Earliest fragments

Earliest Fragments

A tale about the earliest ever motorcyclists and fraternities

“I’m just a soul whose intentions are good/Oh lord, please don’t let me be misunderstood.” (The Animals).

Trying to trace the cultural heritage of biking uncovered a strange phenomenon. Bikers I was speaking to in the 1990’s were familiar with recent generations, but prior to the 1940s, biker culture seemed to evaporate. Coincidentally, it was around then that the media and other forces had misplaced the genuine biker identity. Because of this, pre 1940’s bikers were regarded as motorcyclists, with nothing more to their lives than mere mechanistic amusement. Yet while that is the true basic essence, there is evidence showing that a pre-40’s motorcycle culture had been very much alive - and that in its essence, was not so different from latter day biking.

The above images are from my collection made whilst I dealt in antiques - they are complete strangers and there is no identification on the pics.

The apparent frugal if not funereal mood of the early Victorian era made it an incongruous time for the birth of a free-spirited motorcycle culture. Society still had a medieval feel that centred on people and animal labour. This was in sharp contrast to the mechanisation of the industrial era. Being in its infancy, science yet had to make grounds for its own justification (in the West at least - the Chinese among others had long histories of science). The Industrial Revolution had split popular opinions. Many were against mechanisation, like the Luddites who believed their livelihoods were being taken over. So they smashed the machines, regarding them as harbingers of doom. This divided opinion naturally carried through into debates on motorcycles.

So ever since the first self-propelled two-wheelers had rolled, they had ridden into contention.

One area of support for machines came from the earlier Enlightenment movement, which had sown the seeds of reason and individuality, and had guided people away from tradition – the art-nouveaux movement is one beautiful aspect of that train of thought. From this arose a condition known as modernity, which included an appreciation of machines.

Many believed that a mechanised world would relieve people of manual labour and increase income and leisure time. The fascist writer Marinetti virtually deified the motor car. Some machines did become servants to humanity, but others created a sensation of futuristic awe and were destined to inspire and excite us. The earliest bikernauts were mostly inventors and engineers who tested their own equipment. It was a remote world of theory, muck and tools that would seemingly be forever banished to the shed.

Motorcycling historians tell us that the motorcycle was created because motor cars were expensive; therefore the first bikes had been the result of research for cheaper, lighter transport. They allege that no-one had had the idea of a motorbike in its own right.

The ecomony version did happen later, however, historic records show that the design for a motorcycle ‘proper’ is what had originally appeared. It eventually became favoured above all the other forms of powered two and three-wheelers.

There were also two other practical approach methods for devising motorcycles:

· Some were attempting to motorise the Hobby Horse or Vélocipede and these attempts seemed to disappear or hit a dead-end, possibly due to inherent design flaws.

· Meanwhile, and slightly confusingly, experiments by yet other people to provide pedal power for the Vélocipede eventually created the (metal-framed) bicycle. It was this that gave us the third motorbicycle construction concept: that of attaching engines to the newly developed bicycles. This naturally assumed the term motorcycle. Even though it was still relatively new, the bicycle’s popularity was paving the way for a natural progression onto the motorised two-wheelers.

Each route taken - the motorcycle design, motorised hobby-horse and motor-bicycle - essentially shared the same aim which certainly wasn’t simply thrift. The followings that grew around them were unified, although opinions and preferences were discussed. Even as the various forms of motorised two-wheeler were acquiring their separate names, there was still as yet no term for their enthusiasts. There lies one reason why they had seemingly not yet named themselves as a cultural collective; and why motorcycle histories have so far been unable to acknowledge biking’s cultural roots.

There were various factors that drew riders together. For one thing, the machines sold by some early enterprises didn’t undergo rigorous testing. Riding such unrefined machinery meant that people were frequently covered in oil and suffered burns from primitive ignition systems. Fractures and gravel rash were the results of insufficient brakes and other component failure. Weaknesses in structure, skidding through corners, having to stop to oil the engine, and making frequent repairs made bikes a joke in some people’s eyes.

Without first-hand experience, it was difficult to understand the rewards and gratification. Especially when the enthusiast often had to push the machine home, arriving mucky - but smiling.

There are many things we can do with impunity in private. Motorcycling is performed publicly, and was therefore destined to cause reaction. From the very beginning, to be a biker required a pioneering spirit, and an acceptance for being regarded oddly, if not as an oddity yourself.

