100: that's a big number. Frenchman
Robert Marchand was 100 years old when he set a new age group
category record by cycling 100 kms in 4:17, soon after setting the
One Hour Record for the same 100+ age group (of which he currently
seems to be the only member) to crown his birthday activities. Well
done, Robert! And to mark another 100th in France,
VeloPress has produced an elegant photobook to celebrate the first 99
editions of cycling's greatest event, the Tour de France from 1903 to
2012.
Author Richard Moore, in
“Tour de France 100,” begins at the beginning, seeking out the
Cafe Zimmer where early in the last century on a November evening in
Montmartre the Tour de France was first proposed by staff of the
struggling L'Auto newspaper. From that small group discussion
emerged a race that has, befitting its origins as a commercial
vehicle, received exhaustive press coverage from the start, that has
adjusted itself over the decades to meet the varying demands of
print, radio, film, television and the Internet. The race has
outlived the Cafe Zimmer (although it still exists as the Indiana
Cafe) and grown into a global enterprise. Its strengths include the
glorious stage of the entire nation of France (with a few foreign
excursions), a cast of great athletes with larger-than-life
eccentricities or tragic tales and titanic clashes to overcome
geography, weather and rivals. The rules have been constantly
adjusted as the organizers sought out ways to heighten the tension,
broaden the challenge or, apparently, kill the riders.
Reaching backwards to that
first decade, the book opens with a grainy black-and-white photo not
of a triumphant racer cresting a ridge or hammering to a sprint
finish or even passing any spectators. It is 1910 and Octave Lapize
is there shoving his bicycle up the Tourmalet in the year that Tour
included the Pyrenees in its itinerary. A Tour legend was born:
Lapize (who was faster on foot than his nearest competitor riding up
the pass) famously called Tour organizers “Assassins!” (or
“Murderers!” in this account) as he crossed the Aubisque. From
the first flattish race in 1903 the rate of difficulty had progressed
until this day, July 21, when the organizers saw fit to have a stage
beginning at 2 a.m. and running 326 km over seven major climbs.
Lapize was the victor in a sprint finish (!) and was the overall
winner in Paris at the end. A Tour legend was born: Lapize (who was
faster on foot than his nearest competitor riding up the Tourmalet)
famously called Tour organizers “Assassins!” (or “Murderers!”
in this account) as he crossed the Aubisque. Tour founder Henri
Desgrange seemed to confirm this with his comment at the finish line:
We brought far too many
people to Paris, and there was not enough wastage...Out of 110
starters, 41 riders finished the race. I repeat this is far too
many.
Lapize
was to win a single Tour and was one of three champions to die in
World War One.
The Tour
has had its constant themes but there have been so many rule changes,
seemingly at Desgrange's whim from time to time, it gets confusing to
follow how the race was judged in the past. “Tour de France 100”
is helpful in dividing the race into eras and offering explanations
of exactly what was happening. The early days were never much about
fair play or sporting nobility. The first winner, Maurice Garin, was
stripped of his second title for cheating and the first double winner
became Lucien Petit-Breton (1907 and 1908). An atmospheric photo
shows Petit-Breton (who also died in the Great War) looking filthy
and haggard on his heavy team Peugeot bicycle, held up by an
immaculately-dressed white-clad gentleman (an official, perhaps or
his trainer?). And moustaches all around.
The race
continues after a break for World War One as the riders regroup in
the shattered countryside. Another legend is born with the
Unluckiest Man in the Tour (well, aside from those who actually got
killed) as Eugene Christoph breaks a fork in the 1913 edition, drags
his bike to a village blacksmith and hammers it back together at the
forge, receiving a time penalty because a boy operated the bellows to
keep the flames up for him. Christoph was the first to wear the
Yellow Jersey in 1919, broke his fork again that year, probably
costing him overall victory, and, yes, again in 1922 descending the
Col du Galibier. He found yet another blacksmith's shop and did his
repairs, noting in later years: “That accident didn't upset me as
much as the others. By then I was a bit of an expert.”
