BUD EKINS' GARAGE AT AUCTION

Legendary Hollywood native 'Bud' Ekins passed away 3 years ago after a life of hard riding, hard drinking, and irascible good humor.  Born James Sherwin Ekins (although he'd likely punch you if you reminded him) in 1930, 'Bud' had a little too much enthusiasm for cars and motorcycles as a boy, and spent time in reform school after being caught driving someone else's car...a stranger's...without the benefit of a key, or a driver's license.

By 1948 he had acquired his first motorcycle, a '34 Harley Davidson VL, which according to legend leaned against the wall of his father's welding shop.  His uncle owned the defunct machine, and offered to sell it to Bud for $10 if he could make it run.  Thus, the moto-virus was secured in his bloodstream, and he spent the rest of his life intimately involved with bikes, and a few cars.

He commuted the Harley to his job at the welding shop, not over freeways but on the rough trails of the Hollywood hills and along the LA river, before all became concrete and tarmac.  Pushing a large, heavy bike around in the dirt twice a day gave him valuable experience, and soon he was competing in local dirt races on the very same machine...not such an uncommon 'racer' in those impecunious postwar days, before the housing boom and general prosperity paved over LA.

A local dealer spotted Bud's riding talent, and offered him a Matchless single to ride in the Moose Run in 1951, which Ekins promptly won.  After further success, he turned pro, and within a year had sailed across the Atlantic to try his hand against the best in the world on the dirt, and make considerably more money, in Europe.   His first successes were in England, where he earned $200/week racing for AMC (Matchless), about ten times what he'd made in the US.  Shortly he would also ride in France, Spain, and Belgium, all of which had huge followings for scrambles - in fact some of the earliest sporting events on TV at the time were off-road motorcycle races.

He returned to the US in '54, and traded in his Matchless for a Triumph dealership in the San Fernando valley, set up by US importer Johnson Motors (now better known as a t-shirt company...).  Bud continued racing as well, winning the Catalina Grand Prix in 1955 and '57; he also won the Big Bear desert scramble twice.  His winning streak in SoCal was a great boon for Triumph in the US, and his skills handling tricky sand/dirt/rock terrain earned him the nickname 'the Desert Fox'.

Steve McQueen entered Bud's Triumph shop in 1959, and the two became fast friends.  As McQueen's star rose from a Western tv star to international movie star, he brought Bud along for help with film stunt work.  In 1963, during the filming of 'The Great Escape' near Fussen, Bavaria, Bud was employed to ride one of the most famous motorcycle stunts in history; 'the jump' over a prison camp barbed wire fence on a stolen German motorcycle (which transforms mid-scene from a DKW RT250 to a Triumph TR6 in dark green paint).  Of course, everyone thought McQueen had done the jump, as he preferred to do his own stunts, but the production company insisted he was too valuable to the film to risk injury, and Ekins leaped into infamy.  It's a compelling scene, and McQueen's cool demeanor in the film catapulted him to mega-stardom, and 'cool icon' status.  It was McQueen himself who credited Ekins with the jump, during an interview on the 'Johnny Carson Show' (now of course hosted by Jay Leno, a huge motorcycle buff - we are everywhere!), when asked about it: 'That wasn't me. That was Bud Ekins.'  For the jump, he was paid $1000, the highest compensation ever for a single stunt - and it was done in a single take.

During the long weeks of filming in Germany, Ekins entered the International Six Days' Trial (ISDT) in Czechoslovakia (he had entered once before and won a Gold Medal - eventually winning four Golds and one Silver during his career).  After winning his second Gold mid-film, McQueen, an excellent motorcyclist himself after personal tutelage from Bud, convinced Ekins to form the first-ever US ISDT Team.  Thus, in 1964, Ekins and his brother Dave, Cliff Coleman, and McQueen competed in East Germany, where they didn't fare well as a team (both Bud and Steve failing to finish due to injury), Dave and Cliff both won Gold medals.  The unreapeatable adventure of this ISDT is beautifully explored in the book '40 Summer Ago'  (Rin Tanaka and Sean Kelly), and if you're a McQueen or Ekins fan, you really should have it - the photographs are simply amazing.

