Sweet Savage DNA - A Father’s Day Story
By Catherine O'Connor
Angela Savage wishes she could turn back time. The posthumously born daughter of flat tracker turned Indy driver, David Earl “Swede” Savage, Jr. wore all black to this year’s Indianapolis 500. In the midst of stoked Memorial Day revelers cheering and screaming for their favorite Indy rivals, Angela did her best to cope, sitting in the stands with her 17- and 11-year-old sons. She often wears the Swiss-made Omega Speedmaster watch and her father’s wedding ring as an amulet to feel close to him.
“I kept staring at turn 4, knowing his spirit was there. I cried a lot, and just couldn’t stay for the whole race, just wishing I could have my dad back,” Savage said. Growing up she always felt lost and abandoned and so lonely. And Father’s Day won’t be easy.
Angela Savage’s late father, promising race driver Swede Savage, was a favorite to win the 1973 Indy 500, which was twice rescheduled due to rain-soaked track conditions, before he lost control on lap 59, resulting in one of the most violent, single-car crashes in Indy racing history. Angela’s mother, then six months pregnant, kept vigil at his bedside. But 33 days later, Swede, 26, died from his injuries. Condolences poured in from racing moguls like Gordon Johncock, Johnny Rutherford, and Roger Penske as well as film stars like Paul Newman and Robert Redford.
Born three months after her mother witnessed her father’s fatal crash, Angela Savage spent decades suffering crippling addiction and mental health challenges. What the younger Savage learned was that she was dealing with inter-utero, psycho-injury, a type of inherited trauma that can be passed down from a pregnant mother to her child. Mourning a bewildering sense of longing for the father she never met, Angela spent years struggling to reconcile the history and meaning of his death and life, painfully detangling herself from the unexplained, trans-generational life stress surrounding her Savage legacy.
But with the help of a group of endearing fans and IMS, (Indianapolis Motor Speedway) she had a chance encounter with Ted Woerner. He is an author and impassioned Indy fan who had heard about his hero, Savage’s crash, on the transistor radio he smuggled into his sixth-grade classroom. Their support enabled Angela to find the courage to finally visit the track which took her father’s life. ”It was like soul surgery,” Angela has said of her visit to the Indianapolis Motor Speedway, where the fatal tragedy occurred 50 years ago.
Together they collaborated to write Savage Angel: Death and Rebirth at the Indianapolis 500, a book that skillfully and candidly interweaves details of her life trauma and eventual healing, with revelations of a unique motorsports legacy. Among Savage’s memorabilia are news clips showing that Swede raced as an AMA Amateur in 1965 at the Springfield Mile. Revisiting the motorcycle track where he competed alongside contemporaries, Bart Markel, Dick Mann, Gary Nixon and Eddie Wirth, to watch her first motorcycle race a couple years ago, in Springfield, lifted Angela. “I was blown away at my first flat track race. I just love it!” Angela said.
Her imagination must run to the 18-year-old Swede, the blonde hunk, the son of a prosperous veterinarian, a carefree rebel, traveling the flat track circuit, in the mid 1960’s. From Ascot to Daytona and state fair tracks across the Midwest, in bar-banging combat, Savage competed in AMA’s Expert class finishing among the top 20 riders in the nation, with a total of 24 career AMA wins.
Angela, who now works for Woerner’s Miles Ahead company in Indianapolis, can step into the past in the Savage suite exhibit room that has been created there. Shelves hold her father’s early race artifacts, his tattered leathers, steel shoe and images of the photogenic, beloved native son of San Bernardino. Recognized early for his innate riding performance talent, the original letter Savage signed for a short term deal with Evel Knievel to perform in his Stunt Show of Stars at Ascot Park in 1967, is framed in glass. Pages of emergent race accomplishment, in a “race resume” typed in 1969 by a young David Savage Jr. is but one curated clue in the historic archive Woerner has meticulously pieced together.
A wall of Swede’s 70’s vintage auto racing suits, are a neatly hung team of empty fabric onesies that brave, Indy drivers wore before the evolution to today’s high-tech safety gear. On the wall, charred remains of his race car nose section with Swede’s race number 40, marred and scorched, steels a horribly devastating moment in time.
Woerner and Savage often meet motorsports fans who are intrigued by Savage’s story of evolution from two wheels to four, and the impact of his life ended too soon. The California native, her husband and family relocated in 2018 to live in Indianapolis, the city where Angela’s father died. Angela’s message of healing and survival simply flows out. “I’m proud that the Savage family is still here, 50 years later. I want to tell my story, and his story.”
Buoyant and open to talk, Angela Savage along with documentarian Ted Woerner, who continues researching the life and times of Swede Savage, will be on hand at the Illinois State Fairgrounds Springfield Mile on Sept 2-3. There, auto racing fans’ eyes will pop, when they see Woerner’s freshly painted dayglow red #40 STP Oil Treatment Special Eagle-Offenhauser replica of Swede Savage’s STP race car, a special premiere feature at this year’s Springfield Mile.
Please check out SAVAGE42.com for more info.
'Brooklands George' - Conrad Leach
The Vintagent presents Brooklands George, a 2008 painting by Conrad Leach, 50x60", acrylic on canvas. Commissioned by the late Dr. George Cohen ('Norton George'), and originally displayed at the Dunhill Drivers Club during the 2008 Goodwood Revival meeting. Being sold on behalf of Sarah Cohen. Price on request: contact us here.
The paintings of Conrad Leach are iconic, because for years he has explored the imagery that creates icons. 'Brooklands George' (2008), while depicting a particular man, motorcycle, and location, is also timeless, featuring the shape of a machine built for speed, an evocative locale, and a hunched-over racer pushing the limits of speed and danger. Leach's influences range from 20th Century movie posters and advertising, to art/historical references like Beggarstaff posters and Roy Lichtenstein's graphic blasts. His cool surface technique is contradicted by saturated colors and a strongly contrasting ground, plus the kinetic, magnetic appeal of his human and mechanical subjects.
Conrad Leach is best known for his exploration of heroic imagery, from British racing vehicles (motorcycles, cars, planes) to contemporary Japanese pop stars and Ukiyo-e woodcuts. He's not a nostalgist, but responds on canvas to people, machines, and events from the past and present that resonate with our culture. He explains , ‘So much is sexy from the interwar era! The Supermarine Schneider Trophy racer, Malcolm Campbell’s Bluebird, the Brough Superior ‘Works Scrapper’, are nearly forgotten today, but the aesthetics of the era are so pure and functional. This was pretty radical stuff back then, but my work has to be relevant now, as I’m not interested in recreating the past. My painting technique is contemporary, even Pop, and attempts to create resonance between a viewer today and images from that era. To take an enormous bespoke object like the Bluebird onto Daytona beach in Florida and attempt to go faster than any human, that required an incredible train of thought, and I’m trying to get into the heads of those people.”
'Joe Craig: Making Norton Famous'
If any single person deserves credit for Norton's extraordinary decades of racing dominance from 1930 through the mid-1950s, it must be Joe Craig. The de facto racing team manager for Norton under several owners, Craig at first successfully raced the factory product himself in the 1920s, then switched to the role of development engineer in 1930. He held that position (despite a break from the company during WW2) through 1955, when postwar company owners Associated Motor Cycles (AMC) decided exotic factory specials could no longer be supported financially, and focussed on selling factory catalogued racers like the Norton Manx, AJS 7R, and Matchless G50 models, all of which were produced simultaneously under their corporate ownership.
Mick Duckworth has just published a paean to Norton's heyday: 'Joe Craig - Making Norton Famous', built from the collected photographic archive of the man himself, provided by surviving members of the Craig family. The archive has passed through many hands since Joe's 1957 death in a car accident, first with his son Des, then relatives and Norton enthusiasts who understood the value of the collection. Finally, Mick was tapped by Barry Stickland to do something with the photos, and has self-published a unique document: 218 pages of images from Joe Craig's career, with only six of them sourced outside the family archive - something of a dream for an author.
Duckworth has told the story of Joe Craig's career in pictures, with a few separate essays, but most of the information is attached as context for the multitude of photos, which should delight any fan of Norton racing motorcycles from their earliest OHC CS1 racers of 1928, designed by Walter Moore, through their last experimental Type F outside-flywheel Manx of 1955, developed 25 years after Arthur Carroll and Joe Craig sat down to rectify the limitations of Moore's engine.
We're a long time past Norton's 'golden age of racing', as Mick puts it, between 1930-38, when the International and Manx Grand Prix models won more than 70 Grands Prix and 10 European Championships. Norton was a very small motorcycle company compared to Triumph, BSA, BMW, and DKW, yet its impact on racing was outsize, from taking the first Isle of Man TT win in 1907, to its total dominance of GP racing in the 1930s. Joe Craig gets much of the credit for this, and not just because of his motorcycles: he was a keen talent spotter, and a stern tactician, earning a reputation for being as 'Unapproachable' as the factory slogan. Craig ran a tight ship, and wasn't known for the exuberance, for example, of his longtime racing star Stanley Woods. But Mick Duckworth suggests there was a softer side to the man, especially towards his family and close friends, some of whom he includes in this book.
There are definitely gems in the collection, including Craig's barbs at the nascent Vintage Motor Cycle Club in a March 1944 article in The Motorcycle: "I should like to make some attempt at breaking away from the present fashionable practice, which is becoming almost a vice, of rhapsodizing over ancient, so-called masterpieces. This latter tendency may perhaps be partly attributable to Capt. JJ Hall's activities [Hall was co-founder of the VMCC with 'Titch' Allen] - or should I say 'mania' - for collecting vintage machines. If we are to consider the future seriously as regards improved motor cycles, then we must break new ground." Consider, of course, that Craig was a development engineer in an extremely competitive industry, and in 1944 international 'competition' was quite literally lethal.
