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If you've kept up with the cycling press, especially the industry journals, you've probably read about the trials and tribulations of the Bicycle Museum of America. Many factors, including low ticket sales, a lack of major financial backers, and poor management, forced the Museum to go out of business. James Hurd, the museum's historian, disappeared, and has become a scapegoat for finger pointers and blame-layers. The Schwinn family, owner of the bulk of the museum's bicycles and memorabilia, took possession of its collection. Because of the rise and fall of the Museum, the bankruptcy of the Schwinn Bicycle Company, and other financial fiascoes, the Schwinn family collection-one of the world's largest assortments of bicycles and cycling momentos-was auctioned on April 6 in Chicago, Illinois.
The wares on the block had been documented by a beautiful, color catalog; copies are still available from Leslie Hindman Auctioneers. Hindman's operation is relatively large by Midwest standards. Her spacious, renovated warehouse has seen many expensive objects change hands. It's known as the place to go if you're looking for a $50,000 pair of Meisen candlesticks, or a $200,000 King Louis chair. Aside from auctions, the company refinishes furniture and Hindman hosts an antique show that airs on the Home & Garden cable network.
With nearly seven hundred attendees, the auction was a madhouse-and more than a little disconcerting. Champagne was served and Rolexes seemed to outnumber bicycles: It was hard for me to imagine coming away with any successful bids. Along with several hard-hitting collectors and museum directors from across the country, the sale drew throngs of people who stood in a long line outside the building, waiting to register. The seating area quickly filled up and people stood ten deep around the auctioneer's platform. Once the sale began, the bids flew fast and furious. The timid of heart, and anyone without a bottomless bank account, soon put aside their paddles as one after another of the bikes was bought by a mysterious man seated in the front row. The crowd watched, slackjawed, as the gentleman pushed the bidding beyond all expectations, until all but ten of the bicycles were his.
The 1885 Coventry Rotary Tricycle, used in may of the auction's print ads, went for $13,000. A 1941 Roadmaster from Cleveland Welding sold for $2,000. The prices exceeded most people's expectations. For example, a Delta headlight display, valued at $40 to $60, was sold for $650. But some of the catalog's estimates seemed laughably low, even before the sale began. A child's wooden highwheeler from 1870, estimated at $400 to $600, sold for $3,800, and an 1885 Victor, valued at $2,000, went for $9,000. Amazingly, an 1898 Ladies Chilion from Massachusetts (pictured on page 66 of The American Bicycle), estimated at $1,000 to $1,500, sold for $10,000, and the 1889 Rudge tandem tri's selling price approached its estimate's upper limit of $17,000. A 15 percent buyer's premium was added to each bid, thus quite a bit of cash was dropped at Leslie Hindman Auctioneers. The highest bid of the day was for the 1869 Dexter boneshaker: Including the premium, it sold for $24,150. Prices shocked even the auctioneers, and Hindman announced her hope of staging an annual sale.
The silent auction which, despite it's name, was no less crazy, took place on the fifth floor of the Hindman building. There was a great deal of pushing and shoving as folks tried to view the hundreds of lots of books, posters, photos, bicycle accessories, plaques and trophies-and just about anything else you could imagine. But I was a bit disappointed with the silent auction. Despite the efforts of the Hindman staff to keep things orderly, books were moved-intentionally or inadvertently-from one box lot to another, as people rummaged through the titles. Also, it was a bit depressing to look through boxes of old photo proof sheets and reams of company memorandums. It seemed sad that family history was being sold to dealers and collectors. I wondered where all of it would end up. The results of the silent auction weren't available until the following Monday, but it was not surprising that the mystery man walked away with about 90 percent of the merchandise. He had placed bids of $315 on each lot.
