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 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.

"They Make Bicycles?!"

"They make bicycles?!"

They did, for quite a while--and some very nice ones, at that.  Whether or not they still make bikes, I don't know.  Perhaps they're sold other under names.

Actually, the company  that prompted the question at the beginning of this post probably sold  more bikes in the US under other companies' names than it did under its own.  It's surprising, really, that it wasn't more successful in the US market for a couple of reasons. One is that it made very nice bikes that were reasonably priced, at least until the US dollar devalued.  Another is that it made the types of bikes that were selling like crazy in the US when other companies made them, and the manufacturer I have in mind usually made them better!  Also, this company's name is one that everybody knew:  In fact, most people had (and probably have) at least one product it makes.  And it has an excellent reputation for just about everything it's ever made.

Why, this company even sponsored a team in the Tour de France! 

Officially, this company stopped selling its bicycles in the US after 1989, although it seems to have continued selling them in other countries for some time after that.  It ceased its US operations because, like other bicycle manufacturers from its home country, it had trouble competing when the US dollar devalued against that country's currency.  Unlike some other Japanese bike makers, it seems not to have shifted its manufacturing to a lower-wage country like Taiwan or, later, China or Singapore. 


OK...So now you might realize that I'm talking about a Japanese bicycle manufacturer.  You know it's not Fuji because they're still in the US market.  And you know it's not Miyata because they're not known for other products (although they were  a rifle manufacturer before they started making bicycles).  Ditto for Nishiki and Centurion. 

All right.  I'll give you one more clue.  This company still sells bicycle components, mainly tires, under two brand names that almost every cyclist knows.  And their other products were mainly in an area in which the Japanese first gained a reputation for quality.

That area is electrical goods and electronics.  Now the light bulb is starting to flash in your head! (Pun intended.)  And the names under which those tires and other parts are sold are "Panaracer" and "National".

In fact, this company's tires have been sold under other names--including those of a few bike manufacturers as well as Avocet.  And some are sold under the Specialized brand--as were some of this company's bikes.

By now, you might have figured out that the company in question is Panasonic. In addition to most of the Japanese-made Specialized bikes of the late '70's and '80's, Panasonic also made bicycles for Schwinn (LeTour, Voyageur and other models) and other bicycle companies.   In fact, it made some of the nicest off-the-shelf touring bikes as well as racing bikes that could compete with some of the best from Europe.

Panasonic PT-3500 Touring.  Great bike, but the paint and graphics practically scream "'80's"!

But it seems that in this country, people could see Panasonic only as the company that made their televisions or microwave ovens.  It's a shame, really, because its bikes offered good performance and value.  In addition to the touring bikes I've mentioned, Panasonic made bikes like the DX-2000, which could be best described as a better version of the "club racer" bike made by British and French manufacturers until the 1970s. 

When it was first introduced in the late 1970s, the DX-2000 had a lugged and brazed frame made from double-butted high-tensile steel tubing.   Later versions had frames made from double-butted Tange tubing (900 or one of the other heavier grades).  All versions came with forged dropouts and had geometries similar to those of more-expensive racing bikes.  Earlier club racers from Europe had similar geometry but were made from thinner-walled versions of lower-grade tubing in an attempt to make a light bike without using, say, Vitus (let alone Reynolds or Columbus) tubing.  The DX-2000 was, therefore, almost as light as those European bikes even though it came with clincher tires (as opposed to the tubulars on its European counterparts).  And, needless to say, the Shimano or SunTour derailleurs on the DX-2000  shifted better than the Simplex, Huret or low-end Campagnolo units typically found on other club racers.

1980 Panasonic DX-2000, with fenders added.

What that meant was that someone who wanted to ride fast could buy a DX-2000 for about $225 in the late '70's or a hundred dollars more during the '80's and get an idea of what a racing bike feels like.  Then, if that person wanted to take up racing, he or she could buy a set of tubulars before committing to a more expensive bike.  Some people bought DX-2000s and never looked back, rolling them out on club rides even as their riding buddies went for things "bigger and better". 