As a team boss and single-minded development engineer, Joe Craig had few peers. While every other factory team explored multi-cylinder, supercharged racers in the 1930s, Norton remained steadfast in their evolution of the Manx, focusing on reliability and superb handling characteristics, which served them well in long-distance and road racing events. At other venues, such as Monza, top speed was everything, and the Nortons were 20mph down on top speed compared to a Gilera four or BMW blown twin. His decades-long development work on the Carroll engine design was rivaled in the industry only by, believe it or not, the race shop at Harley-Davidson, who kept their 750cc sidevalve racers competitive (domestically) from 1930 through 1969, with last iterations of the KRTT clocking in at 150mph on Daytona's banking, which was faster than the 750cc BSA/Triumph triples they were racing.
Do you rhapsodize over ancient, so-called masterpieces? Then surely you need this book! You can order the book here.
East River Racing in the 1970s
By Sandy Hackney
The story of East River Racing began in September 1969, all because I had been seen risking life and limb on a ’69 Yamaha YDS3 (250cc) on a series of curvy roads in Durham, NC that Summer. A mechanic at the local Yamaha shop said to me, “You should race.” Huh? But the seed was planted, and there was a AAMRR Labor Day race weekend coming up at VIR; it was several days long and featured one 5-hour race. After exploring this some, I approached a local roofing company, who fashioned a set of expansion chambers to TD1 specs and I was set! Top speed was increased to about 110mph; damned thrilling.
The race went as expected, with me unloading a time or two - once when my front brake cable snapped at the end of the front straight and I ran into a guy I was “outbraking.” I survived and we finished 4th in a gentle rain. What next?! Obviously I needed a “real” racer, so I bought a used TD1C from the fabled Bob Sharp, who sadly perished a couple of years later on his bike. With the TD1C, I went off to race the 1970 Daytona 200. Which was not a total success ... I damaged the crank by exceeding the red line (a few times) and it blew after one lap on that legendary tri-oval.
Soon we had a core group made of several colleagues from the Respiratory Therapy Department at NYU Medical Center; we were all in our early 20s and in love with motorcycles. We rented a storefront on E. 12th between 1st and 2nd Ave, and East River Racing was truly born. Our truck was purchased by me from a NC monk for $80. A great deal. We added a couple of fine women as tuners - and more. One tuner is married to this day to Bill.
RIDE 70s Spring Raid Invitational
[Editor's note: Vintagent Contributor Fabio Affuso recently founded a moto-touring company with seasoned petrolhead Pietro Casadio Pirazzoli, RIDE 70s, using classic (mostly) Italian bikes to explore classic Italian landscapes. For the inaugural tour of RIDE 70s, he chose Tuscany, and invited a dozen friends and journalists to test the bikes and his organizational skills. HIs Spring Raid Invitational last month coincided with my own tour of Italy on classic Italian bikes, otherwise this would be a first-hand ride report!]
[Text and Photos by Fabio Affuso]
To celebrate the beginning of our RIDE 70s touring season in Italy, we were thrilled to guide an eclectic group of friends on an unforgettable expedition, a motorcycle journey across the picturesque landscapes of Tuscany.Our adventure began in the charming town of San Marino at our RIDE 70s clubhouse, where our group of riders first met their chosen bikes. Andrew from London, Ralf from Germany, Simon, Lesley and Cassie from the UK, Zubin from the UAE, Guillame from Spain, Nikos from Greece, Mike from Switzerland, and Svein from Norway added a delightful mix of personalities and nationalities to the journey. Some of them didn’t know each other yet, and this became a great opportunity to cement new real friendships. The anticipation was palpable as we geared up, excitedly preparing for the road ahead.On the first day, we set out to gradually climb the twists up the Apennine Mountains, crossing into the enchanting region of Tuscany. The majestic landscapes unfolded before our eyes, with rolling hills adorned with vineyards and olive groves. Each twist and turn of the road revealed the beauty and diversity of the Chianti region.As the day drew to a close, we found ourselves in the captivating town of Montalcino, perched atop a hill. Its narrow cobblestone streets beckoned us to immerse ourselves in its timeless charm. We savoured the rich gastronomic delights of Tuscany, relishing hearty ribollita soup, succulent bistecca alla Fiorentina, and authentic pici pasta dressed with a flavorful wild boar ragù. Paired with the world-famous Brunello di Montalcino wine, the dining experience became a celebration of Tuscan flavours, traditions and new friendships.The second day took us on a thrilling morning ride through the mezmerising Maremma Toscana. Crossing the waters to Giglio Island on a short ferry ride, we found ourselves in a coastal paradise, to lunch on a vineyard nestled on the edge of the island's cliff, offering panoramic views of the sparkling sea. It was the perfect spot to enjoy a delicious feast of grilled fish, freshly caught and expertly prepared for us by the land owner. The flavours of the sea, combined with the crispness of local Vermentino white wine, created an unforgettable culinary experience.As the sun began to set, we retreated to the apartments we had rented on the island by the sea. The evening came alive with laughter, music, and the clinking of glasses as we celebrated our journey. A feast of calamari fry up and seafood pasta, brimming with the bounty of the sea, took center stage together with copious amounts of beer, satisfying our taste buds and boosting our joyous conversations. The third day marked our return to the mainland, with a quick visit to the famous Saturnia hot springs along the way, with some soaking in the warm, rejuvenating and mineral-rich waters and others sipped beer at the bar.
Continuing our journey reinvigorated, we arrived in the enchanting town of Montepulciano, renowned for its Renaissance architecture and exquisite wines. Here, we reveled in the rich flavors of Tuscan cuisine, savouring pecorino cheese, handmade pici pasta, and tender braised wild boar. The indulgence was accompanied by the velvety notes of Nobile di Montepulciano wine, adding a touch of elegance to our dining experience.
On our final day, a couple of minor mechanical issues briefly interrupted our adventure and we had to recover one bike, but the tour went on to cross the breathtaking Furlo Gorge, a testament to nature's grandeur. As we rode back to San Marino, a mix of emotions filled the air—pride in our incredible journey, nostalgia for the beautiful moments shared, and excitement for the future adventures of our upcoming touring season.This motorcycle journey across Tuscany organized by RIDE 70s has brought us together in a unique and unforgettable way. It was a testament to the beauty of exploration, the thrill of riding, and the power of camaraderie. We were grateful for the opportunity to create lifelong memories and share our love for vintage motorcycles, captivating landscapes, and mouthwatering flavors. We can’t wait to take more groups on these exciting journeys across the best regions of Italy.Want to follow along on your phone? Follow @ride70s_official on IG, and @fabioaffusophoto for more adventures in Italy.
The Anamosa Broughs: a Superior Collection
It might have seemed the height of pretense to label a new motorcycle company ‘Superior’ in 1919, but George Brough had a vision of building the fastest, most elegant motorcycles in the world, and delivered. His father William built well-respected motorcycles in Nottingham from the 1890s, and commenced his own brand – Brough – that earned a reputation for high quality. Young George was the factory’s official competitor in road and off-road events, which he often won with panache.
During WW1, George Brough envisioned manufacturing an ultimate high-performance motorcycle, but his father refused the concept, so George set up his own factory nearby. He assembled the best racing components from engine, gearbox, forks, and wheel manufacturers for his first model, the Mk 1 of 1919. It used a J.A.P. racing OHV v-twin motor of 1000cc and a heavyweight Sturmey-Archer 3-speed gearbox, in a very robust frame with a long wheelbase, crowned with the world’s first round-nosed saddle fuel tank, resplendent in nickel plating, black paint, and gold pinstriping. A friend suggested he call it ‘Brough Superior’, as it so clearly was, but father William was not amused, presuming the family product was then relegated to ‘Brough Inferior’.
Brough Superior wowed the world with the extraordinary beauty of his products, their superb build quality, and their world-leading speed and handling, creating a new category for the industry: the luxury sports motorcycle. George proved the point personally, regularly entering road trials and sprints on his sparkling machines (he'd take them by train to the nearest station to an event), and invariably winning. He was the original designer-manufacturer-racer, and always cut quite a figure at events, dressed immaculately with his signature cocked cap (which he designed). His machines were full of industry 'firsts', including the first round-nose 'saddle' tank, the first sidestand, the first dipping headlamp, twin headlamps, crash bars, and interconnected silencers.
In 1924, with the introduction of his SS100 model, cemented his position as one of the most gifted vehicle designers in history. The SS100 was the fastest road-legal production motorcycle in the world, with each example guaranteed to have been timed at 100mph on the Brooklands autodrome. Every Brough Superior was bespoke; tailored to the customer’s desires and physique, with special accessories, state of engine tune, gearing, forks, wheel sizes, fuel tank size, colors, and plating all optional. One SS100 ordered by an Indian maharajah was entirely silver plated, another came with an electric starter for an officer who’d lost a leg in WW1; anything was possible.
If one wanted a racing SS100, Brough Superior offered the Pendine model, identifiable by three straps securing the fuel tank. The Pendine was named for Pendine Sands in Wales, the site of racing and record-breaking, where Broughs often took FTDs. George himself became the fastest motorcyclist on earth in 1930 at Arpajon France, when his SS100 clocked just over 130mph on a one-way run. A mechanical glitch meant no return run for an official record, but the point was made. Brough Superiors took the absolute World Speed Record three times between 1924 and 1937, besting BMW, Zenith, and OEC supercharged racers in a golden era of international top-speed battles. The 1927 SS100 Pendine racer replica in the John Parham collection is a prime example of the exquisite mix of beauty and speed for this model, and is correct in every way, from its AMAC twin-float track carburetor to its three-strap tank, the whole machine resplendent in nickel plating, which was the ne plus ultra style of late 1920s track racing. It is the most beautiful motorcycle in the National Motorcycle Museum collection, and this machine is known around the world as a peerless construction built to an absolutely period-correct standard.
Brough Superior offered other models for those not requiring the world’s fastest, introducing the SS80 model in 1923, with a sidevalve J.A.P. 1000cc racing v-twin. George raced a factory tuned version called ‘Spit and Polish’, the first sidevalve motorcycle to exceed 100mph, on which he won 51 of 52 sprint races entered. The bike finished first in that last race, although George was not aboard, having fallen off shortly before the line on the gravel course, a crash that put an end to his racing career.