When all was said and done, the sales totalled $750,000. The mystery man's tab came to over $500,000. As it turned out, the man is James Dicke of New Bremen, Ohio. Dicke, who owns Crown Equipment, a forklift manufacturing plant, announced his intention to open a Schwinn museum in his hometown, and to operate it with the help of his family. That many of these items will be kept together, on view for enjoyment by people other than filthy- rich collectors, is a small consolation. One can only hope that the new museum receives more support than the Bicycle Museum of America was able to garner, and that it stays in business. After all, there are but a few folks who have the money, passion, and devotion to keep such a collection intact.
This auction was like no other. The yearly Copake auction in New York and the Phillips auctions in Europe are wonderful events, but unless another major museum closes, such a historic event will never happen again. Let's hope it doesn't.
For post-sale information or an auction catalog, contact Leslie Hindman Auctioneers in Chicago at 312.670-0010.
According to whom you speak, Bianchi "Celeste" is either one of the most hideous or one of the most gorgeous colors you will ever find on a bike. On one hand we have people who were born thinking the color was beautiful to begin with. On the other hand it seems there are those with an innate natural aversion to it. The really strange thing is that there seems to be no in-between, no middle ground. Have you ever heard someone say that they just seem to like the color a little bit? No way. What makes it so perplexing is that of the people who have passionately decided that they like it, many are former members of the group that once completely hated it. It seems as if some right brain transformation happened overnight during their sleep. Where ever you find your own beliefs, one thing is at least certain, the color is surely unique and distinctive.
The word "sky" in Italian, "Celeste", in its first incarnation had a definite sky-blue character about it. The story of how it came to take on more of an aqua or "robin's egg" green character remains the subject of quite a lot of speculation, sometimes sensible, sometimes not so sensible. In any case, the stories are always imaginative, if not down right entertaining.
Some stories claim it was originally inspired by the color of the Queen of Italy's eyes (poor woman). Other stories have it assigned as the color of the victorious(?) Italian Navy used during one of the two World Wars. Still others have it being invented by Pablo Picasso during one of his alleged visits to Italy. The best stories I believe, usually involve some poor factory worker left to his own devises, mistakenly mixed the wrong color due to his (a) color-blindness, (b) lack of time to acquire the correct "sky-blue" paint stocks, (c) overstock of green from Mussolini's canceled military contract, or (d) any various combination of the above. The embellishments get better with each passing from one person to the next. I understand it is only here in the States that the story has taken on a life of its own, much like a steam roller; don't bother me with the facts, they only get in the way.
One of the most elaborate versions that I have heard goes something like this. A long time ago (at least back in the sixties-or so it's been said), there was a "big" race being held somewhere in Italy. The Giro d'Italia if I am not mistaken. Yeah, I am sure now, that's what it was, the Giro d'Italia. In this race the Bianchi sponsored team would be competing among the best teams of the day. It just so happened that the Bianchi riders hadn't done very well this particular season, in spite of the fact that they had trained very hard, not to mention, they were all around good guys anyway. To help them along, Eduardo Bianchi himself decided that all the riders should get new bikes as to give them the little extra mental boost that they might need.
Back at the Reparto Corse (Race Department) factory, frame builders and technicians worked feverishly (and probably some overtime too), to have the team bikes finished before the big day. The schedule was going as planned, one day left to the big race. All that needed to be done to the bikes was, you guess it; getting the bikes painted. Enter our trusty yet neophyte paint technician, perhaps color-blind, or even perhaps a bit woozy from the vino at lunch time, or the night before, or perhaps from both. He grabs what he thought was the correct paint stock, mixes it together and loads it into the paint guns just in time for the master bike painters to do their craft. Little can he tell, he has selected a portion of leftover military green from Mussolini's infamous canceled contract. The paint guns spray forth a fine mist covering our race-ready frames with ease and just in the nick of time. When the paint dries, it is soon apparent: the distinctive sky-blue Celeste has taken on a different hue. The neophyte paint technician is summarily fired. Obviously, this was before term "reduction-in-force" became popular.
