May Day For Today's Workers

Today is May Day.

This day was, and continues to be, a celebration of Spring, especially in northern European cultures.  Some believe it's rooted in a Roman festival for Flora, the goddess of flowers.  

To this day, throughout Italy, Calendimaggio is celebrated with performances, rituals and gifts that are believed to have their roots in Roman celebratory customs.  And, in France, individuals and workers' are allowed to sell lily of the valley flowers--which Charles IX received as a lucky charm and he, in turn, offered every year to the ladies of the court--tax-free. Perhaps the most elaborate celebrations of this day are found in England and Scotland, where children still perform Maypole dances, a "May Queen" is crowned and traditional poems are recited and songs sung.

In 1889, this day became International Workers' Day, celebrated in some countries as Labor Day.  This date was chosen for its proximity to the anniversary of the Haymarket Massacre, in which a Chicago labor protest rally turned into a riot.   The protestors were calling for, among other things, an eight-hour workday. 

The protestors, and those on whose behalf they were protesting, were mainly blue-collar workers:  factory laborers, longshoremen, construction workers and the like.  Many of those workers--and demonstrators--were immigrants.

Most of those jobs have since disappeared.  And the, ahem, complexions of the immigrants have changed*.  So the sorts of people who would have been working in the factories and on the docks are now making deliveries, whether of building materials on Amazon vans, dinner via electric bikes or documents from a Wall Street brokerage to a midtown legal firm via bicycle.  Dmitry Bondrenko seemed to understand as much when he created this poster:

The "alley cat" race announced in the poster was a benefit for Emily Glos, a Toronto bike messenger who was struck by a car. She survived, but a broken wrist and elbow kept her off her bike, and from making a living, for two months.

*-I recently learned that when Franklin D. Roosevelt signed the first minimum-wage legislation into law, he got Southern Democrats--at that time, the largest bloc in the party--to agree to it by excluding farm and domestic workers--who, in the South, were mainly black. Also, that exclusion garnered support from the large corporate growers in places like California's Central Valley, where most workers were Mexican migrants.

I also learned, not too long ago, that the roots of South Africa's Aprartheid laws were sown by the gold and mining industries, and were designed, in part, that workers in those industries--most of whom were Black--would be virtual slaves.

Worth Its Weight In...

A few days ago, someone paid $5.2 million for a LeBron James trading card from his rookie year.  While I cannot understand paying that much money for a piece of cardboard, I am not surprised:  Basketball, more than any other team sport, focuses attention on individual stars.  And Le Bron James is arguably the brightest of the 21st Century, much as Michael Jordan, "Magic" Johnson and Julius "Dr. J" Erving were the luminaries of their times.

Of course, if someone can afford to spend that much money on a card, well, who am I to tell them they shouldn't?  I suppose that if I had that much money, I probably would--after I helped people I want to help--develop some collection or another.  And some people would wonder why in the world I was collecting whatever it was I was collecting.

If I were collecting bicycles...hmm...would I want classics?   Bikes from a particular country or region?  Genre?  Color?  Or would I concentrate on really obscure bikes, or ones that were not meant to be ridden?

In that last category might be this machine:

Photo by Lisa Powell, for the Springfield News-Sun

The color on the frame didn't come from a Krylon rattle-can. (Aside:  Graffiti artists don't like Krylon. Don't ask how I know that!)  In fact, it didn't come from any can or brush.  It is actual gold.  

To be exact, it's 14 karat gold plating on a chromed frame.  Very few bikes are chromed these days because it's expensive and some jurisdictions have made it all but impossible to do because of its environmental impact.  Also, if not done properly, it's worse than leaving the metal bare.

Even fewer bikes have ever been plated with gold.  For a time, some Campagnolo parts were available with gold plating; a few bike makers made special-edition machines--sometimes one-offs--with the shiny yellow stuff.  In 1972-73, Lambert of England offered its bike built from "aircraft tubing" with gold plating--for $259.95.  Soon afterward, the price of gold skyrocketed and Lambert discontinued those bikes--which, I am sure, are collector's items.

Most other gold-plated bikes were from makers at the very top end of the food chain.  Note that I said "most":  The bike in the photo is not anywhere near that level.

It is, in fact, a Huffy--the millionth bike produced by the company, on 13 May 1947.

The bike is on display in the Dayton Cyclery Building its namesake city's Carillon Park.  Other bikes in the museum pay homage to Miami Valley's history as a bicycle-making center.  Fabricators included a couple of young men who would parlay their knowledge and skills into another invention that would change the world.

Their names were Orville and Wilbur.  They used, not only the expertise in machinery they gleaned from building and repairing bikes, but what they learned about aerodynamics from different bike designs and riding positions. 

Hmm...I wonder what the Wright Brothers thought about Huffy bikes.  From what I've read, Huffy--known in those days as Huffman--bikes were actually respectable.

Another Fine Afternoon RIde

If I took a fine Spring ride the other day, yesterday's spin to Point Lookout would be my first summer ride of the year, sort of.

On Tuesday I began just after noon and got home from Connecticut in time for dinner.  The day began cloudy and chilly but sunlight--and warmth--broke through.  Yesterday, I began a bit before noon and rode through an afternoon when clear skies and bright sun brought the temperature up to 83F (28C), at least in the central parts of the city.

Most of my rides to Point Lookout, including the one I took yesterday, include crossing the Veterans Memorial Bridge. It spans Jamaica Bay and leads to the Rockaway Beach, a string of land barely a kilometer wide that separates the bay from the Atlantic Ocean. 

At this time of year, "mainland" Queens and Manhattan might bask in summery air, if for a day.  But the waters are just emerging from winter:  The ocean temperature at Rockaway Beach was 9C, or 48F, yesterday. The water temperature of Jamaica Bay probably wasn't much higher. That meant the air temperature dropped by about 15 degrees F, or seemed to, when I crossed the bridge and another couple of degrees when I reached the boardwalk.

Not that I minded.  The sun shone so brightly and other cyclists and strollers seemed to be in a good mood.  Also, the wind blew out of the northwest:  in my face for most of the way out, and at my back for most of the way back.

Today bouts of showers are punctuating a cloudy but still warm day.  I might try to sneak in a quick ride between spritzes.  But I'm happy that, for two days in a row, I managed to get in what would normally be, at this time of year, day rides in the space of an afternoon.