The Riders: Australia's Motorbike Champs

By Mark Beretta

The stories of the great Australian motorbike champions. For the love of freedom, speed and adrenalin. To be the quickest of all.
Australia's love affair with motorcycle racing and its fearless heroes was meant to be. two things have made it so enticing. the first is the inherent love of freedom, speed and adrenalin - that wild feeling of the wind whipping your face as you fight to take the machine as fast as it can go. the second is the ingrained Australian desire to test ourselves against the rest of the world - to be the quickest of all. Australia has produced twenty-four world champions in everything from Superbikes to Supercross. Names like Gardner, Doohan, Beattie, Stoner, Reed and Vermeulen have forged an impressive tradition. their stories - the building of Australia's motorbike-racing tradition - are tales of great characters, extraordinary courage, bizarre dangers and passionate victories.

• Language: English
• Publisher: HarperCollins Publishers Australia
• Release date: Sep 1, 2010
• ISBN: 9780730493068

Mark Beretta

Mark Beretta has won international awards for sports commentary and reporting. He’s also the veteran reporter, commentator and host of four Olympic Games. During the 1980s, before turning his attention to sports journalism and broadcasting, he was a ten-time Australian water-skiing champion.

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introduction

A PRIMAL PURSUIT OF SPEED AND FREEDOM

Australia has long had a love affair with motorcycle racing, and its fearless heroes. Arthur ‘Digger’ Simcock, Australia’s first Grand Prix champion, set sail for the Isle of Man in the 1920s. Many followed, and decorated themselves and their nation in glory on the world stage. In all, Australia has produced 28 world champions in everything from Superbikes to Supercross.

It’s little wonder this affection stretches back so far. Two things in particular make bike racing so enticing. The first is Australia’s love of freedom, speed and adrenalin — that wild feeling of the wind whipping your face and pushing back against your body, as you fight to take the machine as fast as it can go. The second is the ingrained desire Australians have to test themselves against the rest of the world — to be the quickest of all.

Motorcycle racing has arguably brought more glory to Australia than any other sport. In the past quarter-century, 22 Aussie men have won world championships across a variety of categories. Only swimming could make a case for regularly delivering more titles. The stories of our motorcycle heroes are largely untold, because for the most part, the events have taken place far away from our shores.

Australia has always punched well above its weight in Grand Prix motor cycle racing. Australia has produced 18 riders who have won GP races — from Arthur Simcock in 1931 to Casey Stoner in 2007. Between them, they have won 154 races in all classes, Mick Doohan contributing just over a third (54) of those, a reminder of just how remarkable his career was. His tally is the fifth highest of all time, but well behind Italian greats, Giacomo Agostini (122) and Valentino Rossi (104). Already, Casey Stoner is second only to Doohan on the Australian list with 27.

The best explanation of why we have had so much success across all forms of racing might be that many of our international champions spent their young years either in the bush, or on the edge of the city, where wide open spaces gave them the natural playground to develop their skills. For most of them, handling dirt bikes became second nature. In often harsh surrounds, they became skilled riders.

They were further seasoned by spending long stints overseas, chasing their dreams. The sacrifices were considerable. Many lived on next to nothing, scraping by between races. Names like McPherson, Gardner, Doohan, Beattie, Bayliss, Corser, Crump, Reed, Stoner and Vermeulen have cemented Australia’s place on the world stage.

No success is achieved without some pain — and all these riders have known their share. Their stories — the building of Australia’s motorcycle racing tradition — are tales of great characters, extraordinary courage, bizarre dangers, and passionate victories.

They say there are two types of people in this world: those who ride, and those who don’t. Once you’ve tasted that sense of freedom, the feeling of the wind in your face and that not-a-care-in-the-world aspect of being in the saddle, then it’s impossible not to want more.

Only a handful of riders have the talent, skill and courage to race, and test themselves against the world’s best. For the rest of us, we sit on the edge of our seats and marvel at those who did. My love of the sport, and admiration for those who race, has been a big part of my life, just as it has for generations of others.

