The Bicycle Troubadours

 "The Bicycle Troubadours, that merry, plucky and determined little party of Thespians headed by Miss Lillian Mason, who started awheel from this city [Los Angeles] on a trip to Atlanta, Ga., by way of the desert, Arizona and Texas, have been again heard from - this time from Kingman, Ariz."

With all the various performing groups, from musicians to theatrical troupes, who have latched onto the "novelty" of touring by bicycle in modern times, you might be excused the mistake of thinking the story came from yesterday's Los Angeles Times. Instead you must turn the pages back more than a century to find the story of what must surely have been among the earliest examples of performing artists touring by bike. 

When that sentence above reached newsprint on 11 October 1895, Mason and her company were already several days into their journey. It is unknown when the idea may have been hatched, but we do know that it took as inspiration the round-the-world tour of Frank Lenz, which ended in disaster while traveling through Asia in 1894 (as documented in The Lost Cyclist). We also know that the troupe began their cross-country journey, leaving Los Angeles on Saturday 21 September 1895. The first notice of the adventure came on the 16th of September in a story in the Los Angeles Herald which called it "the most novel of modern theatrical ventures. In company with several other clever members of the profession, she [Mason] will start on Saturday next for Atlanta, Ga., making the entire trip bloomer-clad and a-wheel."

Traveling in the company of Mason were fellow actors Pauline Clair, and Messrs. John Campbell and J. Gillmore. The four were to wear "suits of blue water-proof cloth, and with them will be worn tan leggings and gloves." Let's just say right off that crossing the desert in what must have consisted of "water-proof" clothing in the 1890s could not have been very comfortable. Their bicycles were "made by the Cleveland company, and are of the '96 model; each weighs 23 pounds and was built especially for the trip. A cleverly constructed telescopic valise is arranged to be strapped on the cycle frames so that the travelers will be enabled to carry quite a wardrobe and all the little necessities that go to make one comfortable."

Agents were busy arranging performances to take place at various theaters between Los Angeles and Atlanta though the ride was "not alone one for fame or enjoyment." Bets on the success or failure of the journey were being placed all around the theatrical world. All four of the riders had "provided themselves with the latest action revolvers and grim do-or-die expressions, either of which are supposed to be adequate protection..."

"Yes - we are

Two little bloomer girls;

None are so happy as we -

On our wheels we glide along,

And isn't it ecstasy!"

With a large audience watching, the troupe rolled away from the Orpheum Theater, pedaling down Main Street in the early afternoon. The first leg of their journey would take them to Monrovia where they would perform in the evening, with a second opportunity to listen to their "melodious voices" in Ontario the following night. The story continued, picking up next in Daggett, which the foursome rode into on the night of 30 September. They were, at this point, nine days and one-hundred seventy-four miles into the journey. Mason wrote to the Herald, "the trip has been awfully hard, as the roads are all cut up and it is impossible to travel by wheel over them. We have had to stick to the railroad track and the riding has been very rough.The weather has been awfully hot, but we have not suffered for water. All the party have stood the trip wonderfully well. We hope to reach the Needles by next Saturday. We all feel confident we can cross the desert, though everyone here tells us we are running a great risk. We have the moon in our favor and can travel by night. I'll write you on our arrival there."

The Herald printed the next letter of Mason's on 11 October, from Kingman, Arizona: "We arrived in the Needles last Saturday night, and to say it was a hard pull would only be putting it mildly. It was terrible. For four nights and days we didn't see a bed, but slept out in the sand and rocks, when, indeed, we slept at all. We suffered awfully with the cold at night and it was excessively hot during the day. Last Saturday we had a run of thirty-one miles to make. We made very bad time, as there was a strong head wind blowing and the sand blew in our faces and cut like a knife. We had to walk most of the time... Thank goodness we are over it now, and I can safely say that there is no money that could induce me to cross that desert again... My advice to all bicycle riders who are contemplating a journey across the continent is not to cross the desert..."

On the 27th of October, according to a brief announcement in the Los Angels Herald, the little party had reached Prescott (several days earlier), and were stranded. A slightly longer brief in the same newspaper issue notes that the four had reached the city on Monday the 24th, and had decided to enlist the "local wheelmen to assist them in making another effort this evening to get out of town."

Cracks were appearing in the cohesion of the troupe at about this time, with Mason calling for the local Prescott newspaper to retract certain statements it had published, averring that the group was on the verge of collapse. More than that Mason was particularly upset that two of the party, Mr. and Mrs. Campbell, had spread the derogatory story that the journey was simply an advertising scheme, and that many miles had been traveled by railroad, rather than bicycle. Mason countered that only thirteen miles had been taken "by car" across the desert, when her wheel had broken. Performances were continuing, with another to take place at Patton's Opera House that evening.

Not long after, the 30th of October, another letter reached the Herald (from Williams, Arizona) in which Mason regrets to inform that the travel of the bicycle troubadours had come to an end: "I am very sorry to state that, owing to sickness, I have been compelled to give up the bicycle trip. I was caught in a hard rainstorm while running into Prescott, while on the open prairie, and got all my clothing wet through, from which I contracted a severe cold on my lungs. By the advice of my physician I have given the trip up. The manager, Mr. E. A.  Leafoldt, however, will continue through, in company with Mr. William Goodrich and Mr. Dan Russell."

Though her bicycle journey ended in defeat, Lillian Mason would go on to a lengthy career in music and theatre.