The SS80 became over time the most popular Brough Superior, a perfect luxury sports-touring machine with superb handling, guaranteed 80+mph performance, and total reliability. The 1937 SS80 from the John Parham collection is a second-series model using a Matchless 990cc V-twin, with internal parts (a stronger crankshaft and special mainshafts) and tuning (hotter cams and better breathing) specified by George, as well as stronger shafts, gears, and racing ratios in the 4-speed Sturmey-Archer gearbox. It was amazing for a factory of such limited production (only 3048 built between 1919-40) to command special parts for their engines, gearboxes, and wheels, but that was pure Brough Superior, and suppliers were happy for the association.
As George Brough entered his 40s, after a life of racing (and crashing), he developed a new favorite in the Brough Superior model range: the 11.50, introduced in 1933, with a J.A.P. 1100cc 60deg sidevalve V-twin motor used by no other motorcycle manufacturer. While the specification might sound ordinary, the 11.50 is anything but, and with mild tuning proved to be (whisper it) as fast as the SS100, with greater low-down torque, and with its wider vee angle, even smoother.
The 11.50 was the sleeper of the Brough Superior line, and a favorite of police forces in the UK and Canada for its ability to catch any car. I write with experience, having owned an 11.50 since 1989, and riding one across the USA in 2014 on the Motorcycle Cannonball Endurance Rally, where it proved the fastest and best-handling machine among 100 competitors. Fans of the Harley-Davidson EL ‘Knucklehead’ were served humble pie in a roll-on acceleration test in Colorado, where the 11.50 ridden two-up simply walked away from a beautifully restored EL. Needless to say, prices for the 11.50 quickly doubled. The 1933 11.50 in the National Motorcycle Museum is a superbly restored machine, just waiting for a new owner to discover what’s really behind the Brough Superior badge. It’s a rare instance of a brand truly living up to its reputation, even the audacious boast of its name proving accurate: a Brough is Superior.
[Full disclosure: Mecum Auctions is a sponsor of The Vintagent]
A Chris Killip Retrospective
While photographer Chris Killip was known as a social documentarian, his upbringing on the Isle of Man meant it was inevitable he'd take a few extraordinary moto photos. A legend in photographic circles, and a professor of visual and environmental studies at Harvard from 1991-2017, Killip was born in Douglas, where his parents owned the Highlander Pub - perhaps you've had a pint there on a trip to Mona's Isle? Who knows what inspired the son of pubholders to take up a camera as a profession, but of course, a public house is a natural place to develop one's skills at social observation at a neutral distance: the parade of customers passing through are highlighted on a gimlet-lit stage, locals and tourists in a never-ending spectacle.
Killip left school at 16 to train as a hotel manager, work in his parents' pub, and photograph tourists at the beach. He moved to London at 18 (1964) and worked as an apprentice commercial photographer under Adrian Flowers. He soon went freelance, alternating work in the pub with photo gigs, but by 1969 he abandoned commercial photography to pursue his own work. He won fellowships from several local arts councils to photograph local cultures in the northeast of England, including Bury St Edmonds, Huddersfield, and Newcastle-Upon-Tyne, all of which were experiencing major economic changes as local industries (coal mining, shipbuilding, heavy industry) began to disappear in the 1970s and 80s. As he explained in 2019, "I didn’t set out to be the photographer of the English de-Industrial Revolution. It happened all around me during the time I was photographing."
Killip became one of the most important photographers of the 1970s and '80s, mingling with very 'local' communities around the UK that were left behind in a major global shift of Capital. He immersed himself into the towns and people he photographed, and made deeply personal imagery of the Isle of Man, beaches, council estates, or in the mosh pit of a punk show. He became a familiar figure at underground punk clubs in Gateshead in the 1980s, and captured the raw vitality of the scene in a manner only possible by a participant with camera in hand. He also documented the coal miners of Lynemouth, who, as he said, "had history done to them."
Killip's breakthrough book collecting his photographic work in the northeast of England was published in 1988 as In Flagrante, with a text by art critic/theoretician John Berger and Sylvia Grant. Shot on 4x5" black-and-white film, these portraits of Tyneside's working class communities are now recognized as among the most important visual records of 1980s Britain. Critic Robert Ayers called it "one of the greatest photography books ever published."
His photographic work documenting the Isle of Man TT Races date from 1971, and have only recently been published in a unique (and inexpensive - £6.70!) edition by Cafe Royal Books. The collection is like no other TT photos I've seen: they feature none of the romance of racing, only its grittiness, its working class participants, and the dramatic changes to the 'biker' in the post-Easy Rider era. Chris Killip kindly allowed me to include one of his photos in my most recent book 'Ton Up!', in the chapter about the 1970s (order a signed copy here!). British motorcyclists of the 1960s were basically 'straight-edge', eschewing alcohol and drugs in order to keep their wits about them while riding fast. By 1971, the rules had clearly changed, with the bikers aping American B-movie styles for their motorcycles and riding gear, and looking fairly wasted. In this era, the term 'Rocker' became synonymous with bikers on drugs with crappy choppers, and the old cafe racer vibe was long gone.
Killip's books have been been recently published, including In Flagrante, and Cafe Royal sells a 5-volume set of their collaboration with the photographer over the past few years, before his death of cancer in 2020. They include: Isle of Man TT Races 1971, Huddersfield 1974, The Seaside 1975–1981, Shipbuilding on Tyneside 1975–1976, and Askam-in-Furness 1982. They can be ordered individually, check out the Cafe Royal website here.
If you’re in the UK, there's currently an excellent Chris Killip retrospective exhibition at Baltic in Gateshead.
2023 Quail - No Rain, No Pain
California has been swimming an atmospheric river so long its residents are traumatized, tired of getting wet, and pulling U-turns at the first sight of an orange cone. That might be an explanation for the dozen empty spots on the grass at this year's Quail Motorcycle Gathering, or it could simply be lucky year #13 parsing the solidly committed from the those who let a 20% chance of rain convince them to miss a pretty amazing weekend.
Despite those missing Concours entries, the actual numbers of bikes at/around the Quail was well up, partly due to the presence of Bring-A-Trailer (BaT), who put out a call for an alumni gathering, and were heard. The BaT zone just outside the Quail's entry gates was packed with motorcycles that had been purchased on their site, balancing out the overall Quail numbers, and prompting suggestions they should bring the party inside the gates next year? They do reach a vast audience of car/moto enthusiasts who collect classics with two and four wheels. Stay tuned for an interview with BaT founder Randy Nonnenberg and Auction Team Manager Tyler Greenblatt.
Can we all admit that motorcyclists are sorta cheapskates, except when it comes to buying motorcycles? Every year our local vintage bike forums resound with gripers who think $150 or so for a spectacular event dedicated to their lifelong passion is expensive. Yes, you're underpaid, got bills 'n kids, but a whole lot of folks - nearly 50, including the volunteer judges - spend a whole lot of time making the Quail the finest motorcycle-only show in the country, if not the world. And they succeed, every year, so act like you really like motorcycles, and show up. Live a little.
Full disclosure: I've emceed the Quail since 2011, so have my attachments to the place and the amazing staff that make it happen. But the big draw for me is the magic of the event, which has little to do with which motorcycles are entered, and much to do with the people who attend. Want to talk to Bubba Shobert, Wayne Rainey, or Eddie Lawson? No bodyguards, handlers, or velvet ropes here - just say hi, and start a conversation. Or builders: Max Hazan is a regular (and a regular winner), who brings his lovely family; and talented folks like Dustin Kott, Hugo Eccles (Untitled MC) and Taras Kravtchouk (Tarform), among many other heavyweights in the design, custom, and electric scenes. It's a great place to talk with folks in the industry, if you have questions or just want to know who's responsible for good design.
We've had a Vintagent X Motor/Cycle Arts Foundation booth at the Quail for many years now, and this year we were book-heavy. We gave half our booth over to the new Taschen 'Ultimate Collector Motorcycles' book, and invited a publisher's rep (thanks, Creed Poulsen) to be on hand and explain why the book is so special. Thanks to the many who ponied up on the day, especially for the Fine Art Edition ($850), which is the most lavish book ever printed about motorcycles. We also had deeply discounted books by your truly, all of which are available in our Shop, plus some rarities like Legend of the Motorcycle Concours brochures and tees. We're the only place on the planet to find those, and the only place to buy signed copies of my books: if you want a personalized inscription, let me know.
So, what bikes won? Best of Show was an ultra-rare 1939 Miller-Balsamo 200 Carenata, with fully enclosed monocoque bodywork and a two-stroke engine beneath, owned by SF architect/arch collector John Goldman, who's been supporting motorcycle shows for decades with his amazing Italian and now Art Deco masterpieces. This was the first year I kept my nose out of the judge's chambers, but apparently the futuristic Italian lightweight was a firm favorite across the board. For the other 25 winners in the 18 judged categories, check out the Quail PR page. You'll also get a free eyeful of the metallic leopard Tom Ford blazer I found in Milan, as emcee means giving out the prizes, and being entertaining is my job, ma'am.
Do yourself a favor next year, and attend the Quail. Better yet, shine up your bike and park it on the grass: Tyler Greenblatt from Bring-A-Trailer mentioned that bikes shown at the Quail tend to sell for a premium, and even if you're not planning on selling your machine, it adds a little provenance. My personal faves? They're mostly in these photos, but I did miss taking photos of a few great bikes; lustrous Italian lightweights, gnarly dirt track champs, fierce 1980s two-stroke GP racers, and customized bikes that looked very tasty indeed. If you can swing it, I'd also recommend joining the Quail Ride on the Friday, a 100-mile tour through the gorgeous Carmel and Salinas Valleys escorted by hotshoe CHP bikes (six this year!), and a few hot laps (and I mean it, I was flat out on my '65 T120SR Bonneville and couldn't catch the pace car!) of legendary Laguna Seca raceway. Top memories of the weekend definitely include the feeling in my nether parts cresting the hill into the Corkscrew hard on the throttle - a thrill that never ages. You can too: must be present to win.
