Richard Sachs Cycles

[e-RICHIE]

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1979 called in today atmo.

[MarkC]

Fork crown looks naked.

[e-RICHIE]

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Well, all is really very well according to my opinion.

read more here -
Going Number One | RICHARD SACHS CYCLES

[e-RICHIE]

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There's this scene in the film Backdraft in which the character played
by Donald Sutherland asks, "Did it look at you? Did the fire look at you?"

read more here -
Sideways | RICHARD SACHS CYCLES

[e-RICHIE]

[e-RICHIE]

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The units I’m presently involved in are real; but if I do stumble on my way back, let me do it without a name attached.

More here -
Who Does Number Two Work For | RICHARD SACHS CYCLES

[e-RICHIE]

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Some folks seem to be born with ambition.

More here -
Behind This Green Door | RICHARD SACHS CYCLES

[ron l edmiston]

--- Behind the Greendoor:

1956 song
1972 movie

only richard knows!!

ronnie with a smile

[Michael Gordon]

Yeah, I saw that movie when I was about 15 years old. I had become curious about this this stack of VHS tapes I saw up on the top shelf in my parent's closet.

Nuf said.

[e-RICHIE]

There is no test one takes for creative license.
And I never drive without mine close by atmo.

[e-RICHIE]

My Strawberry Statement

A recent article on Ivy-Style tells about the so called coat-and-tie-rule and social deterioration at Harvard in the late sixties. I don’t know how some angst-ridden and counterculture crusades begin, but we had our version at The Peddie School. When I arrived in 1969, all boys had a dress code for classes, meals, and chapel. I’m not the conforming type, but thought the uniform look was kinda’ sorta’ cool.

By the time I graduated in 1971, it was a different environment. Neat was the only standard. Neat, as in no jeans, shirts had to have collars and be tucked in. No sneakers in class. Sideburns were permitted. We still had the crested jackets and school ties for the more ceremonious occasions. During my time on campus I saw the styles ease, as well as other long time standards change.

And then there was the time some of us took over Longstreet Hall, the school’s canteen and now part of the library system at Peddie. For two days, we locked ourselves in and protested until that fateful hour we pulled Mr. Roberts, the English Department head, through an open window and allowed him to negotiate on behalf on the administration. We thought we won. They likely thought they did.

While in Hightstown this October, I saw the current Headmaster, Peter Quinn. I mentioned that Deb had just taken pictures of me on the steps of Longstreet and that I was part of the cabal that owned the building for two days in 1970. He said a plaque now exists inside and speaks to the ordeal. He asked about the siege, since the truth is lost to other stories that have come and gone since.

I couldn’t recall the details. I told Mr. Quinn I thought our group was part of an in-between generation. Too young for the war. Had no first-hand experience with Woodstock or its ilk. And certainly not wise enough to appreciate the events at Columbia, or Kent State, or even Harvard. But we wanted to make a mark as all students do. Locking ourselves in the canteen was our way of saying we care. But about what, who really knows?

My blue Peddie blazer still hangs in the closet and I wear its several times a year. It reminds me that I’m part of a tradition that’s lasted well over a century and a half. Time rarely passes without me thinking about my days there, even the two I can’t remember much about.

[happycampyer]

Occupy Longstreet

[ron l edmiston]

--- "a man must occupy his space at his pace & leave his trace.."

with a smile, ronnie

[e-RICHIE]

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The RS logo Colsinos keep your neck warm, hide hickeys, and will get you on the Best Dressed lists.
They're also a good place to practice lead out trains according to my opinion. Details here.

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[e-RICHIE]

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#brandonneuring circa 1970 atmo -

[e-RICHIE]

As My World Turns

I love my new studio. The work space is light, airy, and has good bones. Now six weeks into the forth quarter, I’m happy to declare that I’m home. The last couple of years had some holes in the routine that kept me from feeling like a full-time bicycle maker. The holes are filled.

We don’t often get a chance to put what we do under the microscope. I’ve been looking at the trade as well as my part in it on and off since the turn of the century. I’ve been critical. Judgmental. I’ve given myself to it. And have also taken myself out of it. It’s not the same conversation I entered as a nineteen year old. The years, especially the last ten or so, have proven that. And, with my reboot in 2016, I couldn’t be more comfortable with what’s left of it.

