The Great Cycling Donnybrook of January 1900

 We've all been sweating along at full speed in the middle of a race in the middle of the peloton, when all of a sudden a couple of the yahoo's up ahead start swinging at one another. Never mind that everyone has all they can do just to stay focused on the race and hang to the wheel in front of them without having to edge around a brawl as well. 

Wait, you're telling me you'v never enjoyed that thrill of a front row seat? Well, as someone who has had three such experiences, that I can recall, let me tell you, you've missed out. Maybe.. sort of... maybe not. 

Anyway, sometimes all the yelling by the highly mobile surrounding spectators and directed at the combatants, is enough to get them to call a truce. Sometimes there is a cooling off by the end of the race, sometimes not and the battle continues on two feet, rather than while on two wheels. A recent, and somewhat publicized, incident in the American domestic ranks, you may have heard, resulted in the suspension of the racers / boxers.

But that is now, and this was then:

On 18 January 1900, a day of racing at the old Los Angeles Velodrome, a day during which local star, Fritz Lacy established a new ten-mile motor-paced world record, a private combat grew into a much larger one. To their merit, the Los Angeles newspapers chose to focus on the world record ride, rather than the outbreak of hostilities. Then again, if not for a story in the San Francisco Chronicle, we might not have known about the devolution into general war. The professional riders were on the track for the final of a half-mile open race, and Iver Lawson and Orlando Stevens were racing neck and neck on the final lap when, all of a sudden, Lawson reached out and shoved Stevens in the face, throwing him from his bike. Naturally, Lawson was disqualified (and fined $25), while Stevens was helped back into his saddle and assisted across the line to be awarded 3rd place (the next day Stevens would faint twice during the surgery to remove over a hundred splinters, many between four and six inches long, from his right leg and side).

This is where the Chronicle picks up the story, for things did not end on the track. Lawson, accompanied by his trainer and three men acting as bodyguards, retired to the cellar where the training quarters were located. There they were met by Floyd McFarland, Hardy Downing, Clem Turville, an unidentified English boxer, and several others. The door was locked by the new arrivals, who then raised a cry "break his neck, kill him!" At that, a free-for-all broke out until one of the "bodyguards," all of whom were reported to be deputies, pulled a couple guns, threatening to shoot McFarland if he hit Lawson again. Replying "it don't take but one gun to kill me," McFarland "made a smash at the deputy, while Turville pitched into the others." Eventually the deputies gained control of the situation and, along with Lawson and his trainer hastily, if not also wisely, withdrew from the room.

So there you go, a little extra drama to this history lesson - I know, these Fast Digs posts are not the most popular with you all; they consistently rank among the least read, but... tough, they'll continue to show up periodically because... well, because I think they're interesting.