The Ultimate Collector Motorcycles - Taschen
I had the pleasure of advising on (and being included in) a mammoth new project from publishers Taschen: the 2-volume set of The Ultimate Collector Motorcycles, a 20lb behemoth in a lovely slipcover with several cover variations - my advanced copy has a Münch Mammüt, but I've also seen a Brough Superior Golden Dream and Gilera Four GP. The books are written by Peter and Charlotte Fiell and edited by Taschen; it's a real blockbuster, and like nothing else published about motorcycles. The intent was to revisit the idea of a Top 100 list of the most important ('collectible') motorcycles, and the bikes were sourced from around the world, in private collections and museums, representing a truly remarkable array of machines...some of which I've Road Tested on The Vintagent!
Support The Vintagent! Order your Collector's Edition ($250) here with free shipping anywhere in the world!
Order your Fine Art Edition ($850) here, it's the most lavishly produced motorcycle book EVER!!! It comes in two separate slipcases, and has a tipped-in cover photo printed on metal, with an extraordinary deep gloss, silver paper edging, and larger size (11.25x14.5"). It's so impressive, we sold four at the Quail Motorcycle Gathering - there's really nothing like it anywhere!
From Taschen PR:
"Dream Rides: the most spectacular bikes on the planet. From the 1894 Hildebrand & Wolfmüller to the 2020 Aston Martin AMB001, this book lavishly explores 100 of the most desirable motorcycles to have ever sped thrillingly around a circuit or along an open road. From pioneering record-breakers, luxury tourers, and legendary roadracers to GP-winning machines, iconic superbikes, and exotic customs, this book celebrates motorcycle design and engineering at its highest level. Many examples are from acclaimed private collections and very rarely seen. Others are the all-out stars of renowned motorcycle museums - such as teh 1938 Brough Superior 'Golden Dram' or the 1957 MV Agusta 500 4C, which took John Surtees to World Championship glory. Alongside some early survivors in astonishingly original condition is a stable of fabled racers - the actual machines that were competed on by the likes of Dario Abrosini, Tarquniio Provini, Mike Hailwood, Giacomo Agostini, Barry Sheene, and Kenny Roberts.
The fascinating stories behind these fabulous motorbikes are expertly recounted in detail, alongside stunning imagery specially taken for the book by the world's leading motorcycle photographers. Also included are rare archival gems, from early posters to remarkable action shots. In addition, there is a forward by legendary petrolhead Jay Leno, and interviews with George Barber, founder of the Barber Vintage Motorsports Museum; Sammy Miller, championship-winning racer and founder of the Sammy Miller Motorcycle Museum; Ben Walker, Department Director of Motorcycles at Bonhams; Paul d'Orléans, founder of The Vintagent; and Gordon McCall, cofounder of the Quail Motorcycle Gathering, the world-renowned motorcycle concours event.held in Carmel Valley, California.
A cornucopia of motorcycle treasure and an absolute must-have for all bike enthusiasts!"
We'll have discounted copies available soon on The Vintagent - stay tuned! The 'famous first edition' is limited to 9000 copies, while there's an art edition of 1000 copies coming too - more details to follow on our Instagram and Facebook pages.
CeDora and the Globe of Death
CeDora. Or Ce'Dora, or C'Dora. Everyone on the Vaudeville circuit had a stage name, and young Greek immigrant Agnes Theodore chose a homophone of her given name as the character for her death-defying motorcycle act in the early 1900s. CeDora rode into history as the first woman to perform in a Globe of Death, and her fame continued even after she retired, as her stage name was used for two generations, when another young woman, Eleanore Seufert, took over as CeDora, riding the Globe of Death through the 1930s.
The original Globe of Death riders were bicyclists, and a first patent for a 'Bicyclist's Globe' was granted in 1904 to Arthur Rosenthal of Grand Rapids, Michigan. However, carnival historian A.W. Stencell ('Seeing Is Believing: America's Side Shows') notes the first Globe of Death act was probably created by Thomas Eck in 1903, using a bicycle ridden at around 6mph within a 16' sphere - that tilted as he rode. Rosenthal's 1904 patent claims “certain new and useful improvements in Bicyclists Globes”, which means they already existed, and were a sensation worth developing. It was Rosenthal who designed the steel-latticed globe that has been the pattern of construction for Globes of Death ever since, and allows riders to reach sufficient speed for horizontal and loop-the-loop riding in relative safety, or at least stability. Arthur Rosenthal had his own Globe act, and teamed up with Frank Lemon as “Rose and Lemon,” a trick bicycle and motorcycle duo, who performed in the globe as the climax of their act, as a display of skill and virtuosity that was viscerally thrilling to watch.
News of the Globe of Death spread quickly, with several other performers adopting the novelty act, such as Italian daredevil Guido Consi, who rode his “Sphere of Fear” in Rome in 1913, and by 1915 a Brazilian crew rode in New York City as “Cedero and his Golden Globe." Cedero's globe was used back in South America for decades, and was discovered around 1970 in El Salvador by the Urias brothers, (who had their own Globe since 1912), who use it to this day. The popularity of traveling stunt acts in a nationwide carnival circuit cannot be overestimated: there was no television or regular radio broadcasting at the time, so live performances were wildly popular, and profitable, and early stunt bicyclists and motorcyclists earned a reasonable income. Carnival life was not for everyone, though, as plying the Vaudeville circuit meant a never-ending travel schedule, and risking one's life several times per day. The life of a 'carny' remains a unique lifestyle, as the obituary for the second CeDora attests.
Agnes Theodore began her Globe of Death career as a bicyclist sometime in the 'Noughts, with her husband Charles Hadfield as a co-rider, stuntman, and manager. Hadfield was a bicycle race promoter who saw the potential of this new act, which they originally called the Golden Globe, a 16' diameter steel sphere made of woven strip steel and a tubular steel frame. The earliest CeDora exhibition posters (from 1905?) show her riding a bicycle exclusively, alongside a male rider, presumably her husband Charles.
Later posters (from 1906/7?) show CeDora with a motorcycle, which according to The Motocycle News (April 1909) she had brought with her from Europe (presumably when she emigrated to the USA), which looks to be a c.1903 Motosacoche. It was natural that experienced bicyclists should include the new motorized bicycles in their stunt acts. So it seems with Agnes, who was originally depicted as C'Dora or CeDora on a bicycle in a Globe, but in 1908 she and her husband purchased a specially built Indian single-cylinder 'motocycle', which several sources claim was one of six built at the Hendee Manufacturing Co. specially for stunt riding. Thus from 1909 onwards we see Agnes aboard a single-cylinder Indian of unique configuration, with a small 'torpedo' tank, similar to but smaller than on their first racing models. Also, the chassis uses an additional brace from the seat tube to the rear axle, for additional stability.
The Indian 'Motocycle' company made considerable publicity from CeDora's use of their product in her famous act, claiming in the April 1909 factory organ The Motocycle News that "there have been four performers in the world who have looped the Globe of Death on motocycles: all used Indians, and non have ever been injured. C'Dora, whose picture appears [here], is now appearing at the New York Hippodrome. She brought a foreign machine to this country with her, but got an Indian as soon as she could. It never fails her. Other performers have been using Indian for over two years, both in this country and abroad, and to its reliability they owe their lives."
The use of Indian 'motocycles' (they switched to 'motorcycles' by 1929) became standard for stunt riders, and continues to the present day. In 1914, the original Wall of Death riders used Indian twins, some taken directly off the board tracks for maximum speed around large diameter Walls (see our exclusive 'Race for Life' article). And twenty years after Indian produced these six stunt cycles, the 101 Scout model proved to have perfect balance: with a 50/50 front/rear weight distribution, low center of gravity, perfectly stable handling, modest weight, and utter reliability. Most Walls of Death still include vintage 101s in their act as an homage to the many decades they were the standard for the industry: they're certainly still the most stylish of stunt motorcycles.
Anges Theodore rode the Globe for over 20 years, and retired from carny life (or at least stunt performing) in 1929. Her retirement left her husband Charles without a star attraction for his Golden Globe, so he sought a new girl to act as CeDora: enter 16-year old Eleanore Seufert. Eleanore "grew up in Newark NJ, and her older brother was a seven-day bicycle racer, managed by her father. In those days, the marathon bike races would take place in velodromes across the nation and venues like Madison Square Garden. Eleanore's father knew a race promoter named Charles Hadfield, whose wife was the original CeDora. When she retired, Hadfield asked around for a new CeDora. Eleanore was volunteered by her father, even though she had never been on a bicycle. "The story she told - and maybe it was embellished over the years - was that her brother took her up to the top of Eagle Rock Avenue and sent her down with no brakes," said Eleanore's oldest daughter, Barbara Belanger. "That's how she learned how to ride." But it was her natural athleticism that helped her conquer the globe. "She would start in small circles and build up to where she was going fast enough to go upside down," said Belanger. "I'm sure it took a lot of strength and endurance." It was a stunt, but not without danger. She fell a number of times in the globe, and her best friend, an aerialist with the show, was killed in a fall." [From 'The Unconventional Life of a Supermom', 2008, NJ.com]. Wysocki traveled the East Coast as CeDora for 11 years, riding both bicycles and motorcycles, and apparently relished the freedom the life of a carny offered to a young woman.
Old Vaudeville props that make money have a forever life in the world of carnys. The 3-ton steel globe built by Charles Hadfield passed through many hands: after WW2 it was used by 'Speedy' Wilson's Globe of Death act right through the 1960s, and was later acquired by the Jordan Family, who use it to this day. The design is almost identical to the vintage Globe currently used by the Urias family, which dates back to 1915, and was built by 'Cederos' of Brazil. CeDora's 1908 Indian, seen above, has passed through various collections, and is in beautifully restored condition. It is the only survivor of this type of factory-special stunt motocycle, and was recently seen at the exhibit 'The Motorcycle: Design/Art/Desire' in Queensland.
