also its styling and comfort when compared to cheaper offerings such as the Marcos.

Tim Carpenter’s 1966 example – the first production car built – left the factory with a 998cc engine but was developed further after he bought it in 1982 and began a full restoration.

A mid-mounted motor for the Unipower GT

“It now has an over-bored 1398cc A-series,” he explains. “The engine is in a fairly gentle state of tune – it isn’t wild because I built the car for road use.

“It’s got 10.5:1 compression with a mild-to-warm road cam and a rally-spec head.

“A Nick Garrett exhaust at a stroke improved power and fuel consumption, and reduced noise dramatically, which goes some way to compensating for the induction noise from the Weber.

“If I was doing it again I’d build it with SUs.”

The Unipower GT’s low-slung cabin has the feel of a Ford GT40 in miniature

Despite various performance upgrades, including Cooper ‘S’ front discs like the original concept, the car clearly has a roadgoing focus.

“That’s why the wheelarches are the way they are; I wanted it to look broadly how it came out of the factory, which meant retaining the original body shape, meaning that it has to run 145-section tyres.”

Those narrow tyres might look a bit dainty, but they give the Unipower nimble handling that complements the chassis’ 48% front, 52% rear weight distribution.

Carpenter has spent a lot of time fettling the suspension geometry of his car, and the results are impressive, with a well-sprung and characterfully bouncy ride that is more reminiscent of that of the Mini than anything else here.

These neat vents extract hot air from the Unipower’s engine bay

Even the gearchange is sweet – a minor miracle, given the convoluted track the linkage follows from the driver’s-side sill to the gearbox.

It adds to the mini-GT40 feel, as if the Le Mans racer has been shrunk in the wash.

Stepping out of the Unipower GT leaves you wondering why this little mid-engined sports car didn’t run into the thousands rather than the 75 that eventually left the factory.

Though it clearly had the recipe for success, Powell lacked staying power and sold the company to young racer Piers Weld-Forester in 1968.

A reminder of where the Unipower’s engine is

The new owner started brightly, with a well-equipped workshop and a revised Mk2 version launched in ’69, but like so many before him he was lured on to the rocks in his pursuit of competition success.

He came close to realising his dream until a works-prepared car was crashed after-hours by a mechanic ahead of the Targa Florio, and a month later a 1340cc-engined car touched 140mph on the Mulsanne before blowing up in practice.

Ultimately, the project haemorrhaged money and the focus on racing forced the doors to close before the year was out.

The Jem has cheeky styling (left); the Deep Sanderson is a pure racing car

After a day of driving everything from highly tuned road cars to Le Mans warriors, I’m left wondering whether their commercial failures were down to the designs themselves or to the mismanagement, feuds and over-ambition that mark each story.

And to what extent Lawrence, Unger, Delmar-Morgan and Ogle realised the capability of the Mini, unlocking the potential inherent in the Issigonis wonder.

Ultimately, both the ambition and the ingenuity that led to the Deep Sanderson, Mini Jem, Unipower GT and Ogle SX1000 are reflected in their current owners.

All four brilliantly carry the spirit and traditions of their makers into the 21st century

Whether honed for racing or for the road, each of our test cars has been endlessly tinkered with, tuned and fettled.

Those original visionary designers and low-volume manufacturers saw something greater in the Mini; in turn, the true potential of their labours is still being realised more than half a century later.

Images: Luc Lacey

Thanks to TTP Performance (01527 882356)

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