It's too late, the custom race frames must be ready before the big race, (did I mention it was the Giro d'Italia?).The master painters fearing loss of their own jobs, hide the bikes from Eduardo's oversight, whisking the frames off for final assembly, all the while pretending not to hear the race mechanic's questioning remarks. Soon the entire Bianchi support group is playing dumb as the race team now believes they have been given new color bikes which will be their winning edge for the day. Well, the rest is as they say, history. The Bianchi team wins big, placing first in practically all stages, and first overall at the final finish line. Eduardo's initial shocking reaction to the color change is converted to joy as the new Celeste is truly the lucky racing color! So lucky and distinctive that Eduardo immediately files to patent for exclusive Bianchi use. Best of all, our intrepid paint technician is welcomed back as a hero, with a raise to boot, or so the story goes.
Not a bit of truth to it, says Bianchi USA Representative, Sky Yeager. However, according to Ms. Yeager, Eduardo indeed did come up with the original Celeste color. He reasoned that it was so distinguished, his bikes would be the most recognizable in the peloton. The exact date this occurred was sometime in the mid 1940s, and not quite as far back as 1885 as a recent mountain bicycling magazine would have us imagine. According to Ms. Yeager, the Celeste color has merely "evolved" over the years. There have been 10 different factories in Italy, Japan, and Taiwan. Each one using different paint stock with the final color as they saw Celeste should be. Over 40,000 bikes are built per year. There has been no conscious decision to change the color to a more "lucky", or "unlucky" shade. Technology has changed over the years, bikes and their colors have changed too. Through it all, the Celeste color has remained synonymous with bicycle racing history. Quite simply, there is no "grassy knoll". At worst, Italians are merely a pragmatic bunch when it comes to painting bikes (witness the early Cinelli, Mirella, or Pogliagi). There has never been a corporate decision to mix military green with sky-blue no matter how romantic the notion might be. Ms. Yeager further indicated that these wishful tales were probably generated by some bicycling nerds thinking up things to do some uneventful rainy day. She believes this to be true as she states there is no bigger bike nerd in the world than herself.
Whatever form the Celeste color has taken over time, there is no doubt of its place in cycling history. The records are filled with stalwart names riding the Celeste color: Gimondi, Tchmil, Cipollini, Berzin, Chiapucchi, and the list goes on. Particularly noteworthy was Fausto Coppi's legendary battles with his former mentor, Gino Bartali of Team Legnano. Initially wooed from team Legnano himself, Coppi would eventually compete with Bartali in what has been considered one of cycling's all time classic rivalries. That was back in the '40s and '50s when the Legnano name and its distinctive green and red colored bikes were ridden by many of the cycling champions of the day. It is interesting to note that the Bianchi and Legnano companies eventually began a win-win relationship in the 1970s when a merger between the two finally took place. While no longer marketed here in the states, the Legnano tradition lives on in Europe.
Perhaps mergers and acquisitions are indeed just the natural road of all great bicycle companies. This point couldn't be driven home better than by the fact that the Bianchi Company recently signed a Letter of Intent to be purchased by Derby Bicycles of England. How does this bode for the future of Bianchi and the Celeste tradition? Perhaps our heroic paint technician will be there to make sure things go smoothly.
I've been restoring old bicycles and helping create new ones professionally for 21 years now. I learn at least one new thing every day. Some days I forget two.
My father used to build race cars. Car shows were always exciting events for us, the best of them were judged events called "Concours d' Elegance" filled with a wide range of race, show and classics. We'd go and I'd almost touch the cars I had admired in the stacks of magazines at home. In those days, I could identify the make, model and year of thousands of cars, each from a single photo. Still, to actually stand next to the real thing, to study it at close range, to absorb its lines and proportions while walking around it, eclipsed all the glossy photos at home. Frequently, the owner was with his machine, eager to answer questions, things the books left unsaid. At the best events, old rivals shook hands, swapped stories and maybe signed an autograph for a young fan.
