Old Slides #1 - The Tricycle

Over the holidays our daughter was on a trip to Israel, and our son-in-law came to stay with us for a night. While he was here he took all 300 of my Dad’s old Kodachrome slides from the late 1950’s and early ‘60’s and scanned them into our computer; something I have wanted to do for several years but never gotten around to. He did it in just under 3 hours!

So now I have a boatload of photos which I had been looking at by squinting while holding them in front of a lamp for about 30 years. Occasionally I would have one made up at the camera store, but for the most part these photos were lost to me. Along with those photos, many memories were also a bit sketchy, and so they are a real “treasure” to mine for pieces of my past.

Here I am riding my first tricycle on Kings Highway and Bedford Avenue in 1957. We lived on the corner in apartment 4-A of 3619 Bedford Avenue, which is one of those pre-war buildings with huge rooms separated by long hallways. It was a rear apartment, facing the alleyway between our building and the Kingsway Hospital next door. I’m not sure what it was called back then. I do remember being awakened at night by the scary sound of the ambulance sirens as they brought in patients. These were frightening sounds to me mainly because I didn't know what had happened; only that someone was dying. I never parsed out the difference between an ambulance siren and death. For years they represented the same thing to me.

By day the building was a fascinating place to play. There was a series of ramps to get to the basement. They were for moving furniture in and out more easily. At one time; in the 1930’s when my mother first moved in there; the building had a concierge and all deliveries went through the basement.

The basement also contained 4 tremendous boilers, not unlike the ones found on the ships I would later serve aboard, and these boiler rooms; while “off limits” by paternal edict; drew me like a magnet. They had fires going all the time to heat the mammoth amounts of water required for the two separate halves of the building, which contained over 100 apartments.

On the corner of Kings Highway and Bedford Avenue the building had a separate apartment which was accessible only by the private entrance which stood about a half story above street level. This put that apartment on the same plane as the first floor, which was reached by going up several short steps from the lobby. I don’t recall ever having met the people who lived there; maybe they worked days; but they must have been home on weekends when we played on their “stoop.” They never said a word, though we must have been loud, and I assume they either liked kids, or they had the patience of Job.

The lobby opened up to two wings; left and right; with each side serviced by a separate elevator. Both sides had long rows of mailboxes, flush with the walls, and I looked forward every day to watching the mailman place the letters so deftly into each box. He was quite a marksman, never faltering or missing a single one. I always felt as if I were watching a magician at work; his sleight of hand seemed just as quick to my little eyes.

The roof was another magical place for me. Although I was too young to go up there alone, on Tuesday nights in the late 1950's we used to go up there with our parents to watch the fireworks from Coney Island, about a mile and a half away to the south west. I also remember going up there and "helping" my father install our first TV antenna, dropping the cable from the roof down to our window and then pointing the antenna towards the Empire State Building with its huge antenna in Manhattan; about 12 miles away to the north.

The stairs were the main mode of transportation for my brother and me whenever we went “out” to play. We lived on the 4^th floor, in apartment 4-A and so it was always a mad race down the stairs to the lobby, which seemed to take forever to get out of. If I remember correctly there was a suit of armor in the lobby that went with the Tudor looking beams which were the motif of the whole building. The exterior was still the same when I passed by in 2011, but I didn't go inside. I think I was afraid of spoiling the memories I have by seeing the place now that I’m older.

One time; this is back in the 1970’s; I went to look at the building before I left Brooklyn for the Navy. I remember thinking how small that front courtyard was compared to my memory of it. How much smaller it has gotten since that day, when I left to see the world, I cannot say, though I imagine it has shrunk even more.

Well, this is just a ramble prompted by an old photograph not seen clearly in decades. And just think; there are; potentially; 299 more to write about. Who said “you only get to live once?”

Frank Zappa on the Steve Allen Show - (1963)

Much has been written and said about the upcoming 50th anniversary of the Beatles legendary first appearance on the Ed Sullivan Show. But, eleven months before that occasion, Steve Allen was already looking for the next big musical sound. In this March 4, 1963 broadcast Mr. Allen looks on as Frank Zappa, later of the Mothers of Invention, plays a pair of bicycles with drumsticks, proving that percussion can be found anywhere.

And, as if that isn't enough to impress the audience, he then proves that a bicycle’s handlebars can also be used as a wind instrument. The result on the audience is comical, and Mr. Allen is, of course, making sport of the whole thing. But watch Frank Zappa.

Throughout the whole ordeal; which at times it must have been; he has a gleam in his eye, as if he can already see and hear the future direction which pop music will take in just a few more years. Those discordant sounds emanating from the bicycles are the birth cries of a new genre of music called Heavy Metal. 

The cacophony of sound made on the Steve Allen Show that night would pale in comparison to the later sounds of super groups such as The Who, Led Zeppelin, and Cream. But, listen closely; you can hear the train of musical change coming in this unique performance by Frank Zappa. He was a most unusual man…

Rooftop Meets David V. Herlihy

I don't often get to meet the authors of the books I review. I do get e-mails from some about the reviews I post, but it's a rare treat to meet one in person. Today was an exception. David Herlihy was here in Charlotte, promoting the second of his books on bicycling, "The Lost Cyclist" which I reviewed here in August. It was real treat.