In 1967 Ekins went on to partner with McQueen on the film 'Bullitt', with an infamous car chase over the San Francisco hills.  Ford was the beneficiary of incalculable publicity as Ekins launched a '67 Mustang Fastback over the sharp hillcrests of the City, smoking tires, sliding around corners, and making an impossible route through SF while chasing the 'bad guys' driving a Dodge Charger.

Bud Ekins retired from motorcycle racing in '67, but continued to run his motorcycle dealership and perform stunts in films, from motorcycle gang films ('Hell's Angels 69' - above, in a pic from the sale), to disaster films ('Towering Inferno'), and even James Bond films ('Diamonds are Forever').  When asked later in life which stunt scared him most, he replied, 'Pretty much all of them'.  Ekins died October 11, 2007.

His great love of motorcycles extended to vintage machinery, and Ekins had a very good eye for interesting early motorcycles and cars, eventually amassing over 150 machines.  One of his employees, Kenny Howard aka 'Von Dutch' (now better known as a t-shirt company...) painted many of Ekins' personal machines, some of which he decorated in his distinctive style of pinstriping and imagery.

Bonhams auctions has secured 8 vehicles from the estate of Bud Ekins, including 5 motorcycles, one 'loose' sidecar ('Mona', painted up by Von Dutch, above), and 3 'brass era' cars.  They're coming up for sale at the Petersen Museum in LA, on Saturday Nov. 13th. Also included will be photographs, memorabilia, trophies, tools, racing jacket, and ephemera from his friend Steve McQueen....it's entirely possible the total sale from the 'automobilia' will exceed the vehicles, given their provenance!

You can check out the entire collection here at the Bonhams website.

CROSS-CANADA MOTORCYCLE ADVENTURE

By Greg Williams (from the Calgary Herald):

Take your semi-reliable car or motorcycle, equip it with a set of decent tires, fill your pocket with adequate cash for gasoline and it’s easy enough to drive across this country.
But just imagine doing it some 80 years ago.
Challenging, to say the least. But J. Graham Oates did it in 1928 aboard an Ariel 500cc motorcycle equipped with a sidecar. He was the first individual to pilot a rubber-tired vehicle from sea to sea – long before the Trans Canada Highway.