My immersion in the world of bicycles, helped me to realize that the machines themselves were a repository of history, ingenuity, craft and artistry. In school, history was often told through the artifacts of past societies, especially the tools of the victors and their vanquished. That too, is apparent in cycling's race weaponry, its balloon tired Trojan horses, its highwheel cavalry. The machines are the embodiment of corporate strategies, heretic's schemes and martyr's crosses. A heritage as distant as last century and close as our own youth.
I believe that the bicycle, that noblest of machines, deserves a portion of the attention and care given to automobiles, the greediest of machines. So, since 1984 CyclArt has produced bicycle concours. These events, are unlike any other in cycling. Races are decided by elapsed time. Other forms of competition, such as manufacture, sales & distribution are decided by dollars. Ideally, excellence is rewarded, the rest look to the victors as an example. In the case of a concours, the bicycle itself is not the competitor. Someone must have the vision to conceive it, the craft to construct it, the thrift the finance it, the wisdom to select it, the foresight to preserve it, the perseverance to collect parts and information for it, the skill to repair it, and the generosity to share time and knowledge at a concours event. I think these accomplishments deserve recognition. In most cases, this is a team event as the entrant rarely actually built the bike etc. The momentum of strong start by the builder needs to be cultivated by the concours entrant to win a properly judged and well attended event.
Designing & judging concours events is full of challenging paradoxes. Let me share some of the dilemmas & a solution.
If the category is "Most Beautiful", how can one objectively compare an ornately lugged Hetchins to the classic lines of a Schwinn Autocycle? Having a first, second and third allows recognition of each, but forces placement of one over the other. Of course, judicial gnashing of teeth can be dodged completely by giving all attendees a ballot and scoring by popular vote. This democratic approach works if the attendees are mostly knowledgeable enthusiasts, but if the event has a majority of casual cyclists, the results tend to be shallowly considered and can be exasperating to those who made the effort to prepare and display worthy bikes. I remember for example, an event that had 10 entries in the "Most Unusual" category. First place was given to a "Swing bike", a gimmick bike mass produced in Taiwan and available in hundreds of shops for under $200. An innovative, one of a kind, back-to-back recumbent tandem and its enthusiastic owner/inventor went unrecognized without even a second or third place! If we are to advance the recognition of excellence embodied in bicycles and expose more people to their quality and history, clearly we need to judge events.
But how to judge? Some events simply trust that a conscientious judge will do his best and leave it at that. I think that's unfair to the judges. Human nature is Bucompetitive and suspicious. Some exhibitor's pride in their bikes is immense and many put considerable effort into preparation. Leaving judging informal invites accusations of bias or incompetence.
More organized events give a scorecard so judges can arrive at a numeric score for all bikes. One approach, derived from auto concours, is to start at 100 points and deduct for any flaws in condition or specification. I have judged events where each component of each bike was scored for condition and "correctness". For example, the saddle is worth 5 points. When judging a seventies Cinelli, one would score the maximum, 5 points for a new condition Unicanitor Model 3 in buffalo leather, as this was the catalog specification. If showing signs of wear, 4 points. If the bike is fitted with a new-condition Brooks Professional with the 1970's era nameplate, one might score it well, as the saddle was a "period" option that many riders might have chosen when the bike was purchased, perhaps a 4. A recent production Brooks perhaps 2 and saddle in poor condition or inappropriate, 1 or 0 points. There are very few people who are confident of this level of detailed knowledge on every component on whatever bikes show up on event day. In the auto world, such things are better documented. Pre-registration & tight categorization, often by brand, aids judging. No authoritative documentation exists for vintage bicycles. Anyone in the trade can tell you that product literature or magazine articles are often incorrect. Under these circumstances, reliance on judges knowledge of what is correct is too high. Further, unless carefully isolated into tiny categories, this system can cause unused, boring production bikes to beat rare, historic actual race winners! Bicycles are made to be ridden, and the emphasis here is too heavy on unused equipment. Finally, these events need to be supportive of entrants efforts. The focus on fault-finding here seems to work against that. Correct components & pristine condition are the core of a good concours event, but for it to work for bicycles other things need to weigh in.
