Escaping Another Kind Of Slavery--With Bicycles

Had bicycles been available, it's not hard to imagine that slaves would have used them to escape from their enslavers.

Perhaps Brandale Randolph had that in mind when he named his new business the "1854 Cycling Company".  In the year for which the company is named, US President Franklin Pierce began to fulfill a campaign promise that helped him win election to the office:  To enforce the Fugitive Slave Act, he pressured officials in the "free" northern states to arrest former slaves and return them to their former owners.

One such former slave, 19-year-old Anthony Burns, was arrested in Boston, Massachusetts and sent back to Virginia.  This led to a protest in nearby Framingham led by abolitionists Sojourner Truth, Henry David Thoreau and William Lloyd Garrison.  There, Garrison held a match to a copy of the Constitution, calling it "a covenant with death, an agreement with Hell."

The 1854 Cycling Company's flagship model is called the "Garrison" in his honor.  And a pair of road bikes are named for Ellen and William Craft, who escaped slavery in 1848 to become authors and lecturers.  Knowing that, I have to wonder whether Randolph will name another model "Douglass".

Brandale Randolph shows one of his early "1854" bicycles to a Framingham resident.

And, yes, the bikes--built around classically-designed steel frames with modern touches--are being built in Framingham.  But most important of all to Randolph is the homage he is paying to the 13th Amendment of the US Constitution.

That amendment, passed after the end of the Civil War, outlawed slavery nationwide.  Many people--including yours truly--argue that the prison-industrial complex is today's version of slavery.  So, apparently, does Randolph:  He is employing recently-released prisoners and starting a training program that will help bring all of the manufacturing in-house--and teach the parolees valuable skills they can use, whether they continue to work for him or elsewhere. And he will pay them "living wages," he said.

He started making bikes only this year and is looking for financing to move his company forward.  His plans, as idealistic as they are, have basis in his knowledge and experience:  A former hedge fund manager, he graduated from the streets of South Central Los Angeles to the prestigious Thacher School (by way of A Better Chance, a program for inner-city kids) and earned a degree from the Wharton School of the University of Pennsylvania. (Irony of ironies:   A certain Wharton alum is now in the White House!)

His business instincts tell him that the bicycle market will grow "exponentially" in the next ten years, as more and more people, particularly in cities, give up their cars.  His vision is not to become a major manufacturer like Specialized or Giant, or one of the"niches brand, like in craft beers", that "only have to sell a couple" of their bikes every year.  He wants to fit "somewhere between the two", he explains.

That might be just the right spot for him--and those whose escape from modern slavery he is trying to aid.

Borne--And Born--Out Of The Fire

Sometimes natural--or human-caused--disasters can make it impossible to drive a car or truck.  Roads might be impassable, gasoline supplies could be low or non-existent or wind, rain or other conditions might reduce visibility or eliminate it altogether.

During such crises, some people ride bicycles to stores that might still be open,  to check up on relatives, friends or neighbors or even to rescue or transport victims.  Last month, after Hurricane Harvey struck the Gulf Coast of Texas, Jeff Whitehead pedaled 300 miles from his home in Laguna Park, a town near the center of the Lone Star state, to the coastal community of Rockport "just to do whatever I could to help," he explained.  He could not have made that trip in his car due to the destruction wrought by the storm.

Other times, however, it's not the disaster itself that makes driving impossible:  it's, ironically, other drivers.  A mass exodus from a storm, wildfire or other catastrophe can lead to huge traffic jams on roads leading out of the afflicted area.  That is what happened to Charity Ruiz when she evacuated her Santa Rosa, California home in the wake of wildfires that have singed their way through the northern California wine country.

The traffic tie-up stopped her in the middle of a street on fire.  She feared, not only for her own life, but for those of her two daughters--and yet-unborn baby son.

Yes, she is pregnant.  In fact, she is due to have a C-section next week. (That is on hold, because the fires closed the hospital in which she was scheduled for the procedure.) That makes what she did to get herself and her children out of harm's way all the more heroic.

She ran back to her house and grabbed her bicycle, which is equipped with a toddler trailer.   With her two girls in the trailer, she pedaled through the fire.  

Her greatest worry, she said, was tipping over and falling.  "I just kept yelling at the girls, 'Tell me if you're OK'," she recalled.

