Showing posts with label bicycle history. Show all posts
Showing posts with label bicycle history. Show all posts

Thursday, 25 December 2014

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 20th 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

Wednesday, 24 December 2014

The Retz Bicycle Museum in Austria


The world of cycling is truly diverse, encompassing sports, transportation, technology and social history. Set at a human scale, many of its stories and artifacts have been lost over the last century but much too has been saved. In Europe many of the mainstream state museums, such as transportation wing of the Deutsches Museum in Munich, give short shrift to the two-wheeled past but one finds a surprising number of rather eccentric little museums heroically taking up the slack. Pezcyclingnews has already taken you to museums in Belgium, Switzerland, the Netherlands, Italy and Germany but today we introduce you to yet one more, this time in Austria.



Retz is a town of 5,000, located in Lower Austria directly on the Czech border and some 80 kms northwest of Vienna. Dating back to 1180, the town has has seen its fair share of events, including being destroyed during the Hussite Rebellion in 1425 and then again in the 17th Century during the Thirty Years' War. Located in the Austrian Wine District (Weinviertel) it boasts one of the finest and largest market squares of any place in the country and the Gatterburg Castle, constructed between 1660 and 1670. In the basement of this city castle you will find the Fahrradmuseum Retz (simply “the Retz Bicycle Museum”) and its jovial proprietor/manager, Herr Fritz Hurtl.



 

Austria was of course once much more than Austria alone, ruling over a vast multicultural and multilingual empire until 1918 so it should be no surprise that the country once boasted a significant industrial base which included the manufacture of bicycles. In its collection numbering more than 90 examples the Retz museum covers the history of the bicycle from the days of the hobby horse/Laufmaschine craze of the 1820s up to racing bicycles of the 1980s with a particular emphasis on Austro-Hungarian brands. Some of these names still resonate even in the English-speaking world of models exported in the bike boom of the 1970s: Puch, Steyr, Austro-Daimler.



The basis of what you see in the museum, which includes not only complete bicycles but also accessories, pictures, advertising posters and parts, came from the collection of Herr Hurtl. With a band of supporters an association was formed and space was found in the castle cellar. In 1999 the museum was opened to the public and operates daily in the afternoon from May to October. Herr Hurtl is a great enthusiast and is delighted to discuss the finer points of the collection (although visitors may wish to note he does not speak English and his German bears a very strong Austrian dialect!). He was concerned that the museum may have to eventually relocate, something that seems to be a common problem for these small museums. The lease with the castle landlord was due to end in 2013 but is continuing for the moment but the association, “Verein 's Fahrradl im Schloss," would like to have a permanent location of its own. The current space is not wheelchair-accessible and lacks space for special exhibitions.


Walking through the museum one sees a number of very early two-wheelers, including a replica of Baron Drais' 1817 Laufmaschine, considered to be the first bicycle (at least in the German-speaking world!), and several others from the Iron Age of Cycling. There are some nice highwheelers as well but the major part of the collection covers the safety bicycle, in its myriad forms. There are bicycles with weird suspension systems or peculiar drivetrains and one is again reminded of the myriad avenues, many of them leading to dead ends, of technological innovation that characterized the development of the bike. In addition to the well-known Austrian brands mentioned, there are some quite obscure ones such as Burg, Jacobi and Miesenstöck along with French, Czechoslovak and German models. Particularly pleasing is the Bismarck bicycle with its two-speed bottom bracket transmission.