For the Concours d' CyclArt I've developed a system that seems to get the balances right:
At Concours d' CyclArt, all show bike entries are given an event pin and are eligible for door prizes. Numbered cards are provided to write bike description and history. Entrants mark categories they wish to enter, as many as the bike seems to fit. This year's categories will include:
Selected by Judges: Best: antique, replica, vintage racer, Italian, British, French, American, custom, touring, commuter, pre-war balloon, post-war balloon, original , restored, tandem, motorized, muscle bike, hot rod, lowrider, pre-1900, pre-balloon, pre-W.W.II, 1950's, 1960's, 1970's, 1980's, The Braslow/CyclArt best of show award.
Voted by entrants: Most: historic, unusual, creative, beautiful, rare, cool, rusted. Best: Custom bike, lugs, paint, crash damage, new design, concept bike, bike art.
Voted by spectators: People's choice.
Sometimes not all categories are awarded and I have been known to make up awards for a deserving, but unexpected bike.
Over the years, some have commented that the range of categories is too wide at my events that there should be a focus limiting the event to balloon classics or racers or whatever. Prestigious, long running & successful motorcycle & car events often include very diverse interests. Meanwhile, I see a bit of cross-pollination between otherwise isolated interest groups as a good thing. I think until the event outgrows our location's ability to handle it, there is no reason to split. Typically, we get about 100 entrants but could accommodate 200 or more. If we overflow that, it will be time to do more than an annual event and tighten the focus.
Bikes in the judged show may display discreet for-sale signs, but bikes sell better from our "4 Sale Corral" or in swap spaces.
In selecting judges, I try for a group of 5 to 7 with diverse and overlapping experience. My only bad experience with judges has been when I've not had enough of them and felt overwhelmed. I'm always very appreciative of judging volunteers, although usually all I can offer for their help is an official judge hat and dinner after the event. I ask judges to stay together, discussing openly to arrive at a consensus. The owner is encouraged to stand with the judges to answer questions. I view this as a learning opportunity for all. Judges score every bike for which they feel qualified and do not score any bike they own or have a conflict of interest on. The score cards have five sections, each one is worth a maximum of 20 points:
Authenticity: Adherence to the original specification or accuracy of restoration.
Condition: Cleanliness, proper set-up & maintenance.
Significance: History, rarity, landmark innovation or classic examples of an era.
Appeal: Beauty, elegance, humor, creativity and originality.
Presentation: Research & display of supporting documents, accessories, owner's knowledge of bike.
Scorecards are collected and each score entered on a computer spreadsheet. Since most bikes are scored by several judges, all scores are averaged. A printout lists the bikes in order of highest score for each category. Judges meet to review the printout and select the final winner in each category, usually only one award is given to any one bike.
Judging should encourage entries, and assist in owner's efforts to improve their collections. Judging can be a rewarding experience. With the above system, no judge has sole responsibility for any "important" decisions. Judges may enter the event or show bikes as "display only". If you think you'd like to try your hand at judging, please contact me before our next event on June 22, 1997.
Considering producing a concours event? Please do! If you like my system, feel free to use it. If I can come to your event, I'd be glad to assist or judge. To add a Concours as an addition to a existing event, let's talk!
Now, for those of you who have bikes that fit into any of the above categories; Please... please... make an effort to attend. You'll have a good time and meet lots of people who share your interest. The swap meet section of our event will reward or tempt you. Also, you'll be helping to further the appreciation and understanding of man's noblest invention. Without adequate participation these events will cease.
If you can't make it, or have a commercial interest, we very much appreciate support in the form of prize donations. Prizes are displayed during the event and accompanying literature provided will be posted.
These events take some work to put on, but they've always been a day I learn more things than I forget!
