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Overview
During his thirty-year career, McNamara won seventeen punishing six-day races along with an inestimable number of shorter distance races, including high-profile events on three different continents, peaking in 1926–27 at the age of thirty-nine. The fans, media, and his fellow professionals all idolized him as an example of the true grit needed to succeed in this grueling and dangerous sport. Late in his career, however, hard drinking and injuries took their toll, and McNamara became estranged from his wife and children. He fought back just as he always had on the race course, conquering his addiction to alcohol and becoming one of the earliest success stories of Alcoholics Anonymous.
In this humorous and exciting biography of the original Iron Man, Andrew M. Homan pulls McNamara back into the spotlight, depicting a flawed but beloved man whose success in those unrelenting six-day races came at a price.
Product Details
| ISBN-13: | 9780803290556 |
|---|---|
| Publisher: | Nebraska |
| Publication date: | 07/01/2016 |
| Sold by: | Barnes & Noble |
| Format: | eBook |
| Pages: | 256 |
| File size: | 4 MB |
About the Author
Read an Excerpt
Iron Mac
The Legend of Roughouse Cyclist Reggie McNamara
By Andrew M. Homan
UNIVERSITY OF NEBRASKA PRESS
Copyright © 2016 Andrew M. HomanAll rights reserved.
ISBN: 978-0-8032-9055-6
CHAPTER 1
Rabbits and Slingshots
Inheriting toughness and longevity from a father and mother is not a requirement to become a great athlete, but for Reginald James McNamara it didn't hurt. Between 1876 and 1895 Reggie's mother, Honora, gave birth to fourteen children; she lived to ninety years old. His father, Timothy McNamara, spent his entire life in New South Wales following grazing and farming pursuits. He and Honora were married at Sydney's St. Francis Church on January 1, 1875. They remained married until Timothy died of his first and only sickness in 1934, at the age of eighty-six.
Timothy and Honora's first farm was in the Grenfell district, roughly 250 miles directly east of Sydney. All the McNamara children were born on or near the farm. Reggie was the ninth child, born on November 7, 1887. The McNamaras tilled the red soil and raised sheep on the flat dry landscape. Local newspapers kept close track of rainfall, which never seemed to be enough. But when rain did fall, it came in torrents. The entire family worked hard and played hard; everyone pulled their weight.
With the assistance of a professional tutor, Reggie and his brothers and sisters were homeschooled. Perhaps there was no public school nearby the farm. Reggie's penmanship, as witnessed in examples made decades later, gives evidence of an attention to detail. His writing was very neat, with distinctive loops done in a calligraphic style. When they weren't working, being schooled, or sitting down to eat, the McNamara children enjoyed boundless freedom on the fringe of the Australian Outback.
That freedom to roam was sometimes costly, and for the McNamara family it certainly was. Their first son, Ernest James, died at the age of nine in a drowning accident. Not only had his body been discovered days after the tragedy, but Timothy and Honora, who had been away gathering provisions for the farm, knew nothing of their dreadful loss until their arrival home, when they came across the coroner just back from the inquest. Thereafter, the McNamaras probably made it a household rule not to stray far from home all alone.
In what may be the oldest existing photo of Reggie, surrounded by some of his blond-haired and brown-haired brothers and sisters and his mother, there is no doubt which one he was. He was about ten years old and neatly attired in a coat, white collar, and cap. His ears stuck out distinctively — exact replicas of his father's.
There are few people who in childhood encounter a single event that alters the course of their lives, for better or worse. If such an event did alter the course of Reggie's life, it would be impossible to know. One event from his youth, however, was recounted over and over in newspapers and magazines after he became famous; it happened one day in the heat of the Australian Outback. "I had a lot of adventures when I was a youngster in Australia," McNamara once related. "That finger is a little memento of one of them."
