Lady cyclists

Although women in France and America rode two-wheel velocipedes no reports of women in Scotland riding one has been found. While it is possible a few did, it is as likely none did for in the 1870s Scottish society was still largely puritanical with sexist attitudes. Thus for a woman to have ridden a velocipede would have been judged iniquitous. It also would have been considered dangerous for even a woman riding a horse in Scotland in the 1850s was open to maltreatment. ‘I allude to the foolish and dangerous custom of children screaming out to and following lady equestrians. Whenever a lady on horseback is observed groups of children congregate and try their best to frighten the horse by yelling at the tops of their voices. By the above-mentioned foolish custom, riding by ladies is rendered highly unpleasant.’[1] Also long dresses and tight corsets were hardly compatible with the early velocipedes.

This combination of fashionable clothes unsuitable for riding on two wheels and potential social derision, plus regular negative press articles about women cycling, also dissuaded Scottish women from riding a high wheel bicycle. One account in 1879 of an American ‘lady bicyclist’ that was carried in many Scottish newspapers clearly was written in such a way as to discourage Scottish ladies from taking up cycling: ‘She rode clad in semi-masculine garb....She had fallen and broken her nose.’[2] Also given genteel ladies’ disapproving opinion of women who went on the stage, appearances by lady cyclists at entertainment venues, such as Madame Cora ‘the Bicycle Queen’ who performed at Glasgow’s Gaiety Theatre in 1885[3] only confirmed society's view that cycling was not a suitable activity for refined women. One further barrier to cycling for the great majority of women in the early days of bicycles was that they married relatively young and most, once married spent many years pregnant as large families were the custom.

The relatively few women that took up cycling chose the tricycle. It was safer, could be ridden in fashionable clothes and was more socially acceptable. Women wishing to ride one could take lessons from Madame Maginel at the Parisian Velocipede Academy in Glasgow that was: ‘fitted with the form of an old fashioned bridge, a rise and fall, so that riders may gain confidence in ascending and descending.’[4]

When the safety bicycle was first developed bicycle designers did not consider female cyclists as a potential market. Bicycles were still considered machines for young men so the diamond frame with its high crossbar was the standard on most models. However, eventually models did emerge with drop-frames aimed at upper- and middle-class women. Cycling among working-class women remained unusual until the First World War brought radical shifts in work opportunities for women, as the majority were employed as a servant or in a factory, and neither job paid well or left sufficient spare time for bothering to own a bicycle. Those that were married also spent many years pregnant.

Newspaper articles continued to mock female cyclists: ‘The sight of the lady bicyclist going uphill is enough to deter the most venturesome from going and doing likewise. She and her machine wobble from side to side as though they had both partaken, not wisely but too well, of liquid refreshment. She is usually red in the face, too, and has decidedly cross look, none of these things becoming young woman.’[5]

As safety bicycles were still difficult for women in fashionable long skirts to ride as such clothes could easily get caught up in the chain and pedals, some formed the ‘Rational Dress Society’ to promote sensible dress for riding a bicycle. ‘A new costume for muddy weather has, says a writer in the Daily News, been invented by Mrs Charles Hancock, and having been exhibited to a gathering of ladies, has won their commendation. It is in accordance with the principles of the Rational Dress Society being simple in form, hygienic in character, and combines warmth with lightness. The material of the costume exhibited is thick brown tweed. There are five parts, all made in tweed viz., bodice, skirt, knickerbockers, gaiters, and outdoor jacket. The skirt is made without a foundation, and five inches shorter than the usual walking dress. There are two large box-pleats at the sides and two at the back; these latter, being double bands of wide elastic, keep them in position. The back breadths are lined on the inner aide with mackintosh, three inches deep. From this the mud can easily be sponged, in case of any splashes. Beneath the skirt are the warm tweed knickerbockers, and gaiters of the same that reach to the knee. For outdoor wear the warm double-breasted coat is in tweed, semi-fitting, and with sleeves of the same, which easily slip on over the cloth ones. A brown felt Toreador hat is suggested as suitable form headgear for wearing with the new costume for muddy weather. For young women employed in shops, and others whose vocations take them out day after day, such a costume as that devised by Mrs Hancock would be a boon as it would avert cold, and free them of an umbrella, bag, muff, and a handful of skirt. If well-dressed women would only lead the way, the shop assistant and the telegraph clerk would soon follow suit.'[6]