In the walls of the cellar there are niches which have been used to highlight objects of special interests. One of these features a Puch “Waffenrad” from 1915 and is devoted to the Puch story. Founded in 1889 in Graz by Johann Puch, the company was a successful manufacturer of bicycles under its “Styria” and “Puch” brand names. The first Paris-Roubaix race was won on a Styria bicycle ridden by Josef Fischer in 1896. In 1900 operations were expanded to include mopeds, motorcycles and even cars; by 1908 the company was already producing variable-gearing bicycles. By the time of the founder's retirement in 1912 the Puch factory was producing 16,000 bicycles annually. In 1928 the company merged with Austro-Daimler and subsequently again with Steyr in 1934. Post-World War II the company produced a very wide range and Puch bicycles were ridden to many race successes by Austria's best cyclists in Team ASKO Knittelfeld in the 1970s and 1980s but the collapse of the US export market post-1975 led to disastrous losses. The company was sold to the Italian firm Bianchi in 1987. The merged group is now part of the Swedish Cycleurope group, which includes other historic brands including France's Gitane and Sweden's Monark and is owned by the Monegasque royal family. The “Waffenrad” name is still used by Puch but the bicycles do not have the unique style of the model featured at Retz with it beautiful chainring!



The museum is packed with interesting artifacts although one must admit that the racing component is a bit weak. Nonetheless, everything is accessible (Herr Hurtl will move bikes for you if you want to take some photos—take that, Deutsches Museum!) and the whole project is one of great charm. It is worth the short trip from Vienna and provides the opportunity not only to enjoy the museum but also the very attractive town and the Weinviertel, whose attractions are quite obvious.


Fahrradmuseum Retz
Verein " 's Fahrradl im Schloss"
Schlossplatz 5
A-2070 Retz
Österreich / Austria
Tel: 0664/ 6431791
Skype +43-664-6431791
website (primarily in German, but with English and Czech sections): http://www.fahrradmuseum-retz.com/
The museum is open daily from 14:00-17:00 May to October but can be visited otherwise by appointment. Admission is 3 Euros for adults.

Book Review: Roads Were Not Built For Cars


The usual books stacked next to my comfortable wingback chair in the oak-panelled library for review lean towards accounts of great races, great (and sometimes not-great-at-all) athletes, startling training methods, startling diets, irresistible tourism ideas and lots of road-going technology, both old and new. But occasionally a book comes to us that does not fit into any of these categories and not only informs us of previously-unknown facts but might have an importance extending beyond cycling enthusiasts. One of these books has to be “Roads Were Not Built for Cars” by Carlton Reid, an exceptionally well-researched book whose very title is fightin' words. This might be ammunition against those motorists (we have all experienced them) who loudly proclaim that cyclists have no right to use public roads but the author unrolls a fascinating story whose details occasionally surface but the greater history has certainly been lost, or buried.


In 2013 Mr. Reid put out an appeal on a crowdfunding site and obtained pledges from 648 people, enough to conclude his massive four year research effort with a book that totals 170,000 words and in electronic format includes 580 illustrations and more than 10 videos. Yes, an electronic version: the book was conceived for iPad iBooks and is available in that way as well as via Kindle and an ePub version. A softback version was sent to subscribers and a hardback edition sold out in six hours. A revised edition will be published in 2015. So the most modern technology (crowdfunding, e-publishing) has been used to present a story that covers the period from the high-wheeler era and the start of the safety bicycle to the fading of the two wheeler from the consciousness of the motorcar-obsessed world. We find ourselves perhaps on the leading edge of a great new bicycle revival but Mr. Reid's book informs us of an unknown world that existed only less than 150 years ago and shows how our current world could have been much different.

A predecessor of Mr. Reid, Karl Kron, published a book in 1887 entitled “Ten Thousand Miles on a Bicycle” which was also crowdfunded by subscribers. Although Mr. Kron's massive 800 page book may be one of the dullest creations ever put to paper, one cannot but approve of the quote from that book that Mr. Reid uses to introduce his own work:

The bicycle is an index to the existence of good roads, just as certainly as the good roads themselves are an index to the existence of a high degree of civilization in the locality possessing them.”

The theme of this important book is the history of roads and in particular the importance of cyclists in developing the excellent roads we take for granted today. The author, who is British, focuses primarily on the UK and US experiences centred on the 1880-1900 period but also provides a good account of the history of roads before then, from the construction of the straight Roman streets to the turnpikes of the 18th Century. But the first surprise he reveals is that by the time bicycles had appeared on the scene in a significant way roads, once used by horse-drawn stagecoaches and mail express wagons, had been rendered obsolete by the railway and grass now grew on once-busy thoroughfares. It would have amazed contemporary observers that the mighty railroads would be supplanted by road vehicles but, as the author reminds us, the Age of Motorcars may be just as doomed to end due to overcrowding, construction costs and environmental effects and what we see is irreplaceable may not be so.


