Book Review: The Bicycle Illustrations of Daniel Rebour

Every subject has its celebrated artists: think of Michelangelo and the human form; Audubon and birds; Stubbs and racehorses; Warhol and soup cans. Of course, our sport is no exception and while many will argue that Frank Patterson's pen-and-ink bucolic English scenes of early 20^th century tweed-clad gentlefolk smoking pipes while relaxing in front of a thatched-roof pub are the finest (and dreamiest) representations of what we cyclists imagine life to be, it is a disappointment that Mr. Patterson was not a cyclist himself and hardly even left his cottage, mostly never seeing the places he drew. So we must look across the Channel for inspiration and here we find the indisputable master of technical drawings of bicycles, their parts and accessories: Frenchman Daniel Rebour. His thousands of drawings are scattered throughout old magazines, catalogues and other publications seldom seen, with the most notable collection being in a Japanese book published in 1976. But now Cycle Publishing has issued a superb hardcover book featuring 2,000 of the master's drawings with brief captions in English to charm all of those with a love of vintage machinery and classic draftsmanship. Captions are by Rob van der Plas, a mechanical engineer himself, with contributions by Frank Berto, another engineer whose vast collection of cycling magazines was a primary source for the illustrations in the book.

Daniel Rebour was born in LeHavre c. 1908 and studied technical illustration in Paris, graduating in 1928 and soon finding work as a test rider and illustrator for a motorcycling magazine. During the Second World War he illustrated car parts catalogues and then moved to Biarritz. Directly after the war a friend approached him about joining a new magazine, Le Cycle, as an illustrator and technical editor. The first issue ran in September 1945, with the magazine appearing as a weekly, then bi-weekly and finally monthly. It continued until the collapse of the French industry after the mid-1970s bike boom, with the last number coming out in December 1975. The detailed drawings continued but now mainly found themselves in catalogues, including those produced for André Bertin, Réne Herse and the VAR tool company. Bertin imported components from several Japanese manufacturers, including Shimano and SR, and so the selection in the book extends beyond classic European products to include the then-new ones from Asia. Rebour published into the 1980s and passed away in 1991. 

The book comprises work representative of the entire period of Rebour's output from the 1940s through the 1980s, arranged in 28 chapters divided into components (derailleur gearing, drivetrains, pedals and clips, rim brakes, etc.), accompanied on the lower half of each page with drawings of entire bicycles. The latter includes many of the race-winning mounts of famous cyclists of the epoch including Ferdi Kübler, Eddy Merckx, Jacques Anquetil, Raphaël Géminiani, to name a few. There are many familiar names—Campagnolo, Simplex, Huret, Shimano, Peugeot—and many that are obscure or forgotten entirely now, such as Narcisse, Jeunet, Follis, Cardinale, that vanished when the once-dominant French industry faded.

Rebour seems to have drawn everything and beyond the obvious (Campagnolo Super Record parts, Brooks saddles, Wolber tubulars) he included folding bicycles, pumps, lighting, motorized bicycles, clothing, shoes and tools in his repertoire. 

The drawings, beautifully rendered and providing more detail than photographs, present a fascinating array of technological change over nearly four decades. A gold mine to restorers, “Rebour” is a pleasure to simply browse through and revel in a period before carbon fibre, electronic shifting or, apparently, colour printing.

“Rebour—The Bicycle Illustrations of Daniel Rebour”, compilation and texts by Rob van der Plas and Frank Berto

Cycle Publishing, San Francisco, 2013

288 pp., illustrated, hardcover (second, corrected, printing), suggested price US49.95

ISBN 978-1-892495-71-6

For more information, visit www.cyclepublishing.com

A Herd of Tin Donkeys: My 1981 Masi Gran Criterium

Breaking Away--look at that crankset!

Having become interested in classic lightweight steel racing bicycles, I have described my first purchase, a c. 1983 Raleigh Team Professional, built in the company’s Special Bicycle Development Unit in Ilkeston, England.  I started with a slightly ratty frame and built up the bike to as-new condition.  That project over, I thought I would find another bike and on my short list was a Colnago Mexico ( in Saronni Red, of course) or a California Masi. 

As luck would have it, a very nice 1981 Masi in original condition appeared on E-Bay and I could not resist.  The seller, a professor of French literature, was relocating and thinning his bike collection.  He said that the bike had only been ridden five times in the last five years or so and he doubted that the person he bought it from in Brooklyn had ridden much more than that either.

