Richard Sachs Cycles

[MarkC]

How can a windowless barn have one window?

Enjoying the updates.

-Mark

[e-RICHIE]

How can a windowless barn have one window?

Enjoying the updates.

-Mark

Funny. There was one window frame with no glass and a sheet of plywood covering it from within.

[MarkC]

Hope to see your new studio at some at some point. Have visited Peter a couple times in his "new" space to pick up frames. Its fun to see folks find a home that really works for them.

Very much have enjoyed your descriptions of moving from CT to MA and back and finding a bit of rejuvenation. If that is a fair term to use. Think at some point most (all?) of us go through similar journeys but don't commit the thoughts and emotions to paper nor do we share them with eloquence.

[e-RICHIE]

Bring Back The Elegance

There’s never been a moment when the dots between making bicycles and racing them weren’t connected. I can’t imagine a life – my profession – without the sport being there with each saw cut, file stroke, brazing task, and detail that comprises my work. The arena of competition is the most important spanner in my experiential tool-box.

I was hooked on racing long before I put my name on a down tube. Lured by the romance of its history in Europe, I found joy on the pages of any cycling magazine I could open. From France. Australia, England. Italy. I subscribed to the lot of them. Without even knowing that fate would one day place me in this trade, the needle was in my arm. And stayed there.

Bicycles then were a thing of beauty, and all made by hand. I was happy to land in this corner of the industry where tailors crafted goods for those who rode in anger. It was lovely to contrast my days agonizing over millimeters, fractions of a degree, and if the metal being coaxed was duly tamed, and then see it getting beat to death on the open roads each weekend.

Bicycles now are far less beautiful and many resemble appliances. It’s harder than ever to look at what I do and think it will endure. My frames come alive when assembled, but components now are manufactured primarily for the industrial-made sector. I often select an item simply because it’s all that’s left on the menu. Some look fine, others border on compromise.

How to deliver beautiful bicycles when so many of the parts are so ugly? In 2017, it’s not my biggest challenge, it’s my only one.

[jon_norstog]

I find myself using vintage equipment more and more. There is a lot of it out there. Eight speed you can use most vintage cranks; nine speed you can still get a decent replacement cassette. The scarcest item for me has been downpull front derailleurs with a 28.6mm clamp; even scarcer are ones that will accommodate a compact triple crank. Community cycling centers/co-ops are good places to look.

jn

[e-RICHIE]

All This By Hand

This is an article by Kristy Marks and appeared in the Connecticut Business & Industry magazine. I’d been in business for nine years. ‘Was one of a handful of frame makers in the states. I had an annual production of 100 plus units. And just, only just, starting to get a sense of where all the pieces fit into this puzzle called the bicycle business.

With typical youthful exuberance, I didn’t and couldn’t charge enough to make a decent living yet explained it away as the price one pays for doing his own thing. That’s the Woodstock Generation effect right there. I could have been doing almost anything then and found a way to work in that “…money isn’t as important as happiness and listening to your own voice” saw that seemed part of the times.

I’ve carried that time with me. I was 31 when interviewed. I’ve turned 31 a second time since. And while everything around me has changed, very little inside is much different. I knew early on that working alone was how I’d survive. Growth. Expanding. Turning this solitary pursuit into something more grand simply because that’s the model a successful brand takes as the years tick away – I didn’t get that memo.

The last line in this article reads, “Sachs is adamant about working alone. ‘I would feel awful putting my name on a frame that I didn’t make myself, knowing that it wouldn’t be as perfect as it should be,’ he says. ‘I insist that the actual quality be there, and not just the perceived quality.'”

By the time I turned 31 the second time, my prices were high enough that I didn’t worry about paying the bills. I’d long since made the choice to assemble fewer units and give each one more attention. I did have a brief stint in the middle 1980s when I paid another to work alongside me. Then I let him go, believing my vision couldn’t be realized with someone else’s hands.

[e-RICHIE]

Mad Man


This is full page ad I used to take, sometimes even in periodicals having nothing at all to do with bicycles. The message I wanted to send was this: I am not them. The figurine. The word count. The pith. It’s all there. It was straight out of the Richard Sachs Cycles style manual.