Jim may be reached at: CyclArtist@AOL.com or realmail: Jim Cunningham, CyclArt, 2590 Pioneer Avenue, Suite A, Vista, CA 92083
In Japan, certain citizens who possess unusual artistic talents and skills are designated as human cultural treasures. Despite an increasingly mechanized and technology driven 21st century, Japan is preserving the skills and talents of the individuals who make samurai swords, pottery and calligraphy utilizing 17th Century techniques and methods. In this age of downsizing and cost cutting, an individual turning out one samurai sword every six months can not survive. Likewise with bicycles, the art of fillet brazing and sculpting ornate lugs is disappearing as it is more cost efficient to build TIG welded bicycles. Glenn Erickson, of Seattle, WA, is like an ancient samurai sword maker. Armed with his torch and an Italian frame jig, he builds bikes that combine the finest materials and old world construction methods. In fact, the University of Washington's School of Architecture decreed that Glenn is a living treasure of Washington. Each semester students make a pilgrimage to the Erickson shop to inspect his shop and ornate work. The goal of the students are to design a workshop for Erickson that reflects his artistic talent. The goal of Glenn Erickson is simple, to build the finest bicycle for each customer.
Erickson started racing in 1972. He was working at a local bike shop when a fellow employee suggested that they go watch a nearby bike race. At the race, Erickson surveyed the competition in the novice class and decided that he could win. He rushed through registration while his friend coached him to sit in and to sprint at the finish if he was still with the pack. He had other plans. Once the starter pistol fired he took off and never looked back. He won his first race in a solo effort off the front. Looking back he laughingly relates, " I won easily! Maybe it was a stupid move, but it was easy!"
In 1973, Glenn Erickson and Angel Rodriguez opened R & E Cycle Repair. As Erickson recalls, "someone brought in a frame that was damaged and asked if we could fix it. We looked at the bent top and down tubes and said, "yes, we can fix it." Glenn and Angel bought some torches and repaired the frame, teaching themselves along the way. Eventually, Erickson sold his interest in R & E and started building frames full time under his own name.
Today, Erickson builds 35 to 40 frames a year and primarily builds road frames, tandems and the occasional track or cyclocross frame. Due to his tandem racing experience, Erickson built a number of racing tandems which were raced in National and World Championship events and the Burley Duet Cycling Classic. (The only tandem stage race in North America.) Additionally, he is the tandem Seattle-To-Portland record holder and a past winner of the Burley Duet .
Performance is the key issue with an Erickson frame. For over twenty-five years, he has raced on his own frames. Pushing his own frames to their limits, has helped him design bikes that not only fit perfectly but ride in a way that meets or exceeds the customers expectations. He states, "I realized that performance was the key issue and as I evolved and got better at the craft and better at metal work, I came to see that there was an opportunity to make my frames a little more special. My frames are more than fancy looking, in every frame I am trying my very best to combine the best possible construction methods and the best materials. I know in my heart that I am building the best bike that someone can buy. Not only will mine perform well but I am able to put some detail or unique workmanship into the frame which places it above any other frame in the world." At the recent Seattle bike show, I watched prospective customers admiring the Erickson frames. All were in awe of the smooth transitions between tubes and the intricate and ornate custom designs. One cyclist shook his and asked his friend, "How does he do it?" Glenn Erickson is best known for building beautifully fillet brazed frames and cutting designs into scrap pieces of tubing that are blended into the fillet or silver brazed on to a tube. Some customers create their own designs but most give him a creative license. Tulips, Lightning, Egrets and the Moon + Stars are some of the options that appear in the Erickson catalog.
Truly a work of art from a master craftsman, an Erickson frame performs as well as it looks. Erickson frames have been ridden to numerous victories. This past summer, Matt Johnson, won the Senior Men's National Criterium Championship on an Erickson frame. Additionally, a World Record in the pursuit event was set on an Erickson tandem at the Para-Olympics held in Atlanta. An active racer himself, Glenn has collected a few National Championships of his own in addition to setting records on his tandem.
