As cycling boomed in 19th-century America, its Black stars shone bright

WWhen cycling first took hold in the United States in the late 19th and early 20th centuries, black Americans participated in the new pastime. One black cyclist, Marshall “Major” Taylor, became the world champion in 1899. Yet American cycling introduced a color line into professional cycling. Opportunities became so limited that black competitors had to take them wherever they could find them—including the vaudeville stage and Europe. Their stories are chronicled in a new book, Black Cyclists: The Race for Inclusion , by Robert J. Turpin, a professor of history at Lees-McRae College in North Carolina.

“We fall into the trap of thinking that history is linear,” Turpin says. “When we think about race relations, we think of the end of the Civil War: ‘Slavery ended and things started getting better for black people.’ My book shows what we already know: Things actually got worse for black people in the United States, especially from the 1880s to the 1920s … It became harder for black cyclists to compete as professionals or even win prize money in general.”

Turpin is a cyclist himself, and his college has a minor in cycling studies, which he believes is the only program of its kind in the United States. His interest in the history of cycling extends to how it has been marketed over the decades—the subject of his previous book. A Kentucky native, he laments the role of Southern cyclists in segregating the sport in the decades following the Civil War.

Turpin raises another issue: a lack of diversity in modern cycling. The book cites a 2020 USA Cycling survey of more than 7,000 members, which found that only 3% identified as Black or African-American. This underrepresentation extends to the upcoming Olympics and the Tour de France, where this week Biniam Girmay became the first Black African stage winner in the race’s 120-year history. Still, the book notes the growing impact and influence of Black elite competitors like 11-time national champion Justin Williams and the first Black female professional cyclist, Ayesha McGowan.

Before Turpin entered the University of Kentucky in 2009, he learned about Taylor, whose cycling exploits began as a teenager in Indianapolis and who won a world championship in the one-mile sprint in Montreal, becoming the first black American world champion in any sport, and his exploits were chronicled in an autobiography, The Fastest Bicycle Rider in the World.

“He was an international superstar,” Turpin says. “We don’t think about black people in cycling during [the 19th century] …I had to know if he was the only big black cyclist. I suspected not.”

Turpin returned to Taylor’s story a few years later. By then, additional primary sources had been made public through digitization. Turpin learned more about not only Taylor, but also his predecessors and colleagues.

“They were just given a little bit of attention,” Turpin said of other black cyclists in the historical record. “They were mentioned in passing. I wanted to give them a little more focus, talk about their experiences, how those experiences fit into some of the historical changes.”

Cycling was hugely popular in the late 19th century. Nightly races at Madison Square Garden drew crowds. From 1898 to 1899, one million bicycles were produced annually in the United States.

“It was one of the faster ways to get around,” Turpin says, “one of the quickest forms of mobility, especially over long distances… It was enormously popular, especially among middle and upper class people.”

Massachusetts became a place for early black success in cycling. David Drummond regularly won Fourth of July races in Boston. Taylor used his winnings to buy a house in Worcester—and the city’s first automobile. Katherine “Kittie” Knox, a seamstress turned racer, was famous for her self-designed outfits and her endurance. Knox highlighted the challenges faced by cyclists who were both black and female.

“If you were black and a woman, those were two big blows,” Turpin says. “People thought you couldn’t ride a bike if you were a woman, and you couldn’t ride a bike if you were black. So there was a double burden.”

In 1894, a prominent national cycling organization, the League of American Wheelmen, spurred on by a Kentucky member, banned all black cyclists except Taylor from professional racing. The ban was not officially repealed until 1999 by the organization, which had since been renamed the League of American Bicyclists.

The book shows how black cyclists responded. They criticized the decision in the Massachusetts state legislature and founded black cycling leagues.

“I emphasize their agency,” Turpin says. “I don’t talk about them as victims. They were resourceful in finding alternative ways to earn a living and find social mobility.”

One option was the six-day race, a grueling event open to cyclists of all races. Another option was the vaudeville circuit, although a cyclist’s time on the podium was often limited to less than 10 minutes.

Unlike Jim Crow America, international venues welcomed black participation as professionals. Taylor left for France and Australia, naming his daughter Sydney after the city where he felt most welcome. Fellow driver Woody Hedspeth followed Taylor to France—and while Taylor returned to the U.S., Hedspeth remained in Paris. Hedspeth settled in the French capital and reportedly married a local cabaret dancer, and they had a daughter.

“He stayed abroad,” Turpin says. “That tells me he must have really felt that things were better in France than in the US.”

Hedspeth did not leave until after Paris fell under Vichy control in World War II. Evacuated by the Red Cross and separated from his partner and their child, he died of tuberculosis and typhoid in Lisbon in 1941 while awaiting transport back to the United States.

Most of the cyclists in the book had unfortunate epilogues—even Taylor. Though he had become one of America’s wealthiest black men, he was ruined by post-cycling business decisions. Separated from his wife and daughter, he moved to a Chicago YMCA. He died at age 53, about a month after undergoing heart surgery. Knox died of kidney disease in her 20s. Two black cyclists from the era—Drummond and William Ivy—were committed to psychiatric institutions for unknown reasons, while a third—Hardy Jackson—was incarcerated twice, the second time for rape of minors.

“There are no happy stories,” Turpin says. “I finally tried, [offer] a glimmer of hope.”

When the sport was on the cusp of its rebirth in the mid-20th century, black cyclists were part of the story. The first black cyclist to compete for the U.S. in the Olympics was Herbie Francis in Rome in 1960. The first black U.S. Olympic medalist was Nelson Vails, who won silver in the individual sprint at the 1984 Los Angeles Olympics and later rode alongside Kevin Bacon in the 1986 film Quicksilver. In 2009, Vails was inducted into the United States Bicycling Hall of Fame.

More recently, cycling has been used to advance the causes of Black Lives Matter and reparations. One well-known Black cyclist and activist, 10-time national champion Rahsaan Bahati, is trying to popularize cycling in the inner city—making it accessible to poor people of all races who live there.

Turpin believes that the pioneering black cyclists he studied had a similar social conscience in their time.

“I claim that all these black cyclists were activists,” he says. “They were doing something that… nobody [else] seemed to do. All these people were making a statement.”