Yet any Scottish women who were early converts to the new fashion for ‘Rational Dress’ had to have pluck: ‘A lady bicyclist was to be be seen riding rapidly along the main street of Greenock dressed in that much-talked-of costume, the divided skirt. The event created an enormous sensation in town, especially among the male members of the community who rushed to see the new arrival.’[7] In Motherwell, ‘when a lady cyclist happens to pass through the Craigneuk district the wives from the miners’ houses turn out in full force to hiss and boo and otherwise express disapprobation with that species of “new woman.”’[8]  Even by 1894 the writer of the Ladies Column in the Dundee Evening Telegraph was ambivalent: ‘I was amazed as well as amused last week in London to come across a lady bicyclist, attired in smart mannish costume and gaily pedalling her way through the streets. She wore a cool-looking pepper-and-salt mixture, knickerbockers and long skirted coat, which flapped in the wind, and her gaiters were to match. I looked after her with mixed feelings. She was certainly rationally dressed - but there was something repugnant about the frank assumption of male attire.’[9]

What the Dundee writer had observed was a significant change of attitude to cycling amongst the fashionable set. Constance Everett-Green, a prominent female cycle journalist, wrote: ‘It would hardly be too much to say that in April 1895 one was considered eccentric for riding a bicycle, whilst by the end of June eccentricity rested with those who did not ride.’[10] By the following year The Sketch, a British illustrated weekly journal which focused on high society and the aristocracy, had introduced a regular column entitled, Woman on Wheels that promoted women’s cycling. Naturally the latest cycling fashions for women were featured: ‘Cycling-suits for ladies made in corduroy velveteen seem to be popular, and are certainly deliciously warm. The coat and knickerbockers are made of the corduroy, and the blouse or waistcoat of a bright tartan, or sometimes in white or coloured silk or pique, with a black or coloured necktie. I hear that toques in various kinds of fur are most fashionable for lady riders this winter.’[11] Yet the column also featured the latest bicycle models and innovations in chains, lamps and other bicycling equipment. And the column was quick to put down those who argued that women should not be seen cycling.  This promotion of the cycling activities of the fashionable set in London no doubt began to reassure women in Scotland that being on a bicycle was perfectly respectable.

While it was reported that it was not until August 1893 that a lady cyclist was seen in Tomintoul by then women cyclists were a common sight in Edinburgh: ‘Along Queensferry Road in Edinburgh the lady cyclist is very much in evidence, and her perfection in the art of riding is to be witnessed in every degree. This seems a favourite road for learners, being comparatively level, while the traffic is never very heavy. In the streets of the city the appearance of lady cyclists excites no comment, for they have come to be regarded an established institution. Only one lady cyclist now arrests the attention of passers-by. This is a middle-aged lady with a red Tam o' Shanter decked with a large feather and it is quite a treat to see her "scorching" along Princes Street. Some firm appears to have engaged the Waverley Market as a training school, and every forenoon the amateur cyclist may be seen at her lessons. This cycling fever has done some good by furnishing the ladies' costumiers with a new outlet for their energies. All the leading dressmakers' shops have gone in for cycling costumes as a regular part of their business, and in the Princes Street shop windows ladies' bicycles are displayed along with feminine finery.'[12]

Yet prejudice against women cyclists remained. In 1902 when Rosa Symons was cycling from Land’s End to John O’Groats she arrived in Edinburgh wearing rational dress and ten hotels in the city refused her accommodation. ‘The Edinburgh inhabitants are the most horrid I have ever come across. They followed me by the thousands although I had my skirt on, my riding for that day being finished.’ She was forced to take shelter in a police station until the crowd had dispersed, and the police then found her a hotel willing to let her stay the night.[13]

While women were more than welcome at the cycle clubs’ balls and other social events, only a few were admitted as members. The Wick Cycle Club unusually advertised in 1890: ‘Lady cyclists are cordially invited to become members’ but at the club’s first run of 1897, ‘only two young ladies had the courage to put in an appearance. As memento of the occasion they were each given a pair of gloves.’[14] In 1887 the club received a donation towards its championship race from Lady Florence Dixie who spent time in the area. Although there is no record of her riding a bicycle, given her keen sporting interests – she shocked society by playing football and was the first to tour a ladies’ football team to Scotland - and her strong stance on women’s rights it is possible that she might have joined in a cycle club run while in Wick.