By the late 1800’s, the print media had learned that by charging advertising fees, they could off-set the prohibitive costs of newspaper production. This allowed a greater circulation of news issues, and the press-influenced ‘public sphere’ was where many innovators were made or destroyed. Victorian public opinion (ironically expressed through the mechanically produced periodicals) was prevalently anti-machine, tending to be more vehement in its dislike of the motorcycle. But the media, then as now, consider anything with a news-value as saleable. Sensationalism keeps publications afloat because the curiosity of humans is never satiated. So exploits on motor bicycles became heroic tales that jostled for space with stories of aviation and other modernist developments. This allowed the motor bicycle’s popularity to spread more rapidly than by word-of-mouth.

Although reading newspapers is a solitary occupation, it also forms a collective consciousness. Motor bicyclists reading about others felt a shared experience. Besides discussing their own immediate bike issues, newspaper biking stories also entered rider’s conversations. Whilst they were consciously acknowledging other bikers, they were unconsciously acknowledging the fact that the rest of the world had acknowledged them; favourably or otherwise. It also introduced contention alongside viability, as the social commentors reflected mixed attitudes.

An unknown source stated that: “The attempt to attach motors to bicycles is a mistake.” Indeed, overcoming such technical difficulties showed great courage in the face of danger. It also required a firm resolve, because Victorian society loved nothing more than ridiculing and condemning the substance of its own progress. The dislike generated in the public sphere created contempt and rejection, and convinced people that the idea wouldn’t work. That contention triggered a natural human reaction - in those who will go to any lengths to prove that it would. One such person was Gottlieb Daimler, who, in a garden shed, used a petrol engine to create what is believed to be the first self-propelled two-wheeler. The product of adversity is often determination rather than submission, and furthermore, it becomes a catalyst for drawing people together. Not recognised as such at the time, the biking resolve was born in the minds of those determined that their dreams and ideas could become reality.

It would be reasonable to expect publications concerning mechanistic development to at least be critically constructive, if not supportive. But ironically, a publication called Engineering also lambasted motor bicycle enthusiasts, stating that to own such a machine: “One had to be either a very enthusiastic mechanical amateur or a devoted seeker of notoriety.” Despite such journalistic disapprovals, yet also because of them, no longer were the early riders isolated in their sheds. Reportage of these shared injuries and notoriety was bringing them together in the public eye.

In 1913, an article in Collier’s Magazine said:

“All you have to do is pedal until the engine goes off and then steer it down the road, missing teams (of horses) and street cars and small houses as long as you can. You increase the speed by turning one handle and control the spark by turning the other, brake with your right hand, work the clutch with your left, and keep track of your oil and gasoline and electricity with your other hands.”

The public who laughed at this unwittingly shared the joke with the riders, whose ability to laugh at themselves kept them going in the face of adversity. The difficulties of early riding caused them to acquire a philosophical view. Taking yourself too seriously can make life more difficult than it already is. Whilst latter day bikers seldom underestimate any situation, their attitude towards virtually everything is couched in a humour verging on contempt. This is partly due to the infectious attitude of their predecessors, which easily manifested itself in subsequent generations - especially as adversity (imposed by dissenters and legislators alike) has never been too distant from the world of biking.

As well as the opposition, there was also some envy and fear of people who dared to indulge in excitement. Contempt is an ignorant device of fear, as later generations of pro-active and demonstrative bikers also discovered. By being new and exhilarating, the motor bicycle was on the edge from the start. It was the rift between the adventuresome people and more staid society that created the earliest (although unrecognised) concept of a separate biker culture; the world of the motor bicycling enthusiast. The recognition of this enthusiasm among individuals and groups was the kernel of that same recognition that latter-day bikers enjoy. It not only denotes a liking for the machine, but connotes attitudes and behaviour that are easy-going and unaffected.

A simple, human phenomenon lay at the root of familiarity between riders. People change when they’re travelling. It’s a feeling similar to the mood that overtakes us while on holiday. We become more inclined to acknowledge strangers, and the inherent weaknesses in bike construction caused the way-side to become the theatre for mini-dramas.

The scenario for the first ever sociable exchange between biking enthusiasts will probably never be known. It is however, easy enough to imagine. For example, an inventor gets the engine to fire and engages the drive mechanism. They wibble off into an uncertain but exciting future with local children and animal populations giving chase. After some distance, an adjustment or repair causes a stop. Not too far away, with a bang that invokes Beelzebub, another rider and machine judder over twitching cobbles. Then the sight of a similar machine at the roadside makes them start – has someone beaten them to it? No, wait, they need help. The other machine rider looks up with equal amazement, almost too stunned to acknowledge this nemesis, this alien cousin.

