Scooterpalooza!
Scooterpalooza!
Getting in touch with your inner child on a Whizzer, a Rock-Ola or a Silver Eagle
WENDY F. BLACK
AS THE HOT SUMMER SUN BREAKS THROUGH the clouds in Portland, Indiana, on this July morning, visitors to the Jay County Fairgrounds are greeted by an odd sight. Just within the gates-next to the Women's Building, across from the Floral Buildingare hundreds of scooters.
Some are restored to stellar perfection, others a breeding ground for rust. Most were produced in the 1930s, `40s or `SOs: American-made Cush mans, Whizzers, Mustangs and Simplexes, as well as a few of their Italian brethren, Vespas and Lambrettas. The rarer makes, such as Saisbury and Mitsubishi's Silver Pigeon, are also on hand, though in less abundance.
What would provoke such a scooter stampede on this sleepy little farming community? Why, the 24th Annual Vintage Motor Bike Club National Meet, of course. Almost 1500 people will attend the three-day event.
"The meet has been in Portland for 19 years," says club founder Ray Gabbard. "About three years ago, I mentioned moving the meet, and that insulted everybody!"
A serious collector himself, Gabbard is curator of his own private scooter museum. "I started collecting in 1971, and everybody thought I was crazy," he says.
Well, that was then and this is now. Having camped the night before on the fairground's grassy fields, hun dreds of cheery club members awaken to bright blue skies, a crisp breeze and the scent of fresh coffee coming from the con cession stand, manned by volunteers from the Optimist Club. Break fast is served and soon folks begin to wander the grounds.
T~i~i~achines are bought and sold, and plenty of money changes hands here, most mem bers maintain their pri mary reason for attending is to see friends, ride
scooters and enjoy themselves. Most are male, ranging in age from mid-30s to upper 60s, and they say their impetus for collecting scooters can be traced back to fond boyhood memories.
"You've got to be able to look beyond the grunge and rust to see the finished product," says Jay Niemann, from Lebanon, Indiana. "Most of us have messed around with big bikes, but
we all come back to our childhood."
Indeed, their childhood was where it all began. Although scooters first appeared in the early 1900s, they didn't enjoy widespread popularity until after the Great Depression. A byproduct of the 1929 catastrophe, the scooter was lauded for being thrifty. One 1930s Cushman ad stated that scooters were "cheaper than shoe leather," because fuel consumption was so low.
Although a number of scooter com panies were started during the late 1930s and `40s, Saisbury and Cush man led the charge in 1936 and `37, respectively. They paved the way for others, such as Simplex, Mustang and Powell, all of which are represented at the meet.
Several, in fact, belong to Herb Singe, an avid collector from Hillside, New Jersey. A mainstay at the event,
Singe sports a short-sleeved shirt emblazoned with "Scooter Herb" above the pocket and a pair of very plaid pants.
The trousers are a Singe trademark, as is his matching plaid Powell P-40. Singe owns approximately 40 scooters, and for this meet he unveiled a restored 1938 Rock-Ola, a 1936 Saisbury and a 1939 Powell. Says Singe, "I like the early pre-war years because it shows the beginning of the scooter industry in the United States."
Although Singe's collection is worth a mint, he doesn't restore scooters for profit. "I just don't sell my scooters," he emphasizes. "I collect and restore them for myself. I trade and upgrade, but I don't sell."
Club members are drawn to the per sonable Singe, who details his latest restoration. Then the air begins to thicken with humidity, and talk turns to the weather and the previous sum mer's heat wave. Quips member Jim Minnis, "It was so hot last year, I saw a dog chasing a cat, and they were both walking!"
Despite the heat, or perhaps because of it, club members continually pilot their tiny mounts around the fair grounds. So when a group ride is announced, most are well-prepared. The 11-mile jaunt takes 250 scooter ists to Bear Creek Farm, a local arts and crafts village.
Once there, club members seek shade and sip sodas while looking over each others' rides. Under one tree, Tom Carter, from Watseka, Illinois, talks amiably with two older gentlemen resplendent in Cushman and Whizzer riding gear.
"Hardly anybody's got just one Cushman. I'm up to nine," says Carter, who rode a 1963 Silver Eagle model to the meet.
Asked about his fondness for scoot ers, he offers this succinct, albeit spicy, explanation: "Scooters were originally popular because they gave young men the mobility to get away from their parents, go to the next town and chase girls."
For Norb Piepho, however, pursuing the opposite sex wasn't necessarily a priority. The object of his desire was a Cushman Eagle. "I had a Cushman when I was 15," he says. "But I had always wanted an Eagle. And in 1989, I decided I was going to find one. I did and then restored it, and that started it. Seven years later, I have a trailer, a motor home and 25 scooters. You just go bonkers. I restore a scooter a year, and I started selling them because I was running out of room."
Piepho has set up a tent toward the rear of the fairgrounds, where several restored scooters shine in the sun. The
most striking are for sale: A sweet 1946 Cushman Auto Glide Model 54 is tagged at $3500, while a tasty 1957 Allstate 3hp Standard wears a $2000 sticker.
During the company's 28year existence, the Cushman evolved from a tiny 1-horse power scooter with no lights and no suspension into a larger step-through chassis with an automatic clutch, and then into vehicles that resembled miniature motor cycles, such as the coveted Silver Eagle.
Meanwhile, Allstate scoot ers were the result of a deal between Sears Roebuck & Co. and Cushman. Having seen scooter success, the department store chain bought into the company, selling Cushmans under the Allstate name through its catalog.
Like Cushmans, Whizzers are a common sight at the fairgrounds. Manufactured in Pontiac, Michigan, the Whizzer was produced from 1939 through the early 1960s. Basically a bicycle with an engine strapped to its frame with belt drive supplying power to the rear wheel, the Whizzer had to be pedaled to life.
"I have a `48 Whizzer," states Bob Lewardowski, camped on the outskirts of the fairgrounds. "It will be a hand me-down for my grandchildren."
Over the years, he has spent almost $5000 on the custom-painted machine, which wears a megaphone exhaust pipe, Mikuni carburetor and Weber cam.
"I guess the boy never gets out of you," he says. "I have three more Whizzers, a Vespa, and next year I'm going to restore a Mustang Pony."
On the final day of the meet, the annual auction is scheduled, held inside one of the fairground's pavil ions. Restored and unrestored scooters are on the block, along with odd bits of two-wheeled flotsam and jetsam.
About 150 potential buyers and sell ers, as well as curious onlookers, gather. The auc tioneer, a jowly man, is already perspiring from the heat. Wearing a determined expression, he wipes his brow, and with microphone in hand starts the bidding. His words jumble together as he sells one object, then moves on to another.
Before the day is done, he will have sold several thousand dollars worth of scooters, along with an odd conglom eration of parts for $5.
The latter draws laughter, but the nebulous lump of junk is really what this meet is all about. After all, as one parts vendor explains, "To be a collec tor, first you gotta start with a pile!"
As the sunsets over the rolling hills of Portland, the locals head home, sat isfied that they've had $2 worth of fun, and the scooter owners prepare for their journeys home. -
The fairgrounds, just a few hours earlier teeming with activity, are now quiet and calm. But nearby, an obvious first-timer tentatively looks over the few scooters left standing. He touches one, sits on it. A nostalgic gleam appears in his eyes-it's just like the Cushman he had when he was 14. He used to deliver newspapers on it.
The owner strolls up. "Hey buddy, you need a project or what?" The man pulls out his wallet. He's hooked.
The Vintage Motor Bike Club can be reached at 620 Pierce St., Portland, IN 4737]• 219/726-3720.