The Globe of Death is still as death-defying and thrilling an act as it was in 1904, although safety is more of an issue today, as safety equipment has improved beyond all measure compared to the Edwardian-era satin theatrical costume with a pair of silk tights, and little else. The acts are wilder, faster, and more spectacular today, with hydraulic lifts, split globes, lighting effects, and a multitude of riders simultaneously spinning inside, to dizzying effect. If you get the chance, go see for yourself ... and remember CeDora.
The Rarest of Racers: 1915 Indian 8-Valve
Say the words ‘8-Valve’ to a motorcycle collector and watch their ears perk up. That’s how potent the history of these exotic machines, built by both Indian and (later) Harley-Davidson, are in the story of American board track racing. It’s the most romantic era of motorcycle competition, mostly because of the extraordinary danger of the sport, it extreme toll on riders, and the bare-knuckles competition between brands that understood racing was the cheapest form of advertising. It was ‘Race on Sunday, sell on Monday’, and even if your star rider slipped on the two miles of oily pine 2x4s laid at a 50degree angle, and lost his life… well, that was a headline too. For a time in the 1910s, every major and many minor cities in the USA featured banked-track ovals with wooden surfaces, called either motordromes, autodromes, or board tracks. By the late 1920s they were all gone, destroyed by fires or bulldozers, and few missed the ‘murderdromes’, as they were dubbed in the press. Other forms of racing quickly supplanted the boards in the public’s imagination, with hillclimbing becoming the most popular motorsport in the USA by the late 1920s, and dirt track racing the most popular in the world.
The racers in all these competitions were specialized and honed to freakish extremes, often bearing no relation to the road-going products of their manufacturers, and Indian was the first to introduce such exotica on the track. The Indian 8-Valve was designed by Oscar Hedstrom in 1910 solely to return Indian to the top of the racing game, where it had established itself in 1902. Hedstrom’s 4-valve cylinder heads solved major problems with valve cooling on the overhead-valve concept, before direct lubrication was added to valve trains in the late 1920s. It was well understood that overhead valve cylinder heads had better gas flow than inlet-over-exhaust valves, but valve breakages from overheating on 2-valve motors were common. Hedstrom’s use of four smaller valves meant the valve train components were lighter and smaller, giving better longevity and easier revving, while possessing improved gas flow characteristics and thus producing more power. The 8-Valve was immediately successful in racing, and earned its legendary status as a motorcycle of extraordinary technical innovation, and a devastating racer that totally dominated Board Track competition for years.
The extraordinary machine in these photos is one of only four genuine Indian 8-Valve racers known to exist today. We know it’s genuine as the bike has significant documentation and a known history from new, with photos of owners dating back decades, and much research done by former owner Daniel Statnekov. It is the only known surviving example of a factory-built Indian 8-Valve racer in a ‘keystone’ or ‘Marion’ frame, which this machine pioneered, and was used by Indian subsequently with its sidevalve racers of the 1920s as a very light and very short-wheelbase racing frame. The keystone frame was a clever use of the engine cases as a stressed member of the frame, by the simple expedient of cutting out the frame’s bottom tubes. This lowered the center of gravity, which vastly improved the handling, and also gave a shorter wheelbase, which made the bike more nimble. To complement the short and low frame, Indian built a shorter version of their racing front fork, which this machine possesses, and an enlarged fuel tank for long-distance racing – typical Board Track races of the era were held over distances from 100 to 200 miles, and stopping to refuel could mean the difference between winning and losing.
This unique ‘Marion’ 8-Valve was presumably first used by the factory with its own racing team, and period photos show just such machines being raced by the factory in 1915. While the 8-Valve was dominant on the track, Indian was developing its first side-valve roadster V-twin motor – the Powerplus – that same year. Its designer was Charles Gustafson, who had previously designed the first sidevalve motorcycle engine in the USA for Reading-Standard. Gustafson knew he could develop his Powerplus engine to produce more power with more reliability than the 8-Valve, and soon the Marion frame was raced with special Powerplus motors, which were indeed better for long-distance racing…but not faster. This 1915 racer is a second-generation ‘small-base’ version of the 8-Valve, and was quite simply the fastest motorcycle in the world for decades. A list of speed records with this second-generation Indian 8-Valve included: 1 mile at 115.75mph by Gene Walker at Daytona Beach in April 1920, and 1 mile at 132.52mph by Jim Davis in April 1922. Such speeds would not be equaled by FIM-certified land speed record racing until the 1930s.
This 1915 Marion 8-Valve was originally purchased from the factory in the early 1920s by Waldo Korn, a professional rider for both Indian and Excelsior. After a period of racing, Kern sold the Marion in the 1940s to Dewey Simms, a legendary tuner and racer, who used the machine for demonstration laps at events in the 1950s and 60s, including the Springfield Mile track. Photographic documentation of Simms with this machine in that era are included with the sale: also included are the unique aluminum valve covers visible in the photos. Note also the tunnel fabricated into the oil tank to allow clearance for the rear cylinder's exhaust pipe. Simms sold this machine on April 7th 1966 to Renton WA collector Gary Porter, and in turn Porter sold it in the 1990s to historian/collector Dan Statnekov, who described it as ‘running but tired, with terrible paint.’ He leaned on surviving racing machines, racers, and historians to bring the Marion 8-Valve to perfect and running condition.
This is a unique and hugely important 1915 Indian Marion 8-Vavle racer, and its meticulous restoration was judged at an astonishing 100 points at the 1998 Perkiomen AMCA National meet, and took the Red Wolverton Award for the best restored racing machine. It was also featured in the Guggenheim Museum’s 1998 ‘Art of the Motorcycle’ exhibit, and is included in the exhibit catalog on page 124. This 1915 Indian racer is the most important American motorcycle for sale in this decade, without question: while other machines might be the flavor du jour, there is no motorcycle as rare, and none as legendary, as a real Indian 8-Valve. It's coming up at Mecum's Monterey auction Aug 17-19 2023. [Note: Mecum is a sponsor of The Vintagent]
Do You Know the Monster Man?
[A version of this article originally appeared in Cycle World magazine]
Legendary motorcycle designer Miguel Galluzzi is as refreshingly direct as his most famous creation, the Ducati M900 ‘Monster’. When it was released in 1993, the bare-bones Monster was considered revolutionary, which speaks more about 1990s sportbike design than its status as the ‘first naked bike’. Regardless that motorcycle history was, like Eden, pretty much all naked, the mantra of ‘90s sporting motorcycles was all-plastic-everything, and Galluzzi landed in the thick of it, after a stint designing cars at GM/Opel in Germany. “I was getting fed up with the car business; each project took 10 years to develop – just too long. My boss Hideo Kodama heard that Soichiro Honda wanted a Honda motorcycle design studio in Milan, to understand how things were done in Italy. They hired me to start the studio in 1987”.
Honda might have been interested in the Italian process, but not so much in Galluzzi’s designs. He developed sketches and models that exposed the motorcycle’s engine, but there was no steering Honda away from the current idiom. “I was working on the Honda CB600F2, and it was all this plastic crap covering everything up.” His sketches for minimal bodywork were routinely rejected, and he grew frustrated after two years; so much for Italian design! By then he’d met the Castiglioni brothers of Cagiva, owners of Ducati and Husqvarna, and was hired to develop the new-generation 900SS in 1990. “I had ideas for bikes, and convinced my boss to build a half-fairing 900SS for the big Cologne show. Four days before the show, Cagiva’s commercial guys said ‘we have to have a full fairing’! We built it, but it was covered in Bondo, and after 10 days under hot lights at Cologne, the Bondo shrank and the bike’s shape went flat.” Still, the full-fairing 900SS was a huge hit, and became Ducati’s #1 seller.
To demonstrate a smaller fairing could work, Galuzzi hacksawed the bodywork on his ‘87 Ducati 750 Sport. “I cut the fairing in half and showed the bosses – ‘this is the bike we should build’. So at the Bologna show in December 1990 we showed a 750SS with the half-fairing. That was the beginning of the changes.” Galuzzi never actually worked for or at Ducati, but was installed at the Cagiva HQ in Varese. He prefers to keep his design studio away from the factory; “Usually around 5 or 6 in the afternoon, the factory guys got bored and would come to my office to ‘help’ design bikes, as design is the fun part - everyone wanted to hang out. But they’d alter drawings, give unwanted advice, and change projects. It was a mess! So I put a padlock on the studio, and I had the only key! They had to ring a bell to get in.”
Artists have been messing around with Xerox machines since they were invented, so it's only appropriate a legendary motorcycle design was developed on Xerox too. Enjoy 'Photocopy Cha Cha' (2001) by Chel White, a film made entirely from sheets of color Xerox paper. [Bent Image Lab]
The Monster’s birth was midwifed by an early ‘90s high tech device - a color copier. “We had the first color Xerox machine at our office, so I copied magazine photos of a bare chassis, and drew some simple lines with minimal bodywork, like bikes had been since the beginning of time. The form of what a bike should be; just enough to enjoy the ride.” In the summer of 1990 Galluzzi asked his boss if he could pick up some parts at Ducati. The 851 had just come out, and it was blowing people’s minds – the first twin-cylinder sportbike that could rev to 10,000 RPM. “I built a raw special using all factory parts, but the 4V engine was too expensive for my project. But we had plenty of 900ss motors lying around; it was affordable stuff, which meant a bike could be much cheaper. That was the beginning of the Monster”.
The code-named M900 project developed rapidly once the 900ss motor was chosen, and Galluzzi devoted considerable time to its creation. “My boss called from Bologna and asked, ‘what’s the name of this project?’ At the time my two sons loved these cute rubber toys at the grocery store, little monsters that came two to a packet, and every day they asked me ‘did you buy me a monster?’ I suggested we call the bike Monster, and they did! It was just a throwaway.” Cagiva’s marketing arm didn’t like the name, but French importer Marcel Seurat thought it perfect, and it stuck. “People said ‘this is extremely futuristic’, and I said, have you been looking at bikes from 50 or 60 years ago? All the shapes in the ‘90s were soft in cars and bikes, soapy. To me it wasn’t radical, it was just going back to basics.”