And that’s just one reason why Oates, a motorcyclist who hailed from the Isle of Man – an island off the coast of the U.K. in the Irish Sea – was inducted into the Canadian Motorcycle Hall of Fame last year.
Oates was something of a nomad who prior to leaving his Manx home designed and built his own motorcycle, a machine he called the Aurora. In the early 1920s he had big ambitions intending to build and market the Aurora but public interest in his product waned.
In the mid-1920s after the failure of the Aurora venture Oates raced a variety of British motorcycles in competitive events.
Then, Oates moved to Bolivia before eventually winding up in Canada.
Once here in 1928 he worked in the Canadian motorcycle industry as a salesman at J.V. and J.W. Conroy, a shop in Toronto that sold Ariel, Douglas and Royal Enfield machines.
Over a few drinks in the bar with Charles Dennis Browne, a First World War buddy and Castrol Oil rep here in Canada, Oates hatched the idea for his cross-country adventure. He’d ride an Ariel motorcycle to drum up some publicity for both Ariel and Castrol.
Sponsored by Ariel Motors and Castrol Oil, between June and September 1928 Graham rode from Nova Scotia to Vancouver on a new 497cc ‘Two Port’ single-cylinder Ariel motorcycle attached to a Canadian-built sidecar – constructed by Sturgess of Hamilton, Ont.
To do this, Graham motored along roads when he could find them, but resorted to riding hundreds of miles on the railroad tracks between Sault Ste. Marie in Ontario and Whitemouth, Manitoba – a journey that would certainly have tested the mettle of any motorcyclist.
He rode the machine between the steel rails, and every railroad tie in the track would send jarring vibrations through the handlebars and saddle. Oates persevered; moving the outfit off of the rails when a train approached and lifting it back on after it passed. On occasion the train crew had to help him get his motorcycle and sidecar back on the rails.
On Thursday, Sept. 13, 1928 Oates arrived in Calgary.
A front-page story in the Calgary Herald ran the next day, and it summed up his journey thus far.
‘Coast to Coast Cyclist Arrives’, claimed the headline. ‘J. Graham Oates Reaches Calgary on Motorcycle in Cross-Canada Trip.’
And here’s the first paragraph: “Four days from Regina through discouraging prairie ‘gumbo’ and 18 days from Halifax on a coast-to-coast motorcycle tour in an effort to establish for the Ariel motorcycle the record of being the first gas-propelled vehicle to travel across Canada on rubber tires, J. Graham Oates, general manager of Conroy and Company, of Toronto, arrived in Calgary at 7 o’clock, Thursday evening, tired and dusty, but cheerfully satisfied with the results of his trip so far, having covered the 6,700 miles in 18 days.
“Mr. Oates emphasizes that Western Canada’s chief need is more and better motor roads and he heartily endorses the campaign of the Alberta Motor Association to awaken public interest in the subject.”
During his trip across Canada Oates collected letters from the mayors of major urban centres, including Toronto, Winnipeg and Regina. He visited with Calgary’s then-mayor (Frederick Ernest) Osborne and added his message to the others to be delivered to the mayor of Vancouver.
According to the article, Oates left Calgary heading west on what was the beginnings of the Trans-Canada highway to Golden where he expected to cross the Rocky Mountains once again bouncing over railway ties.
Oates made it to Vancouver just 21 days after starting the trip, and he dipped the rear tire of his Ariel in the Pacific, just as he had done in the Atlantic. He returned to Toronto via U.S. routes, and he remained in Canada for another three years.
As if crossing Canada by motorcycle wasn’t reason enough to posthumously induct Oates into the CMHF another of his contributions was the establishment of the British Empire Motor Club. Initially a motorcycle club, the BEMC of Toronto still exists, but now mainly organizes automobile races.
A great book by Manx author Bill Snelling called Aurora to Ariel is available and it details many of the exploits of Oates. According to Snelling, he is in the process of updating the book, and the new edition will include more of Oates’ diary entries and photographs. It’s a great read about an intrepid motorcycle pioneer — put it on your reading list.

(Images courtesy Library and Archives Canada)

BURT MUNRO VELOCETTE UNDER THE HAMMER

Yesterday Webb's in New Zealand auctioned off a rare piece of history; Burt Munro, builder of the 'World's Fastest Indian' and several other Very Fast motorcycles, was also known to build engines for a few friends. As far as I know, these were all Velocette MSS-based sprinters, as another machine came up for auction a few years ago, in very similar spec. The Munro bikes proper are simply unavailable, and living in New Zealand, but a few of his other projects pop up occasionally, and are certainly worth the attention. This sprinter is beautifully crafted by Duncan Meikle, lifelong friend of Munro's; he lived within walking distance and they developed their Velocette sprinters in tandem, sharing tuning secrets and parts, and competing against each other at various sand and road sprints. Together, they developed the most effective Velo sprinters in the world.

One great story from their days sprinting at Invarcargill beach from 1959:
"Meikle and Munro were practicing quarter-mile starts. Munro decided to give a couple of young fellows a good head start and an even better beating, screaming past the surprised young men and giving them a wave bye-bye to boot. Unfortunately, this sent the Velo into a nasty tank-slap and, within a fraction, Munro had bailed and the Velo was twisted metal, 30 feet in the air and rising. As the machine churned down the beach, so did Munro.

Meikle [informed] Munro's mother of the unfortunate accident. [He said], 'I have come to report on Burt, he had a bit of an accident yesterday.' 'Oh', she said, 'Serious?' 'Well no', said Meikle, 'a few pounds of meat were ground off and a broken arm.' The next query from Mrs. Munro was 'I suppose it was on that motorcycle.' 'Yes.' 'That foolish Herbert, when will he ever give up those motorcycles!?!'. Mrs Munro was 84 years old, and her son Bert was 60!"
By the way, the bike went for NZ$71,000... that's over double the estimate.

(Information taken from the Webb's auction site.)