Many consider frame building to be a case of mixing business with pleasure, Erickson took this concept one step further when he and his partner, Nancy Bruce, began their touring company, Erickson Cycle Tours. The tours are centered in France due to his love and familiarity with the country. Tours in the Alps and the Pyreness offer riders a chance test themselves on the toughest climbs within the Tour de France. A two-week tour in Provence promises country roads lined with thyme, rosemary and fields of sunflowers in bloom. The Rhone Valley tandem tour actually starts in Geneva and finishes in Nice. Designed for serious riders, a typical day in the Alps will cover six thousand to ten thousand feet of climbing and seventy to one hundred miles. When the Tour de France is in progress the days ride will end around 330pm so each stage finish can be viewed live on television. The newly retired Andy Hampsten will be joining the Erickson tour this summer. Erickson is excited as Andy will lead the group up the Alpe d'Huez. Hampsten is the only American to ever win the Alpe d'Huez stage and those fortunate cyclists on the Erickson tour will be able to relive the moment through Hampsten's narration.
An avid wood worker, Erickson considered making furniture for a living. Yet, his love of the bicycle focused him on frame building. "I really enjoyed wood work but there was no interaction with people. The allure of the bike business is the people it attracts. Cyclists are different from the rest of society; they're like me and I enjoy being with these people." Based on the popularity of his frames, cyclists like him too.
If you are interested in an Erickson frame or tour, contact Glenn Erickson at 6119 Brooklyn NE, Seattle, WA 98115 (206) 527-5259.
Recently I attended the auction held in Chicago on April 6, 1997. Many other collectors also showed up as early as 8:00 AM that Sunday morning for the 1:00 PM auction. It will be a day long remembered by all, the sale was estimated to last 1 1/2 hours, it went for 3 1/2. It was estimated that over 700 people attended the live auction of approximately 150 bicycles from the F.W. Schwinn collection. The collection was previously located in the Schwinn History Center and then in the highly popular Bicycle Museum of America in Chicago. The Schwinn Family withdrew the collection from the Museum when the Museum's lease was terminated by the North Pier Terminal in 1996.
The auction disappointed many people who thought they could buy a piece of the collection. Many collectors had viewed the bicycles and 350 boxes of memorabilia of books, pictures, catalogs and artwork in the six days before the auction. They thought they could successfully bid on the bicycles and submitted sealed bids on the boxes. The boxes were to be opened privately by the auctioneers after the live auction, all in hopes to owning a piece of Schwinn History forevermore. As many former Schwinn employees viewed the numerous boxes of family artifacts during the week, they were overheard commenting in disbelief as to how the family could part with all these treasures.
Well, many folks started leaving shortly after the live auction began with a bid of $14,000 for an Orange Krate, which happened to be the millionth bicycle Schwinn made in 1968; $2000 for a 1959 Jaguar; $2400 for an Apple Krate; $3,000 for a Lemon Peeler; $5,000 for a Radio bike; $8,000 for a Black Phantom; $17,000 for a Bowden; and $10,000 for a Whizzer. The average collectors tried bidding on some of the bikes, but they were overwhelmed by the high bids of two or more times normal collectible value.
Rumors were circulating among the crowd that there was a buyer from the Netherlands, and agents representing Jay Leno and Clint Eastwood. The auctioneers could not confirm this. The bidding lasted for three and a half hours with some fierce bidding to very high dollars. Based on my informal tabulation, $570,000 was the total of the live auction. The following day a poll of the results of some of the sealed bids indicated that the box lots were bid at $300 and up approximating over $100,000. It was learned that a bidder from Ohio was buying a major amount of bikes and memorabilia to start a museum.
Alas, the Fender Doctor and many other collectors walked away, with only memories. But, Richard Schwinn, great grandson of Ignaz Schwinn and grandson of Frank W. Schwinn was allegedly very happy with the results of the sale. The proceeds will reportedly be paid to the Schwinn Family Trust, and then distributed to the family after the turn of the century. For collectors, the best record of the collection is documented in the books "The American Bicycle" and "Schwinn Bicycles", which have photographs showing many of the bicycles that were in the Schwinn Family Collection.
Wes Pinchot
Fender Doctor