In being so basic, the Monster was a blank canvas for customization, something Italian motorcycles had never been. “People enjoy transforming bikes, personalizing them, painting and stuff. If you know the history of motorcycles, most of the fun part is there; choppers, café racers, everything like that, forever!” Galluzzi considers the Monster itself a ‘custom’ build, as he used the frame from one bike, the motor from another, and added a custom tank. It’s simplicity and use of existing parts made the M900 “the fastest and cheapest bike to put into production in modern history.” It also became Ducati’s biggest seller for years on end, and a legendary design that changed the course of the industry.
The Prince of Darkness, Exposed
‘We are born of Darkness, and to Darkness we return; our time in the Light is but an interlude” – Joseph Lucas.
Thus spake an incarnation of Beelzebub who lived in England at the turn of the 19th Century, a man of great industry and wealth who nonetheless by his insidious devilish nature perverted the course of the mighty river Commerce in the United Kingdom, diverting those once-powerful waters to be sullied and wasted over the sandy plains of Poor Reputation. By his trickery, an entire industry, once a world leader in technology, performance, and quality, was reduced to a worldwide butt of jokes and financial catastrophe, bringing the economy of an entire nation to its knees, and reducing that nation’s principal exports from the noble metals of Transport and Manufacture to the lowly pressing of musical discs, recording the harmonized mating calls of long-haired, drug addled dandies who wiggled their skinny asses to the gleeful delight of teenage girls, who wept at the sight.
I’m not suggesting Joseph Lucas destroyed the British economy; I’m stating it as a fact, because its high time the man is exposed as the devil he was. To begin at the start; in the 1850s, Joseph Lucas was the unemployed father of six children – oh unhappy number – selling kerosene from a wheelbarrow on the filthy streets of Hockley, in Essex of all places; a Victorian Chav. And yet, within just a few years he founded Joseph Lucas Industries, which would shortly move to Birmingham and explode into profitability. What Wikipedia fails to divulge in its brief whitewash of Mr. Lucas is the scandalous tale of that remarkable transition.
How does a man overburdened with children, smelling of petroleum and sloshing a wheelbarrow through the muddy, feces-strewn roads of rural Hockley, for God’s sake, come within a short time to sit atop a golden throne as titular head of a great manufacturing concern? As Balzac observed, ‘Behind every great fortune lies a great crime’, and Lucas’ empire was founded on a pentagram drawn in goat’s blood. There can be no better explanation for the lightning success of this muddy and impecunious dandy (and supposed teetotaler – perfect cover for his dark enterprise) than the sale of his mortal soul to the Devil.
Joe Lucas and his son Harry (henceforth known as ‘Damien’) aggressively forged strategic alliances and strong-arm monopolies in order to dominate vehicle manufacture in Britain. Near every car, bus, lorry, lawnmower, and motorbike built in Birmingham had bolt-on endarkenment. Their ‘lighting’ equipment worked well enough for long enough and were cheap enough that no automaker could avoid the taint of Satanic products, and like a virus, their timed-death equipment spread to every corner of Industry in Britain. Their maddening tendency to self-destruct, when a generator or magneto were most needed, was discovered too late, thus the entire industry was thus corrupted and crippled, and made a laughing stock the world over.
And what, good sirs, was Mr Lucas’ retort when complaints were made against his defective ‘illumination’ devices? “A gentleman does not motor about after dark.” Which is certainly true, if one transforms nightly into a flying rodent! Gentleman, indeed. Had the cloven hooves beneath Joe Lucas’ spit-polished brogues been properly exposed, rampaging torch-and-pitchfork brigades would have rushed the great iron doors of his manse, only to find their grasping hands filled with the same damnable smoke as emerges regularly from the malfunctioning electrical devices of his black manufacture. It has been suggested in fact that the products of the Lucas family have at their dark heart a function of pure devilment, the transmission of electricity by SMOKE rather than electrons, proof of which is evident in every malfunctioning object of electrickery which bears the ‘torch and lion’ logo. What emerges when said device expires? Yes; smoke.
Mind you, other Devils were surely at work in Great Britain (an acronym of ‘eat brain grit’ if you hadn’t noticed – what zombie coined THAT?) on the loathsome project to destroy a once-great Empire. I have it on good account the Board of Directors of BSA met in secret cabals at Slumberglade Hall, black-robed and hooded, to blood-sacrifice nubile virgins on basement frame-jigging tables. And if that sounds like fun to you, then you too are damned to hell! The stain of Satan possesses your thoughts.
The whole world understands that Lucas Industries is responsible for everything from no-lights British motorbikes to the fact that the English drink warm beer (‘Lucas refrigerators’ goes the old joke – too near the truth!). Lucas alone brought down the British Empire.
And yes, the goddamn Lucas magneto on my Velocette took a crap, again.
(Note: any similarities to actual titans of British industry producing devilishly maddening, smoke-exhaling electrickery, is purely coincidental, and intended as satire)
The ADAM sale: a First in the Art World
Art and motorcycles: can motorcycles be art? It's a question posed long before the 1998 Art of the Motorcycle Guggenheim exhibit flung its doors open amid Gehry-designed splendor, and became their most popular exhibit in their history. But the Art World - an amorphous culture absorbing penurious painters and billionaire corporate money launderers alike - deflects the question by leaning on a fine point of Beaux Arts distinction: it's art versus design, people, meaning if an object has a function other than elevating the spirit or stimulating the senses, it is thrown onto the elegant slagheap called design. But don't get your panties twisted: design objects are venerated too, and always have been. Before the standardized 19th C. Beaux Arts education laid down the laws on what is what in the arts (Fine vs. Applied), everything from suits of armor to tapestries to carriages to paintings were displayed side by side in the collections of the very wealthy, and the first museums - which were the same thing.
"Art exists and has existed in every known human culture and consists of objects, performances, and experiences that are intentionally endowed by their makers with a high degree of aesthetic interest." - Stanford Encyclopedia of Philosophy
Despite the acknowledgement that motorcycles (and other vehicles) can be brilliant examples of industrial design, and that art + design exhibits and auctions are fairly common, I can find only one instance when the combo includes top shelf motorcycles + art + design: the ADAM sale happening tonight at Christie's NYC. There was another auction that came close: a Design Masters auction at Phillips in 2010 that botched sale of the very first Brough Superior SS100 prototype, when it was rumored the late Alain de Cadenet phoned in serious questions about the provenance of said Brough (to settle a score with its owner Mike Fitzsimons), which was then pulled from the sale at the very last minute. So much for the experiment in rolling an exquisite and unique motorcycle into a fancy NYC auction house. Perhaps the ADAM auction will fare better.
The ADAM of the Christie's sale is Adam Lindemann, an important player in the NYC art scene via his gallery(s) Venus over Manhattan, his collecting habits, and his vocal support of cutting-edge art and design, e.g. the NFT by Beeple X Madonna included in this sale. Adam is also a collector of fine motorcycles, including the exquisite 1974 Ducati 750SS sitting right now on the floor of the Christie's NYC showroom, somewhere between an Alexander Calder mobile ('Black Disc with Flags', est. $5-7M), an Andy Warhol 'Electric Chair' silkscreen ($4-6M), and a Jeff Koons sculpture ('Ushering in Banality, $2.5-3.5M). The estimate for the 750SS is a mere $125-175k, which is real-world pricing, and especially in this context should put paid to your anxiety that 'motorcycles are getting expensive'. I mean, you could buy a Jeff Koons ceramic pig for 20X that, but the Koons won't get you anywhere if you sit astride it and twist its ears, nor will it make a glorious noise. As I've always said, 'you can't ride a Rembrandt.'
But you can buy a motorcycle at Christie's: a quick search of their database reveals dozens of lovely bikes sold in the past (where was I?). Plus a lot of interesting work by 'fine' artists (pardon me, Ing. Taglioni - your work is more than fine) using motorcycle imagery, including a couple of Andy Warhols, several Japanese painters (Tanadori Yokoo!) and sculptors (Ushio Shinohara), and a bunch of famous photographers (David Wojnarowicz, Irving Penn, Alexander Rodchenko, etc), because we - meaning you, dear centaur - are so distinctive, we must be photographed. I mean, who photographs automobilists as a species? But I digress: let's talk about this important and slightly dangerous experiment by the intriguing Adam Lindemann.
I've asked Adam Lindemann a few questions about his sale:
Paul d'Orléans (PDO): Are you excited about the sale?
Adam Lindemann (ADAM): Honestly, it's more like anxiety. A friend suggested we go to a private room at Christie's and drink champagne, and I said are you fucking high?
I put things in for ambience and to tell a story. Theress someting to surprise and tickle everyone. That's what I like about art collecting - the story.
PDO: Will you actually be in the room?
ADAM: No, I'll be sitting by my computer with a pencil, keeping track of how much things are selling for versus what I paid for them. I've never been in the room when I sold my (auction catalog) cover lots: when I sold my Jeff Koons cover lot, my Basquiat cover lot, etc. I was never in the room but it was never the 'ADAM' sale, so I was wondering if Adam has to be there for the ADAM sale? But the auction people told me no. At the end of the day, when the auction comes, it's business.
PDO: Tell me about your curation of the sale: how did you choose what to sell from your collection?
ADAM: A lot of the things I put in the sale for decoration, I put them in for ambience and to tell a story. When you look at the auction, there's something to surprise and tickle everyone. That was the idea - everybody gets tickled in a different way. There are two reasons for my selection: I like that the narrative. I like to tell stories. That's what I like about collecting: art is a story, and I like to tell stories. That's one part. The second thing is this is a mid-season sale. This is dead time, the weakest moment in the New York auction cycle. So when I'm doing a single owner sale at a dead moment, it's up to me to row the boat. I have to bring the eyeballs. I have to bring the attention. It's not like the May auctions when there are 10 Picassos and a Jeff Koons bunny and everyone's focused. This is like dead week. So I needed to throw in a lot of spicy lots like for color, for decor, and to look cool. I put very low estimates on the work because otherwise it's a snoozer.
