Weston Cycling Club

Ch.8 from Basil Ralston’s memoir: My Ten Years in Weston 1926-1936:

Bill Glynn had a cycle shop in Vincent Street Cessnock where he made Standard Cycles.  In 1935 he made two cheap racing cycles at nine pounds ten shillings each, which was cheap even then.  My mother bought one for me.  It had an ordinary steel tapered frame, 28 inch flat sided rims with Dunlop ribbed tyres.  All parts were of steel and it had a narrow Whippet racing seat.  It was fitted with spring steel toeclips and good straps on the rat trap pedals.  There was one calliper brake.  The frame was finished on cream with red markings, chrome rims and it looked rather good.  I cleaned the rims with Brasso, which took all the chrome off.  I painted them red and they looked awful.  There were no variable gears and all racing bikes had fixed wheels, no free wheels.  The gear could be varied by changing the back sprocket or the chain wheel.

            A comparatively heavy bike coupled to my age of fourteen dictated a relatively low gear of 80, if you know what I mean.  I found I could push this gear all day, up and down hill.  Only it was too slow in a sprint at the finish.  In search of weight reduction I replaced the heavy ‘diamond’ outrigger with a lightweight one piece outrigger and handles.  Then I threw the brake away.

            I wore lightweight racing shoes with a leather bar on the sole, which fitted inside the pedals.  When I pulled the strap up tight my feet were locked on the pedals.  I pushed down with one pedal and pulled up with the other.  To brake I reversed the order.  For an emergency stop I lifted both feet in the straps, thus lifting the back wheel off the ground.  Then thump the wheel down with everything stationary.  More effective than any brake.  A bit hard on the tyres, stretched the chain a bit too.

            BMX bikes were not invented, nobody did wheelies.  Still, I could jerk on the handles and the straps at the same time and lift both wheels off the ground together.

            I really enjoyed my bike.  On Fridays I would ride from Weston to School at Cessnock.  In winter I would start off with hands in pockets to keep them warm and ride ‘no hands’ to Cessnock, including over Neath Hill.  Later I doubled Dot Clarkson over Neath Hill, then raced when we got to Cessnock.

            No riding to races in cars.  On the way home from school I would meet the train at Neath Station and ride beside it to Abermain.  I didn’t say it was a fast train.

            One day Bill Richardson suggested that I join the Cycling Club and take up racing.  Well, I could not play cricket.  I loved soccer so much, it was a tragedy I was no good at it.  I had to be good at something so I took up bike racing.  My first event started from the Denman Hotel, down through Weston to present Cliftleigh, then return to the Denman.  There were no junior races so I rode senior.  I started on ‘limit’ first off at the start with ‘Nutty’ McNeill.  At the turn at Cliftleigh I lost ‘Nutty’ so rode home by myself, riding happily along at my own pace.  It all caught up with me going up the long hill from Chinamans Hollow to the Denman.  I looked around to see pursuing cyclists coming.  I plugged along to just beat Billy Shone  by a wheel in my first race, for a prize of twelve shillings.

            The club kept no money.  Each race attracted a publicans donation and entry fee was on shilling.  The total pot was divided up, 60% for first, 20% for second,  10% for third and fastest time.  Club meetings were held on the grass opposite Mrs Hales Shop.  The only official was the handicapper, who also collected entries, acted as judge and starter, then paid the prize money.

            There was also racing on a Sunday afternoon at Stanford Merthyr.  No donation, entry fee of sixpence, so it was only for fun.  They had a girl’s race, Dot Clarkson was Champion.  The course was either along a dirt track which is now John Renshaw Drive, or through the bush to Maitland Road and Heddon Greta.  We had a local handicapper, so they were different from Weston.

            Then the Handicapper resigned and the Weston man took over.  We were told that we would run on Weston handicaps, but not be penalised for winning.  (At Weston a winner was penalised 20 seconds on his handicap.)  That suited me, I won three weeks running at Stanford on the same handicap.  They woke up to me then, we were told we would be penalised on our Weston handicap for winning at Stanford.  Well, who would incur a twenty second penalty for winning three shillings? Not likely.

            Away we went to Heddon Greta.  Coming home through the bush the whole field was in one  bunch, arguing because nobody would consent to win.  When we came out of the bush in sight of the finish two riders who were ‘foxing’ sprinted off while we rode behind laughing.

            As a  novelty we had slow races.  Wally Lomax would stand on his bike until everyone else had fallen off or finished, then sprint to the finish.  We threatened to disqualify him because he had not started.  So he would sprint half way, then stand absolutely still until everyone else was finished.  While he was waiting he would turn his front wheel at right angles, put a hand each side of the tyre and roll the bike around in circles.

            In 1936 members from Cessnock League Cycling Club met us and suggested we amalgamate. We were an amateur club but rode for money anyway.  The advantages would be better competition and bigger fields, thus more prize money.  We turned professional and amalgamated.  Despite the knockers it was a success.  We rode alternatively from Cessnock and Weston.