For me, the passion started at a very early age, and was handed down through two generations. My first taste of the intoxication of bikes came with my earliest memories. My grandfather lived in the house behind ours when we were growing up. When his giant shed doors were swung open on any given weekend morning, it meant just one thing — he was going to start his motorbike. My younger brother, Chris, and I would charge to the doorway, and wait for the sound of the classic BSA being kick-started to life. It never seemed to start straightaway. Most often, the slamming down of the leg, and all the energy that went with it, was wasted on the sleeping beast. At times, my dad, who was always close by, would have to take over, and the legs of a younger man would be put to the test.

When she did fire, all the neighbourhood knew. The sound of the engine was a heavenly hum that infiltrated our memories and sparked a romance. That bike never went far in its latter years, but for three generations of Berettas there was a special gathering every time it roared to life. And from that time forth, bikes were in our lives to stay.

My dad inherited my grandfather’s passion for riding. After my granddad and his BSA had left us, my father’s interest turned to trail riding. He got his hands on a Montessa 250cc, and would venture out into the magnificent bushland of the Otway Ranges, not far from our home in Geelong.

It wasn’t long before Chris and I were wanting a slice of the action. After all, getting to ride on the back is fun for a while, but sooner or later you want to take control. When a family friend was selling an old mini-bike that his daughters had grown out of, we knew we had to have it. The bike was a basic bit of gear: a pull-start lawnmower motor with a speed governor (that we eventually learned how to disable!), one rear brake, no gears and that was about it.

For the next two years, every waking moment we had away from school was on that bike. Luckily we were surrounded by paddocks, and we would buzz around, only stopping to refuel, or when our hands became too numb to go on! Amazingly, the neighbours never complained.

It was a great time; over those years an army of local kids would ride our mini-bike, round and round the track we’d worn into the long grass. The sound of it starting up would bring kids from over fences all around, like bees to a honey pot.

Eventually it was time to step up, and that little bike rested in the shed before going on to become the pride and joy of another family of aspiring riders. My next bike was a Honda XR75, while Chris got a two-stroke Yamaha YZ80. They were the two bikes to have as kids in our part of the world, even if Chris’s was just that bit faster and cooler!

We’d ride just about every weekend as a family, with Dad loading up the three bikes, and any of our mates who wanted to come along, to take us out Anglesea way, or to Teesdale, outside Geelong. Even in the chill of winter, we’d ride, rain, hail or shine.

They were great bonding times for the family, and our friends. It wasn’t unusual to be riding along and have kangaroos bound out of the bush and jump alongside us, before darting off again, into the scrub.

Chris developed into a talented rider (much better than his older brother!) and began racing motocross at Geelong’s Breakwater track. He raced through his teenage years — at local and state level — at Breakwater, Barrabool and Broadford, amassing a tidy collection of trophies.

Over the years as we grew, so did our bikes and, at different times, the garage has been filled with an array of two wheelers. It’s a buzz to see my dad, David, now 72 years of age, still enjoying his time on the bike. His pride and joy these days is a BMW K100RS road bike. He’s a member of the Ulysses Club, for maturing motorcyclists, with the motto: ‘Grow Old Disgracefully’. He’ll often set off, with Mum on the back, for a Sunday road trip.

My sporting path led away from two wheels, to waterskiing, where I was fortunate enough to win ten Australian championships. It’s interesting how many of our top riders list waterskiing amongst their other passions.

It wasn’t until I was a young reporter with Channel 7 that I first got to experience Phillip Island. From my first visit, it’s remained one of my favourite places to go. I was instantly taken by its breathtaking beauty, and the incredible setting it makes for a Grand Prix track. Standing on the main straight, looking out towards Bass Strait, it certainly gives the illusion that you are going to ride straight into the ocean. It mesmerises visitors, as you try to imagine what it must be like to hurtle down there at 200 kilometres an hour. It was 2010 before I was given that experience, the opportunity to drive hot laps around the Island, and it was even more magnificent, and challenging, than I’d ever dreamed.