Since we were planning a weekend in New York (to see, among other things, the bike exhibit at the Museum of Art and Design), it was easy to pop down to Philadelphia and pick up the bicycle and not have to worry about shipping issues.

My newest Tin Donkey is the oldest

Bob Hovey has a website dedicated to Masi bicycles and for further information about the marque, you can check this link.  Faliero Masi, based at the Vigorelli Velodrome in Milan, was one of a legendary group of Italian racing frame builders.  After a so-so career as a racer, he moved to Milan and began building in 1940.  He was noted for his impeccable, albeit conservative, frames and things would have continued except for an unusual move.  Mr. Masi, recognizing that the market for fine bicycles was no longer to be found in Italy, worked a business deal with an American entrepreneur and moved his shop, along with three trusted employees, to Southern California in 1973.  He oversaw the production of new California Masis before returning to Italy.  One of the trusted employees was Mario Confente, who went on to become a noted builder in his own right before his early death due to heart failure.

Stylish 29 year old

The rights to the Masi name in the United States passed through several hands but the bicycles continued to be produced in small volumes.  The framebuilders at Masi included a number who subsequently became luminaries on the American custom bicycle scene, including Albert Eisentraut and Brian Bayliss.

In the 1970s, North America experienced a “bicycle boom,” and huge numbers of bicycles were sold.  Although Mr. Masi was astute enough to realize this, he would have not been aware that the Masi brand would get another boost in 1979.  The unexpected hit film “Breaking Away” featured an orange Masi Gran Criterium as the ride of the hero, Dave Stoller, and of course this did not harm sales at all.

But all things come to an end.  By 1981 the bike boom was long over and the celebrated Dave Moulton, a British framebuilder in charge of making the frames for Masi in San Marcos, California, built enough frames to work himself out of a job.  He has confirmed that my Masi was built by him in early 1981.  He also said that 1982 Masis are very rare since the firm spend the next year trying to work down the inventory!

Since purchasing my bicycle, I have changed the bar tape and added Campy Super Record pedals with toe clips and yellow straps.  The bicycle is almost identical to the Stoller bike, although my cables are orange rather than yellow.  The bike came with a set of Mavic GP4 tubular wheels but I also purchased as set of Open Pro clinchers from the seller and think they look better.

I have ridden the bicycle several times.  It is a bit smaller than my Raleigh but still fits me quite well.  It is very responsive and smooth in acceleration.  Interestingly, Mr. Masi was not hung up on Italian parts: the bicycle is made from Reynolds 531 steel tubing.  It does feature a Campagnolo Super Record groupset, a matching Silca frame pump and an original Masi California waterbottle.  The seat is a French Ideale one, and is surprisingly comfortable.  It was apparently softened using a technique thought up by the famous illustrator Daniel Rebour.

As Bob Hovey's website indicates, Masis have a cult following.  Faliero's son Alberto continues to build in Italy, but the Masi brand is now applied to bicycles from the Far East that have no connection whatsoever to "Breaking Away."
 

Framebuilder of Trust: My Visit to Cycles Marinoni

Ten years ago, in May 1998, I drove to Cycles Marinoni in Lachenaie, on the outskirts of Montreal, and ordered my first high-end bicycle, a Marinoni Ciclo made with Columbus Brain oversized steel tubing and outfitted with Campagnolo Athena components. This is bicycle is the first Tin Donkey and with it I toured Spain, Italy, Germany, Switzerland, Belgium and Holland, as well as Virginia, Maryland and Colorado. After my big touring years, I began to race a bit and the Marinoni, with its triple chainring setup, was not really suitable for this but even after I switched to more modern equipment–first a Lemond Maillot Jaune, and then my current Specialized S-Works Tarmac E5–I still enjoyed the perfect fit and the smooth ride of the Marinoni. And in spite of the extra weight of steel, the triple chainring and comfortable geometry and very smooth ride made it my choice for long rides with lots of mountains, including the Swiss Alps, the French Alps and, in Virginia, the Mountains of Misery.