In a world where the known number of motorcycles to either person numbers just one, curiosity now becomes the greatest ever power. The second rider pulls over to speak with the other. What a conversation that must have been. Human nature being what it is, that compulsive urge has not lessened. It has resolved into something far greater than any early exponent can ever image…despite the mobile phone meaning one is never truly stranded (for long).

The exchange between strangers assisting or simply acknowledging each other was growing into a camaraderie that further strengthened the biking resolve. Motor bicyclists were finding each other, and new clubs were being founded in people’s enthusiasm for bikes. These clubs marked the first milestone in biking unity and there was encouragement from within them. Mr. F. Straight, secretary of the Auto-Cycle Club said: “The novice need have no fear of his motor bicycle. It is not a haphazard aggregation of bits of metal, and although there are bicycle motors composed of more than 140 separate pieces, they present no unfathomable mystery.”

This statement gives us a glimpse of the awe and mysticism surrounding machines in those days. Some people were still actually afraid of travelling at anything over 10 mph, which, it was believed, could cause speeding objects to burst into flames. This was based on earlier misguided ideas concerning friction, but seemed very real at the time. Whilst the misgivings might have been justified by the fear of rapid travel, the pro-bike commentors were trying to alleviate the technophobia by explaining the simplicity of the mechanisms.

For some, this was encouragement enough and early bikernauts included prospective dealers, and members of the press, who were keen to try out new inventions. Demonstration machines were sometimes available at fairs and shows, and the Motorzweirad was tested in Paris, by bicycle businessman Louis Superbie. He wrote: “I took the machine in hand and after the first few explosions, imitated the German rider by vaulting into the saddle. I have never forgotten the first sensation of riding a bicycle propelled by its own power. The feeling of moving over the ground without effort was delightful. The machine did not seem to go fast enough and I fumbled with the thumbscrew until the motor began to move more quickly. I had evidently touched the right spot where the mixture was best, and soon found myself in a part of the country unknown to me. I thought of turning back, but then it occurred to me that if I stopped the motor I might not get it to start again. To tell the truth, I couldn’t turn. The machine was running too fast, and the more I worried the thumbscrew the worse it behaved. At one moment the motor would drop to a crawl, then suddenly pick up and dash forward at such a speed that all I could do was to keep steering straight. I continued until I came to a cross road and took the one I thought would lead me back to the starting point...and at length burst upon the astonished company. I shut off the petrol supply and dismounted as gracefully as I could. From that moment I became a staunch believer in the motor-bicycle and predicted a great future for it.”

Professional accolades like this served to further the bike’s public acceptance, and affirmed the enthusiasm of those already into bikes. Superbie graphically describes how enjoyable early motor bicycling was. His comments about the sensation of being propelled along are comparable with anyone’s first ride. He also highlighted the difficulties, not just for those who had to seek refuge from approaching bikes, but for the rider as well. A riding technique is required, which once mastered, becomes the (performing) art of motorcycling.

Although he was impressed by the test ride, Superbie changed the Teutonic Motorzweirad name to Petrolette for the French market. This may seem disrespectful towards the Germans, but what it did was to familiarise the concept to the French market. Similar tests on French, British and American machines in each other’s countries compounded the bike’s international growth. Its fledgling fraternities developed socially with each mechanistic interchange.

Early bike manufacture was a financial gamble, sometimes beyond the means of the individuals who had faith in the bike’s success. So aristocrats and wealthy business people provided funding. They also indulged in riding their product, which spread the enthusiasm for motorised bicycles from the eccentricity of the innovator’s world into the upper classes.

Over a twenty-year period from around 1885 to 1905, as it gained popularity, the motor bicycle was gradually reverting to the motorcycle theme. The import of improved continental bikes stimulated further development in the UK, but according to motorcycle histories, the general public there felt that the motor tricycle as a more practical proposition. In 1901, the Society of the Arts had decided to give a lecture on ‘motorcycles’. This not only enlightened some people about the practicabilities and other issues concerning motorcycles, but it also made an authoritative public gesture of acceptance - inasmuch as Victorians might respect artistic types. Expressing a preference for the motorcycle over the tricycle, Charles Jarrot made an insightful statement, which speaks for itself and for early bike fans. He said:

“The smoothness with which it travelled over the road in comparison with a motor tricycle was very marked, and the assistance one could give the motor by pedalling made a great difference to its speed. I was able to gauge what the delights of motorcycling would be, provided the machine was fairly light, easily controlled, and reasonably powerful.”