That first trip to the Island as a reporter was in the mid-1990s. Seven News sent me to report on the 500cc pre-season testing, and how Mick Doohan was faring. Watching the mechanics work on the bikes, finetuning whatever they could, to get those few extra seconds off the lap time, I looked up and found myself standing right beside Mick. There were those uncomfortable first moments where I really couldn’t speak — I’d been in awe of this guy for so long, and he was international motorsport royalty.

When I did get the courage to nervously ask how he was doing, it was amazing how relaxed Mick was. This was his office, and it was the start of another high-pressure season, where once again every young rider was gunning for the king, Doohan. But he was completely unfazed, welcoming and at ease. That day we chatted for hours on and off, as Mick excused himself to jump back on the bike, tear up a few laps, then give feedback to the mechanics, before we resumed our discussion of the day, the Island and the championships. I had a million questions, and Mick had the patience to provide a million answers. It was a day I’ve never forgotten.

I very much appreciate the privileges afforded to me in my role with Seven. And similarly, I feel fortunate to have had motorbike riding and waterskiing as my two recreational loves. Work has allowed me to closely follow the careers of our greatest riders.

It would take a much bigger book to tell all the stories I would like to, about all our champions. I’ve endeavoured to select the best of the best, and explain how their paths have intertwined. In the future I hope to be able to tell the ongoing stories of our emerging stars, and those who will rise to be legends of Australian motorcycling.

My respect for, and interest in, Australia’s greatest motorcycle racers is enormous, and that is why I wanted to write this book. My hope is that The Riders pays credit to the exploits of those who have put their bodies on the line, in a dangerous sport — from the pioneers who took off for the Isle of Man, or the speedway tracks of Britain, to the current speed demons from Down Under.

one

THE BIRTH OF A PASSION

Just like the modern gladiators of MotoGP, the forefathers of the sport were courageous daredevils. Arguably, they were even more daring than their equivalents of today: they raced in basic leathers; flimsy helmets and boots and goggles that offered little protection. And they rode powerful machines on some of the most terrifying circuits.

There were varying forms of motorbike racing, held spasmodically, in Europe and America at the end of the 19th century. In 1904 the Federation Internationale des Clubs Motocyclistes was formed with Paris as its base, and the first European Grand Prix was held two years later in Patzau, Hungary. Meanwhile, in the United States, events were cropping up in the form of hill climbs, longdistance endurance races from city to city, and speedway-style racing on wooden boards.

In 1907, on part of the track that had seen an annual automobiles Gordon Bennett Elimination Trial since 1904, the first Isle of Man Tourist Trophy was staged in two categories, single cylinder and twin cylinders, with winning average speeds of 38.2 and 36.2 miles per hour. By 1910, the winners were flying around the public-roads course at an average 53.15 miles per hour and the Isle of Man Tourist Trophy quickly became the pinnacle event of motorbike road racing in Europe.

The early street circuits of Europe were filled with perils. The streets were narrow and the corners tight; many of the turns were flanked by stone walls. These early circuits were completely unforgiving on good days, while on bad days they were death traps: riders often had to negotiate cobblestones that became as slippery as ice in the wet. But this harsh environment created a fearless breed of racers whose spirit is alive and well in today’s riders.

By the time the eventful year of 1912 came around, racing in Europe, and especially at the ‘Isle’, had attracted the imagination of the American and Australian riders too. It was the year the Titanic met its fate, and the year Captain Scott’s expedition perished in the Antarctic. It was hardly a year that proved fortuitous for the adventurous. But rarely have world events disheartened Australian enthusiasm.

Les Bailey’s dream was no different from thousands of other wide-eyed young riders during the infancy of two-wheeled racing in Australia. He’d heard stories of the great racing at the sport’s spiritual home and, by hook or by crook, he was going to get to the Isle of Man and take on the world.

It was a long way from the breaking surf of his home town of Newcastle, on the mid-north coast of New South Wales, but in 1912, Bailey made it to the Isle — the first Australian to ride in the famous road race. Riding a Douglas as hard as he could around the meandering 61 kilometre track, the New South Wales doctor finished 15th in the famous Tourist Trophy, which was regarded as the pinnacle road-racing event of Europe. The result was brilliant in itself, but of greater significance was that it opened up a path to the Isle of Man for other Australians.