            We rode from Bonominis Hotel at Cessnock one Saturday.  Bob Shone stood on the footpath, each of us came up to him with money, and he wrote it down in a little black book.  The police constable arrested Bob for making an S.P. book on the footpath.  He was only taking our entries.

            In 1936 our famous speedway rider Paddy Dean and his father Long Jack took over the Wine Saloon at Wollombi.  Long Jack organised a ‘Back to Wollombi Celebration’.  There was a cycle race from Cessnock to Wollombi for the Paddy Dean Cup by Cessnock Amateur Club.  Bill Glynn, Secretary of the amateur club, organised a race for the league club, and gave a ‘quid’ as first prize.  Someone gave half a quid for second and a jeweller gave two silver cups.  I decided to win the race. 

            I had never been to Wollombi so I rode out to investigate.  I found most of the course to be only a bush track, so I carefully plotted the best way through the bad bits.  Approaching Wollombi was a good distance of level road, then a sharp turn uphill.  The finishing line was just over the crest.

            On the big day I arranged to work with George Burrell, sharing the pace.  It worked very well, by Bellbird there were five of us in front.  One rider wanted to loaf, so George threw his back wheel across and took half of Bills spokes.  That problem cured.  When we hit the bad road I used my knowledge gained on the Monday.  When other riders were jarring along in the corrugations or ploughing away in the loose dirt, I was riding in the good tracks I had picked out, saving a lot of energy.  Approaching Wollombi I took my share of the pace on the level part, then sat behind for a rest.  Around the last turn I wound up past everyone, shouted to George as I went past, and was over the finishing line before the others knew about it.  George was second, Perry Newton was third.  I still have the cup, minus one handle, but I spent the quid.  I still have the Centenary title.

            We also rode on Maitland Showground as a filler for the speedway.  The speedway had a poor year, we were really the main event.  However, I was a road rider not quick enough for the track.

            We rode a few times to North Carrington.  They had a track 220 yards around with a banking of fourteen feet and a tar surface.  The Champion was Jim Beath from Newcastle.  A few of us tried it but the competition was fierce.  The only coalfields rider to hold his own was Wally Lomax.

            On a Saturday afternoon Wally would ride from Cessnock to Weston, ride in the road race then home to Cessnock.  He had a pair of track racing wheels known as singles.  A cane rim with the tyre and tube all in one, running at high pressure not fit for road use.  Wally made two brackets, one to go each side of his front axle.  To each bracket he bolted a racing wheel so it was clear of the ground.  After dinner on Saturday he rode with his three front wheels to Maitland Speedway.  Changed to racing wheels, won a few races, changed wheels to ride home by midnight.  Dawn would find him with his three front wheels on the way to Carrington.  He often won races there too, then rode home again.  Now we see pampered bikes and riders, travelling in cars.

            The park at Weston is now Varty park.  No disrespect to Bill but its name is Pagans Park.  A priest on his rounds left his horse and sulky there.  When he had returned someone had re-harnessed the horse around a tree.  He called them a lot of Pagans, and that is its name.

            In 1936 my father prevailed on the Council to build a cycling track on the Park.  I complained that the radius used on the turns was too big.  Where the turns met the straights they made four corners.  They said no, the Engineer that laid it out built the track on Newcastle Sports Ground.   I had no argument, I did not see the Sports Ground until years later.  It was a horror with four corners too.  Our track had no banking, so local carrier Doug Parker carted tons of antbed – for free – to build them up.  The antbed was supposed to roll into a hard surface.  It did too. But there was always a supply of those tiny red pebbles on the surface like ball bearings rolling under our tyres and dropping us.  We bought brooms and had all hands out sweeping.  All we did was sweep the track away and still the pebbles came through.

            I rode in the first race on the track.  Four of us started.  On the first turn two of us followed the radius, over the bank and down to the creek.  We learned to handle the corners, then started sliding down on the pebbles.  I lost a large area of skin.  Next week I had a patch of leather sewn on my racing shorts.  We always had an ambulance and two nurses in attendance, our worst injury was a broken collarbone.

            We needed more organisation to run a track meeting.  My father appointed himself President and did most of the work.  We rented a public address system which we paid for commercials begged from business men.  We erected a fence and tried to charge admission so we could pay prize money.  It was free at the dogs, so nobody would pay to watch us.  There were junior and girl’s races.  Silvia Smith was girls champion.

            In August Perry Newton donated a pair of racing shoes for the three quarter mile, and an open order on his bike shop for the half mile.  I won the half mile.  In the three quarter with one lap to go I came inside the leader to pass.  His left pedal came down and chipped my front tyre in half.  Down I came on my leather patch.  The open order bought a new tyre and tube so I finished up square on the day. 

            Yes, the track was bad, we raced for nothing, we lost skin and we bent bikes.  But it was fun, we enjoyed the thrill of the slips and slides and pile-ups.  We wouldn’t have it any other way.  I was so sorry to see the track go to ruin.

Transcribed for the Weston History and Heritage website by Lynne Kermode.