After riding for a while, a Good Samaritan in a Jeep drove them to a friend's house, where they were reunited with Charity's husband Mike.

The family is now staying with relatives in San Jose.  And one day, Charity Ruiz will be able to tell her son of all that she did to bring him into this world!

Just Ahead Of The Dawn

This semester, I teach early classes on Monday and Wednesday. Yes, I volunteered for that as part of a deal, sort of. But that's another story.

Anyway, today I decided to ride to work a little earlier than usual so I could do a bit of work before classes.  Also, I sensed I would have an even more pleasant commute than usual.

I pedaled across the Queens span of the RFK Memorial Bridge just in time to see the sun rising over the North Shore of Queens and Long Island--just beyond Rikers Island, and just ahead of a southbound Amtrak train that would pass over the Hell Gate Bridge.

And I was pedaling just ahead of the sunrise.  One of my students said I brought light into the room today.  I wonder whether she saw me riding across the river, in front of Hell Gate.  

Are We 19 Percent More Lawless Than We Were Last Year?

Are New York City cyclists committing 19 percent more traffic violations than they were last year?

As of 1 October, the New York Police Department handed out 23,452 summonses to cyclists in 2017.  During the same nine-month period in 2016, cyclists in the Big Apple were issued 18,991 summonses.

"Ticket blitzes" are a common topic of conversations I have with other cyclists in this town.  Of course, the NYPD--like just about every other police department--denies that its members engage in such practices, or are under pressure to meet quotas.  It does, however, seem that we are ticketed en masse over certain hours, days or weeks.

It also seems that we are ticketed disproportionately compared to drivers.  I take that back:  There is evidence of this.  Officers often say that, under the law, we are operating vehicles and are therefore subject to the same regulations.  They are mostly correct about that. However, I have witnessed many drivers running red lights or talking on their phones while driving.  I have never seen any pulled over and ticketed.  Drivers routinely "gun it" through yellow signals in the intersection nearest my apartment,  and none ever seem to be penalized for it.  

Photo by Billie Grace Ward

And their actions can have far more serious consequences--but not to themselves, usually.  The metal surrounding them offers protection--to them, but not the cyclists, pedestrians (some of whom are residents of a senior center on the corner) or anyone else who happens to be on the outside.

Also, many cyclists feel "targeted" by the police.  I know I did when I was summonsed last year in Harrison:  The cop, on a motorcycle, followed me for about a kilometer to the intersection where I was charged with pedaling through a red light. The fact that it was near the end of the month and the officer told me to plead "not guilty" and just happened to be at the front desk when I appeared in court leads me to think that as a cyclist, I was simply an easy mark.  And, I am sure, other cyclists in New York City and other places are ticketed for that reason alone.

Or it could just be that the NYPD is under some mandate to raise 19 percent more revenue than it raised last year?  Who knows?

What If He'd Had A GPS?

Today Columbus Day is being celebrated in the US.  When I was growing up, it was always observed on 12 October.  But, some time during the '70's, many traditional holidays were moved to Mondays because folks in the government realized it was cheaper to close offices for three days in a row rather than to interrupt the work week.  Of course, not too many people complain about the three-day weekend.

This morning, I was talking with my friend Mildred.  She is not a terribly political person, and she doesn't normally involve herself with what much of the alt-right derisively calls "identity politics".  Today, though, was different.  The first thing out of her mouth was, "They should take down his statue! They should re-name that circle at 59th Street!"

From her daughter, she recently learned that he was a "murderer" and "rapist".  I assured her that there was much I didn't know for a very long time, so she shouldn't flagellate herself.

I tried to make light of the situation.  "And on top of everything, he got lost."  She laughed.

She shares an Italian-American heritage with me.  So she practically applauded when I said, "We have Michelangelo, Galileo, Dante and Armani.  Why do we celebrate a guy who got lost?"

Add caption

That got me to thinking about another feature of this holiday: sales.  All of the big department stores are running them.  So are many smaller retailers.  Interestingly, bike shops don't seem to follow their example.   I guess there's no particular reason for them to have a sale today.  What could they offer?  GPS devices?  What would history have been like if Chris had a Garmin Edge?  

I think I'd get lost even if I used one.  I may have descended from the same line of people as Columbus.  Sometimes, though, I think that all I inherited was his sense of direction!