Not that a torrent of riders followed. It was more of a trickle through the 1920s. But they came, they raced, and they went home to inspire others.

By the mid-1920s, the European Classic series was luring riders from all over the world. One of them was Arthur ‘Digger’ Simcock, from Melbourne, riding for Sunbeam. He’d heard of the growing popularity of road racing in Europe and couldn’t sit back any longer without making a challenge. He bought a ticket and boarded a boat for Europe, and after his arrival in 1926 he’d impressed bosses at the Sunbeam team enough to secure a factory ride, alongside the top British riders Charlie Dodson and Alec Bennett.

Digger climbed to the top of his sport, thousands of miles from home. He came second in the 1927 Europeans GP at Monza, second in the Belgian in 1929 on a 350cc Sunbeam and second in the 1929 German GP. He had the misfortune of being placed second, closing in on the leader, in the last lap of the 1928 Isle of Man TT when he fell. He finished seventh in the 1929 Isle of Man TT. He came through with a glorious 1931 season though, winning the 500cc section at the Dutch and German GPs and the 350cc race at the Dutch GP to become Australia’s first Grand Prix winner.

Buoyed by Simcock’s success, another Australian rider, Stuart Williams from Sydney, took off to Europe. Invariably, the attraction was the Isle of Man TT race. The stories of the sweeping Isle circuit romanced the young riders from far away. Of course, as their distance travelled the stories grew, and so did the characters and events. By the time they hit Australia’s shores, the recollections were irresistible to enthusiastic young riders.

Williams did well at the Isle of Man after the New Imperial works team offered him a ride. In his third Isle campaign in 1931, he finished seventh in the lightweight 250cc race — the equal-highest finish by an Australian at that stage. Simcock finished eighth in the senior 500cc event that year, and ninth in 1932. Sadly, Williams’s dream ended almost as soon as it began. Racing at Bathurst in 1932, he had a horrific crash which left him with a broken neck. Over time he recovered, raced again, and placed well, but without the crucial backing of the big factory team.

Meanwhile, dirt track speedway racing was also becoming popular in Australia as well as Britain. The first speedway motorcycle racing event is recorded as being held at Maitland Showground, in the Hunter Valley, in December 1923, four years before the first speedway events were held in Britain in 1928.

There seems to be different versions of events, and some controversy, surrounding the influence of Australians and the launching of dirt track speedway riding in Britain. It certainly seems accepted that Aussies Billy Galloway and Keith McKay rode in the first speedway event in England, at the King’s Oak speedway (High Beech) in Essex which attracted 30 000 in February 1928 and they then formed a company called DTS with Englishman Jimmy Baxter to organise future events. Australian enthusiasts and promoters AJ Hunting and Johnny Hoskins also arrived in early 1928, bringing a group of riders from the ‘colonies’ as well, under the banner of ISL.

In an article in the Melbourne Argus on 18 December 1928 it was written that McKay and Galloway organised 13 motorcyclists (in two teams) from Australia and New Zealand to visit the UK in 1928, forming a company with £24 000 capital. Greyhound (then called tin-hare) racing’s popularity was on the wane and many of the tracks were easily converted to speedway tracks and 43 cropped up within months. By the end of that first year McKay said he had sold his shares in the company, pocketed £3600, had ridden in mainland Europe where he helped establish the sport and had even picked up an appearance at New York’s Madison Square Garden.

McKay told the Melbourne Argus that none of the Australians had earned less than £2000 with Brisbane’s Frank Arthur earning double that. These figures seems amazingly high and the claims are disputed by others who claim it was a case of exaggerated self-promotion and that McKay and Galloway, who was a barber on the ship McKay travelled on, rode as freelancers and it was Hunting and Hoskins who were more entrepreneurial and signed most Australian riders.

Whichever is correct, the fact is that Australians certainly were in the thick of the first, super-successful, speedway season in England and were the star attractions. Sadly, McKay died from injuries suffered in a speedway fall at the Sydney Showground just months later, shortly after his return to Australia.

