This has to be one of the best catalogue illustrations in history:
It appeared on the back cover of the 1971 Fuji Bicycle catalogue. That year, Fuji--and Japanese bicycles--"came out", if you will, in the American market.
Although Japanese cameras and electronics were developing a good reputation in the 1950s, their bikes were still seen as inferior to those from Europe and America. That perception was mostly deserved: While many Japanese bikes and parts from that era were built to close tolerances and beautifully finished, the alloys (whether aluminum or steel) used to make them weren't as strong as those from other major bike-building countries. Also, as Sheldon Brown points out, many bikes--like the Royce-Unions from that era--came in only one size.
By the 1960s, the quality of Japanese bikes was improving. However, they were still mostly "under the radar", often sold under the names of familiar American and European manufacturers (like the Ross I wrote about yesterday)--or simply names that didn't sound Japanese.
The market for bicycles--for adults as well as children-- was growing, although not as explosively as it would during the '70's Bike Boom. Still, even then, American manufacturers were having difficulty keeping up with the demand. Three-speed "English Racers" and the few (mostly lower-end) European derailleur-equipped bicycles available in the US at the time often sold out because, althought they seem like tanks today, they were considerably lighter than almost anything made in America.
Then, when the Bike Boom exploded, even the British and European manufacturers, working overtime, were hard put to keep up with the demand. (I recall waiting lists for Schwinns, Peugeots and Raleighs at local bike shops.) This, of course, is one of the reasons why some ten-speeds of that era had workmanship that made Detroit behemoths of that time seem like pinnacles of Bauhausian design and craftsmanship. I still shudder to think about some of the Raleigh Records and Grand Prixes, as well as low-level models from Atala, Gitane and other makers, I assembled and fixed when I was working in bike shops!
On the other side of the world, the Japanese were perfecting the quality control for which they would become famous in all industries. Plus, plenty of people cycle in Japan, and more than a few of them are engineers and designers. So, they came up with bikes and parts that, in many ways, were improvements upon (or, at least, departures from) typical European and American products of the time.
In the late '60's and early '70s, some nice Japanese bikes were being sold in the US under names concocted by marketing executives in the companies that imported them. They tried to sound un-Japanese: American Eagle, Centurion, Univega. You won't find bikes with those names in Japan.
But in 1971, Fuji introduced its iconic S10-S model in the US. You may have owned or ridden one; perhaps you still have (or acquired) one. Reviewers raved about it, whether in the bicycle publications or Consumer Reports. It remains, to this day, one of the best thought-out bikes ever made: Its frame was built from double-butted high-tension steel, with clean brazing at the lugs. The geometry was a classic 73 degree by 73 degree, found on racing bikes of the time but entirely appropriate for light (or even medium-load) touring. It's no surprise, then, that S10-S and S12-S (its later 12-speed iteration) bikes have been raced, ridden on transcontinental tours, and used for just about every other kind of riding imaginable.
And its components were not fancy, but still very good and practical: Sun Tour V-GT derailleurs and shifters (Shimano on some of the early models), Sugino Maxy cranks, Dia Compe centerpull brakes, Nitto bars and stems and the very strong Ukai rims laced to Sunshine (Sanshin) hubs. Plus, there was that legendary Belt leather saddle, which took longer to break in than almost any other, but was seemingly indestructible. I've seen Belts fetch $200 on eBay!
This bike was an almost immediate best-seller. For some riders, it was a "move up" bike: one purchased after racking up miles on a cheaper, heavier bike. Others bought it as their first "grown-up" bike. It also became one of the more popular mounts on the Bikecentennial.
One thing I find very interesting is that the bike was so successful in the American marketplace with an almost stereotypically Japanese name, albeit one most Americans could pronounce easily. It also seemed to make no effort to hide its Japanese-ness: The bikes were attractive, but seemed to make little effort to mimic their European counterparts.
Ironically, later Japanese bikes sold in the American market tried to sound even more Japanese than the Japanese, if you will. Bikes like Shogun and Lotus, while nice, were so named by marketing folks in the US. And, when some people took umbrage over a Japanese bicycle called "American Eagle", its name was changed to Nishiki in 1971--the same year the S10-S came out. Kawamura Bicycles in Japan--which, to my knowledge, has never sold bikes under its own name in the US-- made Nishiki as well as Azuki, a lower-priced (but still nice) line of bicycles.
