He Didn’t Wear Lycra

 Here in the United States, today is Presidents’ Day.

When I was a kid (really, I was!), two separate holidays were celebrated:  the 12th for Abraham Lincoln’s Birthday and the 22nd for George Washington.  That meant two days off from school unless, of course, the holiday fell on a weekend.  In the 1970s, those fetes were eliminated in favor of a Monday holiday in February.

The resulting long weekend gave stores (and, now, Internet retailers) a day to mark down prices on stuff they couldn’t sell for Christmas or other holidays—and customers an excuse to shop.

As I wrote a few years ago, during the 1890s-early 1900s Bike Boom, Washington’s Birthday was Bicycle Day. Bicycle makers debuted new models in splashy shows, and with sales, in much the same way the day would become the occasion to introduce new car models. 

From what I’ve read, that day was chosen because, at this time of year, people sense that Spring was around the corner—and, in the warmer parts of the country, it had all but arrived.  In those balmier locales (and some less temperate), the day also began the riding or racing season.

Our current President, Joe Biden, has been spotted riding with his wife, Jill, on more than one occasion.  His predecessor who shall not be named did everything he could to denigrate bicycles and cyclists.  But Obama, Clinton and both Bushes were at least occasional cyclists. So was Jimmy Carter, until recently.

I don’t think Ronald Reagan ever mounted two wheels while he was in office, though he was known to ride in his younger days.  And another president I shouldn’t name—let’s call him Tricky Dick—is probably the last person in the world I would expect to see on a bike. (Peter Sagal quipped that in San Clemente, he was seen surfing in his dress shoes.  So it’s not surprising to see him cycling in, shall we say, non-cycling attire.

From The Bicycle Story

Who Are We?

We're white.  We're male.  After our training rides in the park, we wheel our flashy carbon-fiber machines under canopies of luxury condo buildings.

We're male, too.  But we're brown and black.  We pedal dilapidated-looking-bikes--or bikes that we're not supposed to be able to afford because, well... We don't speak English well, or at all.  We're probably undocumented, to boot,

We are also male--and could be white, brown or black--but we're not likely to be yellow.  We are riding bikes because...we can't afford to drive.  Or we can't drive because we've lost our licenses, or couldn't get them in the first place.

The Rev. Laura Everett describes each of these stereotypes about cyclists in her Daily Beast editorial, "We Need To Ditch All The Old Cliches About Cyclists."  She makes a very good case against each of those cariactures, using data (e.g., that the majority of cyclists are indeed poor, but don't necessarily fit into the second and third stereotypes) from various studies I have mentioned in some of my earlier posts.

She also makes a very interesting point:  During the two previous "golden ages" of cycling in the US--1890-1910 and the 1970s--cycling was seen as a pastime of the leisured class.  And, once it lost that status, cycling fell into a steep decline.  The first "boom" ended when automobiles became affordable to average working people. (Interestingly, during the 1890s, a bicycle cost what an average worker earned in year!)  The second declined with a deep recession fueled by a spike in petrol prices and suffered its death blow when the election of Ronald Reagan ended the first major environmental movements in the US.

She sees that we are in a third "golden age" of cycling. In order to sustain it, she says, all of the stereotypes have to be shattered. Cycling will never become mainstream if it is not seen, by planners and the general public alike, as a vital link in the transportation system.  That, in turn, will not happen if cycling is seen only as a leisuretime activity of the privileged or as the "last resort" of the poor, nonwhite or criminal classes.

For her part, Rev. Everett says she began cycle-commuting because she was a poor recent graduate who was just starting her career.  Seven years later, she continues to ride because, as she says, it really is the best transportation option for her--and because she enjoys it.

To me, she sounds like the kind of cyclist the public needs to know more about if cycling is to become mainstream  And, I must add:  She's a woman.  Thus, she can't help but to break the stereotype.  I  like to believe that I am, too.