The first cyclists were wealthy, able to afford their expensive machines, and wealth means influence. Many of the early cyclists were professionals and the ranks of Parliament including more than a few, both in the Commons and the House of Lords. They demanded smooth, dust-free roads and passed legislation that reorganized jurisidiction over roads, once seen as completely local, and mandated their maintenance. Serious lobbying occurred on both sides of the Atlantic and very considerable success was achieved.

New technologies arrived to make the construction of these new roads possible and we are given an overview of them, from asphalt to macadam to, surprisingly, wood. One thinks of cities like London offering primarily cobbled streets (“setts” rather than “cobbles, technically) but in fact many of the city's thoroughfares were made up of hardwood blocks which may have been smooth to travel over but in the Age of Horses not very sanitary at all and probably not that durable under iron-shod wheels.

Although the proponents of Good Roads were at pains to indicate that the roads would benefit everyone from city-dwellers wanting to travel to farmers moving produce, there was certainly a degree of self-interest. One of the primary sponsors of the movement in the United States, the colourful Colonel Albert Pope, was the head of the Columbia Bicycle Company, one of the largest such enterprises. However, the efforts by the League of American Wheelmen in the United States and the Cyclists' Touring Club in the UK showed what determined teamwork could produce. For example, the city of Hagerstown, Maryland (not Pennsylvania, as indicated in the book) offered roads, in 1889, of “a very superior quality:”

...eight superb limestone pikes radiate from Hagerstown...while intersecting pikes and cross roads form a network of thoroughfares for wheelmen that realizes the stereotyped phrase of cyclers' paradise. These pikes are of that smooth sand-papered kind that entrance the wheelman, while his surroundings of scenery and sweet odours from nature's garden make his runs veritable trips through fairy land...

In addition, the asphalted streets of Washington, DC, were seen as worthy of emulation elsewhere. There were wonderful projects planned, including an elevated bicycle highway in California.


But this remarkable state of affairs had a dark cloud on the horizon. The groundbreaking work (in every sense) of the road lobbyists of the LAW and CTC was soon to be overtaken by a new user of the road. The motorcar, which was not distinguished by sweet odours from nature's garden but was rather characterized as a murderous “stinkwagon” arrived noisily on the scene—driven for the most part by those same people who had been early adaptors of the bicycle! There was a great ruckus and attempts to ban cars. The author details how the lawful rights to road usage were once determined but arrogant motorists simply forced other users off of the roads as might became right.

Leading the group is C.S. Rolls, of Rolls-Royce note, who moved from bicycles to fast cars and utimately, but fatally, to aircraft, perishing in the crash of his Wright Flyer in 1910
Where once pedestrians, cyclists, streetcars and other modes of transport flourished, all fell before the onslaught of the mighty car. And now we come to the interesting idea behind the book: all the efforts of cyclists, those two decades of raising money, printing pamphlets, lobbying legislators and even building demonstration road sections, to ensure the acceptance of good roads, roads that were invaluable to all settlements they passed through for the common good, have not only been forgotten but history has been rewritten. For example, the author cites the self-congratulation of the Ford Motor Company in 1927 when, marking the building of the 15 millionth Model T, it claimed that the Ford car “started the movement for good roads.” This claim was to be repeated across the country. It was ironic in that Henry Ford's first car, the Quadricycle, owed much more to the bicycle than the carriage, as was often the case with pioneer automobiles. Henry Ford had been a keen cyclist and as the author points out in a fascinating appendix to the book almost every major figure in the automotive business had some connection to bicycles. These included Henry Leland, who founded both Cadillac and Lincoln; Albert Champion of spark plug fame and winner of the 1899 Paris-Roubaix bike race; Louis Chevrolet; the Dodge brothers (who once had a bicycle business in Windsor, Ontario); the Opel brothers (whose father, Adam, refused to consider constructing “stinkwagons for the rich” and now has a car named in his honour); Peugeot; Pierce-Arrow; Rover; Rolls-Royce—the list is impressive.

