You Say Orgao, I Say Urago

Today I will tell you one of my dim, dark secrets.

No, I don't have any warrants against me in other states or spouses or children in other countries.  Not that I know of, anyway. ;-)

OK, here it is:  I worked in market research.  It was a long time ago, and not for very long.  The money was really good, especially for someone who had no relevant experience or discernible skills or talents. (Some would argue that I still don't have any.  If I don't, I probably never will.)  And, in one weird way it was an excellent fit for me:  I learned all sorts of weird facts that had no bearing on anything else in my life.  And, truth be told, I enjoyed it.  Perhaps it's the--or, at least, one--reason why I've worked in the academic world.

One of those strange and, to me, useless facts is this:  Of all of the world's registered trade-mark names, the one that is least often misspelled is also the only one that sounds exactly the same in every language. At least, those things were true at the time I was working in market research.

It's the name of a company that makes things most of you have used at one time or another, and many of you use today.  Any guesses as to what it might be?

All right, I'll tell you:  Kodak.

George Eastman, the company's founder, said he made the name out of thin air.  He liked the letter "K" and wanted a trade name beginning and ending with that letter.   That's how "Kodak" came to his mind.

I don't think there's any equivalent in the bicycle industry.  Since bikes are made in so many different countries, with so many different languages, many names are pronounced--and, perhaps more important, spelled--in ways that would render them unrecognizable in their home countries.  Or they are confused with other names.

As an example, when I mention to some sweet young thing on an urban fixie that my beloved single-gear steed is a Mercian (as three of my other bikes are), they think I'm talking about Mercier.  Back in the day, the latter company made some perfectly respectable bikes in France (Lance Armstrong won his first race on one); now they are cranked out of a factory in China and sold on the Internet.  In contrast, Mercians are made in Derbyshire, England, in pretty much the same way--and from similar materials--as the very first bikes bearing that name were made nearly seven decades ago.

Others have seen my fixie--or my other Mercians--and saw "American" instead of the name on the bikes.  I guess that's understandable.  After all, the other day I similarly misread the name of a bike listed on eBay.

Like Mercier, Urago was once a well-respected French bicycle maker.  Actually, Uragos were built by hand, though in greater quantities than bikes from custom builders, so they had nicer workmanship than Merciers.  Also,  Merciers were built is Saint-Etienne (near Lyon), the traditional center of the French cycle industry.  Uragos were made in Nice, which at various times in its history was ruled by Italians.  Not surprisingly, there are still many people of Italian heritage in that part of France--among them, les freres Urago.

So, perhaps, I can be forgiven for first misreading the name of the bike I saw on eBay--and for, after realizing I hadn't, thinking that the person who wrote the listing misspelled "Urago" as "Orago".

Turns out, the bike actually bears the latter name.  The person who listed it couldn't find any information about the company that made it.  All he/she knows is that there's a town called "Orago" in Italy, near Milan.

However, the  bike looks a lot like something Urago might've made--at least, if they made a ladies' city bike--just after World War II.  

 

I think it's quite lovely, whatever its name or wherever it comes from.