We don't know the names of the folks who painted the cave walls at Lascaux or told the stories that became the epic poem Gilgamesh. For that matter, we don't know who invented the wheel.
But we do have some idea of who made most wheeled vehicles--including bicycles--over the last 200 years or so. Even if the bike is made by a large company like Raleigh, checking serial numbers and dates can tell us, if not the person who brazed or painted the frame, then at least who was working in the factory at the time. Thus, the search can be narrowed down to a few possible brazers, welders, painters or others responsible for making the bike.
The more expensive the bike (or car or whatever), the easier it is to know who worked on it. Some custom bikes are branded with the builder's name (e.g., Bruce Gordon, Bob Jackson, Rene Herse), while other small builders like Mercian and Seven have a few people working for them, each of whom focuses on a specific task such as mitering the tubes or painting. So, if you have such a bike, it's fairly easy to find out who was responsible for it.
A few small and custom builders' bikes, however, have gone "stealth". Perhaps the most famous example was the machine Eddy Merckx rode for the hour record in Mexico City in 1972. All right, it wasn't really "stealth": Everyone knew it wasn't a Windsor. The Mexican bike-builder's decals were slapped on the sunset-orange frame just before the Belgian Tour de France winner set off on his ride; the frame had actually been built (and some components modified) to Eddy's specifications by the revered Italian builder Ernesto Colnago. Windsor used Merckx's successful record attempt to sell its bikes which, understandably, infuriated Signore Colnago, who never forgave Eddy.
At least Windsor made some pretty good bikes. (They bear no relation to the Chinese-made machines sold under the same name in the US.) On the other hand, another "stealth" bike bore a brand that would never be associated with a bike shop, let alone Eddy Merckx, the Tour de France or an hour record.
Strip away the Murray decals, and this bike would look like a high-end racing bike from the 1980s: Italian, perhaps. Or American, probably from a custom frame builder like Ben Serotta.
There's a good reason for that: The "Murray" in the photo was indeed built by Serotta in his Saratoga Springs, NY workshop.
So how did the bike end up bearing the name of a manufacturer of cheap bikes sold in big-box stores and pedaled off curbs by kids? Well, Murray--which was as known for making lawnmowers as it was for kids' bikes--signed on to sponsor the US Olympic team that competed in the 1984 Los Angeles games. To their credit, they sponsored the 7-11 Team, the first American cycling squad since the early 20th Century to challenge--and sometimes beat--the best of Europe and the rest of the world. Some of its riders could boast, among other things, victories (or high placements) in the classics as well as individual stages of the Giro d'Italia, Tour de France and other multi-stage races.
The bike in the photo took Davis Phinney to a fifth-place finish in the 1984 Olympic road race.
Now Ben Serotta, who started building frames in 1972, is re-entering his old profession. His business grew; 40 years later, he partnered it with a company that, the following year, joined another company that would later go bankrupt.
Although I'm sure his new bikes won't look like the one he built for Davis Phinney, I am sure they will be nice. He says he will build in steel as well as titanium and aluminum. Any one of those materials--especially steel--will highlight his fine craftsmanship. And they will bear his name.
But we do have some idea of who made most wheeled vehicles--including bicycles--over the last 200 years or so. Even if the bike is made by a large company like Raleigh, checking serial numbers and dates can tell us, if not the person who brazed or painted the frame, then at least who was working in the factory at the time. Thus, the search can be narrowed down to a few possible brazers, welders, painters or others responsible for making the bike.
The more expensive the bike (or car or whatever), the easier it is to know who worked on it. Some custom bikes are branded with the builder's name (e.g., Bruce Gordon, Bob Jackson, Rene Herse), while other small builders like Mercian and Seven have a few people working for them, each of whom focuses on a specific task such as mitering the tubes or painting. So, if you have such a bike, it's fairly easy to find out who was responsible for it.
A few small and custom builders' bikes, however, have gone "stealth". Perhaps the most famous example was the machine Eddy Merckx rode for the hour record in Mexico City in 1972. All right, it wasn't really "stealth": Everyone knew it wasn't a Windsor. The Mexican bike-builder's decals were slapped on the sunset-orange frame just before the Belgian Tour de France winner set off on his ride; the frame had actually been built (and some components modified) to Eddy's specifications by the revered Italian builder Ernesto Colnago. Windsor used Merckx's successful record attempt to sell its bikes which, understandably, infuriated Signore Colnago, who never forgave Eddy.
At least Windsor made some pretty good bikes. (They bear no relation to the Chinese-made machines sold under the same name in the US.) On the other hand, another "stealth" bike bore a brand that would never be associated with a bike shop, let alone Eddy Merckx, the Tour de France or an hour record.
Strip away the Murray decals, and this bike would look like a high-end racing bike from the 1980s: Italian, perhaps. Or American, probably from a custom frame builder like Ben Serotta.
There's a good reason for that: The "Murray" in the photo was indeed built by Serotta in his Saratoga Springs, NY workshop.
So how did the bike end up bearing the name of a manufacturer of cheap bikes sold in big-box stores and pedaled off curbs by kids? Well, Murray--which was as known for making lawnmowers as it was for kids' bikes--signed on to sponsor the US Olympic team that competed in the 1984 Los Angeles games. To their credit, they sponsored the 7-11 Team, the first American cycling squad since the early 20th Century to challenge--and sometimes beat--the best of Europe and the rest of the world. Some of its riders could boast, among other things, victories (or high placements) in the classics as well as individual stages of the Giro d'Italia, Tour de France and other multi-stage races.
The bike in the photo took Davis Phinney to a fifth-place finish in the 1984 Olympic road race.
Now Ben Serotta, who started building frames in 1972, is re-entering his old profession. His business grew; 40 years later, he partnered it with a company that, the following year, joined another company that would later go bankrupt.
Although I'm sure his new bikes won't look like the one he built for Davis Phinney, I am sure they will be nice. He says he will build in steel as well as titanium and aluminum. Any one of those materials--especially steel--will highlight his fine craftsmanship. And they will bear his name.