Rabbits were first introduced to Australia in 1788, brought over from Europe aboard the ship First Fleet. For decades they were kept isolated in rabbit-farming warrens. But in 1859 Thomas Austin released twenty-four wild rabbits on his property for hunting purposes. Instead of getting shot at and killed, the rabbits did what rabbits do best in a warm climate — they bred. Ten years later rabbits became so prolific in the Australian bush that two million could be trapped or shot each year without any appreciable difference in their population. Vast amounts of Australian taxpayer money were spent on thousands of miles of "rabbit-proof" fences that did little to contain the spread of the vermin. Besides ruining farmers' crops, rabbits caused the loss of many species of plants and animals unique to Australia.
Like so many farmers, the McNamaras did what they could to control the pests on their own property. On one of many occasions the McNamara boys equipped themselves with handmade slingshots, much like the ones Reggie fashioned for his grandchildren some fifty years later, and set out to hunt rabbits. The event most likely took place on their enormous piece of property in either Grenfell or Dubbo, where they moved when Reggie was about ten. The Dubbo farm was roughly 130 miles due north of Grenfell.
The boys scared a rabbit into a fallen hollow tree. Reggie volunteered to go in to fetch the rabbit or at least scare it out so they could get a shot off with slingshots at the ready. He felt around with his left hand for the frightened creature. "It was black in there," he recalled later, "and I was feeling my way forward when my hand closed — not on the fur of a rabbit but on the cold, scaly body of a snake. The next instant I felt the fangs close into the end of my finger. You can bet I crawled out of there quicker than I crawled in. I remember I was mighty frightened. So were my brothers."
The eldest brother, John, announced that the end of the finger had to come off — they were not going to wait to identify the snake as poisonous or not — and the others agreed. Most accounts claim it was done with an ax. But because the boys were probably far away from home, it is more likely they used whatever they had handy — such as a hunting knife.
"'Go ahead and cut it off!' I said as stoutly as I could," McNamara recounted, "and tried hard not to wince when the steel bit through the flesh, bone and fingernail. It was a successful operation in more than one way. I learned what it was to be brave; what it was to take punishment like a man without whimpering." Small and bloody as it was, the brothers wrapped up the remaining piece of Reggie's finger in a portion of a shirttail. From that day on, McNamara knew what to expect from pain, knowing that he could manage it.
Reggie's older brothers acquired bikes at an early age — probably before Reggie was born. Given the time frame, one of the bikes could have been an old-fashioned "high-wheel." With the introductions of both the diamond-framed "safety" bicycle, with two equal-size wheels, and the pneumatic tire at the same time in the late 1880s, it was more likely the boys owned the kind we are all familiar with today.
Whatever the case, young Reggie longed for the day he could have his own bicycle. By the time he got one, he was already proficient from riding his brothers' bikes. It was purported that he first straddled and rode a bike at the age of two.6 No doubt, it was a fixed-gear bike without brakes, like the ones he'd race on for his entire career.
The boys built their own dirt racetrack on the McNamara property by having a team of horses pull a weighted drag around. They worked on the track whenever there was a break from chores, and it was built up with banked turns. The brothers raced each other, kicking up the red dirt as they rode around that track until each knew the slightest bump and impression. Like most brothers, they were competitive against one another and constantly pushed each other. They fought, wrestled, and had plenty of laughs together too. Reggie's two oldest brothers, John Cecil (J.C.) and Denis, were eight and seven years older, respectively. Joe was only a year older than Reggie, and there were two younger brothers, Leo Vincent and Ignatius Patrick, who were five and six years younger, respectively. Then there were his sisters, who no doubt joined in the merriment on the track and rode bicycles on and off the farm as much as they were able. Margaret was two years older than J.C.; Alice, Bertha, and Sybil were between Denis's and Joe's age. Reggie's younger sisters were Eileen, Kathleen, and Mary Anne, the baby of the entire flock.
In New South Wales, where Reggie grew up, and in most other sections of Australia, there was no such thing as amateur racing. When they could, youngsters Joe and Reggie went along with J.C. and Denis when they competed in local races. The young lads got inspiration seeing their brothers amid the dust, noise, and rough-and-tumble high-speed excitement.