PDO: I noticed the estimate on the Billy Bengston seemed to be pretty low, but not outside the range of reason.
ADAM: Well, I must have paid $120,000 for that painting. I didn't need to put it in the sale, but I put it in because he just died, and because I had the car thing going with the Richard Prince El Camino. If I put my estimate at what I paid, no one would bid, whereas if I put it in at $40 grand or whatever, and he just died, well, maybe somebody will go for it. But I would say that that piece is not there for the money. This sale is a historic moment for me, and I've sprinkled a little of the Billy Al Bengston cool on it, if that makes any sense.
PDO: That absolutely makes sense.
ADAM: You know, the little George Condo didn't need to be in the sale. The totem from Vanuatu doesn't need to be there. The Jim Nutt drawing doesn't need to be there. The Billy Al Bengston doesn't need to be there. Much of the design doesn't need to be there. There's a young artist that I got behind 10 years ago, Andra Arsuta: she's been in the Venice Biennale twice and now she's represented by David Zwirner. If her work sold for $100,000, I'd be happy. I'm not God, I want the money. But I didn't do include that work for the money. In the grand scope of this sale, this is about a Warhol and a Damien Hirst and Jeff Koons and a Calder, and the other things are there to mix it up and to make it exciting. And also to show how these things fit into my life, to my way of seeing the world, what I'm into, and telling my story because every collector is different. Just like you're different - you like pre-war British bikes, and I like post-war Italian, land it's interesting to see what a person likes within the context of the art world.
PDO: So, let's talk about the motorcycle: a 1974 Ducati 750 Super Sport 'green frame', widely considered among the most beautiful motorcycles ever made.
ADAM: I put the Ducati in the sale because I'm a lifelong motorhead at this point. I started riding motorcycles because of my mother - she wouldn't let me ride. So, of course, I had to have a motorcycle! I've always had vintage bikes because I guess I like headaches. So I've always had old bikes: I bought my Moto Guzzi V7 Telaio Rosso out of Classic Bike magazine 30 years ago, that's the bike I've had in my collection the longest. Then I got into cars; cars of the seventies, Italians - Ferraris and Lamborghinis - and I wish I'd kept all that stuff, but I just bought them and drove them and sold them. And then I got into race cars. I was like, hey, I was a polo player, now I'll be a race car driver. And so I bought a bunch of Jaguars from Bonhams and raced them at Goodwood and the LeMans Classique twice, and I've raced in the Monaco Grand Prix Historics and the Spa Six Hours I've won twice, and in the Sebring Classic, and I've podiumed at Daytona. So the Ducati is in the sale because it's going to be in a whole new context. And to me it's there as a design object. It's no longer there as a motorcycle, it's there the way I have the Jean Royére Polar Bear set, or the Charlotte Perriand table or the Pierre Paulin objects: it's there as an object of design. And to me it's industrial design, but it's the most beautiful motorcycle. I've always loved it. Alright, I love Vincent too, I love Broughs, I'm not blind to them. Listen, I love a great Triumph Bonneville, even though they made a million of them.
PDO: But the Ducati 'green frame' is special.
ADAM: The 750 'green frame' to me is the Holy Grail of the seventies motorcycles. I think it's the best. About 30 years ago I bought one and used to love riding around on Sunday mornings at motorcycle get-togethers and I paid, I think, $17,500 for it and I was happy with it. It seemed like it was cheap, and one day I got wind that I had a fake. There was a guy in Connecticut who was basically taking 750 Sports and turning them into green frames and re-stamping them. I guess you get what you paid for. But years later, after having many 851SP3 Superbikes and Honda RC30s and Nortons, it was still my favorite. So I got a fully documented, registered in the book, fully vetted by Ian Falloon example. This is still my favorite bike, and I think they're cheap, they represent great value to me. It's the Ferrari Spider California of motorcycles, and that's worth, I don't know what, $6 to $12 million, and you can buy the greatest motorcycle that ever lived for $200,000. Seems like great value to me.
PDO: I've already noted that, compared to just about all the other design/art in the sale, the motorcycle is cheap. I mean, it's pinnacle design, and I agree with you, I think that particular model is undervalued. Compared to something as crude as an Indian 8-Vavle or Cyclone or Crocker, all worth worth half a $Million. So, this gorgeously designed vehicle seems like a bargain to me. And by the way, I'm also a big Italian fan - I've owned a lot of bevel drives twins and singles, I love the design, especially the engine castings, superb.
ADAM: So, this is a little moment in the motorcycle world.
PDO: I can't recall any fine art sale that included a motorcycle. I mean, the closest we had was that Philips auction in 2010 when Mike Fitzsimons put his Brough Superior SS100 prototype in a big contemporary design sale. Nobody's really done it, despite the Art of the Motorcycle exhibit, etc. Motorcycles have been included in design exhibitions, but never really with fine art. That's fascinating to me. So, Is this sale entirely your curation? What were Christie's thoughts on including the motorcycle?
ADAM: Well, I mean, Christie's called it the ADAM sale, which is totally outrageous. The idea that anyone could be so pompous and ridiculous to call a sale by their name is like, wow. So that's all them. The sale otherwise is all me, but they had the veto, right? They threw stuff out. As far as design, they asked for this and that and, and I included a lot of women because I wanted to be some balance of women and men. I didn't want just a bunch of dudes. And then I decided to put in a motorcycle and not a race car or any kind of a car...although I do have a painted Richard Prince El Camino, which is amazing. So I have that and I put in the Billy Al Bengston and I have the '89 car hood and then the motorcycle. Because as I said, it's one of my first motorcycles and it's one of my, it's kind of my favorite: if I had to pick one, that's the one. So to me, I just told a story, and motorcycles are more closely related to design. They have functionality. I mean, a car is a chair with four wheels, and the motorcycle is a seat with two wheels. Its pared down to the essential design as much as possible. And I think that at the end of the day there's more sex appeal in the motorcycle. It's just more visceral. You sit on it, it's between your legs. And so it told the story that I wanted to tell.
PDO: That's fabulous - thank you!
ADAM: Oh, thank you. I'm so happy to be a small part of The Vintagent.
The Girl on a Motorcycle
The one-piece, zip-up leather racing suit has been the legal minimum standard for protective competition gear for over 60 years, but the question of who invented it has long been subject to debate. Movie-star handsome Geoff Duke made the outfit famous in 1951, racing and winning for Norton, after his local tailor, Frank Barker, sewed one up to Duke’s instruction. He’d already been wearing a one-piece fabric undergarment beneath his two-piece leathers, made up by a ballet specialist in London, which caused a few “ribald comments” from his team-mates. I’ll grant nobody else wore a ballet onesie while racing in 1949, but the Director of Veloce Ltd, Bertie Goodman, had been wearing his own one-piece leather suit a few years prior, while racing his family’s product – a Velocette KTT – at venues like the Ulster GP. Duke certainly knew who Bertie was, as a rare factory Director who actually raced motorcycles, so the idea was around, as they say.
Nobody thought to ask who the first female rider to wear a one-piece might have been, but we certainly know who, like Duke, made it famous. Anke-Eve Goldmann was riding and competing on motorcycles (always BMWs) from the early 1950s onwards, and had a series of custom leather outfits made for her, to suit every weather condition. She was fond of the mid-winter Elephant Rally, and had elephantine shearling-lined leather riding suits made for touring in extreme cold. For competition, she had the idea of a one-piece leather suit with a diagonal zipper across the chest, which made getting in and out much easier for a woman. She contracted the German leather firm Harro to make up her racing suit, and images of AEG banked over on her BMW R69 made a global impact. She was writing for magazines about racing at the time, especially women’s racing, and her articles can be found in print around the world in the early 1960s, in mags from Sweden to Tokyo, and in the USA in Cycle World.
Anke-Eve was a full two metres tall, utterly charming, beautiful, and a fierce competitor on the track. She loved racing above all, and endured abuse both from her family and racing men in the early 1950s, because a woman racing in post-war Germany was unthinkable. Attitudes towards her softened as she was ‘legitimatized’ by press attention and her own journalistic output. Still, she was denied a racing license in Europe because she was female, and was relegated to ‘women’s races’ and regularity events. She was a feminist and founding supporter of WIMA, the Women’s International Motorcycle Association, and very much her own person, pursuing her own goals. She had a great many famous friends and admirers, with whom she corresponded regularly.
One of those correspondents was French writer André Pieyre de Mandiargues, who won the Prix Goncourt with his 1967 novel ‘La Marge’, made into a film in ’68 by future pornographer Walerian Borowczyk, called The Margin. Borowczyk also made a film featuring Mandiargues’ collection of vintage erotic toys (‘Une Collection Particuliure’ – 1972), which gives us a picture of the writer’s interests. These were already on full display in his 1963 novel ‘La Motociclette’, about a beautiful young woman (Rebecca) who rides her Harley-Davidson from Strasbourg to Heidelberg for a tryst with a former lover, leaving her sleeping husband in bed on her dawn escapade. Rebecca’s ride becomes an erotic frenzy as the vibration from her big twin brings her to orgasm, and in her distraction she crashes and dies. She wears nothing beneath her one-piece leather riding suit, famously ‘naked under leather’, which was the European title of the film made from the book in 1968, also known as ‘Girl on a Motorcycle’, directed by Jack Cardiff, and starring Marianne Faithfull.
It’s abundantly clear Anke-Eve Goldmann was the model for Rebecca in ‘La Motociclette’. AEG was not interested in being a sexual icon, and the eroticization of her image was galling: could a woman not be respected for her work without sexualization? She soon dropped journalism, and effectively disappeared. She even switched brands, finding the new-generation BMW /5 series aesthetically disappointing, and instead rode a super-hot MV Agusta 750S. She was lost to history until 2009, when her photos appeared on an obscure Flikr account, which shot around the ‘Net – the original ‘who is she?’ I wondered too, and dug hard to discover Anke-Eve Goldmann’s story, which led to a meeting in Germany with her ex-husband Hans, who gave me permission to use his photos of AEG as I wished. But AEG refused to be interviewed; she’d felt burned by the film in ’68, and all over again in 2009, when her photos began appearing in leather-fetish websites. While the cat(suit) is out of the bag, we can still tell AEG’s story, and discover the woman in these remarkable photos.