Also, the DX-2000 may well have been the only production bicycle ever offered in the US in a 71cm frame (seat tube) size!   To put that in perspective:  I am 5"10" (177 cm) tall with a 32" (81cm) inseam and my Mercians are 55.5cm. 

Phil Anderson racing with the Panasonic team, 1985

From the mid-1980s until the early 1990's, Panasonic co-sponsored racing teams in the Netherlands.   Riders who sported the company's insignia on their jerseys achieved a number of notable victories, including stage wins in the Tour de France and Giro d'Italia as well as victories in a number of "classics" and regional races.  Probably the most successful riders to race for Panasonic-sponsored teams were Phil Anderson, who finished fifth in the 1982 and 1985 Tours de France (and was the first non-European to wear the maillot jaune) and Erik Breukink, who finished second in the 1988 Giro d'Italia. 

Panasonic riders, interestingly, never rode Panasonic bikes. It's been rumored that Panasonic sponsored teams in the hope of becoming as much of a presence in the European bicycle market as it has been in the European (and worldwide) electronics market.  Even though Miyata has been successful there (under the name Koga-Miyata), Panasonic never attained similar status.



1987 Panasonic Team Time Trial

Today the Panasonic name continues to be familiar to millions of Americans who purchase just about anything that runs on electricity, from home appliances to computing equipment.  But they still ask that same question I hear from time to time, "They make bicycles?" 

P.S.  Two of the shops in which I worked sold Panasonic bicycles.  I assembled a number of them; I do not recall any other bike that was as easy to assemble!

A Bike Tom Would Have Liked

Thomas Avenia, who owned one of the first (and, for a long time, one  of the few) shops in the US to sell lightweight bicycles, once told me that track bikes are "the king of bicycles."  He, who lived to be 95 years old, rode one well into his 80's.

I recently spotted one that I think he could have appreciated:

Now, he never would have ridden his with those handlebars:  His own machine, a vintage Frejus, had TTT Pista bars, if I recall correctly.  But the rest of the Bridgestone I spotted would have pleased him.

I think I've seen one or two other Bridgestone track bikes.  This is the first chromed one I've seen.  

If I'm not mistaken, this Bridgestone track bike was built by hand, in a separate area from other Bridgestone bikes.  Most Bridgestones I've seen had clean, well-finished lugs and paint.  They're even better, I think, on this bike.

Bridgestones were originally imported into the US under the name "Kabuki" during the 1970's. In the 1980's and early '90's, Grant Petersen worked for the company and helped to design the bikes that were imported into the US until 1994.  

I feel that the only Japanese bikes that were as good as, or better than, Bridgestones were made by Miyata and Panasonic.  They are also among the most sought-after mass-produced vintage bikes.  

Tom would have appreciated Miyata's and Panasonic's track bikes. But I think this Bridgestone would have done more to remind him of his beloved Frejus.

The Persistence Of Dropped Top Tubes

What if Salvador Dali were hired to design a bike frame--and he only did the top tube?

The result might look something like this:

I had never before seen such a frame sporting Bianchi logos.  But now that I think of it, I'm not surprised.  The Bianchi in the photo was made in Japan for Bianchi during the 1980's.  Back then, the most famous Italian bicycle manufacturer was rebranding bikes built by Panasonic, Bridgestone and, it was rumoried, Miyata, for the US market.

When you look at this Panasonic closely, you realize why Bianchi made such a move.  During the 1970's and early 1980's, Japanese makers like the ones I've mentioned, and Fuji and Nishiki, took over much of the entry- and mid-level market for road and touring bikes in the US. There were good reasons for that:  The Japanese companies were offering better bikes for the money than most of their  European and American rivals.  Their quality control was more consistent:  Highland Park Cyclery sold Miyata and Panasonic when I worked there, and I don't recall having to return one for a defect.  On the other hand, I saw braze-ons break off a Peugeot and Treks that had miscut threads and wheels that didn't hold up for very long.  