Into, And Out Of, The Chaos

Now I'm going to tell you a secret:  You see, there's this place where we all meet and it's gonna change the world.

Someone told me I should write about a conspiracy or two--or at least hint at them.  According to that person who is an expert on what, I don't know, conspiracies and conspiracy theories draw viewers to websites the way free food draws, well, just about anybody to any place.

So...about that place and the meeting that will shake the earth--or modern society, anyway--to its foundations:  I'll tell you about it.  In fact, I'll even tell you who "we" are.

No, we're not the Illuminati or the Carbonari.  We're way more secret than that.  In fact, we're so secret that we don't even know who we are, let alone where we're meeting or why--let alone what the outcome will be.

But we exist, and we're holding such a meeting because, well, people who know better (or should) say that we are.  To wit:

The "they" in this snippet are female cyclists.  Specifically, it referred to the women on wheels who had emerged from whalebone corsets and hoopskirts some time around 1897, the peak of the first Bicycle Boom.  Now we were wearing shorter skirts or--shudder--bloomers with--gasp--socks!  Worse yet, we were setting new standards in fashion.

Now, all of you women who are reading this know that when we dress, we are doing it for each other.  I mean, when the Duchess of Cambridge wears one of those beautiful dresses for a gala or whatever, no man (well, OK, almost no man) pays as much attention to it as any of us.  I recall now a holiday spent with my brother and sister-in-law a year or two after they had their first child.   It was around the time Wheel of Fortune became one of the most popular game shows.  Watching Vanna White slink across the stage, my sister-in-law exclaimed, "I would love to wear that dress!"

The funny thing is that the bicycle, in a way, abetted this attitude.  When women started riding bikes, they weren't seeking approval from men.  If anything, they got scorn or derision from their husbands, fathers, pastors and other males in their lives--as well as some of their female elders.   We were riding and dressing for comfort and (relative) ease of movement--and to impress each other.  Since the men weren't going to approve (well, most of them, anyway), we sought encouragement from each other. 

Equally funny is that as we were mocked and scorned, we were also commodified.  At least a few businessmen saw that as we got on our bikes, we had more mobility--which meant more freedom to do all sorts of things. Like go to work and earn our own money.  And we could buy all of those outfits we would wear as we rode to our "grand rendezvous" where we got the "wobbly old world to wake up" and "adjust itself"--if, perhaps, not in the way the writer of that editorial intended. 

(At least they're not meetings of this organization.)

If you want to see a wonderful graphic story about how the bicycle changed women's history, check out Ariel Aberg-Riger's piece, posted yesterday on Citylab.

Speaking of late 19th-Century urban America, Aberg-Riger says, "Into this chaos came the bicycle."  And out came the modern woman.

Does that sound like a conspiracy, or what?

How To Corrupt The Young: Let Their Teachers Ride Bikes To School

According to today's Google Doodle (Can you beat it as a source?), today is Teachers' Day.

As it happens, I teach in a college.  So, people often conflate me with teachers, especially when they complain about the inadequate skills and manners of young people today.   And they assume that I am on the same schedule as their local schools, or ask me questions about tests, programs and other things of which I am completely unfamilar.

 I am not ashamed to be associated with pedagogues in high schools, middle schools and elementary schools, and I feel the best of them are criminally underpaid.  Also, I feel they are unfairly blamed for much of what is "wrong" with "society".  There are bad ones, to be sure.  But the majority I've known are smart, hardworking people who are doing the best they can with limited resources, clueless or hostile administrators, mandates that have nothing to do with educating young people and with students who, perhaps, didn't get enough food, sleep or good parenting.

How educators influence young people can be debated, but their influence cannot be denied.  Thus, school boards have codes of conduct or behavior for their teachers.  Of course, what is considered "proper" or "moral" has changed over the past century.

