Can’t Afford a Carriage

A collection of vintage cycles at the Red Mill Museum recalls the Victorian era’s ‘extreme sport.’

By: Susan Van Dongen

	Gary Sanderson rides his high wheel by Chateau Chambord in France’s Loire Valley.

   It is not only modern bicyclists — like urban bicycle messengers — who have been tortured by non-enthusiasts, such as irate taxi drivers. Bicyclists were also the target of hostility in the late 19th century, especially those riding the early "high wheels."
   "Cyclists had problems with people trying to knock them down," says Gary Sanderson, antique bicycle enthusiast and head of the New Jersey branch of the Wheelmen, the national organization that celebrates the history of cycling in America.
   "People were angry at bicycles because they thought they were dangerous," he says. "Wagoneers and carriage drivers didn’t like bicycles because they scared the horses, which might get startled and upset the carriage. Kids would put sticks in the spokes of the wheels as pranks."
   And it could be downright lethal to fall off a high wheel. Although you couldn’t get flattened by a car, in those pre-helmet days you could split your head open going over the handlebars of a high-wheel vehicle, just by hitting a bump or hole in the road.
   "The biggest danger is pitching forward on your head," Mr. Sanderson says. "You’re sitting right over the center of gravity. In some newspapers, there would be the regular obituaries but also a special column for bicycle deaths."
   This "extreme sport" of the Victorian Era is covered in detail in Riding High, 1876-1900: The Bicycle Craze That Swept the World, an exhibition of antique bicycles and memorabilia at the Tomson Gallery of the Red Mill Museum Village in Clinton through Oct. 9.
   The focus of Riding High is the frenzy for bicycle riding that spread around the world in the last decades of the 1800s. In the 1870s a craze for high-wheels hit Europe, then the United States, with riding groups like the Flemington Bicycle Club pedaling through cities and villages.
   After the engineering of the high wheels became more stable, riders began to take them beyond local limits. From 1884 to 1887, one aficionado, Thomas Stevens, rode a high wheel around the world and kept an illustrated diary of his adventures.

Mr. Sanderson rides his high wheel in Australia.

   Such feats on high wheels are especially remarkable, considering how difficult it is just to get your posterior up on the thing and start pedaling. Mr. Sanderson bought a high wheel first and then found someone to teach him how to mount it.
   "You have to get behind the bike and straddle the small back wheel," he says. "You put your left foot on a step — which is quite high — then you get the bike rolling while you settle in the seat. When it gets rolling just a little, that’s what gives it stability."
   He says he can teach someone to ride in about 15 to 20 minutes, but it takes practice to be a really good rider. Stopping, for example, is quite challenging.
   "At a stop sign you have to climb all the way down, then you have to climb back up when you start again," Mr. Sanderson says. "That’s the most tiring part in urban riding. You have to anticipate a lot, such as timing and distance. Turns are also different because the high wheels don’t have the same turning radius."
   The exhibition was assembled from the vintage bicycle collection of Mr. Sanderson and his wife, Irene, of Montclair. These include restored 19th-century bicycles by makers such as the Pope Manufacturing Co. in Boston, which made Columbia bicycles; Gormully and Jefferey of Chicago; and Underwood of Boston. In their collection, the Sandersons have towering penny farthing high wheels, contemporary-sized safety bicycles, racing models, adult and children’s tricycles and even something called a "boneshaker." A selection of the Sandersons’ accessories, posters and old photographs rounds out the exhibit.
   Mr. Sanderson is a retired food chemist and a lifelong cycling enthusiast. He and his wife take special cycling tours, including vacations riding their tandem — a bicycle-built-for-two. They were at a tandem rally in the Midwest about 10 years ago when Mr. Sanderson saw a penny farthing bicycle being demonstrated and decided he wanted one for himself.

	Mr. Sanderson takes his high wheel to the Brooklyn Bridge in New York.

   Mr. Sanderson says bicycles also gave Victorian-era women a taste of liberation. They jumped on the low-to-the-ground "safety" bicycles in droves, especially after Queen Victoria was seen riding one. In an era when middle class women relied on men to transport and escort them, a bicycle gave them the freedom to go places alone.
   The exhibit will also have some of the reproduction clothing and cycling costumes on display. Like military re-enactors, bicyclists try to keep their garb as close to authentic as possible. Practicality was only part of the reason the riding groups wore uniforms, according to Mr. Sanderson. The knickers and leggings would prevent looser trousers from catching in the spokes, of course. But the paramilitary look of the costume — and the very fact that they rode together — would instill pride in the group and give a sense of safety in numbers.
   "Clubs even had buglers to let people know they were coming, or to signal things to the riders, such as obstacles in the road or stopping points," Mr. Sanderson says.
   It takes a bit of looking for collectors to find vintage bicycles — auctions and the Internet are good sources. Mr. Sanderson says the newsletter of the national Wheelmen’s organization also is a good place to look, as are the group’s gatherings. Reproductions also are available.
   "There are manufacturers who will custom make a bicycle for you, but only a handful," he says. "There’s one in Florida, one in Australia and a couple in the Czech Republic."
   The antique bicycles normally cost between $2,000 and $10,000, although some of the rare specimens might sell for as much as $100,000.
   The most unusual item in the exhibit at the Red Mill Museum is an American-made Eagle bicycle, which took the original design of the high wheel and reversed it.
   "The Eagle has the small wheel in front," Mr. Sanderson says. "It was safer than the high wheel, but it’s very difficult to mount. You basically have to jump on the machine while it’s rolling, which requires a lot of agility."
   Mr. Sanderson says he actually prefers a high wheel — which he calls a "happy machine" — over a modern bicycle. Fortunately, people are delighted to see these vintage bikes being ridden today and no one has deliberately tried to knock him over. But then again, he hasn’t tangled with any taxis lately.
Riding High, 1876-1900: The Bicycle Craze That Swept the World is on view at the Tomson Gallery, Red Mill Museum Village, 56 Main St., Clinton, through Oct. 9. The exhibit will also be on view April-May 2004. Gallery hours: Tues.-Sun. 10 a.m-4 p.m. Admission costs $5; $4 seniors; $3 ages 6-12; free under age 7. For information, call (908) 735-4101. On the Web: www.theredmill.org. For information about the N.J. Wheelmen, call (973) 509-2523. On the Web: www.thewheelmen.org