Promotional image for the powerful League of American Wheelmen (L.A.W.)
Not only did the automakers take advantage of the roads that were the work of the cycling lobby, but they also were able to use many technologies that were first developed for the two-wheeler, including spoked wheels, pneumatic tires, ball bearings, differential gearing and chain drives. With the advent of trams and buses, and eventually motorcars, the decline in cycling became precipitous. In 1898 there were 103,293 members of LAW; within seven years that number had fallen to 2,874 even though cars were not yet widespread. But as the car ascended, the bicycle, once seen as the very symbol of modernity and progress, became a second-class citizen on the very roads it had once made possible. It is only in recent years that bicycles have regained some of that lost status and may play a more important role in our transportation (and fitness) future than anyone would have thought. Of course, there are countries such as Denmark and the Netherlands where the use of bicycles is already widespread but these other examples are beyond this book.

Roads Were Not Built for Cars” is a fascinating book, describing the development of much of the world we see outside our doors if we live in an industrialized country. But it is also a warning about the dangers of twisting history, of forgetting why things are the way they are and in that respect provides much food for thought. Perhaps in a century people will be amazed at the idea that we once found 1.24 million annual deaths due to motorized traffic acceptable (war kills less than half a million), along with horrific air and noise pollution, the asphalting of our countryside, the need to support otherwise unpalatable dictatorships to ensure our fuel supply and the primary source of anthropogenic climate change in order to have two-and-a-half ton SUVs with one obese person in them sit in gridlocked traffic. As much amazed as they would be by the decline of passenger railroads or the disappearance of stagecoaches, perhaps.


Roads Were Not Built for Cars,” which surely can be said to break new ground in cycling history, shows us not only the highway from the past but also how we might want to consider how we view the future. So the next time you are out cycling that smooth asphalt, think of how it came to be and salute those brave wheelmen, now forgotten, who made it once possible. But watch out for those cars.


Roads Were Not Built for Cars” by Carlton Reid
580 pp., copiously illustrated

Available from Amazon.com in Kindle format for a mere US$ 8.74 but also available through iTunes as an iBook for US$25.99 with complete illustrations and notes. There seem to be all kinds of formats available, all at different prices, so for more information just go to: www.roadswerenotbuiltforcars.com

Friday, 14 February 2014

WieMu: The Belgian National Cycling Museum




Belgium is an unusual country, with a population split between two different languages and religions and essentially having two separate governments except on national issues such as defence. A history of stubbornness and argumentation make it the ideal capital of the European Union, with its 27 contentious Member States. But everyone is agreed about the great things in Belgium: beer, chocolate, beer, frites, beer and its status as a cycling mecca, famed for its brutal Spring Classics and cobbled roads and muddy cyclocross races. And of course it has to offer not one but two excellent cycling museums. I already reported on my visit to the Tour of Flanders Center in Oudenaarde but for a more general picture of cycling in the country we go elsewhere, to the West Flanders town of Roeselare.

In Flemish the name Wielermuseum is “Bicycle Museum” and it refers to itself as WieMu. Housed in an impressive 19th Century armoury, the museum aims to provide a history of the bicycle as well as giving focus to racing, primarily on the road but also on the track and cross course. Entering through the arched doorway and after paying the reasonable admission price the visitor walks down a hallway with exhibits covering the very early history of the bicycle: there is a replica of Baron Drais' 1817 “Laufrad” as well as a very good replica of the Kirkpatrick Macmillan bicycle of 1839, allegedly the first to use pedals but the claim is now doubted by historians. Next up is a very fine Michaux velocipede from c. 1869.



From the crude beginnings of the bicycle we move now to the era of the high-wheeler and the museum gives visitors to sit on one and crank like mad, powering a camera so that they can see themselves. Of course the bicycles is firmly supported so no risk of falling on your head, unlike the brave velonauts of old.