PALADIN - 'NOBODY IS BORN A BIKER'

Paladin was a friend of mine from Berkeley CA, a fixture of the burgeoning Old Motorcycle scene in the late 70s/80s, where he could often be seen hanging around T.T. Motors on Ashby Avenue, giving unsolicited advice and a disposition on just about any subject, to anyone who was nearby. Often, that was me, and I rode whatever machine was running, from S.F. to the East Bay to check out the bikes for sale at T.T., visit my friends, and have a chat with Paladin.

He was a devoted Triumph man, and I owned several of his 'hardtail' Triumph conversions over the years, each honed closer to the 'bobber' ideal than anything made today - they were fast, light, and no-frills. He could appreciate other Marques though, and enjoyed discussing their relative merits. As mentioned in my 'tattoo post', he had amazing self-inflicted Triumph tats on his body, and donated his skin to a Japanese tattoo museum on his death.

John Galivan, owner of T.T. Motors (see period photo of John below), has this to say; "I liked and respected him a great deal; I sold him that bike [Triumph TR6] for $49.00 and he stayed. His writing in Iron Horse magazine and others are classics. He coined the word 'unobtanium' referring to rare British parts. The centerfold of this mag w/ the girl and real rats crawling all over is a classic." (Iron Horse cover photo below).

As John mentions, Paladin died twenty years ago in his sleep; nobody knows exactly how old he was, but 50ish would be my guess. He had suffered a mighty knock to the head a few years prior, which definitely altered his personality. Still, an amazing soul - when I bought my first Velocette in 1985 from Munroe Motors, Paladin brought out a bucket of water and sponge and washed it! "Such a finely made motorcycle as this should NEVER be dirty!"

The following is an excerpt of an interview with Paladin, from the book, 'Berkeley U.S.A.' (Anne Moose, Alternative Press, 1981):

"Essentially, everything that I do relates at one level or another to motorcycling. I make my living by writing for motorcycling journals and doing illustrations for them... I'm into motorcycle paint work and uh, you know, it's kind of dull if you ain't into bikes, but I'm into bikes so I find it all quite fascinating....Twenty years ago, it didn't matter if you rode a Harley, or if you rode a Triumph, or if you rode a BSA. If you rode, you rode. You were committed. The other people who rode were your brothers, except you didn't use the word brother because you didn't have to. This was all just, you know, understood at almost a back brain level.

Now then, when the Japanese started bringing their bikes in, what they brought was nothing new in the sense of engineering. What they did was... a publicity campaign. They brought in a form of advertising to make the motorcycle, shall I say, socially acceptable. Well, people that are stone bikers, as opposed to motorcycle operators, don't really care much about social acceptability... But what this did, brought a whole new kind of person into the riding scene, and it brought in a lot of divisionism. In 1963, you break down on your bike on the side of the highway, you know that the next guy who comes by is going to stop and help. And it don't matter what brand of bike you're riding, or if his bike is chopped or not, or who's in a club and who isn't - that's jive. You're a biker or you're not. Since the Japanese bike has become popular...it's brought this new element ...this whole concept of antagonism and divisionism which we've had to deal with for about the past twelve to fifteen years.

Personally, I can't stand Japanese bikes. I don't care how fast they are, or how many camshafts they have, or if they win races. I just don't like the aesthetics of the damn things. But at the same time, it doesn't matter what kind of sled you've got under your ass - when you're in the wind, it's like, the same wind, and that's the policy we're pushing.

As far as I'm concerned, the only group that really matters in this country, per se, is the bikers. And this may sound like an off-the-wall statement, but I think if you'll check back you'll find that during that whole big so-called cultural revolution of the sixties, language, style, and everything was copied from the bikers. Our influence is a lot more subtle than many people would imagine. We're simply living our own lives, and in living our own lives we're setting such a rare example in modern times...

The thing is, you're born black, you're born Chicano, you're born Anglo-Saxon, Protestant, Jewish, Polynesian, whatever. Nobody is born a biker. It's something you do by choice. A biker is under a complete psychic necesssity, right, in that he is one half of a symbiotic organism of which the other half is a motorcycle. And if you wish to make any value judgements on that, go ask your mother how she likes her valium.