For example, during the first Bike Boom of the 1890s. some feared that the sight of women on bicycles would corrupt young people.  There are folks (men, mainly) who still believe such things:  one of my colleagues, who hails from Ethiopia, has never ridden a bicycle because girls and females were kept away from them.  The reason, she said, is that the sight of a woman pumping her legs is seen as "provocative."

But, back in 1895, people didn't have to come from conservative religious societies in order to harbor such notions.  Although most of Long Island was still rural, it was hardly comparable to, say, Saudi Arabia.  Even so, in June of that year, the Long Island School Board issued a stern directive to its female teachers:  Stop Riding Bicycles.  As Board member William Sutter explained to the New York Sun:

   We as the trustees are responsible to the public for the conduct of the schools [and] the morals of the pupils.  I consider that for our boys and girls to see their women teachers ride up to the school door every day and dismount from a bicycle is conducive to the creation of immoral thoughts."

Hmm...Some of my students have seen me ride to school.  I wonder what "immoral thoughts" are fermenting in their heads.  Maybe I'm corrupting young people in ways I never realized!

Delizy & Poiret: Keeping Riders En Suspens

It seems that the moment the first bicycle--however you define it--was created, someone was looking for a way to insulate the bike, and rider, from shock.  When you look the Draisienne's wooden seat and the iron wheels of subsequent machines, you can understand why someone wanted to make them more comfortable to ride.  And if you know anything about the conditions of roads at that time, it's not hard (pun intended) to see the need for a shock absorber to make bicycles (and bicycle-like contraptions) more stable.

If we define "suspension" as anything that insulates ("suspends") the bike or rider from shock, one could argue that pneumatic tires, invented by John Boyd Dunlop in 1888, were the first form of suspension for two-wheelers.  In fact, one could even say that when, a decade earlier, John Boultbee Brooks stretched a piece of leather between two rails, he was the first to achieve the goals of every suspension system created since.

So, really, it's not such a surprise to see a suspension bicycle gracing an advertising poster early in the first worldwide Bike Boom:

I could find very little information about Delizy and Poiret.   All of it was in French--which, fortunately, I can read.

 Apparently, D et P started making bikes around 1890 and weren't in production for very long:  I saw an announcement for the dissolution of the company dated 17 July 1892.  Their bikes were made and sold at 22,rue Duret in Paris.  This factory and showroom stood  just off the Avenue de la Grande Armee, which streams into Place Charles de Gaulle Etoile (the location of the Arc de Triomphe) and was, until 15 or so years ago, lined with the boutiques of the major French (and a few foreign) bike makers.

All right.  You know that I find stuff like this interesting.  So do you:  Otherwise, why would you have read this post?  But you also know that writing this post was just an excuse to put another cool vintage bike ad on this blog!

When This Day Was Bicycle Day

Here in the US, most holidays have long since lost whatever meaning they had and have become, instead, occasions for orgies of consumerism.

Perhaps the most prominent example is Thanksgiving.  For decades, the day after, dubbed "Black Friday", has been an occasion for sales that mark the beginning of the Christmas shopping season.  In recent years, however, large department stores have been opening--and holding their sales--on Thanksgiving Day itself.  

This day--Presidents' Day--is no different.  While other holidays feature other kinds of bargain bonanzas (e.g., spring clothing and bedding on Memorial Day), this holiday is seen as the beginning of the automobile-buying season, and dealerships offer deals to entice consumers into buying new cars outright or trading in the ones they already have.

How did presidents come to be associated with cars? (Well, Ford Motor Company does have a line called Lincoln!)  To answer that question, we have to look at the origins of this holiday.  During my childhood, schools were closed on the 12th and 22nd of February, in honor of Abraham Lincoln's and George Washington's birthdays, respectively.  In 1971, Congress passed the Uniform Holidays Act, which moved the dates of certain festivities to Mondays.  At that time, Lincoln's and Washington's days were combined into one holiday, which falls on the third Monday of February.