Some of the clubs that allowed a woman to join insisted that she had to be associated with a male club member, and often women members were denied full privileges. Yet the East of Scotland and Edinburgh B.C. clearly valued its one female member for in 1892 they gave her a farewell dinner. ‘The dinner was to say goodbye to the club’s only lady safetyist (safety bicycle rider) who was deserting the Auld Reekie for London. Captain Laing presided. After a little music he made a humorous speech and then the fair guest departed for town under a select convoy, the majority following in time to make the Waverley Station ring out with “Hi-yi-yi” as the 10.40 express steamed out.’[15] The woman was probably Annie Pavey for when she married John Charteris in 1896 the Scottish Referee wrote: ‘Members of the East of Scotland C.C.  will remember Mr Charteris and have heard of and possibly met the bride. Mr Charteris is to be thanked for having brought back to the smoky city one of its pioneer lady bicyclists. I wish them fair weather, a favouring wind and freedom from spills and punctures during their journey through life on a bicycle built for two.’[16]

A court case in 1896 perhaps indicates that even where women were admitted as members to previously male clubs, not all male members were happy at their inclusion. Jeanne Alexander sued the committee of Dunfermline Cycling Club for £500 damages for alleged slander. Alexander was an enthusiastic member of the club and had sent out circulars encouraging other women to join. The committee felt she had overstepped her position and wrote a letter to that effect, instructing her to cease her promotion and informing her that she had no authority to collect subscriptions for the club. Alexander told the court she thought the letter ‘calumniously imputed that she was guilty of fraudulent conduct’, and had been so affected that she had been seized with fainting fits. Although the jury unanimously found in Alexander’s favour, they perhaps considered the letter not as defamatory as she claimed for they agreed damages of just £5.[17] One divorce case no doubt confirmed the prejudices of those who were against mixed clubs. Maggie McWatters, the wife of a Glasgow fruiterer, was a keen cyclist but her husband was not. So she joined a cycling club and spent most of her weekends participating in the club’s runs. Another of those enjoying the cycling weekends was Donald Thomson, and he and Maggie became friendly. Eventually Maggie left her husband to co-habit with Donald and unsurprisingly this led to her being divorced. What may have been harder to bear for Maggie, and Donald, was that they were expelled from the cycling club.

Many women cyclists wished to ride and socialise with other women, and so female clubs began to be established. The first women’s cycle club was formed in Dundee in 1894 with an initial membership of around twelve. ‘It was agreed that Club runs should be held on the afternoons of Wednesday and Saturday from the Esplanade. The local paper commented: ‘The good people of Dundee are disposed to think unfavourably on women who cycle, but during the past year prejudice seems to have almost died out. The Dundee Ladies’ Cycling Club has done a great deal to encourage cycling among women. One of its shining lights is Miss Birmingham, who wields the secretarial pen.’[18] Two years later women’s clubs opened in Edinburgh and Glasgow. At the latter the subscription was five shillings a year ‘including a silver club badge.’ Others that formed in the 1890s included the splendidly named St. Baldred’s Lady’s Cycle Club in North Berwick and the more mundanely named Montrose Ladies Cycling Club. ‘Considering the large number of young ladies in Montrose who are now cyclists, it is conjectured that the Club recently formed will have a considerable membership and there was an indication of that at a meeting held last night, when a good many members were enrolled. It was agreed that while the primary object of the club should be the promotion of cycling, meetings of a social nature should be held weekly in the Queen's Temperance Hotel. It was also agreed that the Club members should have a special cycling costume, the distinguishing feature being a white straw sailor hat having a band of navy blue with white edging, and the monogram MLCC, while for the younger members white Tam O’ Shanter bonnets, with a band similar to that of the straw hats, are to be provided.’[19]

The women’s clubs may have provided tea at their events rather than the alcohol favoured by many of the men’s’ clubs, but the social events were similar. The ladies in Dundee held their first dance within their first year while the Glasgow club held an ‘At Home’: ‘Among the excellent variety programme, songs were tastefully rendered by a number of members while banjo, mandolin, and violin solos were contributed in an able manner by Misses Gilbey and Miss Armstrong. During one of the intervals Miss Cuthbertson, on behalf of the club, presented a gold bugle to Mrs Morgan, one of the oldest members, who is leaving shortly for London.’[20] A feature of a number of the female cycling clubs was giving performances of synchronised riding. A 1899 film shows a group of women bicyclists, all dressed in white, weaving in and out of bollards.[21] At the Glasgow International Exhibition of 1901, held in Kelvingrove Park, spectators who paid sixpence could watch such a performance in the Sports Ground by the Glasgow Ladies Cycling Club: ‘Chiefly designed as an entertainment, the Gymkhana features a parade of historical lady cyclists, a musical drill of synchronized cycling, and several strange races. Bring along your own decorated bike for a chance to win the prize of the Best-Dressed Wheel.’[22]