He is currently searching for that bit of inspiration to embark upon a third book about bicycling. His first book, "Bicycle: The History", was met with much acclaim upon it's release in 2006. It deals with the invention and development of the bicycle. I have not read it yet, but will do so shortly. The latest, "The Lost Cyclist", was released this August and is doing rather well.

Let's hope Mr. Herlihy finds that spark of inspiration soon, so that he can begin work on the next book. Meanwhile, here's a re-run of the August review of "The Lost Cyclist". It's a book well worth reading.


In 1952 a man named William Sachtleben walked into the Alton, Illinois office of the Evening Telegraph. He was greeted by the Editor who had not seen him for over 50 years. Mr. Sachtleben was the man who completed a trip around the world, by bicycle that was begun in 1892 by Frank Lenz of Pittsburgh. Mr. Lenz perished somewhere in Armenia under mysterious circumstances in 1894. It is believed that he was murdered there. Mr. Sachtleben, a friend of Mr. Lenz’, actually went to Turkey seeking justice for his colleague. But let’s begin at the beginning…

Mr. Lenz was a bicycling enthusiast in the age of the high wheelers. These were the 6 foot tall, hard rubber tired cycles that were so popular beginning around the 1870’s. These cycles were powered by pedals attached directly to the front wheel. That was “direct drive”, which although simplistic in its form, allowed a hearty rider to attain some serious speed and distance. A wheel which is six feet in diameter will cover considerably more distance with each turn of the pedal than a modern bicycle could, were it not for the addition of “gears.” But falling from these older contraptions could be serious, and in some cases fatal.

In the 1880’s people began to experiment with what came to be known as the “Safety” bike, which is the forerunner of today’s bicycles. They look identical, were made of tubular steel, had chain and sprocket drive, inflatable tires, front and rear breaks, reduction gears and were easily mounted due to their height of approximately 36 inches atop two 27 inch inflatable tires, as compared with the 6 foot high cycles of the earlier years. After mastering the art of the 6 foot high cycles in races and road trips, Mr. Lenz was more than eager to plunge head first into these new “safety” bicycles.

Continuing to run in local cross country races during the 1880’s, he came to the attention of the public, who responded enthusiastically to this new sport. So, eventually “Outing Magazine” sponsored a bicycle trip around the world, and Mr. Lenz was hooked.

The round the world trip had already been done on a 6 foot cycle by a man named Thomas Stevens. I’d tell you more about him but don’t know that much beyond what I have read in “The Lost Cyclist.” I will google him later, on that you can be sure.

Frank Lenz began training for this eventual race with a partner named Petticord. They took several road trips, one down to New Orleans in 1890 and another one to St. Louis. Being an amateur photographer allowed Mr. Lenz to photograph the trips. Using a cord that ran to the camera’s shutter he was able to capture images of himself and Petticord sitting atop boulders, lounging in a hotel room and even along the roads.

In May of 1892, Mr. Lenz finally left his job as an accountant to embark on this amazing journey, from which he would never return. But along the way he filed articles with “Outing Magazine”, so we have a pretty good idea of what his journey was like.

He traveled East to West from Pittsburgh to San Francisco, where he caught a ship to Hawaii. From there he shipped to Japan and then on to China and Burma. This journey would be difficult even today. Making this trip in 1892 is mind boggling. From Burma he went through India and across present day Kuwait, Iraq, Iran and there his trail ends. He had shipped his trunks ahead to Constantinople, where they were later recovered by his friend William Sachtleben. But Lenz himself never did arrive there.

The book has an abundance of photographs, some taken inside the Coliseum in Rome, wearing a Pith helmet as he arrives at the gates of Tehran, and others of Lenz standing with some Chinese on the way to Peking. The Chinese were especially enamored of his bicycle, and though there were several unpleasant incidents while traveling through the country, he found the Chinese, on the whole, to be quite gracious and accommodating. When he disappeared, presumably in Armenia sometime in 1894, “Outing Magazine” sent William Sachtleben to find him.

When he arrived in Turkey, he landed in the midst of a very tender political situation concerning the Turks and the Armenians. Having no luck with the American Minister there, a former Confederate Colonel, named Alexander Terrell, who can only be described as arrogant and lazy, he turns to a Canadian Missionary named William Chambers, who had based himself in Erzurum province, where he had founded a missionary school and a church.

Making the task more difficult was that Armenia, especially the area around Bitlis, had been sealed off by the Turkish Government. This area was the site of some of the worst ethnic violence in the history of Turkey, culminating in the “ethnic cleansing” of some 15,000 people by the following summer of 1895.

That he was able to track Lenz at all is somewhat of a miracle in itself. That he was able to figure out what happened to his friend is incredible. His attempt to prosecute those whom he believed to be behind Lenz’ disappearance is amazing. Of the 5 Kurds who were accused and imprisoned for the killing of Frank Lenz, two perished in prison, and the others have gone missing in the annals of history. That Mr. Sachtleben did not succeed in his effort to seek justice was predictable, but no less admirable for his having made the effort.