One of the things that a lot of people that I'm close to are into, is trying to get more women into riding. I guess you could say it's part of our highway beautification project. I personally think that women and men both - and everyone - should know how to handle machines... that, to me, is the only way we're ever going to have what I'd consider to be a sane and healthy culture... If people are going to band together, it must be through recognition and respect of their own strength, and of the strength of those about them. It always starts at the inside and works out."

B/W photos of Paladin are from 'Berkeley USA'. Other photos were sourced from Facebook!

BILL SCOTT - 1959 DAYTONA WINNER

As a boy, Bill Scott delivered four newspapers in his hometown of Kewanee, Illinois. His workload was too heavy to walk his route, so he purchased Harley 'Hummer' 165cc two stroke - a copy of the pre-war DKW RT125 - and grew to enjoy working on the machine, squeezing a bit more performance from the little single.

Scott wanted to join the High School track team, but his coach deemed him too small for sports at 5' 2" and 120lbs, saying, "You'll never be an athlete." This infuriated Bill; shortly afterwards he gave a flat-tracking demonstration on the school's athletic field, netting him many hours of detention, but kindling his passion to prove himself on the race track.

He got a part-time job while still in school as a motorcycle mechanic, and began to race his Hummer around Kewanee. After graduating in 1957, a few friends helped round out a racing team; his brother Gene (21), cousin Bob Fisk (18), and friend John Good (17). All of them had mechanical skills, and honed their tuning abilities, as Bill Scott began to show promise as a racer. By 1958, the team was racing a new Harley 750cc 'KR' model, the production racer with an aluminum cylinder and head, with very highly developed ports, angled valves for better breathing, a 'squish' cylinder head, and decent-handling chassis with suspension front and rear.

The 'KR' was towed on a trailer behind the team's battered 1950 Olds; Scott laughs, "Everything we had was in that Oldsmobile." Young and broke as they were, they had success in that first year, with wins in New Hampshire and Maryland. A road race in Fort Worth, Texas, nearly saw Scott's undoing, as he collided with a fallen machine and slid over 400 feet on tarmac. While he had many broken bones and bruises, his worst injury was a badly torn shoulder, and the doctors warned him he wouldn't race again. Scott wasn't deterred; "I was determined I wouldn't be a cripple."

It took six months of work to heal that shoulder enough to grab a handlebar again, but Scott gritted his teeth and ignored the doctors. With his team, he decided to go for broke at a National level race - Daytona.

Like its bigger brother, the Daytona 100-mile was run on the 28-mile long Ormond/Daytona beach, home to American speed events since 1904, including Glenn Curtis' 136mph streak with a v-8 engined Monster in 1907. While many unofficial match races had been run at this Florida beach, the Daytona 200 was established in 1937, and was run on a 4.2-mile track on Highway A1A and the beach, with a short u-turn at either end. It was treacherous racing, as the sand was at times unpredictable as it dried and became churned up over the course of the race, plus sand wash over the asphalt of Hwy A1A was as slippery as ice. On the beach proper, only a narrow section of sand was hard enough to give a drag-free surface. "You might have a 15-foot ribbon where it's just right."

Scott, at 20 years old and only two years out of high school, faced serious competition; not only were most of the significant Harley, Triumph, Norton, and BSA dealers represented, but their riders and mechanics were experienced professionals. Lesser known marques showed up as well, including BMW and Moto Guzzi, and a newcomer from Japan, Yamaha, who had hand-held radar, "cutting-edge technology...We ran against teams from all over the world. We were intimidated."

Fifty-nine racers lined up in rows before thousands of fans sitting atop the grassy dunes separating the highway from the beach. Amazingly, Scott averaged 93.27mph over 100 miles of sand and sandy asphalt, and won the race, claiming the $600 prize. "That was good money, back when $80 a week was a week's pay....it's incredible I could win this, because we were just kids. We didn't beat 'em - we stomped 'em."

"It was exciting, but I never comprehended the scope of it, until the image of Daytona became what it is today. Dale Earnhardt Sr. said, 'If you've ever won at Daytona, it doesn't matter what else is on your resume. It doesn't matter if it's a go-kart or stock car or whatever. It's Daytona that counts."

This article was adapted from a story by Phil Luciano of PJStar.com. Racing photos are from Bill Scott's collection, color photo from PJStar.com.