Many of the women who took up cycling in the 1890s had to be of a determined frame of mind. The Victorian view was that any challenge to the conventional roles of men and women was to be avoided. Women riding bicycles in knickerbockers were seen as a challenge to the status quo and many were concerned that this might result in women abandoning their expected domestic role. Prejudice against women cycling was the least of the obstacles most female students faced at the turn of the century and thus many cycled. When the Muir Hall of Residence for female students at Edinburgh university was opened in 1898 not only were ‘tastefully and artistically done up rooms and everything on modern lines’ provided, but also a bicycle shed. No doubt a number of these female students were supporters of the Suffragette movement for which the bicycle became a symbol of the ‘new woman’.

The Pankhurst sisters, Christabel, Sylvia, and Adela, who founded the Women’s Suffrage and Political Union, were members of the Clarion Cycling Club when young as their parents were keen cyclists and socialists. When Mr Pankhurst died in 1898 a band of Clarion Cyclists accompanied his funeral procession. One of the leading Scottish Suffragettes was Flora Drummond. She grew up on Arran and in 1893, aged fifteen, moved to Glasgow to study. Although she qualified as a postmistress she was rejected because being 5′ 2″ she failed to meet the minimum height requirement. She married Joseph Drummond, an upholsterer, and they lived in Manchester for a time, where they both were part of the socialist movement. In 1906 Flora joined the Women’s Social and Political Union (WSPU) after hearing a speech by the Pankhurst sisters and she proved an effective organiser. Influenced by the Clarion Cycling Clubs she helped pioneer the use of bicycles in the WSPU campaigning, creating WSPU Cycling Scout groups across the country to promote the principle of votes for women. As captain of the London branch, each Saturday Drummond would ride out of central London with up to thirty suffragettes, all dressed in the purple, white, and green colours of the union and riding bicycles decorated with flags, to promote the cause as she recounted: ‘We ride into a district, introduce ourselves to the police, and tell them we are going to hold a meeting in the village square. Then we get on a chair or a box, as the case may be, form our cycles into a group around it, and deliver the gospel of votes to women.’[23] As well as riding her bicycle, Drummond liked to ride a real horse and was nicknamed ‘The General’ as she had a penchant for leading processions on horseback while dressed in mock-military regalia. In 1909 she organised the first WSPU procession in Edinburgh at which an estimated 10,000 women marched. Like many Suffragettes she suffered for the cause, being imprisoned nine times. The more militant suffragettes carried out acts of arson and vandalism, such as ‘Pillar Box Outrages’ where oil or corrosive substances were poured in, and being on a bicycle allowed the militants to make a speedy escape if spotted. In 1914 two militants set out by bicycle to blow up Burns Cottage in Alloway but were arrested on the way. In 1914 the suffragette Countess Russell wrote in the Daily Mail: ‘The bicycle was our first badge of freedom, and I have often wondered why the feminists have not taken the bicycle as a design and honoured it by wearing ornaments made in its shape and having it on their flags as the symbol of freedom’

Yet the suffragettes, and other women who were challenging the out-dated political and social norms of the day, did not ride a bicycle only to make a political point. They also cycled for pleasure. Dr Elsie Ingles who fought against the medical establishment’s prejudice against women practicing as doctors and founded the Scottish Women's Hospitals was a keen cyclist. Every September she would travel by train into the Highlands with just her bicycle for company and alight at one of the stations. She would then spend a fortnight cycling between local hotels, admiring the scenery and occasionally stopping to paint the landscape.