When Joe and Reggie went up on their home track against their older brothers, they had a real fight on their hands. No big brother was going to let a younger brother beat him on purpose. As Joe and Reggie honed their cycling skills, J.C. and Denis moved on with other things. But for Joe and especially Reggie racing bikes started to become more than just a pleasant diversion.
On May 30, 1906, in what may have been his first entrance into professional racing, eighteen-year-old Reggie did well in a series of races to support the local hospital. He won the one-mile Empire Wheel Race as well as the one-mile District Handicap (starting from scratch) and took second in the half-mile Pulican's Purse. For his efforts he earned a good amount of money. Months later he had a race fifty miles from home. He strapped a few spare wheels on his back and rode out to the race and won enough money to take a train home. Earning money doing what he loved motivated him to train harder. By the time he turned twenty, he had made up his mind to pursue a racing career and left the farm for good.
Whether it was long road races or short track races, on grass, on dirt, or on pavement, Reggie did all he could do to earn a living. He began to earn a reputation as a rider, not gifted with a great sprint at the end of races but, rather, with a remarkable ability to sustain high intervals of speed over a long period of time. His modus operandi was to zap the sting out of sprinters' legs and lungs before they had a chance to go against him at the end. Reggie's stamina and strength were phenomenal.
He found another way to make money — or at least free bicycles and bike parts — by advertising an "Austral" bike, which he rode. The ad was in the Sydney Morning Herald and encouraged patrons to come to the "Austral Cycle Dept" at 73 Market Street in Sydney. Reggie's youthful exuberance was unmistakable: "I have won races everywhere. I won a wheel race at Cobar on 7th October, from scratch, also the wheel races at Willington; seven days later I defeated A. J. Davies and A. P. Quinlan at Dubbo on the 28th October, giving me only 14 yards. Won scratch race the same day, in which Quinlan and Davies also started. In the 50 Speedwell Mile Road Race I won, and made the fastest time on 3rd July. ... I might mention that I have five gold medals, fifteen first, five from scratch, seven second, four third, and only been riding eighteen months and am nineteen years old."
By late 1909 Reggie was known as the "Western Champion" and the "Country Champion" and had changed his allegiance from an Austral to a Massey-Harris bicycle. He was riding against the best riders in Australia, including Alf Goullet, Gordon Walker, George Horder, A. J. Davies, Frank Corry, and Alf Grenda. On September 15, 1909, he won the forty-mile Forbes to Parkes and back road race sponsored by the Forbes Federal Bicycle Club. McNamara started fifteen minutes after many of the riders and took first place in a time of one hour, fifty minutes, and forty-nine seconds. Months later, on a day when it was 110 degrees Fahrenheit, he won the Coolamon Wheel Race in front of four thousand people and took home twenty-five pounds (US$2,100 today).
In case he needed more money, Reggie always had the family farm to fall back on. But with his passion in pursuit of a sustainable and successful professional bike racing career, along with his great physical and mental abilities, he continued to improve year after year. He never went back to the farm. To McNamara professional cycling was so much more exhilarating; he wanted it to be part of his life forever.
CHAPTER 2Bushes to the Big Leagues
Tempted by fame and fortune, most of today's professional elite cyclists, primarily road racers, spend much of the year training and racing in Europe. They adapt to its traditions, food, weather, and culture. They learn new languages and develop lifelong relationships. Many would otherwise go to college or establish "normal" careers, but instead, they sacrifice time and untold amounts of energy (not to mention risk of terrible injury) dedicating themselves to compete at the sport's highest level.
More than one hundred years ago dozens of young Aussies like McNamara, with determination and talent that would have equaled that of today's top cyclists, were similarly seduced by success. Although lacking modern communications, they, too, traveled thousands of miles from their homes and families. But rather than Europe, they dreamed of racing in America. Alfred Goullet said that coming to the United States from his native Australia "was like entering the Big League from the bushes." A generation of young Aussie riders, including McNamara, attained inspiration from two Americans who had come to Australia — Arthur Augustus Zimmerman and Marshall Walter "Major" Taylor. Before crossing into the Southern Hemisphere, both Zimmerman and Taylor had gone up against the best competition in the United States and in Europe, and both had come out on top. They won American championships and world championships, achieved worldwide notoriety, and gained fabulous wealth.