There are work bicycles and military bicycles with guns and prim ladies' specials, all pre-dating the Great War. Next is a very interesting display that is actually a bike workshop that was relocated from the village of Heule, where it was opened by Maurice Hallaert in the 1930s. In 1946 the owner expanded operations to include bicycle saddle production in addition to bike repairs and sales. Joining his father in 1952, Marcel Hallaert oversaw further expansion, leading to handbuilt frame production under the Fietsen Hallaert tradename until 1969. In 1989 Marcel Hallaert donated the workshop to WieMu and one can see how self-contained bicycle production was back in the old days.





With the exception of the workshop, most of what is on display at the museum up to this point really does not have much to do with Belgium, a country that did not actually see any of its own bicycle production until the rather late date of 1891, when the Derby brand (yes, an English name for cachet) was introduced. But now comes the heart of the museum and probably the most interesting part: racing history.






The museum has an excellent collection of classic racing bicycles but really is strongest in post-World War II items. Of note is the red Flandria that Rik van Looy (“the Emperor of Herentals”) used to win the 1962 Paris-Roubaix race, one of the many highlights in a 17 year career that saw him become the first man to win all five “Monuments,” a feat since only accomplished by two other riders (both Belgian, of course).


Certainly the Belgians have produced many legendary cyclists and the museum devotes some space to a number of them, including Eddy Merckx (who does not get as much as space as one would imagine, given his palmares) and the more recent Johan Museeuw, Tom Boonen and Philippe Gilbert. There is a comprehensive collection of jerseys of long-forgotten-except-by-fans teams.



A sobering moment comes when the visitor reaches the entire display room devoted to the life and career of J ean-Pierre Monseré, nicknamed “Jempi.” A son of Roeselare, he turned professional in 1969, winning the Tour of Lombardy for Flandria the same year. In 1970 he became World Champion in Leicester, the second-youngest to do so at the time, and also won a national title on the track. His 1971 year began well with victory at the Vuelta a Andalucia but while competing in a local Belgium race he struck a car that had entered the course and died of his injuries. He was 22 years old and his medals, jerseys and the Lombardy bike are all on display at the museum. A memorial race in his name continues to be held every September.




The visitor next walks by a case of Tom Boonen memorabilia and can stand next to Philippe Gilbert's Canyon Speedmax time trial bike, displayed with team and Belgian champion tricolour jersey. Then there is a break from all this road racing history with a too-small display area devoted to track racing, including a stayer motorcycle, a derny pacesetting machine and some posters from Six Day Racing. Of particular note is a display case with souvenirs of the 1964 Tokyo Olympics, including a fine portrait of Patrick Sercu who won gold in the 1000 m time trial and went on to become the greatest Six Day racer of the modern era with 88 wins.

Nick lusting for the Speedmax



A tip of the hat is given to cyclocross, but not much more which is surprising in light of the great success of Belgian riders and its extreme popularity in the country. But perhaps there will be exhibits in the future. A quick peek into the museum's attic will convince anyone that what is on display is only the tip of the iceberg when it comes to WieMu's holdings (which include a box of Paris-Roubaix cobblestones!).





Of course the real tourist can enjoy getting photographed with a cutout to make himself look like Eddy Merckx or Freddy Maertens and there is a nicely-stocked store featuring historic replica jerseys, books and even, yes, beer. Who could resist a six-pack of Malteni beer, labelled in those familiar Merckx colours?


The Belgians have a great history in cycling and the WieMu,which offers changing exhibits, should be on the must-see list for a cycling fans. Unlike the other Flemish museum, the signs are in three languages so no dictionary is needed to enjoy it all. And even though cycling is a Big Deal in the country, they don't always take it so seriously either.


WielermuseumPolenplein 15
8800 Roeselare
Belgium 
Telephone:051 26 87 40
e-mail: wielermuseum@roeselare.be
Website: http://www.wielermuseum.be/en/home/ Note: a good part of this in English but at some point they just gave up translating so be prepared to switch to Flemish or French!
Opening Hours: Tuesday to Saturday, 10 am to 5 pm