ANKE-EVE GOLDMANN

It seems we have found our Madame X, and her name is Anke-Eve. Six feet tall, slim, and striking, she felt comfortable with cameras and eyes focussed on her, as she proved her abilities on two wheels.


Our first image of her is astride BMW R67/3 in 1954. This model can be distinguished by the plunger rear suspension, tiny taillamp, and fishtail exhaust pipes. The 'Schorsch Meier' dualseat is an unusual item for a plunger-frame BMW - original equipment was a rubber Denfield saddle. It appears she competed in Endurance and Speed competition, but was barred, as a woman, from competing at a higher level of Club or GP racing.
This did not dissuade her from seeking fast motorcycles and race tracks; in many photographs she is hurtling down the tarmac, and mixing with other motorcyclists at Hockenheim and Nurburgring - such as here examining a Norton Manx at Nurburgring.

Her 'pass' at the tracks, beyond her riding ability, was a facility with writing a good story for the press, and she regularly sent racing and riding reports to Moto Revue in France, as well as publications in Spain, Sweden, Germany, the US, and Japan. Here at Hockenheim, she waits for track time with a pair of Jawa two-strokes and a Zundapp outfit - her suitcase strapped to the parcel rack of her R69.

She worked at a U.S. Air Force base, teaching German to the children of soldiers stationed there. She also spoke other languages, and her command of English was good enough to write two articles for Cycle World magazine in 1962. 'An Invitation to a Lap Around the Nurburgring' was published in the June issue of 1962, and a report on women racers in the Soviet Union (!) was printed in October of that year [and yes, I will definitely post it]. In this photo, noted motorcycle author Erwin Tragatsch, author of the definitive 'Illustrated History of Motorcycles', stands with a group visiting Anke-Eve with her late-model R69S, now with a British 'Peel' fairing (distinguishable by the clear panel in the nose - the headlamp is not mounted to the actual fairing, but is retained in the standard position. The clear section is elongated for a full sweep of light).


And don't you wish your Elementary School teacher rode a motorcycle like Anke-Eve! She cut quite a figure in those drab days of the late 1950s, and had a bit of an exhibitionist streak.


By 1956, she had a new BMW R69, which was the fastest Bavarian flat-twin roadster, topping 100mph with aplomb. And she repaid the bike's excellent qualities with loyalty and by becoming an extremely visible spokesperson for the marque, always wearing her pudding basin helmet with a large 'BMW' sticker at the front. These photos show Anka-Eve at the Nurburgring race track, usually alone! Perhaps the male riders were afraid to ride with her...

In 1958, in concert with 9 other women riders, including Ellen Pfeiffer, she helped found W.I.M.A. (Women's International Motorcycling Association) in Europe. W.I.M.A. U.S.A. was founded in 1950 by Louise Scherbyn, and the idea spread quickly to Britain and Europe. Ellen Pfeiffer is now considered the 'Urmütter' of the organization in Europe.

I don't think Ms. Goldmann was ever sponsored or employed by the BMW factory, but she was clearly given priority when purchasing one of the first half-dozen BMW R69S models in 1960; her new machine has the ultra-rare rearview mirror mounted above the cylinder head. The R69S had 42hp, was capable of 110mph, and made a superb and reliable sports-touring machine.

And tour she did; attending the Elephant Rally mid-winter for many years on her BMW, and riding throughout the year, regardless of the season or road conditions. These photos of Anke-Eve riding in ice and snow give an idea of her determination, and the care with which she designed her own riding gear.

It seems she worked with German leather riding gear manufacturer 'Harro' in creating her own personalized attire. In winter months, she can be seen wearing a large buckled body belt, too large to be merely a 'kidney belt', which must have been an aid to keeping warm in very cold weather.

Her riding suit for winter is significantly bulkier and larger than the svelte summer catsuit, and can clearly accomodate woolens underneath - leggings, sweaters, the lot - the suit approaches Bibendum proportions on her coldest rides.

Her summer one-piece riding suit had the distinctive feature of a diagonal zipper from the neck, crossing over to the side of the body, which may have aided the 'fit' of the leathers, especially on a woman's torso. Her leathers certainly fit well...