Howie Cohen, the importer of Nishiki and Azuki, explained that the names were chosen because they were definitely Japanese, but easy for Americans to pronounce, and could not be translated or used in offensive ways. Nishiki is a gold thread woven into wedding kimonos, while Azuki is a sweet bean native to Japan. To my knowledge,no bicycles have ever been sold under those names in Japan, although "Nishiki", like "Fuji", is a brand name for a wide variety of products in that country.
On the other hand, there are Fuji bicycles in the Land of the Rising Sun. Some models are different from those offered in the US and other places. The same could be said for Panasonic bikes (which, nice as they were, never sold very well in the US) and Miyata, known as Koga Miyata in Europe. Also, Bridgestone --probably the most un-Japanese-sounding of all--was successful in Japan before Grant Petersen turned it into a brand with a cult following in the US. It was probably far better-known as Bridgestone--both in Japan and the US--than it was with the under the more Japanese-sounding names of Kabuki (not bad, but very strange, bikes) and C.Itoh (pretty bad) under which it was marketed in the US before and during the Bike Boom.
So, by the 1980s, Japanese bike manufacturers had come "full circle", at least in one sense: They were flaunting, rather than hiding, their origins. In other words, they no longer had to "go stealth" in order to sell: The ride qualities and reliability of Japanese bikes and parts made them desirable, just as the quality of other Japanese goods (such as cars, cameras and electronics) made them preferable to their counterparts made in other countries.
In brief,one could say that the Fuji S10-S did more than any other bike to show American cyclists that Japanese bikes and components were as good as--and, in some instances, superior to--what other countries were making. Japanese bikes became what you bought if you wanted something really good for your money, not what you bought because you couldn't afford "something better". After the S10-S came along, you could buy a Japanese bike--whether a Fuji, Nishiki, Miyata, Centurion or some other brand-- without shame.
It appeared on the back cover of the 1971 Fuji Bicycle catalogue. That year, Fuji--and Japanese bicycles--"came out", if you will, in the American market.
Although Japanese cameras and electronics were developing a good reputation in the 1950s, their bikes were still seen as inferior to those from Europe and America. That perception was mostly deserved: While many Japanese bikes and parts from that era were built to close tolerances and beautifully finished, the alloys (whether aluminum or steel) used to make them weren't as strong as those from other major bike-building countries. Also, as Sheldon Brown points out, many bikes--like the Royce-Unions from that era--came in only one size.
By the 1960s, the quality of Japanese bikes was improving. However, they were still mostly "under the radar", often sold under the names of familiar American and European manufacturers (like the Ross I wrote about yesterday)--or simply names that didn't sound Japanese.
The market for bicycles--for adults as well as children-- was growing, although not as explosively as it would during the '70's Bike Boom. Still, even then, American manufacturers were having difficulty keeping up with the demand. Three-speed "English Racers" and the few (mostly lower-end) European derailleur-equipped bicycles available in the US at the time often sold out because, althought they seem like tanks today, they were considerably lighter than almost anything made in America.
Then, when the Bike Boom exploded, even the British and European manufacturers, working overtime, were hard put to keep up with the demand. (I recall waiting lists for Schwinns, Peugeots and Raleighs at local bike shops.) This, of course, is one of the reasons why some ten-speeds of that era had workmanship that made Detroit behemoths of that time seem like pinnacles of Bauhausian design and craftsmanship. I still shudder to think about some of the Raleigh Records and Grand Prixes, as well as low-level models from Atala, Gitane and other makers, I assembled and fixed when I was working in bike shops!
On the other side of the world, the Japanese were perfecting the quality control for which they would become famous in all industries. Plus, plenty of people cycle in Japan, and more than a few of them are engineers and designers. So, they came up with bikes and parts that, in many ways, were improvements upon (or, at least, departures from) typical European and American products of the time.