I realized early on there was a go/no go thing between me and the trade. My decision to stay at the bench was equal parts embracing the unconventional path, as well as feeling as I’d severed ties with academic life for good. The more firmly I became entrenched in a craftsman’s life, the easier it was to accept that I found a corner to stand on – and should protect it.

My personal space demanded vigilance because it was oh so easy to get sucked into the mainstream. I needed the industry on many levels, especially if components are considered. Without them, my frames would never become bicycles. But I could identify with no one, and none of it. Yet I casually drove myself ahead, made more frames, found clients, and became part of the fabric on my own terms.

I developed an irreverent streak – maybe to make claim that I am not part of anyone’s game – maybe to tap a creative streak that needed to surface and help me tell a story – but most definitely as a survival instinct. The more things stayed the same, the more I needed to amplify my differences.

The model was painted using a fine point Sharpie. The little guy sat in my window for generations. The bicycle broke into many small pieces not too long ago, a fate each of us will meet one day.

[e-RICHIE]

Coming Of Age

In 1979 I wrote 1,289 words about my trade for Competitive Cycling, the ‘zine based in Nevada City that also, in its day, was the thorn in Cycle-News’ side. Cycle-News was once Northeast Bicycle News, and then VeloNews, and then Velo. I’m seriously glad I’m not in publishing.

I began with, “In 1975, the number of American framebuilders amounted to nearly 100. Today, there may be less than 20 still involved on a full-time basis. These, however, are building a reputation that is equaling, if not exceeding, the European masters.”

This was a sincere perspective gleaned from almost a decade of bench work. Revisionist history and selective memories aside, the landscape was barren. Even the “European masters” were already falling, leaving brands to their mostly disinterested children, or – worse yet, diversifying into that newfangled thing, the mountain bike.

Water seeks its own level, markets self-correct, and people make it to the other side. We’re now in a time when more people than ever are making frames. I can’t know if it’s a business for most, or if they’re opening up veins for this era’s craft du jour. We’ll come back in 38 years and take stock.

The text ends with an opinion, disproving the myth that these are a new thing for me:

“This framebuilder’s opinion—the dominant frame won’t be American; it won’t ever be made in one particular country. Deep down we all know the complete bicycle is only as efficient as the legs that pedal it. But we have finally ‘gained the confidence’ of the public to which we offer our products. While the European framebuilders, so popular during the bike boom, have been slow to cater to the discerning need of the American bikie, we have filled the void. We offer quality. We offer beauty. We offer precision. We offer service. The American framebuilder has finally come of age.”

[e-RICHIE]

The Road Test Of Time

This was kinda’ sorta’ cool when it happened. Mostly because I didn’t know. One of these issues has a VML (visible mailing label) and I found it one morning in my box in Chester. The staff at Bicycle Guide had done a Road Test (upper case to connote importance) on one of my bicycles several months prior to the publication of this Buyers’ Annual. They told me after the fact that they had a decent stock of images that weren’t used and thought this one would go well on the cover.

Those were good days, at least the ones I remember. Back then, not everyone was a writer, or had a blog, or had ways to let the rest of humankind know what they were thinking. The fellows at BG were (then) a ragtag group of folks who defected from Rodale Press and, with the underwriting of Norm Raben, created a magazine from scratch, one less indentured to pressures from its advertisers or the very convention of writing mundane articles for the entry level cyclist.

For a brief moment in time, Bicycle Guide was the perfect storm of journalists, content, and presentation. But over the years its edge eventually dulled as founding members left for more lucrative salaries and – as is always the case – editorial had to pay more attention to what brand managers and agencies wanted than it did when the model was first conceived.

There were many like Bicycle Guide in the pre-internet years. None survived that road test of longevity.

[e-RICHIE]

Grazie

Thank you notes are an important piece of the puzzle. I can recall fewer than a handful of times when I forgot, or neglected, to include them with a transaction. I'm speaking business here. Socially, it's a given. De rigueur. A no brainer. For all the bicycles I send out, the soft-goods, the small cast parts that other frame makers buy from me, and of course the full range of RS tchotchkes on my site, I always include a little piece of me. Sometimes it's a handmade card using an old photograph spray adhesived onto a piece of foam core. It can be a note written on some wacky colored stationery I find at an old school art supply store. Often I embellish what I send by adding confetti and certainly some Twizzlers. Nearly everyone gets a RS button. I once read that Naomi Campbell lived on Altoids and San Pellegrino so I thought, why not? After eating all the mints, I used the empty tins as a vehicle for my messages. Most of them left here looking like this image attached. I have no idea what the recipients thought when opening these.