The sport was as popular in Glasgow, Scotland, as anywhere else and crowds grew from 3000 to over 30 000 in six months. Speedway ‘leagues’ were formed, with each track fielding a team and taking on teams from other tracks on a home-and-away basis, and the popularity of these events exceeded anyone’s expectations. Britain quickly became the Mecca for Australian and American riders who had years more experience than their British counterparts. The broadsiding feats of the leather-entombed riders were seen as daring, dangerous and frantic, and tens of thousands of spectators flocked to the speedway tracks to watch a night of action.

Prize money quickly rose too and this was an added lure for Australians to take to the dirt of England to challenge Europe’s best. In those formative years, Australians like Stewie St George, Buzz Hibberd, Paddy Dean, Max Grosskreutz, Frank Arthur, Vic Huxley (who won the British championships), Frank Case, Billy Lamont, Ron Johnson, Jack Chapman and Col Stewart followed McKay and Galloway as popular invaders on the tracks of Glasgow, Cardiff, London’s Wembley and in the counties. Some also rode in the US.

The Star Riders Championship was split into British and overseas sections because the Australians and Americans were regarded as too good for the locals. It was replaced by the Speedway World Championship in the 1930s, and during these decades when it took two to three months for the Australian riders to reach Britain by ship, Australia threw up many heroes in both road and speedway racing. Two of the greatest among these were road rider Eric McPherson and track star Lionel Van Praag.

*

Lionel Van Praag holds the illustrious honour of winning the first Speedway World Championship at Wembley in London in 1936, and being the first of only four Australians to have won the crown, ahead of his compatriot Arthur ‘Bluey’ Wilkinson (1938), Jack Young (1951–52) and Jason Crump (2004). He was a true-blue Aussie action hero: playing a part in a movie; being shot at while driving a car in England; and being a World War II hero and postwar commercial pilot. Yet he was a quiet, modest man who probably made the greatest living out of motorcycle racing, of either form, in the pre-World War II era.

Many see the 1930s as a golden era for dirt-track racing, with massive crowds attending speedways throughout England and often 20 000 to 30 000 turning up at Australian venues like Wentworth Park, the Sydney Showground and the Exhibition Speedways in Melbourne and Brisbane. There were Test battles between Australia and England, and the British ‘club’ circuit was extremely competitive with riders from Britain, Australia, the United States and Europe converging for races that often attracted crowds bigger than the best British soccer matches of the time. Australians like Van Praag, Wilkinson, Queenslander Grosskreutz, Case, Lamont and others would race for lucrative prize money in England as well as in Australia, and had pop star-like public profiles.

Van Praag learned to ride motorbikes at the infamous ‘killer’ track at Maroubra, one of Sydney’s southern beach suburbs, and quickly rose to be one of our track stars. Newspaper articles as far back as January 1931 name Van Praag, then only 22, as holder of the world dirt-track record. Riders at the time were seen as brave daredevils and had sometimes fanatical supporters, and Van Praag was among the most popular.

Other than his dirt-track deeds he also appeared, with fellow riders Englishmen Ginger Lees and Frank Varley, in a British movie called Money for Speed, based on a spurned speedway love affair and made in 1933. Leading lady was Ida Lupino, who went on to make many successful Hollywood movies.

In 1936, Van Praag set sail for the Speedway World Championships in London. The championships took place on 10 September, before a record English speedway crowd of 74 000 at Wembley Stadium. Each of the 18 riders in the championships had to compete in five heats, each with points allocated on a three, two, one basis according to order of finishing. Extra points were allocated in the semi-final races. After the five heats, Van Praag and English rider Eric Langton were tied on 28 points each, just in front of Bluey Wilkinson on 25. The tie forced Langton and Van Praag to ride off in a match race for first place.

As they lined up behind the starting tape, Langton broke the tape, which should have led to disqualification. But with a massive crowd standing in expectation, Van Praag asked the officials to overlook Langton’s slip-up as he did not want to win the world title by default. Langton started best in the tie-break race, and stayed in front until the last bend of the final of the three laps, when Van Praag passed him on the inside and won by a wheel length.