Fuji S10-S: It Brought Japanese Bikes Out Of The Shadows

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 1960s, 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.

When The Sun Was Rising On The Bike Boom

Yesterday I talked about something people younger than "a certain age" probably wouldn't have known:  Cannondale's pre-bikemaking history (1971-1982).

Now I'm going to mention something else us oldsters (some of whom ride roadsters) will remember:  a time when Japanese goods were considered inferior to everything else on the market.  Bike parts, particularly derailleurs, from the Land of the Rising Sun were starting to gain respectability right around the time the 1970s North American Bike Boom was exploding; the bikes would soon follow.

I'm giving you this capsule history because I recently acquired a new-old-stock part from that period.  Although there's nothing exceptional about it, it's interesting and, I believe, good.

I knew I'd had one of an "endangered species" when I saw the packaging:  It looked as if no one had touched it in forty years.  More to the point, it bore signs of an earlier time:

In the days before Shimano came out with its Crane derailleurs and the Dura-Ace gruppo of which it would become a part, nearly all of its parts bore the "wings" "lifting" the "333" logo.  After Dura-Ace and Titlist (the forerunner of 600 and Ultegra) came to market, only Shimano's internally-geared three-speed hubs bore that emblem.  On that basis alone, one could date this hub from 1973 or earlier.

I have tried to show the logo engraved in the hub body and what appears to be a date code:

The letters are "R" and "U".  In every explanation of Shimano's code I've seen, the first letter is the month and the second letter is the year.  The month code goes from "A" to "L", with "A" being January and "L" being December.  The year code starts with "A" in 1976, goes through "Z" (2001) and begins again with "A" in 2002.  

One site suggests that Shimano was using this sequence before 1976 or, at least, that "Y" could be 1974 and "Z", 1975.  If that is the case, the "U" on my hub might mean that it was made in 1970.  But what about the "R"?  Could there have been another code in use for the month?  

Or might those letters mean something else--or nothing at all?

Whatever the case, it's pretty reasonable, I believe, to assume this hub was made before 1973, perhaps even during the late 1960s.  Here's another piece of evidence--which you may have noticed in another photo--that, I believe, supports my hypothesis.

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What If Sanko Ruled The World?

Most of us who came of age around the time of the '70's Bike Boom believed that in the beginning, good bikes and components came from England, France, Italy and a few other European countries.  Reliable but heavy and clunky bikes were made in the US; Japanese manufacturers copied what Europeans and, sometimes, Americans did.  And, until the time of the Bike Boom, the Japanese stuff was of lesser quality.  Some of us still believed that narrative long after reality proved otherwise.

Thus, we thought that if you were a racer, super-high mileage rider or simply wanted to ride without being weighed down by your wallet, you equipped your bike with Campagnolo components, especially the Nuovo Record rear derailleur.  In our heart of hearts, we knew that SunTour derailleurs shifted better.  But if a Campy costs four times as much, it must be better, right.

So, while racers and other active riders--or rich blowhards--opted for Campagnolo, in-the-know cyclotourists, recreational riders and other types of cyclists soon learned that, whatever their gearing needs, a SunTour VGT (or, later, Cyclone) was their best bet.  Eventually, racers and those with pretentions toward being racers would realize that SunTour derailleurs--and, by extension, other top-flight Japanese components--had "caught up" with or, in some cases surpassed, their European counterparts.

The funny thing is that none of us knew that more than a decade earlier, a Japanese manufacturer made a derailleur that far surpassed anything else that was made at the time.  Legend has it that so much was spent to reseach, develop and make this derailleur that it bankrupted the company.

Just a year after Nabuo Ozaki designed the single most influential derailleur in the history of cycling--the Sun Tour Gran-Prix--a smaller Japanese company came up with a "best of" derailleur that incorporated the best design features--except for SunTour's slant parallelogram--of other derailleurs.  To be fair, whoever designed the derailleur I'm about to mention may not have known about SunTour's design, as it may not have gone into production and in those pre-Internet days, such information would not have traveled as freely or quickly.  Also, I think that even had this derailleur's designer known about SunTour, he wouldn't have incorporated its design as it was so new and radical.  He probably would have thought it best to copy, as closely as possible, European designs, as most Japanese bike and component manufacturers did at the time.

The derailleur in question was, apparently, produced for only one or two years and was never exported, at least not in any significant quantities.  Thus, to this day it remains all but unknown to cyclists outside of Japan. Even within Japan, not many were sold, as it was more expensive than the Campagnolo Record or any other derailleur.  Because of its rarity and quality, it is one of the most sought-after components by Japanese collectors, who tend to favor vintage French (and sometimes British) stuff.

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The derailleur I have been talking about is the Sankyo Procyon PV-III.  I have never seen one in person, but what I've seen in photos of it leads me to think that it was indeed of the extraordinary quality attributed to it.  The knuckles and parallelogram plates were made of nicely-finished aluminum.  Recall that at that time (1965-66), Campagnolo's top-of-the-line derailleur, the Record, was still made of chrome-plated bronze.  

The Procycon had two sprung pivots, as Simplex derailleurs had. (Only the lower pivot on the Campagnolo Record was sprung.)  This allowed, in the absence of a slant parallelogram, for the chain to ride closer to the cogs than it would with a Record.  Also aiding the shift was a clever mechanism that kept the cable stop and cable clamp in alignment, and a pulley cage with an offset pivot.

And the build quality, from what I've read and heard, has never been surpassed, not even by Campagnolo's or Mavic's derailleurs.  While SunTour derailleurs had an overall better design, they didn't have the otherworldliness, or perception thereof, that the Procyon had.  

Now here's something to consider:  What if the Procyon, rather than the Campagnolo Nuovo Record, had become the derailleur of choice in worldwide pelotons?  Would SunTour have become as influential as it did?  If SunTour derailleurs had less influence, would Shimano have copied their most salient design feature and created a successful indexed shifting system?  And what would, or wouldn't, other derailleur makers like Huret and Simplex have done?