Over time, my thank you's have ranged from paper, to cards, to little collectibles. I just wanted all who pay me for anything I do within these four walls to know that their patronage is appreciated beyond words. For the 5-6 who I missed since the early 1970s, please accept my thanks belatedly.

[e-RICHIE]

Mr. Hurlow

I learned early on that the answer to the question Why is often Because. Especially when it comes from someone with experience. This is a letter Bill Hurlow sent me in reply to some issues I wanted to resolve for the second (of three) frames he made for me. His advice, once offered, was always taken. No discussion. Never a follow up. And this was before my life took a turn and delivered me to London where I’d have first hand interactions with those in the trade. And long before I’d enter it myself, on my own terms, and with my name over a door.

The respect for those whose steps come before mine is beyond important. It’s immeasurable. I have an inherent trust in the information some pass over to me. The trust isn’t given freely. Or often. But for someone like Mr. Hurlow, it was easy. He speaks, I listen.

I often lament that this sort of thing seems less common now. People want to grab what they can from whatever source it comes from, and often it’s from a Google search. Or from someone whose skills are far from developed. The result dumbs down the very essence of what it is the person may be trying to learn in the first place. Yeah. I’m talking about my trade (again). Folks are in a mad rush to make a brand. Garbage in. Garbage out.

[e-RICHIE]

Film Days

I’ve met very few cameras I didn’t like. But it’s not as easy as just smiling, or standing naturally. For the studio days I usually worked the Gillette hard for a close shave. Made sure the shop apron was washed but still had a few small tears to suggest I work once in a while. I almost always did the black turtleneck and jeans thing, and almost always the Adilettes. Depending on the era, I’d go to great (well, maybe good…) lengths have the wristwatch visible. The bicycle was at the right stance to the lens. I didn’t want to force the pose, or be too rigid. It was common for the shooter to run off hundreds of exposures just to capture several we might use. Some were handed off as four by fives. These are two and a quarter squares. I spent an inordinate amount of time looking through loupes over light boxes. None of this stuff was digital. None ever converted for web use. I’ve done it that way too. I’m comfortable letting it all get fixed in the machine because these are different times. But there’s also something memorable, almost organic, about film and how pictures were composed and taken, and that waiting period between when the lights get turned off and the transparencies come back from the lab. And then making so many decisions until the right one is made and an image is chosen.

Living with anticipation – it’s a feeling I could get used to again.

[e-RICHIE]

The Red & White Thing

I saw this on Facebook. It’s a team bicycle from the first year we dd them in red and white. That was 1983. The years before, they were all grey. Story goes, Le Coq Sportif was our kit supplier and they handed over a load of red and white skin suits during the off-season and I decided to paint the livery to match. The French company stayed with us another year and then moved on. And I kept painting the bicycles similarly since it was easier to incorporate the older, used ones without incurring refinishing costs. Before I could say PMS everything was red and white or some subtle variation thereof. It became us, became me. The shades and hues were never the same from year to year. I won’t even mention how many ink color changes there were in the decals. And the decal art, scale, and placement were also moving targets. So, there really isn’t a definitive red and white scheme that defines the RS team bicycle look. PS Yes I know it’s a shitty picture. It’s a screenshot of a photo that was taken when Reagan was President.

[e-RICHIE]

One Rare Moment

This is a print ad I took in Asphalt Magazine for the first few issues. maybe two. It was a new venture and I wanted to support it by taking some space. By 2000 (I think that was the year) I had already retreated from regularly appearing in print, opting to use my mailing list, generate some Dennison Labels with the word processor, and sending out cards and specials to the names already in the Rolodex. I didn’t have any mechanical art available, and no decent images to use for the space. I let them take my logo art and a few basic components and create the ad in SoCal. It’s a rare moment that I let go of control and direction, and this is one example of when I did. It was okay. It did the job. But in another place and time it would have had a different look and more personality.

