Pierre Omidyar Led Me To This

Whether or not he realizes it, Pierre Omidyar created one of the world's major rabbit-holes.

At least it is for me. Whenever I look for something on eBay--usually some difficult-to-find small bike part or book--my search triggers other listings, some only loosely, if at all, related to what I was looking for.

Case in point:  I was looking for some brake springs.  I know I could go to Recycle-a-Bicycle or one of the older shops and raid their old-parts piles. But that might mean taking an entire brake mechanism (for which, admittedly, I probably wouldn't pay much, if anything at all) and end up with a bunch of other parts I am not likely to use.  Besides, I wanted to find a "fresh" spring if I could, not one that is rusted and has lost its springiness.

My search took me down a dark, narrow path (OK, I'm being more-than-metaphorical here!) that included this:

Now, I would buy a set of such brakes only if:  1.) the asking price was a small fraction of what the seller wants for them, 2.) I had a bike that needed such brakes or 3.) I were collecting such things.

As for the "if I were a collector" scenario:  Those brakes would definitely be interesting.  They embody almost everything that no bike builder or brake manufacturer does today. 

For one thing, they clamp onto the fork blade.  I know that Dia-Compe (a "legacy" manufacturer that's still making very nice brakes and other parts) makes a dual-pivot brake that similarly clamps onto the fork blades.  But its reach is much shorter than that of the brakes in the photo because it's mainly intended for use on track bikes. Almost every caliper brake made today mounts through a hole in the fork crown or rear seat stay bridge, or is bolted into braze-on fittings on the forks or stays. The latter includes the so-called "direct mount" brakes.

But probably the biggest difference between this brake and anything made today is in the way it's actuated. It's usually classified as a "center pull" (or "central pull," as the manufacturer called it)  because it has two pivot points at each end and its pads are pulled in toward each other when a straddle or traverse spanning the tops of the two arms is pulled away from from the tire.

Actually, "pulled" is not the right word.  That describes how the center pull and cantilever brakes we're familiar with work:  A yoke attached to the brake lever cable pulls the straddle or transverse wire upward.  The arms of one of the brakes in the photos, however, is pushed upward with some sort of cam-like device attached to the cable. Note the position of the cable hole below the spring.

Those "central pull" brakes--some bearing the name "Philco" (I still think of radios!)--were manufactured  by Phillips.  At one time, they were the second-largest bicycle manufacturer in the world, trailing only Raleigh.  In the 1960s, I believe, Raleigh bought them out, as it did to most of their competitors, though bikes--and parts--were still marketed under the "Phillips" name. Those parts include the steel sidepulls found on most British three-speeds until Weinmanns displaced them and the rod brakes on bikes like the Raleigh DL-1 that came with Westwood rims which, unlike rims made for caliper brakes, don't have flat sides.

I've never tried the Philco, "central pull" or whatever you want to call those brakes.  But, from what I've read and heard, the share at least one quality with rod brakes and the company's sidepulls:  they're better than no brakes at all, but not by much--especially in the rain.  Then again, most bikes equipped with such brakes were seldom ridden fast.

One thing I have to say for those Phillips brakes, though:  They were lushly chromed in the way only British parts from about 1970 or earlier were.  (For an example of what I mean, try to find a Cyclo Benelux Super 60 rear derailleur.)  And, well, they did make for an interesting find in the "rabbit hole" Pierre Omidyar sucked me into when I was looking for some center pull brake springs!