Harro went on to manufacture 'her' design for public consumption.





And then, she gave up her beloved BMWs. Perhaps she was bored by the R75/5 model which supplanted the R69S in 1969, or felt that it's performance lagged behind what 'the competition' was offering, especially as Japanese and Italian machines had much faster and better-handling machines at the time. Whatever the reason, Ms. Goldmann moved right on up to M.V. Agusta's 750cc DOHC 4-cylinder hotrods, perhaps the first and only woman to do so - she was a sensation.

While M.V. had been producing 4-cylinder racers since the 1950s, the 750S, introduced in 1969, was their first sporting 4, and what the public had been clamoring for. But, the public couldn't afford the M.V.! It was always an expensive and exclusive motorcycle, revered by collectors today, and out of reach for all but the lucky few in 1969.

Anke-Eve seems totally at home with her Italian rocket, and she kept this bike for several years, upgrading over time with items such as cast magnesium Campagnolo wheels, triple disc Brembo brakes, and a set of aftermarket 'Arturo Magni' 4-in-1 exhaust pipes - all items which were added to the newest M.V. models.

This machine was the total antithesis of her old BMWs! Loud, fast, and a bit fragile, it certainly wasn't the best Touring machine, especially with the clip-on handlebars and rearsets she favored. Her riding position really tells the tale; Anke-Eve had evolved into a full-blown Cafe Racer, and given the noise (however glorious) emanating from those Magni pipes, a bit of a hooligan!

After the death of her closest friend in a riding accident, Anke-Eve Goldmann seems to have given up motorcycles altogether, and began to travel with a backpack to remote Asian locations. Traveling alone, she trekked through Burma, the Sunda Islands, Vietnam, and Cambodia, not many years after the conflicts there had ended.

If you have further information about this remarkable woman, please contact me!

SHOWMAN IN A SUITCASE - PUTT MOSSMAN

by Chris Illman





















Chris writes: "This contribution about an American hero is written by an Englishman! (well Paul, you often articulate on many of our British heroes, so time to turn the tables on you!). My dialogue takes us back to another era, when one of your fellow countrymen spent a considerable amount of his time in England displaying some of his many talents, which as far as I can ascertain, have never been documented in detail (I guess this is the point where someone will prove otherwise!)."

Some 20-odd years ago, whilst browsing a Junk Shop in Greenwich (southeast London), I found a very scruffy suitcase gathering dust, filled with a pile of old newspapers. Closer inspection revealed some interesting stuff, including a mountain of photographs of pre-WW2 Speedway racing – a particular passion of mine! That set the heart racing; without wanting to appear too eager for fear of escalating the price, the obvious question was asked - “How much for this old suitcase full of Newspapers?”. The welcome retort was “Give us a fiver!”

My anticipation was agonizing during the drive home, as there was no way to properly assess the contents of my prize until they could be spread out and sifted through. That humble suitcase revealed a treasure trove of material related to just one man; Frederick Lindop Evans. Fred Evans was the Manager of Hackney Wick Speedway team, and it quickly became clear that the case contained personal effects from his time as Hackney ‘Wolves’ Manager, covering the period 1935 until the outbreak of the 1939-1945 conflict in Europe. Fred Evans survived the War, but apparently he was never reunited with his treasured possessions, which remains a complete mystery. To relate Fred’s story and explore the entire contents of the suitcase is beyond the scope of this post, but after years of dipping in and out of the thousands of items, many stories emerge.

And this is where Oren 'Putt' Mossman comes into the story. It relates to Fred’s association with Putt and the friendship that ensued! During these Pre-War years, Speedway in England was big; indeed for a while, it was Britain’s top spectator sport.

Fred and Putt shared much in common. The most significant pattern to emerge is a shared obsession with ‘Self Publicity’. As well as the obvious Speedway connection, they both loved to play Golf and as it happened, Fred was a member the exclusive Chorleywood Golf Club in Middlesex. From Fred’s diaries it seems that whenever Putt was in London, they tried to fit a game in at least once a week. Given that Fred and his Hackney Team were touring the Country at least 5 nights a week, where they found the time is beyond belief, as Putt’s schedule was probably just as hectic!