[e-RICHIE]

Drawing A Line

This is all that remains of the mechanical art created for a late 1970s order form of mine. The schematic has been used and transferred to other pages since. The message here is that I work with linear distances and only need four basic measurements to make your frame. I never did get the angles thing but as a young American coming up in Bike Boom culture, I was inundated in tech-speak from trade scribes, many fresh from an AYH event or still recovering from a 20 mile A.B.L.A race they did a month earlier, writing about how a touring bicycle had 72 degrees and criterium bicycles had 74 degrees, and gag me huh. None of it made any sense according to my opinion. On the other hand, as a frame maker and racing cyclist who also had longstanding subscriptions to Bici Sport, Miroir du Cyclisme, and other periodicals from the continent, it was clear that folks there, folks with longstanding histories in the sport, and who understood the relationship between the morphology of a fit rider and the machine he was riding – these people expressed their results in millimeters and not degrees. It was about your position above and between the wheels rather than some obtuse interpretation that included what angle(s) made a bicycle responsive, or stiff, or (sic) disappeared beneath you.

By 1979 I transitioned over to 1) saddle height, 2) setback, 3) reach, and 4) what color do you want. At the front end, it was as if I spoke some other language. Not everyone grasped it or understood the rationale. To this day, there are those who think you need a fitting, have to spend hours in front of a fitter while you’re sweating on a stationary bicycle in some fit studio, and do it all while listening to Olivia Newton John through the earbuds.

I listen to other things.

[Lionel]

To this day, there are those who think you need a fitting, have to spend hours in front of a fitter while you’re sweating on a stationary bicycle in some fit studio, and do it all while listening to Olivia Newton John through the earbuds.

I listen to other things.

Hilarious

[bking]

82.5; road bike, you pick it; 58; i like the new orange. Tell me where to send the check (sorry, old fashioned and don't do pay pal).
Hopefully you're listening to this,
Bruce

[Bob Ross]

it was clear that folks there, folks with longstanding histories in the sport, and who understood the relationship between the morphology of a fit rider and the machine he was riding – these people expressed their results in millimeters and not degrees.

That is fcuking profound.

[e-RICHIE]

New Things

Working full time is again a pleasure; the studio is inviting, well lit, and has good bones. Of all the stops I’ve made, this is the first one that began with a sheet of white paper. Nothing on it but a fantasy. The fantasy has become real.

Each day at work I look at the sequences and even the tools, and wonder what should be part of 2017 and beyond, and what I’ll relegate to some past I’ll find when I look at back in a decade. After four months at the bench I find myself deconstructing more and more.

This fixture, as an example. One of the few devices I’ve added to the mix in over fifteen years. I’m so all about process that I often drown in my own myopia. You get to a point when you can’t see past what you’ve been doing day in and day out for like forever. The tool arrived Monday and I’ve spent three, no – four days just looking at it, playing with its built in options, and feeling better about what I do simply by dint of it being here.

Some four forks in less than two days have delivered me to place where I’m rethinking everything I’ve done since Y2K. If a thing can give you pleasure, I am pleasured. And need a cigarette.

[e-RICHIE]

Blue Steel

If looking back just to see if I’m still there tells me anything, it’s that I’ve been in front of a few cameras when the cats from makeup and wardrobe were on their union break. I mean, an opportunity to share my story in Winning, a widely read magazine in its day, and I show looking like it’s a casting call for Do The Right Thing?!

The nineties were wide open in my end of the industry and stories about those still standing in it. To say the landscape was barren would be an understatement. Through the decade I found myself pushed further outside. I was in it for the long haul, but grew tired of the same questions asked in slightly different ways from the same few folks who were self-appointed beat reporters for the niche. The disinterested and bedraggled look was my way of saying I don’t care. It was about anti-caring. But it was a look. And it would evolve just as I would.

My pal Alan Coté wrote this superb article in 1994. I made him a bicycle, covered the bullet points, and waited for a photographer. Peter Brentlinger shot the images. He and I had a rapport from previous assignments. My memory has faded but I think our history together led to me asking him to shoot the glam shots for my really expensive, eight page if not more, four color brochure produced before the end of the century. By that time I surely realized that a portrait lives its own life and I should pay attention to the message I was sending.