There have been moments this summer while waiting for the contractors to finish their tasks, moments when I reflected on my years at The Peddie School, and how it seemed normal, and so right, to try and break all the traditions and make the place my own. That’s what the young do. But when I went out into the world, I finally realized that the institution wasn’t anyone’s, much less mine. It belonged to time, and time would shape it. I feel that way about bicycle making too. The future happens, methods and markets change, and the kids will be alright.

[e-RICHIE]

[e-RICHIE]

Had one Monique Pegg and I never met, things would be different. Ms. Pegg represented the Paris firm, M. Yvars and Co. They were an agent for Établissement Aime DuBois and other French brands. In 1974 as I was starting to craft a vision of what a Richard Sachs bicycle should look like, I became obsessed with shapes. And to my eye, only one shape worked dot period. But I was still living in a world where the only material suppliers I knew sold components that didn’t get me wet and sticky. There would soon be a line in the sand that, once crossed, I was not going to make frames with commonly available fittings and parts. Some pieces, the tubing for example, and maybe a braze-on or three, were generic enough that my using them wouldn’t be a game changer. But when it came to holding the tube ends together, it had to be a shape that spoke to me.

At a trade show in Manhattan, I was introduced to Monique and told of her of my quest to get this one piece of the puzzle that evaded my reach as a young frame maker in America. And then as if by fate, she informed me that it is something her company could source on my behalf. Over the next decade, I imported thousands of these lug sets into Connecticut, each batch lovingly carted in lovely wooden crates (they could have been made by cooper-smiths for all I know) with the contents nesting in straw. Unwrapping once every year or 18 months was a Hanukkah-like experience for me.

The Nervex Ref 32 lug set is the perfect shape. Even as-is, it’s elegant. But with a hour of time and some file strokes, I can transform these little jewels into something über beautiful. All of my frames had these components on them until maybe 1983 when a tsunami of wholesale changes happened here and I got dragged kicking and screaming into the investment cast era.

Despite the passing of time, the growth of diameters, and a few small style edits, all of the parts I’ve used since inking that first deal with Ms. Pegg have a direct line to the Nervex shape. My own Richie-Issimo lugs, created in 2001, are the descendants of what began with a meeting in New York some 40 years ago.

[e-RICHIE]

Oh Yes He Is

I have always been a clothes horse. As the Kinks would sing, a dedicated follower of fashion. From early on as a young boy, recalling those weekly trips to Schlesinger’s on Bergenline Avenue at 57th Street, I’ve been intense about what I wear. Maybe not intense, perhaps preoccupied, or focused, or more aware than a man of my gender should be. I have a uniform. And the hash-marks that define “uniform” are just wide enough to allow me some variations on a theme. The theme. My theme.

Long ago I fixated on the silk striped tie. But – now pay attention – not just any silk striped tie. It had to be an example that wasn’t the ubiquitous Old School slash club or organization type that many would associate with this style. With rare exception, I chose versions made in Italy and whose stripes descend from the heart rather that the more typical way – the way one might see at Brooks Brothers or its ilk. (Some interesting colors, a decent pattern to be found if you look long enough, but all of it going in the wrong direction.)

Here are some of my ties, many of which are from the late 1970s and still in heavy rotation. Among them are Borsalinos, Zegnas, a Mario Ceste, a Schiavi, one Marinella, and even a tie from J. Press, a maker who rarely shows stripes oriented this way.

I believe, I have always believed, that paying attention to apparel lines has helped me as a bicycle maker. Design. Color. Trends. Attention to detail. And of course, elegance. These know no boundaries. Watching how one segment works informs another, as long as you keep the shutter open and the lens clear.

Next up – footwear.

[Bob Ross]

(Some interesting colors, a decent pattern to be found if you look long enough, but all of it going in the wrong direction.) ...[snip]...
I believe, I have always believed, that paying attention to apparel lines has helped me as a bicycle maker.

This reminds me of a seemingly trivial practice I learned from the guy who helped me get my career as a recording engineer started way back in ~1977-78: He was securing a bundle of wires with a series of nylon cable ties, and I noticed/commented "I see you have all those tie wraps oriented in the same direction."

To which he replied "It's not hard to make things more beautiful than not; you just have to want to."