The
photos are wonderful, showing the bikes built more for strength than
anything, their riders more like muddy desperadoes than Olympic
sporting heroes. In 1924 there was a protest when Desgrange enforced
another one of his flippant rules, this one requiring cyclists to
finish with the same clothing as they began, meaning you could not
shed any layers after a descent. The Péllisier
brothers had enough and withdrew and a third rider joined them in a
bar where a journalist wrote down their thoughts, eventually turning
them into a book “The Convicts of the Road,” emphasizing the
suffering cyclists had to endure. Henri Péllisier
described the race as “a Calvary,” and his brother Francis
produced a box of pills, saying “We run on dynamite.” Anger,
suffering, controversy, doping: more fuel for the Tour publicity
machine!
Henri
Péllisier,
who was prone to violence himself, ended up being fatally shot with
five bullets in 1935. The rider who went on to win the year the
brothers dropped out was Ottavio Bottechia, the first Italian winner
who took the victory in 1925 as well as 1924 but died in mysterious
circumstances on a training ride two years later.
The
rules changes are not always clear as Desgrange and his men tried to
find ways to make the race more exciting. Freewheels were not
allowed for a number of years and variable gearing was not permitted
before 1937, when cycle tourists had already been using it for at
least a decade. Trade teams were dropped in favour of national teams
(and sub-national ones) and Desgrange was appalled by the idea of
support riders, belittling Maurice Brocco who helped François
Faber to victory in 1911 as merely a servant, or domestique.
The noble domestique, giving up his own chances for his team leader,
became part of the Tour legend. It made Desgrange so angry that one
year he basically turned the Tour into a series of time trial stages.
The book offers a fine photo of Lucien Buysse leading Bottechia
through Saint-Cloud in 1925 on the final stage that year. This
faithful helper won the Tour himself the following year.
By the
1930s the reach of mass media broadened interest in the tour and that
decade saw management passing from Desgrange, who retired in 1936 due
to ill health and was replaced by Jacques Goddet, who was to run the
race for the next half-century, immediately dropping the rule against
multiple gears and opening up the opportunity for some technical
advances in equipment. Roads were actually paved on some of the
mountain passes, replacing the previous goat tracks, but the
beginning of Goddet's reign did not make the challenges less, as a
fine image from the 1937 race shows, picturing the peloton lined up
at speed on the cobbles stones of Vannes in the cycling heartland of
Brittany.
My own favourite era of the Tour begins after the Second World War,
with black-and-white photos, superb in their details, highlighting
the adventures of famous riders including Koblet, Bartali, Copp and
Bobet, leading us eventually to the Five Time Winners. Anquetil and
Merckx still belong to this period, seemingly so far in the past.
The era of colour photography begins and it is a bit jarring to see
Anquetil, Merckx and Hinault together in 1987 in bright yellow
jerseys, two retired riders and the still-aggressive “Badger” in
the modern world. One likes to think that those jersey are still
wool as clothing moved then into half-developed polyesters and some
of the most tasteless designs ever.
The great joy in a comprehensive visual history of the Tour de France
lies in the unfamiliar photos and here the old images bring the most
pleasure as once we pass the time of blurry colour to today's
super-sharp photos there is a sense no longer of wandering in a
foreign land. This is not to say the photos are not excellent.
High-speed cameras have frozen Ullrich attacking or Armstrong
crashing better than anything in the old days but these seem familar
and workaday to us.
The
book concludes with the 2012 win of Bradley Wiggins, continuing the
trend of victories by non-French riders and preparing the stage for
Chris Froome's domination in 2013 at the 100th
running of the race. And the race will probably remain the only
sporting event with 100 races completed and only 93 winners but we
don't need to rehash this.
The
magic of “Tour de France 100,” which does feature excellent
written commentary by Richard Moore, seems to be more in the distant
haze of yesterday. Yes, there was plenty not to be nostalgic about
and the reader can pick and choose his or her own view of the Tour de
France and what it means. But the race's history is well-served by
this finely-produced book with far too many excellent photos to
describe. It should find a respected place among the many tomes
dedicated to the ne
plus ultra
of bike races.
The Tour
de France will surely go on to many more editions. And back in
France on January 31 this year, Robert Marchand proved that 100 is
only the start of things. Clearly having upped his training program
in the last two years, Monsieur Marchand smashed his own One Hour
Record in the 100+ age group.
Tour de France 100: A
Photographic History of the World's Greatest Race
by
Richard Moore
223 pp.,
ill., hardcover, VeloPress 2013
ISBN
978-1-937715-06-9
Suggested
retail price: US$34.95
Available
at www.velopress.com