Another unknown motoring journal agreed, saying: “There is, we think, little doubt that motor bicycles are likely to have a much greater vogue than is supposed.” It could be said that the people voted with their handlebars, because by June of 1905, 34,700 motorcycles were registered in the UK alone.

Although it didn’t come into immediate general use, the first machine accredited with the generic term motorcycle was the Motorad or Motorzweirad, built by Germans Hildebrand and Wolfmúller in 1894. Translated into the English, Motorad gave us the (compound/portmanteau) word motorcycle. A sensible, practical term for something that came to stir much emotion and irrational contention. It was in 1903 that the Belgian firm F.N. made the first efforts at motorcycle mass-production. Both the Motorad and F.N. were ahead of the term’s general usage, as 1910 seems to be the actual break-point when the fragmentary ‘motorised two-wheeler’ themes were abandoned in favour of a purpose-built motorcycle. This technological conformity consolidated the manufacturing industry – and gelled with the biking public’s notion. With the late introduction of the term motorcycle, the motor-bicycling enthusiast became the motorcycle enthusiast. This was only a slight shift in the wording, but it gave a distinct sign that bikes (and bikers) were becoming a discernible entity.

The Engineering magazine still retained their negative posture, and in 1901, declared the motorcycle to be:

“A form of entertainment that can appeal only, one would think, to the most enthusiastic of mechanical eccentrics. Much as we admire the boldness of those who design an engine-driven vehicle which will not stand upright of itself, and the ingenuity with which the details are worked out, we think it doubtful whether the motorcycle will, when the novelty has worn off, take a firm hold of public favour.”

In retrospect a biker would not know whether to laugh or despair at these comments, which both typify Victorian attitudes towards 'novelty' and isolate the enthusiasts from the mainstream - perhaps such people were never part of it anyway. The reference in the above text to motorcyclists as ‘eccentrics’ infers a personal rather than simply mechanistic aversion, thus colouring the political and social stance of biking.

The central argument given above, that a bike cannot stay upright when stationary, shows a lack of knowledge for the subject; a factor known as auto-stability comes into force at the most vital moment - when a bike is in motion. Momentum causes the bike to rise into an upright position, through centrifugal and gyroscopic forces acting on the wheels (it is probably worth adding for the pedants that it is simple to attach a stand or lan against a wall, whatever, for when the machine is stationary). A similar effect can be seen in the tendency for a rolling hoop to remain upright. This phenomenon occurred in the now acceptable bicycle, but as a self-propelled machine, the motorcycle was viewed in a dim light.

Various skills had to be brought together to bring about the motorcycle concept; seldom was any single person capable of creating a complete and satisfactory machine. The cost of this complex production put motorcycles beyond the means of the masses. But this changed as the technique of mass-production lowered retail prices, resulting in firms buying in the components - the frame andbody parts like mudguards being the only items actually manufactured by the parent enterprise. Once assembled, they were given a badge, or name. This practice of badge engineering allowed firms to build economy models without blighting the reputation of their principle machines.

The similarity and often inferior performance of the economy models wasn’t an issue to the masses requiring cheap transport, but enthusiasts sought out machines built for quality and performance. It was a narrower market, but some manufacturers recognised the niche, selling their machines on merit achieved through competition. Despite the various improvements, bikes were still desperately unreliable, and riders had to be conversant with bike mechanisms if they were going to regularly complete their journeys. So the craft of biking involved carrying tools as well as mastering the pedal-start, or running alongside and jumping on, which became known as the bump-start.

The use of tools at the dawn of motorcycling distinguished it from mere leisure and promoted its self-sufficiency. Also, learning to ride something alters the way that a culture is made and actually functions. We know that culture can travel,for example through evidence found at points on the Silk Road. Along this road, through the mobility of the beasts like the horse and camel, many ancient cultures became enmeshed. We can therefore see why biking is so freely associated with equestrianism. In biking, as with pure horse riding, necessity was not the only motivation. Often the aim was not to arrive at some place, but to be always in between.