He also went on to complete his friends journey, traveling through Turkey, amd on through Europe, then crossing the Atlantic before riding back into Pittsburgh the following year. This book is a testament to the Human Spirit and those who dare to go where no one else has gone before. Without them the world would be a much different, and less vibrant, place in which to live.

"The Lost Cyclist" by David V. Herlihy

In 1952 a man named William Sachtleben walked into the Alton, Illinois office of the Evening Telegraph. He was greeted by the Editor who had not seen him for over 50 years. Mr. Sachtleben was the man who completed a trip around the world, by bicycle that was begun in 1892 by Frank Lenz of Pittsburgh. Mr. Lenz perished somewhere in Armenia under mysterious circumstances in 1894. It is believed that he was murdered there. Mr. Sachtleben, a friend of Mr. Lenz’, actually went to Turkey seeking justice for his colleague. But let’s begin at the beginning…

Mr. Lenz was a bicycling enthusiast in the age of the high wheelers. These were the 6 foot tall, hard rubber tired cycles that were so popular beginning around the 1870’s. These cycles were powered by pedals attached directly to the front wheel. That was “direct drive”, which although simplistic in its form, allowed a hearty rider to attain some serious speed and distance. A wheel which is six feet in diameter will cover considerably more distance with each turn of the pedal than a modern bicycle could, were it not for the addition of “gears.” But falling from these older contraptions could be serious, and in some cases fatal.

In the 1880’s people began to experiment with what came to be known as the “Safety” bike, which is the forerunner of today’s bicycles. They look identical, were made of tubular steel, had chain and sprocket drive, inflatable tires, front and rear breaks, reduction gears and were easily mounted due to their height of approximately 36 inches atop two 27 inch inflatable tires, as compared with the 6 foot high cycles of the earlier years. After mastering the art of the 6 foot high cycles in races and road trips, Mr. Lenz was more than eager to plunge head first into these new “safety” bicycles.

Continuing to run in local cross country races during the 1880’s, he came to the attention of the public, who responded enthusiastically to this new sport. So, eventually “Outing Magazine” sponsored a bicycle trip around the world, and Mr. Lenz was hooked.

The round the world trip had already been done on a 6 foot cycle by a man named Thomas Stevens. I’d tell you more about him but don’t know that much beyond what I have read in “The Lost Cyclist.” I will google him later, on that you can be sure.

Frank Lenz began training for this eventual race with a partner named Petticord. They took several road trips, one down to New Orleans in 1890 and another one to St. Louis. Being an amateur photographer allowed Mr. Lenz to photograph the trips. Using a cord that ran to the camera’s shutter he was able to capture images of himself and Petticord sitting atop boulders, lounging in a hotel room and even along the roads.

In May of 1892, Mr. Lenz finally left his job as an accountant to embark on this amazing journey, from which he would never return. But along the way he filed articles with “Outing Magazine”, so we have a pretty good idea of what his journey was like.

He traveled East to West from Pittsburgh to San Francisco, where he caught a ship to Hawaii. From there he shipped to Japan and then on to China and Burma. This journey would be difficult even today. Making this trip in 1892 is mind boggling. From Burma he went through India and across present day Kuwait, Iraq, Iran and there his trail ends. He had shipped his trunks ahead to Constantinople, where they were later recovered by his friend William Sachtleben. But Lenz himself never did arrive there.

The book has an abundance of photographs, some taken inside the Coliseum in Rome, wearing a Pith helmet as he arrives at the gates of Tehran, and others of Lenz standing with some Chinese on the way to Peking. The Chinese were especially enamored of his bicycle, and though there were several unpleasant incidents while traveling through the country, he found the Chinese, on the whole, to be quite gracious and accommodating. When he disappeared, presumably in Armenia sometime in 1894, “Outing Magazine” sent William Sachtleben to find him.

When he arrived in Turkey, he landed in the midst of a very tender political situation concerning the Turks and the Armenians. Having no luck with the American Minister there, a former Confederate Colonel, named Alexander Terrell, who can only be described as arrogant and lazy, he turns to a Canadian Missionary named William Chambers, who had based himself in Erzurum province, where he had founded a missionary school and a church.

Making the task more difficult was that Armenia, especially the area around Bitlis, had been sealed off by the Turkish Government. This area was the site of some of the worst ethnic violence in the history of Turkey, culminating in the “ethnic cleansing” of some 15,000 people by the following summer of 1895.

That he was able to track Lenz at all is somewhat of a miracle in itself. That he was able to figure out what happened to his friend is incredible. His attempt to prosecute those whom he believed to be behind Lenz’ disappearance is amazing. Of the 5 Kurds who were accused and imprisoned for the killing of Frank Lenz, two perished in prison, and the others have gone missing in the annals of history. That Mr. Sachtleben did not succeed in his effort to seek justice was predictable, but no less admirable for his having made the effort.

He also went on to complete his friends journey, traveling through Turkey, amd on through Europe, then crossing the Atlantic before riding back into Pittsburgh the following year. This book is a testament to the Human Spirit and those who dare to go where no one else has gone before. Without them the world would be a much different, and less vibrant, place in which to live.