By 1916 the loss of men in the war led the government to introduce conscription and employers could no longer resist the pressure to engage women for jobs that previously had been seen as ‘men’s work’.  Women took a wide range of jobs including as railway guards and ticket collectors, bus and tram conductors, postal workers, police, firefighters, clerks and factory workers. Many took up cycling to get to and from work, including the women working at a huge munitions factory that had been built at Gretna. ‘If you passed the building on your bicycle you would never imagine it was a fuse factory. Built since the war in the heart of an agricultural district, far from industry, farther yet from the war, the workshops themselves are the airiest I know. The women come of farming stock, and have brought their red cheeks and fresh complexions from the farm to the factory. Very shy were they of the whizzing wheels in the beginning. There was none of that inherited mechanical skill that the child born of textile workers soon manifests. The change from cow-milking to lathe-minding was too great to be easily made. So they started on hand-lathes - just one or two of them - and once they saw their hurts were no more than a bruised finger or so they shifted to the power-driven lathes. In that way they were won over. At lunchtime you may see them scurrying down the yard to the bicycle shed and riding off to the farms for dinner.[24]

In 1917, in the face of food shortages, the Government created the Woman’s Land Army, and a quarter of a million women became employed in farming. Later that year, new flax fields were established in Fife as flax was urgently required to make the fabric that covered the British fighter planes. A number of local Fife women agreed to go to Somerset where the flax was grown to learn the work and return as instructors, and they took their bicycles with them. They joined 500 women all living in tents and one of the Fife women sent an account of life on Somerset: ‘After washing, had breakfast. The porridge, alas, was not like Scotch porridge, but the sausages were well cooked. At 9 a.m. whistle was blown for roll-call. The gangs collected at one part of the field with gang leaders in front. The gang of Scotch cyclists, of which the writer is member, was not required for the day. All the others were detailed to be taken by motor bus or to walk to their field. A few of us then decided to go to Crewkerne on bicycles and explore. The rain was descending torrents when we started, and the roads were red with clay. After scaling many hills, we arrived at the town. The shopkeepers were very much amused at our Scotch tongues and when we asked about places of historical interest a lady shopkeeper gave as an example—the picture palace! However, we then were directed to many historical buildings. After evening parade we took our bicycles to a farm at short distance away to be stored. The housekeeper said it was very good of us to come so far from home and showed us the cider press, and explained its mechanism.’[25]

One outcome of the new roles that women had taken on during the war was that women cycling became regarded as perfectly acceptable after the war ended, and as the women employed in the munitions factories, the Land Army and other areas of war work had adopted male modes of dress for practical and safety reasons, women wearing of trousers became commonplace. ‘Rational dress no longer attracts the slightest attention, and in a recent gathering of women cyclists, not only had a large percentage girls and women donned breeches, but they were mounted upon men’s bicycles.’[26] The work opportunities for women continued to expand. One advert in 1919 seeking two travellers to sell sewing machines stated: ‘smart young lady cyclists preferred.’[27] Better pay and more leisure time also encouraged women to buy bicycles for pleasure. ‘There are more actual women cyclists about to-day than there have ever been, although there may not be quite the number on the roads that we shall see when summer comes again. I hear from the trade that the demand for women's cycles is greater than it has ever been and there are few households nowadays where there is not at least one bicycle, save amongst the two extremes, the very rich and the very poor.’[28]

The suffragette campaign and women’s willingness to support the war effort led to the government giving women over the age of thirty the vote in 1918. Ten years later the age was lowered to twenty one, putting women on an equal footing to men. Yet sexism remained rife and many of the negative attitudes to women cycling remained.

Around 1930 the Cyclists’ Touring Club, keen to encourage women members, introduced in its journal, The Gazette, a column, Wheelwisdom for Women. This was written by Mrs Parkes, vice-president of Shropshire District Association of the CTC and the wife of a Midlands cycle manufacturer, under the pseudonym, Petronella. In one article she wrote: ‘It has been said that women have unmechanical minds. This is, I believe, like most generalities, untrue. It is not women’s minds that are at fault but their training. The worst part of being a woman is there are so many jobs that our menfolk consider are not fitted for us, and they have carried us about for so long that it is small wonder if we have become, for the most part, just bundles of inhibitions.’[29] However, that women’s column was discontinued by the late 1930s and it was not until 1951 that one appeared again. Its writer said: ‘There is something about a women’s column that makes men laugh.’[30] It was not only laughter that women cyclists had to put up with. The writer of the women’s column received contemptuous advice from a male Gazette writer, A. F. Searle: ‘When writing your women’s page, extol women riders for their grace and for their womanly contribution to the club, but keep at the back of your mind that cycling is fundamentally a man’s game.’[31]

SEE ALSO - FEMALE RACERS

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