In September 1895, just before Reggie's eighth birthday, the tall and lanky "Zimmy" made his first stop in Australia. At a time when the average Australian worker earned one hundred pounds (US$8,400 today) per year, Zimmerman received a two thousand–pound (US$167,000 today) appearance fee. Months earlier, "the papers had been full of Zimmerman, his performances, his movements, and in fact, everything about him."
Zimmerman came directly from London aboard the steamer RMS Oruba. His plan was to train in Adelaide for a month prior to any racing. By his own admission Zimmerman was not highly motivated to race. "I did not come out altogether with a view to showing what I can do in racing, for although I am going to ride," Zimmerman said, "I regard my visit more as a friendly call." It is unlikely that McNamara or his brothers traveled to go see Zimmerman in person, but certainly the brothers read about him in the newspaper.
Zimmerman raced in Sydney, Melbourne, Brisbane, and Newcastle. But largely due to influenza, he didn't race as much as he hoped, nor was he as dominating as he had been earlier in his career. More noteworthy than his racing were the phenomenal crowds. On November 17 the Sydney Cricket Ground "was massed from the barrier to the outskirts in such a solid body that their swaying carried away a strong fence separating them from the oval. ... The attendance in round numbers was fully 27,500, which is a record." Although Zimmerman's racing did not live up to competitive expectations, never did Australia draw larger and more voracious crowds of spectators who took pleasure in the colorful high-speed excitement of cycling. Zimmerman's visit caused a big stir Down Under, and many new cycling fanatics were born.
Seven years later, in December 1902, when Reggie had just turned fifteen, Major Taylor, who had the same short and stocky build as McNamara did in his prime, was cycling's biggest superstar sensation, and he arrived in Australia for the first time to a huge assemblage of fans. "I could not restrain my tears," Taylor said, "as I looked over the side of the liner and saw hundreds of boats ... decked out with American flags." Like Zimmerman before him, Taylor received a hefty appearance bonus — fifteen hundred pounds (US$2,500 today). He also needed time to train and adjust. Thousands came out to the Sydney Cricket Ground just for the opportunity to watch Taylor's workouts. Newspapers reported at the time that "record attendances during Zimmerman's visit are expected to be eclipsed."
Like Zimmerman, huge crowds flocked to see Major Taylor. Many came to see him for the sheer novelty — a non-Aboriginal black man in Australia was a rare sight. But to witness Taylor on cycling's highest professional stage was extraordinary. Unlike the United States, "white Australia" accepted Taylor and treated him very kindly. In the press, however, there were racist remarks and cartoons, but much more was made about his religious convictions, particularly his steadfast refusal to race on Sundays. Given that the McNamara brothers were older now than when Zimmerman had raced Down Under, it's possible that at least one McNamara went to see Taylor. But in all likelihood the brothers eagerly read about Taylor from newspaper accounts, just as they had done when Zimmerman arrived in Australia.
(Continues...)
Excerpted from Iron Mac by Andrew M. Homan. Copyright © 2016 Andrew M. Homan. Excerpted by permission of UNIVERSITY OF NEBRASKA PRESS.
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Table of Contents
Contents
List of Illustrations,Acknowledgments,
Introduction,
1. Rabbits and Slingshots,
2. Bushes to the Big Leagues,
3. A Promoter Goes to Hollywood,
4. Accidental Romance,
5. Safe in America,
6. Politics of Racing,
7. The War Years,
8. The Prodigal Son Returns,
9. Training Old School,
10. Let the Roaring Twenties Begin,
11. The Italians Are Coming!,
12. Mac Strikes Gold,
13. Rusty Iron,
14. Downward Spiral,
15. Grandpa Mac,
Notes,
Index,