Perhaps the biggest "draw" of Japanese bikes was that their drivetrains usually shifted more accurately and (a major selling point with new cyclists) more easily than those on their European counterparts.  The Panasonic in the second photo was the lowest-level ten-speed bike the company offered at the time, but its Shimano derailleur outshifted all but the very top models made in Europe at the time.  The BIanchi is a few levels up from the Panasonic, and its Shimano gears were more accurate and less fussy, I would submit, than any others--except for the ones made by Sun Tour.  

Of course, BIanchi would not be the only company to re-brand Japanese bikes for sale in the US.  Some of the most famous examples of such bikes were the "Voyageur" and "LeTour" lines Schwinn sold; Raleigh, Peugeot and other companies would also offer bikes from the Land of the Rising Sun.  Other companies, like Motobecane, would continue to make bikes in their home countries but equip them with Japanese derailleurs, freewheels and cranksets--and, later, other components--for American cyclists.

But not all of those companies offered bikes with the frame design of the BIanchi and Panasonic you see in this post.  In fact, frames with top tubes so shaped were made for only a few years, or so it seemed.  A couple of years ago, Trek revived  a modified version of it on their "Belleville" city/porteur bike:

I have never ridden a bike with such a configuration, but I can see the benefit of it, particularly for cyclists with disproportionately short legs.  I would think that people who, for other reasons, want a frame that offers more clearance than the traditional diamond design but don't want something more rigid or stable than a traditional women's, or even a mixte, frame would also like such a design.


Here's what I always wondered:  If you buy one of those bikes, do you get a watch with it?  Or a bike computer:  Imagine if Salvador Dali designed those!

"New" Bike

So far, you may have noticed two things:  my favorite colors (purple, green, pink and blue) and my favorite bike maker (Merican).

Well, the bike I bought the other night is neither of those things.  That's probably a good thing--or, at least, it's a good thing that it's not a Mercian.  That's because I plan to park it on the streets.

It's a Schwinn LeTour III from 1978 or thereabouts.  I bought the bike because the frame is bigger than most step-through frames made today.  I'm amazed that most stop at about 20 inches (50 cm):  If anything, there are more women of my size (horizontally as well as vertically) than there were thirty years ago.

Also, I decided to buy it because it's a solid bike.  It's not light or fancy, but it will, I think, do the job I want it to do.  

Schwinn's LeTour series bikes were made in Japan by Panasonic.  Most of you associate Panasonic with electrical appliances and electronic goods.  But they made some very fine bikes, including the ones they made for PDM, one of the most prominent cycling teams of the 1980's.

This photo shows the roughest part of the paint job and an interesting feature this bike shared with some other women's and mixte frames of that era.  

Notice how the rear center-pull brake is mounted, and the long straddle cable.  This eliminates the need for routing the cable up the seat tube and back down again into a stop.  It's not only an aesthetic consideration:  The up-and-down cable configuration is one of the reasons why the rear brakes on so many women's and mixte frames didn't work very well.  I guess the bike builders figured that a good rear brake wasn't necessary, for they probably believed there weren't very many fast women (on bikes, anyway!).

The Schwinn Aprroved-branded brake is a standard Dia Compe centerpull, which is a Japanese-made clone of the Swiss Weinmann centerpull, which was found on Motobecanes, Raleighs and countless other European bikes of that time.

Even though I'm not going to paint the bike, I plan to modify it considerably.  I'm getting a pair of Milan bars and city brake levers, as well as a pair of fenders, from Velo Orange. (I highly recommend VO:  They have excellent products at fair prices, and Chris is a very nice guy.) I placed the order today:  Actually, I returned a seatpost I bought from them but didn't use.  (It's a good seatpost; it just has more setback than I needed.)  And, I also plan to turn the bike into a single-speed.  But it won't be a "fixie"; rather, it will have a single freewheel.  I have used them on commuter and "beater" bikes before, and I like them because they're simple and, most of the time, I don't need anything more for quick local rides.  

I also plan to add a rear rack and front basket.