By Andrew Ritchie

Cycle Publishing/Van Der Plas Publications; 2nd edition, 2010

208 pages, US $39.95

Reviewed by Luis Bernhardt

Despite the velodrome in Indianapolis named in his honor, despite the Cannondale track bike named after him, despite all of his eponymous cycling clubs, Major Taylor still has not insinuated himself into mainstream America. He is seldom, if ever, mentioned among black sports pioneers, there has yet to be a movie made of his career and only a handful of books about him have been written, including his own autobiography and this one, released in a second edition that contains updates and additional illustrations.

In the years preceding 1900, Taylor was successfully fighting to cross the color barrier in the biggest and richest professional sport of the time, cycling. The top pro bike racers of that era were making several times more than the top baseball players. Not only this, but Major Taylor was years ahead of his time in his training methods and in his position on the bike, which looks far more contemporary than any of his opponents.

Taylor’s problem was simply being born in a racist era. It was an ugly time when diminishment of those on the basis of race was completely acceptable, even expected. It was a time when the southern members of the League of American Wheelmen prohibited blacks from becoming members, a rule that went unchanged until 1969, much to the shame of the now-named League of American Bicyclists.

Despite the narrow-minded bigotry, there were shining beacons of progressive thought at that time. Beacons such as Taylor’s first coach and manager, “Birdie” Munger (the son of an Ontario farmer), who recognized the nascent talent and fierce will to succeed possessed by the well-mannered and humble youth who performed acrobatic tricks on his bicycle in front of the bike shop where he worked. Places such as Massachusetts, Worcester in particular, were among the more progressive of American communities in terms of racial acceptance.

Ritchie’s well-researched tome presents a number of real gems. Taylor was a masterful bike-handler. As well as impressive tricks that drew audiences to bike shops, he also had a nifty racing trick that showed the his impressive skills on the banked velodrome: From second position leading up to a sprint, he would sharply tap the rider in front’s rear wheel with his front wheel (don’t try this at home) before initiating his sprint. The disturbance would distract the front rider enough that Taylor could get a good jump.

Contemporary newspaper accounts are quoted, and they vividly record the amount of condescension experienced by non-white sportsmen of the period. “Darkies” were assumed to be inferior in all ways, so Taylor’s feats in easily disposing of various white track cyclists were seen as unbelievable and astounding.

But where Ritchie’s work shines most is when he focuses on Taylor’s successes: his world championship title in Europe, his US national title and his successful tour of Australia (he named his daughter Sidney, after the city). Taylor’s story is one of inspiration, of dogged determination and perseverance against all manner of adversity. It is also a story of strong moral character (he probably would have won far more had he acceded to others’ wishes and raced on Sundays, and he was always comfortable in knowing that he had never cheated in order to win) and of complete physical development.

Major Taylor deserves more than a footnote in a dusty corner of history; he was not only the fastest bicycle rider in the world, he is without doubt one of the greatest sports heroes in US history, and it’s high time he was recognized for his accomplishments and his exemplary character.