Thanks Jason Gay, local cyclist and real professional writer, who has generously sent us this fascinating interview:

In Major Taylor: A Black Athlete, A White Era, and the Fight to Be the World’s Fastest Human Being (Random House, $24.00), author (and cyclist) Todd Balf delivers an impressive and thorough history of cycling’s most underappreciated legend. The book also features an exceptional account of turn-of-the-century bike racing in New York City, where Taylor had some of the greatest moments of his career. Jason Gay e-interviewed Balf earlier this month:

Major Taylor is often described as one of the great forgotten athletes of American sports history. But during the peak of his career at the turn of the 20th century, he was an international sports celebrity, wasn’t he?

He was an international sports celebrity – the first African American sporting superstar. Before the boxer Jack Johnson drew widespread attention in Europe and elsewhere Major Taylor was celebrated in each of the European capitals, especially Paris where his every waking moment was written about and photographed in newspapers and sporting journals. If money is the ultimate measure on an athlete’s popularity, Taylor proved out on that score too: in 1900 French promoters offered him $10,000 to come and race during the Paris World’s Fair.

Today bike racing regarded as a fringe in the United States, but as your book makes clear, in the 1890s, it was the biggest sport on earth, with track races attracting crowds in the tens of thousands…

The notion that bicycle racing commanded the American spectator sports scene takes some getting used to for those who think the sport started with Lance Armstrong and that the big three – baseball, football, and basketball – have always reigned supreme. In the late 1890s there were huge crowds watching everything from six day races at Madison Square Gardens to mano a mano match races in Chicago and dozens of other cities. The prize purses dwarfed the salaries pro baseball players were making. There are still remnants of the era floating about – pins with the likeness of favorite racers, trading cards, and gorgeous racing posters by Toulouse-Lautrec.

Major Taylor burst on the scene relatively quickly, as an Indianapolis teenager. What were his greatest strengths on the bike?

Simply put, his jump, his bike handling ability, and his courage. He grew up as a trick rider, doing stunts on Bicycle Row in Indianapolis to attract customers. He could do virtually anything on a bike and it gave him supreme confidence in what was a fast, physical, and highly intense sport. His courage showed up in his willingness to exploit even the slightest opening. Often times he had only the narrowest window since the other riders were well aware of him and often worked as a group against him. As for his jump an Australian racer put it best: “I was watching him closely and was all ready for him,” he said. “But Taylor was gone like a flash of gunpowder.”

Is it possible to put Taylor’s greatness into modern perspective – if he were to ride today, is it likely that he would be a world-class champion?

It’s always tricky to compare eras, especially in cycling where you’re not just talking about the man but also the machine. Put it this way, if Taylor had the benefit of modern gear and training and facilities I wouldn’t bet against him.

Of course, for all of Taylor’s accomplishments, he was regularly subjected to cruelly racist treatment. Your book details many ugly incidents – riders refusing to race him, races that prohibited his entry. There’s even a heartbreaking episode where his trainer tries to bleach his skin a lighter shade. How did he persevere despite this terribly prejudiced atmosphere?

He did what he had to, accepted what he had to. He would not suffer mistreatment, however – he spoke up about the injustices he endured, he wrote about them, and he showed the full measure of his character when the opportunity presented itself. Unfortunately those opportunities were largely abroad, not in the U.S.

One of the few sanctuaries for Major Taylor was New York City, which embraced him as a young racer when he participated in the six-day races at the old Madison Square Garden. Can you describe what a bicycling mecca NYC was a the turn of the century?

Everybody rode, or wanted to ride. I think what was extraordinary was that the sport cut across class lines – which was new – and across gender lines – which was really new. Women were merrily cycling over in Riverside Park, not wearing dresses as they were supposed to, but bloomers so they could more easily pedal their bike. It was radical stuff. The New York Times ran huge special supplements discussing the latest greatest bike frames, the best destinations to ride, and who to watch among the pros. The race tracks at Madison Square Garden and old one next to Manhattan Beach in Brooklyn drew the top pros from the U.S. and Europe.

You mention a fancy bike club called the Michaeux Cycling Club — a three story brownstone with an indoor diring rink where where John D. Rockefeller was known to pedal around after the ladies….

There was some mischief going on, to be sure.

Madison Square Garden’s six-day races were extraordinary endurance events –literally six days long, with very little sleep, and the racer who rode the longest distance won. You describe racers riding to exhaustion and hallucination — Taylor spent the end of one race convinced people were chasing him with knives…

Imagine being Taylor’s age having never ridden a race more than 75 miles long. A few years later Teddy Roosevelt, then governor of New York, would successfully call for the cessation of solo six day races, describing them as inhumane.

You mention that how was affiliated with a Brooklyn racing club called the South Gowanus club. What did you learn about that organization, and why were they so helpful to Taylor?

Truthfully, I didn’t come up with a lot about them except their association with Taylor. The Brookyln Eagle described them as newly formed and fast rising. Some of the members who helped Taylor in the early days would assist him throughout his career.

Another Brooklyn name that gets mentioned in your book is Charles “Mile a Minute” Murphy, who set a speed record in 1899 by riding in the slipstream of a locomotive on the LIRR…

It’s rather extraordinary when you re-read Murphy’s comments before the speed trial. He said, “There is not a locomotive built which can get away from me.” That’s one confident fellow.

You also write a lot about how the scientific world and cycling — and it actually took a little time before they understood the physics of why drafting behind another rider worked so well –

The science of sport was in its infancy. What is interesting, aside from the many crackpot theories, was that the racers were tapped into the science – reading the literature, debating it, then testing it.

Toward the end of his career, the big rival for Major Taylor was a white rider from California named Floyd McFarland. But their biggest showdown didn’t happen on American soil — it occurred in Australia. Why?

They had showdowns on U.S. soil but they were all tainted for one reason or another. Later they raced on rival circuits and couldn’t race each other. The reason the Australia showdown was the most significant was because they were in the prime of their careers and they’d never had an event that totally played to their rivalry. In 1904 Australia was wooing the best and the brightest with the biggest prize purses. By far the best and the brightest were Taylor and McFarland.

Despite all his titles, Taylor’s retired years were quiet — cycling faded as a sport, and his name soon slipped from memory…McFarland, too, met an ignominious end…

McFarland stayed in racing as a New Jersey track promoter but died violently when an irate workman plunged a screwdriver into his skull. Taylor was ambitious in his attempts at a new career but none of his business enterprises succeeded. In the end he died penniless in Chicago where he was attempting to peddle his autobiography. First editions of that book now go for as much as $1000.

But in recent years, Major Taylor’s name has been revived in large part due to the numerous racing clubs that bear his name — including one here in Brooklyn, NY. What would Taylor think of the fact that, a hundred years later, his connection to cycling has been strongly revived?

Well, I’m certain he would be gratified. He was well aware of the significance of what he was doing and knew – even if few in the U.S. understood it at the time – he was special.