In the late '60's and early '70s, some nice Japanese bikes were being sold in the US under names concocted by marketing executives in the companies that imported them. They tried to sound un-Japanese: American Eagle, Centurion, Univega. You won't find bikes with those names in Japan.
 |
| Early Fuji S10-S, circa 1972 |
But in 1971, Fuji introduced its iconic S10-S model in the US. You may have owned or ridden one; perhaps you still have (or acquired) one. Reviewers raved about it, whether in the bicycle publications or Consumer Reports. It remains, to this day, one of the best thought-out bikes ever made: Its frame was built from double-butted high-tension steel, with clean brazing at the lugs. The geometry was a classic 73 degree by 73 degree, found on racing bikes of the time but entirely appropriate for light (or even medium-load) touring. It's no surprise, then, that S10-S and S12-S (its later 12-speed iteration) bikes have been raced, ridden on transcontinental tours, and used for just about every other kind of riding imaginable.
 |
| S-10S from 1978, its last year of production. A 12-speed version was, by then available: the S-12S |
And its components were not fancy, but still very good and practical: Sun Tour V-GT derailleurs and shifters (Shimano on some of the early models), Sugino Maxy cranks, Dia Compe centerpull brakes, Nitto bars and stems and the very strong Ukai rims laced to Sunshine (Sanshin) hubs. Plus, there was that legendary Belt leather saddle, which took longer to break in than almost any other, but was seemingly indestructible. I've seen Belts fetch $200 on eBay!
 |
| Another early S10-S. I always liked that shade of green. |
This bike was an almost immediate best-seller. For some riders, it was a "move up" bike: one purchased after racking up miles on a cheaper, heavier bike. Others bought it as their first "grown-up" bike. It also became one of the more popular mounts on the Bikecentennial.
One thing I find very interesting is that the bike was so successful in the American marketplace with an almost stereotypically Japanese name, albeit one most Americans could pronounce easily. It also seemed to make no effort to hide its Japanese-ness: The bikes were attractive, but seemed to make little effort to mimic their European counterparts.
Ironically, later Japanese bikes sold in the American market tried to sound even more Japanese than the Japanese, if you will. Bikes like Shogun and Lotus, while nice, were so named by marketing folks in the US. And, when some people took umbrage over a Japanese bicycle called "American Eagle", its name was changed to Nishiki in 1971--the same year the S10-S came out. Kawamura Bicycles in Japan--which, to my knowledge, has never sold bikes under its own name in the US-- made Nishiki as well as Azuki, a lower-priced (but still nice) line of bicycles.
Howie Cohen, the importer of Nishiki and Azuki, explained that the names were chosen because they were definitely Japanese, but easy for Americans to pronounce, and could not be translated or used in offensive ways. Nishiki is a gold thread woven into wedding kimonos, while Azuki is a sweet bean native to Japan. To my knowledge,no bicycles have ever been sold under those names in Japan, although "Nishiki", like "Fuji", is a brand name for a wide variety of products in that country.
On the other hand, there are Fuji bicycles in the Land of the Rising Sun. Some models are different from those offered in the US and other places. The same could be said for Panasonic bikes (which, nice as they were, never sold very well in the US) and Miyata, known as Koga Miyata in Europe. Also, Bridgestone --probably the most un-Japanese-sounding of all--was successful in Japan before Grant Petersen turned it into a brand with a cult following in the US. It was probably far better-known as Bridgestone--both in Japan and the US--than it was with the under the more Japanese-sounding names of Kabuki (not bad, but very strange, bikes) and C.Itoh (pretty bad) under which it was marketed in the US before and during the Bike Boom.
So, by the 1980s, Japanese bike manufacturers had come "full circle", at least in one sense: They were flaunting, rather than hiding, their origins. In other words, they no longer had to "go stealth" in order to sell: The ride qualities and reliability of Japanese bikes and parts made them desirable, just as the quality of other Japanese goods (such as cars, cameras and electronics) made them preferable to their counterparts made in other countries.
In brief,one could say that the Fuji S10-S did more than any other bike to show American cyclists that Japanese bikes and components were as good as--and, in some instances, superior to--what other countries were making. Japanese bikes became what you bought if you wanted something really good for your money, not what you bought because you couldn't afford "something better". After the S10-S came along, you could buy a Japanese bike--whether a Fuji, Nishiki, Miyata, Centurion or some other brand-- without shame.