Ciclo in the bike compartment of a Deutsche Bahn train

After more than 25,000 kms of riding, the Ciclo was beginning to look pretty scruffy. The gorgeous British Racing Green paint had numerous scruffs and dents, including a pretty big one in the top tube from my second trip to Mallorca where I went over the handlebars and had to get a taxi back to the hotel. The dent was from the taxi transport rather than the crash. There were scrapes on the top tube as well from when the bike fell over from a badly-designed bike rack in Italy and marks from travelling on German trains as old cyclotourists used to let their big Hercules upright touring bikes crash around in the bike compartment when they boarded and, of course, they always seemed to hit my bike. There were a lot of stone chips along the bottom of the downtube–all of this “experience” reminded me of my trips but, on the other hand, the bike was no longer looking like the beautiful example of the framebuilder’s art it had once been. I knew that Marinoni offered repainting services, so with my return to Canada it was time to take the Ciclo back to the place of its birth for a rebirth, so to speak.

Cycles Marinoni began in 1974. Giuseppe Marinoni, now 72, raced on the Italian national team in the 1960s. After meeting Simone, a Québecoise, during a team trip to La Belle Province, he moved to Canada, getting married and continuing a successful amateur racing career. He began to wind down the racing and started building some frames, including several used during the Montreal Olympics in 1976. He became a “framebuilder of trust,” supplying many North American riders with bikes labelled with the names of other manufacturers. Apparently Beth Heiden won the Women’s World Championship race in 1980 on a disguised Marinoni, and Connie Carpenter-Phinney won a gold medal at the 1984 Olympics on another one. Andy Hampsten, Bob Roll, Steve Bauer and a host of others used Marinonis at some point in their career, but you would never know this from the company since Cycles Marinoni is not exactly on the cutting-edge of product promotion. In fact, they do not advertise and they don’t sponsor pro teams at a visible level either. When I bought the Ciclo, they did not have any marque jerseys available or any other accessories.

The advantage of not spending a lot on promotion (well, nothing, to be precise) is that costs are kept to a minimum and the savings are passed on to the buyer. Cycles Marinoni is the Canadian importer for a number of European products, including Campagnolo and Vredestrein, so you get a good price when these go onto your bicycle. The other thing that makes Cycles Marinoni stand out is the custom painting on offer: unlike the usual one or two colours offered by most manufacturers, Marinoni offers 38 different hues and will pretty much paint the bike anyway that you want. Simone is the paint expert and Marinonis are famous for their finishes. The workmanship is clean and elegant, without being overly fussy.

After dismantling the Ciclo completely, I cleaned up the frame a bit and put it into the car. It was a 2 ½ hour drive along the Trans-Canada Highway from Ottawa to Montreal, and then heading north and east to Lachenaie. The very modest Cycles Marinoni building is located in a small industrial park, and in ten years it does not seem to have changed at all. On this sunny, but very cold, Saturday the small parking lot was full and I had to park on the street. I walked in with the frame and looked around.

Compared to 1998, there were some changes inside. The factory also has a retail operation and there were a lot of shoes and helmets, along with racks of the latest Marinoni models and Campagnolo wheels. Immediately off the entrance was a room where a bike was set up on a stand for fittings. I had gone through this process when I bought the Ciclo a decade ago and have never ceased to be amazed by how well it fits me. There is a true advantage in having a custom fit that is apparent from the first turn of the pedals, but even more obvious as you are getting into the last stages of a 200 km marathon ride.

I walked around with my frame while other customers were being served, and then Simone, for it was she, came over and asked what I would like to do with the frame. I explained that we had corresponded by e-mail and I just wanted it to look like it did when I bought it: same colour, same graphics if possible. Cycles Marinoni has changed the script it uses on its current bikes but the old one is still available, although the headtube logo is not. The colours will be pretty much the same–British Racing Green with Sahara lettering–and my name will still be on the frame (although Simone had some trouble spelling it out on the order form). The project will take either two or three weeks and the bike will be shipped back to me for rebuilding. Cost of refinishing in one colour is a very reasonable $145, plus additional charges for repairs (my top tube dent), and removal and reinstallation of the headset if necessary. Multiple colours and custom schemes will obviously be more but it seems like a bargain to me.

I looked around at the bikes currently available. There are no longer any lugged steel bikes being built by Marinoni, although steel is used in some of the frames with carbon tubes or rear triangles. There is a range of aluminum bikes, as well as carbon monocoque. In addition to road racing bicycles, Marinoni offers two track bikes, two time trial bikes and even two touring bicycles. There was a Ritchey BreakAway on a rack, painted in Marinoni colours but clearly marked as a Ritchey. And I was amazed to see that there is even a nice printed catalogue for Marinoni’s 2008 product line.