Brough Superior - Back to Bonneville (2013)
Mark Upham pocketed the deed to Brough Superior back in 2008, and for the first time in many decades, Things Are Happening with the magic old name. Upham has sufficient charisma - plus, apparently, the cash - to have gathered a talented crew about him in wide satellitic orbit, as near as the fortress-stone Austrian farmhouse he calls home, and as far as racetrack workshops in California. Whether you're a fan or not (and as he said to me last week, 'Not everyone loves me, Paul'), one must give credit to the man for raising the visibility of the Brough marque out of its comfy post-production wall-niche, where it lay dormant, velvet-cosseted and expensive. Brough Superior's deeply lacquered reputation - established by George Brough's ad-man bluster, and snowballing ever since - has become a blanket thick enough to protect the investments Broughs have become. Those of us who've owned the things know them to be actual motorcycles, with 'particular characteristics' one just might call (whisper it) flaws.
Broughs are at the top of the heap today - a glance at my 'Top 20' will confirm that handily - and poking that Reputation with the sharp stick of analysis is generally frowned upon, as is the rather outrageous ambition of Mr Upham to leverage the name and build New things, like 'continuation' SS101s, Bonneville salt flat racers, MotoGP2 racers, and coming soon - you heard it here so it must be true - brand new motorcycles bearing the gilded Jazz-age logo of Brough Superior. Who would have expected such things from an old-school motorcycle/parts dealer and auction house veteran? Nobody predicted the Enzo Ferrari of resurrected motorcycle brands.
Mark Upham has earned my respect, and continual puzzlement (is he barking mad, or fox-crazy?) by carving against the grain of contemporary moto-business wisdom. Building very, very expensive motorcycles is an excellent way to spend money, and a lousy way to earn it. Sponsoring a MotoGP2 team, the same. Commissioning a large crew to design, build, and develop TWO racing semi-vintage motorcycles, and shipping the whole circus to Utah to break speed records, double or triple ditto. Here's how to make money with a dead motorcycle brand: sell logo t-shirts. Or design logo clothes, drape them on Kate Moss, rack them in fancy department stores, and eventually sell the label at a massive profit in a few years. Repeat.
Yet Upham the contrarian carries on, doing as he pleases, leaving a wake of observers scratching their heads, wondering what on earth he thinks he's doing, or getting pissed off that he's doing it. The answer to that, backtracking 14 words, is 'as he pleases'. Having built a successful business selling old bike spares at British Only Austria, he seized the opportunity to purchase grandeur via the Brough Superior name, and it's a cloak he wears comfortably, with a wink, being primarily dedicated to doing as he pleases with the title 'Mr Brough Superior'.
Something interesting has happened with the rising interest in Bonneville and El Mirage - while they've been a mecca for speed-mad bikers and hot rodders for decades now, we've passed over a lull in the 1990s and 2000s, when frankly, a lot of people didn't give a hoot for the place. Speed records became irrelevant, because the machines setting them were no longer motorcycles, but two-wheeled missiles, whose fan base is miniscule indeed. But the clever fellows at the SCTA, and latterly BUB, have made a seemingly infinite number of categories in which one can set a record, many of which have no record at all, even today. The variety of rules equals a variety of bikes making records; BSAs, Indians, Triumphs, Harleys, etc. That's smart business, and has revived interest among the home-tuners and thrill-seekers eager to add their own tales to the fabled romance of the place.
The Salt Flat Broughs can't exactly be called 'new', because they use plenty of vintage parts: the 750cc 'Baby Pendine' Brough has a 1954 JAP racing engine with alloy top ends and a magnesium crankcase - proper racing fodder. Apparently the engine is one of only 6 or 7 built for racing in an Italian 750cc monoposto car class, one of which was campaigned by Scuderia Ferrari (who also fielded a motorcycle racing team prewar - see the story here). The 1150cc machine competes in a 1350cc class, and uses another 1950s JAP Mk2 magnesium/alloy engine, initially intended for sidecar Speedway and Cooper racing car use. The following comes from the Brough Superior website:
The Brough Superior 1150cc machine competing in the 1350 - APS – VF class achieved a speed of 110.454 mph in the first run and 116.882 mph on the return run to set an aggregate speed of 113.668 mph, a new AMA record. Later in the week, after further tuning of the bike and rider, the partial streamlining was removed and competing this time in the 1350 – A – VF class the motorcycle flew through the clocks at 122.614 mph in the first run and on the return run at 126.075 mph for an aggregate speed and new AMA record of 124.334 mph. This last run was actually the very last by any motorcycle in the entire competition as immediately afterwards the sky opened and there was a catastrophic storm and downpour of rain. Rider Eric Patterson and chief engineer Alastair Gibson were very pleased with the performance of what is essentially an engine that is well under the maximum class size.
The Brough Superior 750cc machine nicknamed the “Baby Pendine” by the team and prepared by Brough Superior designer and engineer Sam Lovegrove was even more successful as it achieved two FIM world and two AMA records. On the first day of the event it set two FIM and one AMA record in the 750 A-PS-VG classes. Ridden by famed motorcycle journalist Alan Cathcart the first ride was very much a shake down run at 97.260 mph over the flying mile. But he blitzed through the clocks at 105.004 mph on the return run for a new record average speed of 101.328.
The team quickly turned the bike around, and after patiently sitting in the sun for nearly three hours the team's third rider, TV presenter Henry Cole, rode in the 750 A-PS-VF class, and set a speed of 103.941 in the first run and 95.619 mph for the return creating a new AMA record of 99.780 mph. This bike ran smoothly and trouble free throughout the entire event and only required very minor changes to jetting, gearing and timing.
Brough Superior CEO Mark Upham pronounced himself satisfied with results achieved by the team. “We have attained the goals that we set ourselves at the beginning of the competition and continued with the story that is Brough Superior. This is the beginning of a new era for Brough Superior and with planning in place for our new modern machines the future looks very exciting”.
The Motorcycle Portraits: Giacomo Agostini
The Motorcycle Portraits is a project by photographer/filmmaker David Goldman, who travels the world making documentaries, and takes time out to interview interesting people in the motorcycle scene, wherever he might be. The result is a single exemplary photo, a geolocation of his subject, and a transcribed interview. The audio of his interviews can be found on The Motorcycle Portraits website.
The following Motorcycle Portraits session is with Giacomo Agostini, 15 times Grand Prix World Champion motorcycle racer and a legend of the sport, who is thankfully still with us, unlike many of his contemporaries in the dangerous years of GP racing - the 1960s and '70s - as motorcycles became incredibly fast but safety equipment and track safety design was stuck in the 1930s. Agostini was a guest of Team Obsolete in Brooklyn for their annual holiday celebration, and David Goldman took the opportunity to photograph and interview him.
Who are you?
I am Giacomo Agostini. I have won 15 World Championships with motorbikes, and I am in Brooklyn.
How did you get started with motorcycles?
When I was a bambino - a child - I thought about motorcycles. I don't know why! Also my family had nothing to do with motorcycles, but I loved motorcycles. Sometimes my father said 'danger', and 'you must go to school,' and he said 'no'. I said 'Papa I want to race, I want to race with the bike. Not with the car but with the bike.' So I started to love the motorcycle just when I am six or seven years old. For me it was a difficult subject to raise because my family didn't want me to ride, so I pushed a lot on my father. And my father said 'no, I won't sign the permission.' But later, a lawyer convinced my father to give me the permission to do the sport. Because the lawyer understood I just wanted to race motorcycles. And once I had the permission I started to race.
My first race was in 1962 and it was my first victory. I won with a Morini Sette Bello, it was a factory bike from Milan, and my main mechanic we called Boulangero because he was a baker - he didn't know how to change the spark plugs! And this is a very nice memory, because I went with my bike with no mechanics, and when I returned in the evening I was very happy because I beat a lot of riders with the factory bike. I cannot forget this because it was alive, my first love. Your first love you will never never forget, my memory will carry on.
Tell us a story that could only happen with motorcycles?
I don't think I have only one... no, I have three. One is when I went to my first race, as I said before, and I never forget because you know we never forget the first love. The second of course was when I won with MV Agusta my first World Championship in Monza. Monza is very close to my home town, and they had 150,000 people come to the track, but I didn't realize in that evening. Monday morning when I woke up and I read the the newspaper I understood I had won the World Championship. I cried a little because I was hoping for that from when I started to race, sure, but also from when I was a child.
The third one is when I when I changed from MV Agusta and decided to race for Yamaha. It was a very difficult decision, because my second family was MV Agusta. I went to Japan to try the two- stroke bike, after I was used to racing with a four-stroke. My first race was at Daytona: when I arrived in Daytona I was very surprised - the circuit is fantastic. And there were a lot of good American riders, and with the 700 I won the race. My first time in America, and this I will never forget because some people said 'now he's changed from four-stroke MV Agusta to Yamaha, and maybe he never wins'. But I did win that first race, and after that I also won the World Champion with Yamaha. The story is very nice. I cannot forget.
What do motorcycles mean to you?
The motorcycle for me is a love. I love motorcycles.
Adventures in Guzziland
The Avignon Motor Festival celebrates all powered vehicles, and is an understated, still-growing event, run over 3 days, with around 50,000 visitors. Tanks, cars, boats, planes, trucks, tractors, farm equipment, and motorcycles; this year (Ed- this was 2011) with a beyond-killer display of Moto Guzzis, including precious factory Grand Prix machines from the Moto Guzzi Museum. Also included were production bikes from all years: a mouth-watering display of exotica from the 1920s-1950s. Enjoy these 'vintage' iPhone2 photos!