On occasions their schedules didn’t work out - see the note from Putt, with his wonderful Letter Headed paper proclaiming his achievements - saying sorry that golf would not be possible on July 17, 1938. [Note the extensive publicity on Putt's letterhead!] Both appear to have been accomplished Practical Jokers, if examples of the outrageous tricks they played one another and on the Hackney Riders are anything to go by!

Showman Putt needed an opportunity to present his exploits to big audiences, and it seems that our Fred was also keen to make the most of the large attendances at Hackney by adding new attractions to his Speedway meetings. The synergy was obvious and Putt’s Stunt Show fitted the bill perfectly for the intervals. The Hackney Wick crowd was already huge, but the added attractions swelled the gate, giving a mutual benefit to both parties. Putt of course would go on to spend a great deal of time in England, and his schedule of shows defies logic. My god, he must have had some stamina!

A quick glance at the attached Press Cutting (above) will show how he managed to pack in more than 11 shows across the country in just 13 days - it is said that he once did 100 shows in England in just one year. Given his propensity to push himself to the limit and beyond, he had terrific self-confidence, not allowing himself the luxury of a few days recovery should he tumble (and tumble he did it appears, on many occasions!).

As well as the Stunt Shows, Putt was a Speedway rider of some note, and appeared with the American team on a regular basis. This photograph (above) of the Tram outside the famous Hackney Empire Music Hall and Theatre, clearly expresses the sentiment that ‘It pays to advertise’. Wonderfully evocative of pre-war London, it encapsulates the Mossman/Evans connection via a banner promoting an American Speedway Team vs. Hackney Wick match. The photo of Putt in full ‘Leg Trailing’ mode (top photo) not only demonstrates his skill as an accomplished Speedway rider, but shows him casually wearing a pullover and a tie! [Click on the program below to catch the wonderful slang of a 1930's motorcycle racer]

During one of his many visits to Britain, Putt participated in the 1938 Isle of Man Lightweight TT, on an OK Supreme. Sadly, he did not finish, falling at the 33rd Milestone and suffering a serious arm injury. As if to wear his failure as a glorious Badge of Office, he printed up the Post Card below, which, like so many of the others found in the case, is personally signed by Putt to Fred Evans.

Incidentally, whilst on the subject of the Isle of Man, it is a little known fact that Putt also did the Stunt Riding for the iconic film ‘No Limit’ that starred George Formby as a TT Rider which was actually shot in the I.O.M in 1935. (Click here for more details on the film).

Among his stunts, perhaps one of the most dramatic was staged at the Hackney Wick Stadium. A makeshift scaffold was erected, and a ramp descended from the top of the Grandstand, sweeping down to a take-off ramp, where Putt was propelled though the air to land in 15” deep pool of water. As if this feat was not daring enough, the pool of water was topped off with burning petrol! Although the leap was a spectacular success from the crowd’s perspective, personal recollections of a spectator reveals that a heavy landing resulted in a broken & bloody nose for Putt. In true showman’s spirit, he completely disregarded his injuries, picked himself up, and rode a lap of honour, to the great acclaim of the assembled masses.

Although well known for his Ladder Walk, the accompanying Photo, which has been published on several occasions I believe, is again rather special as it is personally signed and dedicated ‘To my good friend & Pal, Fred’. The bike incidentally, is an Indian 4-cylinder job, with an amazing exhaust system! It was an expensive machine then; I wonder where it is now?

These images are a small selection of the treasures associated with Putt that came from this wonderful goldmine of Pre-War Speedway ephemera. Stunt Riding was effectively a ‘Part Time’ job for him; amongst other things, Putt was, or had been, a Speedway Champion [Japan 1936] a Champion Shoe Thrower [Horseshoes], Midget Car Racer, Boxer, Baseball Player and Vaudeville artist.










[Recently this video of Putt's Motorcycle Stunt Show has come to light on youtube - note the 'ladder trick' among other stunts. As this was 1960, Putt would have been 54 years old].


Chris has been featured here sprinting a Norton-JAP at Brighton - he and his son Mark run the VMCC Sprinting webpage. Chris is also a great collector of motorcycle ephemera. Thanks for the contribution!