Before the merger, if you will, auto sales were held on Washington's Birthday, which was seen as the beginning of the auto-buying season.  That tradition dates to the early twentieth century, when automobiles first began to shape the landscape and culture of this nation.  It has, however, roots in yet another kind of sale held on the same date.

If you've been reading this blog, you know that the bicycle is, in essence, the predecessor of the automobile.  Some of the early auto manufacturers and designers had been in the bike business, much as the Wright Brothers were at the time they made their flight.  So, it should come as no surprise that bicycle-buying (and, in some locales, -riding and -racing) season began on the 22nd of February.  Bicycle dealers usually debuted or featured new models on that date and offered special deals.  Many also had parties and even held or sponsored races, even in such locales as Boston which were as likely as not to have snow on their streets at that time of year.

From Green Fleet Messengers

As an article on the Atlantic Monthly website relates, some people were not happy that "crass commercialism" sullied the occasion of the birth of our first President.  Some of them pointed out, rightly, that there really was no reason to associate two-wheelers with "The Father of Our Country" because it's unlikely that he rode anything resembling a bicycle.  My guess is that the date was chosen because it's near the end of February and Spring is so close that people can practically taste it, if you'll indulge me in a cliche.  And, to be fair, there are parts of the US where the weather is already spring-like by that time.  

By the turn of the century, bicycles were becoming less popular as the motorcycle and, later, automobiles, seized e public's consciousness.  As bicycles are again becoming more popular, wouldn't it be interesting if the old tradition of bicycle sales was revived for Presidents' Day?

Riding Cyclo-Cross Because They Had No Other Choice

From New York City, you can ride north for three days or so (or drive about five hours) and come to Lake George, often called "The Queen of American Lakes". 

There's another lake in the area:  Placid.  Most of you know that the town named for the lake hosted the Winter Olympics, most famously in 1980, when an underdog US Hockey Team beat the mighty Soviet squad.  (Many people mistakenly think that the upset occurred in the championship game because the meme "The US beat the Soviet Union for the Gold Medal" has been repeated so many times.  The Yanks' victory over the Soviets actually came in the semi-finals.)  Lake Placid was also the site of the third Winter Olympiad, in 1932.

Even when there aren't Olympics Games in session, a trip to the lakes and the town--and to surrounding Warren County--is worthwhile.  Located in the Adirondacks, the area offers some of the most beautiful fall foliage anywhere as well as all sorts of stunning mountain and lake vistas, as well as many opportunities for hiking, cycling, skiing, canoeing and other outdoor activities. 

There was a time, though, when nearly all of the economic activity in Warren County related to farming (especially dairy) and logging.  Hardly any of the county's municipalities, including Lake George, Queensbury (the present county seat) and even Glens Falls were barely hamlets, and none of the few roads were paved.  During the spring rains, riders of high-wheelers sometimes found themselves slogging through mud that came up to the hubs of their tall front wheels.

Can you imagine cyclo-cross on a high-wheeler?  I imagine riding under the conditions I've described were difficult enough on a bike with two wheels of equal size.  That might be the reason why, in the days of the first American Bike Boom, a Glens Falls boy named Harry D. Elkes became a World Champion.

 

In 1964, Howard Mason wrote about Elkes and his upstate New York milieu.  Mason could recall the first bicycle he ever saw--a high-wheeler--some seventy-five years earlier.  He also mentioned a cycle industry that flourished in the area in spite of the sparse population and the fact that, for much of the year, cycling was all but impossible, given the road conditions and the bicycles available at that time, not to mention the spring rains I've mentioned and the heavy snows that fall from October through April.  It was particularly interesting to read about one dealer who, even decades after the Bike Boom died out, wanted no part of the auto business "because of the service after a sale".  Cars, and tires especially, were not very reliable in those days.

You can read more about the world of cycling in the 1890's in Warren County on the county Historical Site's website.  "Such were the so-called 'good old days' of the '90's," Mason wrote.  "You may have them."