Outside of any spoken, artistic or written media, roads are arterial paths for cultural flows. By building better roads, the modern era caused an easing and growth of that flow. It changed not just the complexion of landscapes, but of societies everywhere. In effect, the lattr half of the 20th century also contributed to some societal breakdown though people leaving communities behind. Throughout time, the road, fire (the internal combustion engine in this case) and the wheel have been physically integral to human development and cultural changes. Whilst other vehicles like cars and lorries became subsumed into mass society, motorcycles, by dint of their peculiarity and fledgling culture, were pushed away from it.

Out on the road, any convenient Ale House or Tea Room situated near favourite biking routes hosted casual and organised gatherings. Mass society joined the Victorian-made urge to take holidays and outings, using the train or charabanc as a means to reach their destination; for them, the ride was an incidental pleasure. Many motorcycle riders went camping, climbing, and fishing, whatever, but for them, the act of motorcycling was an equal if not foremost activity. That said, there were cavers and other unusual/extreme sport indulgers among the biking throngs who also, like the average biking individual (if there is such a thing) add to the cultural colour. Some enjoyed the scenery on the ride; others timed themselves or found other ways to compete informally and take pleasure in the biking. The stopping places were enjoyed, but acted more as recuperation points before further riding was indulged, rather than as destinations in themselves. One such place was the Swan’s Nest pub at Stratford-on-Avon. This was Shakespeare’s old stomping ground, and it was through the part of King John, that he said: “The spirit of the time shall teach me speed.”

The spirit of early biking times was indeed climbing a steep learning curve. Along with all the technical development, the human aspect was active in creating identities, and new words and terms. Also used among aviators and car-racers, they found their way into everyday language. The Ace of Clubs symbol was taken from the deck of cards and applied as a sign of prowess on bikes; based in the ideal that one person might excel and be known among clubs out side of their own. It also gave us the epithet Ace, for talented riders. The name Wizard was given to someone with excellent riding capabilities, and was also often applied to those who tuned engines. Their mystical know-how seemed comparable with alchemy. The word wizard climaxed as a descriptive term referring to excellence; What a wizard ride we had. With a tongue-in-cheek humour, less capable riders were also given these and other laudatory titles by their friends. This is part of that sense of humour (rather than machismo) that motorcyclists had adapted, which allows insult to be a sign of affection.

One way of understanding people is through their collections of literature and artefacts; they define something of a person’s interest. The den of a motorcyclist became recognisable as lucky mascots and other paraphernalia began to appear. There would be places for clothing, literature, and trophies. Damaged parts like pistons were used as paper-weights or ash-trays. The domestic invasion put motorcycle parts in bedrooms and other hidey-holes and the oven also came in handy when parts needed heating up to be worked on. The motor-house, or garage, as we now call it, made an excellent place for maintenance and socialising. Buckled wheels and bent frames joined collections of number-plates from previously owned bikes. These artefacts spoke of an ongoing history of incident and adventure, serving as conversation pieces like objets d’art.

Evidence of early Biker activities occasionally turns up in local museums and libraries. The Rotherham Museum, in the UK, displays two medals won by an S. Baker in 1913. A check with Rotherham library’s records found two S. Bakers, members of the Rotherham and District Motorcycle Club. It’s not known whether both or either one had won the medals. What’s important is the information we can glean from the stories behind them. One medal was awarded as the Pickford Trophy for Reliability, while the other was from a speed trial. The Mr. Pickford whom one trophy was named after, was a reputable solicitor, and the Bakers owned a business building rolling stock for railways. Among the doctors and other professionals whose names and occupations also appeared on the Rotherham club’s membership list, we get an idea of the status of these early riders. The award for achievement in a speed trial also tells us that they didn’t just hang around; an addiction to speed was already in place.

Whilst such riders were obviously enjoying each other’s company and support, the general public still regarded biking as a novelty. Curiosities had become a great yet paradoxical Victorian obsession. Domestic gadgets like washing machines were the pets of modernistic amusement, whilst their purpose was based in practicality. At the same time, the camera was viewed as a plaything, yet it has served us in many practical ways. The difference between amused Victorian society and the motorcycling enthusiast was the latter’s genuine passion for their machines.

Within a decade of the first self-propelled two-wheeler’s appearance, the local, national and international coalescence of minority groups had taken shape. Early riders shared many concerns, including a wish to survive into the future. These concerns cemented the foundations for a lasting global culture.