TTC at the top of the rack

The new all-carbon time trial bicycle, the TTC, is impressive but I suspect that Marinoni, like many smaller volume manufacturers, has its carbon frames built elsewhere and leaves the in-house workforce devoted to steel and aluminum and, perhaps, titanium.

My order was handled efficiently and after twenty minutes I got back in the car for the long drive home. Now I need to clean and polish all those lovely Campagnolo parts in preparation for the rebuild. Unfortunately I will not be going to Cirque du Cyclisme this June to show off the as-new Marinoni to the steel afficionados there but perhaps next year. I plan to continue to ride the Ciclo as a touring bike since there are lots of miles left in it yet.

A Beautiful Mercian: I have Bike Envy

Fully-equipped for continental touring

To mark its 60th Anniversary, Mercian Cycles of Derby, England, has produced a run of 60 special edition bicycles. One of them was recently featured on the Velo Orange blog. It is owned by Mr. Kyle Brooks, a teacher in Medina, Ohio, who has a nice stable of bikes already. You can see more photos of the build-up here and here.

Mercian continues to build all its bicycles by hand, and the 60th Anniversary version is a tribute to the firm's artistry in steel, with gorgeous lugs and beautiful welds. Mr. Brooks has built up the bike with Campagnolo parts, but has avoided anything with carbon it to retain a retro look, and a stylish one. The bike is built for touring and is so pretty that if I ever find a space I might think of getting a Mercian myself so that I can admire those wonderful lugs. But I think I would have to go to the shop in Derby to place the order personally.

Mercian has a page devoted to its own history, and you can also read more about the company at the comprehensive website Classic Lightweights UK. After going to Cirque du Cyclisme earlier this year I have fallen in love with steel frames again and ordering a Mercian gives you the benefit of a new frame with all the style of the old.

A Herd of Tin Donkeys: My Marinoni

Touring in Germany with the Marinoni

When I first began to relate the travels of the Tin Donkey, life was much simpler as I only had two bicycles: my 1991 Bianchi Limited and my custom-made 1998 Marinoni Ciclo. Now I have, uh, six bikes in my apartment.

For those unfamiliar with them, Marinoni bicycles are built near Montreal by Giuseppe Marinoni and when I first began to get serious about cycling in the mid-1990s they were the dernier cri for Canadian cyclists. Stylish, nicely-finished and nearly affordable, they came in a range of models. My bicycle was the entry-level version and was constructed with lugged steel tubing (Columbus Brain O/S, to be precise). I had it set up with a Campagnolo Athena group, a Racing Triple and Campy Atlanta aero rims. The bicycle has extra-long chainstays, an extra set of water bottle braze-ons and braze-ons for a rear rack and fenders. It is with this bike that I have ridden most of the Tin Donkey adventures and we have covered nearly 20,000 kms together so far. The bike, by current standards, is pretty heavy but it is amazingly comfortable and excellent for lightweight "credit card" touring.

Riding the Frankenwald Radmarathon in August 2001

This was the first bicycle I ever owned with integrated shifters and a triple chainring. Although I had done a few warm-up rides in Ottawa before I left for my German posting in 1998, my first introduction to serious cycling came when I was riding near Berlin in Brandenburg and got somewhat lost, turning what was supposed to be a 90 km ride into something approaching 150 kms. However, the Marinoni was so comfortable I felt that I could have just kept on going forever and this is when I realized how important bike fit is to a comfortable ride. And this is the bicycle I used for very long rides (224 km in one day in Holland; 220 km in one day around Lake Constance) and for hard climbing in the Swiss Alps and Sicily, as well as my epic ride along the Camino de Santiago.

En route to Castrojeriz

The bicycle is starting to show signs of wear and tear, but for a very reasonable amount the people at Marinoni will refinish it for me and we will continue to ride the scenic roads. The bicycle was a major investment for me, costing C$ 2000 but when I consider the immense pleasure it has given me since 1998 I consider it money well-spent. And not only is it painted in British Racing Green, as I requested, but the lettering is done in Sahara, a light gold colour and my name is even painted on the top tube. O Bliss!

There is a lot to be said for lugged steel bikes. They are high on the style quotient, with truly classic good looks. There is a Cult of the Lugs developing in North America and it is apparent at events such as the Cirque du Ciclisme and the North American Handmade Bicycle Show. Not everyone wants to race their bikes (I do that too!) but just to sit back and enjoy the ride. Pride of ownership means a lot with something as personal as a bicycle, which was a significant milestone in industrialization yet remains a symbol of strong individualism.