On leaving the Richelieu-Drouot metro station in the 9th arrondissement, Parisians suddenly plunged into the hustle and bustle of the Grands Boulevards have no idea that they are walking through an area that holds a major place in the history of cycling. Yet it was at this busy crossroads in the French capital, lined with banks and grand cafés, that the Union Cycliste Internationale (UCI) was founded in 1900. A few hundred metres away, the newspaper L'Auto would soon set up shop, and three years later would create the Tour de France in a local brasserie.
Don't waste time looking for the Hôtel de Russie, on the corner of Rue Drouot and Boulevard des Italiens, venue in 1900 of two of the three Congresses of world cycling, which was going through a crisis. It was demolished in 1923 when Boulevard Haussmann was extended. But before its demolition, this hotel regularly served as a backdrop for the often-conflicting efforts to give cycling a common organisation. It was on its premises that the meetings of the International Cycling Association (ICA) usually took place after its foundation in 1892 by the British organisations governing cycling on their territory. That the meetings were held at the Hôtel de Russie was no coincidence, given that the owner of the establishment was none other than Alfred Riguelle, who had a passion for cycling, was a prominent member of the Automobile Club de France and President in his spare time of the Union Vélocipédique de France (UVF), located a little further down the same Boulevard des Italiens.
Was it an omen that on 14 April 1900, the ICA Congress did not take place at the Hôtel de Russie, but opposite, in a private room at the Café Cardinal? The least we can say is that the relationship between the members of the UVF and the British Secretary of the ICA, Henry Sturmey, was tense. Like most sports leaders of the time, Sturmey was an entrepreneur. He had fallen under the spell of cycling during his adolescence. An inveterate traveller, at the end of the 19th century he published a reference work on the practice of cycling, which earned him his status of leader of England’s cycling population.
In the century that was coming to an end – the 20th century was to begin in just eight months – sport had become a social phenomenon and the bicycle spearheaded this new religion of effort, sweat and competition. In all aspects of this new activity, tensions emerged between amateurism and professionalism, but also between world views and geopolitical visions. These differences were even more glaring between the British leaders, who were supporters of pure and hardline amateurism, but also very unregulated, and the ‘Latins’ from mainland Europe, who were more open to the idea of paid sport, but also more inclined towards interventionism.
And these tensions were to be expressed more strongly than ever on the eve of Easter Sunday 1900 in the back room of the Cardinal.
From friction to secession
This Congress of 14 April was ‘extraordinary’ because the regular meeting, two months earlier at the Hôtel de Russie, had already set the terms of the debate: the French wanted Sturmey out! The latter, furious, had slammed the door of the February meeting and was reprimanded for opposing a reform of the representation of the National Federations, which until then had been very favourable to the United Kingdom.
‘It seems that at the new ICA, we will now work wearing masks and in a dark room!’
At 10.30 that April morning, the attendance sheet had fourteen names on it. The list included the signatures of Émile de Beukelaer for Belgium, Henry Sturmey for the Cape Colony (then an autonomous part of the future South Africa), T.W.J. Britten for England, Wheeler for Ireland, Mario Bruzzone for Italy, Collins for New Zealand, Harald Tillier for Norway, A. Champion for Switzerland, Alfred Riguelle for the UVF, the Count de Villers for the Union des Sociétés Sportives de Sport Athlétique (USFSA), Ingles for Scotland, Burman for Canada, Victor Breyer for the United States and E. Staal, also President of the ICA, for Denmark. ‘It seems that at the new ICA, we will now work wearing masks and in a dark room!’
No sooner had the debates begun than the first skirmish broke out. The French wanted the press to be able to attend the proceedings of the assembly, but Henry Sturmey and his supporters were opposed to their presence. The latter won by seven votes to five, and the Congress was held behind closed doors, much to the chagrin of the journalists present. One of them wrote: ‘It seems that at the new ICA, we will now work wearing masks and in a dark room!’
Nevertheless, this vote made it possible to count the number of people present and to determine the balance of power. The “British” had the majority, but this numerical superiority was precisely one of the subjects of disagreement. The French, Swiss, Italians and Belgians were opposed to Scotland and Ireland, then members of the United Kingdom, each having one vote on the same basis as the other delegations, even though they did not represent a nation in the strict sense of the word. This count guaranteed Henry Sturmey three votes. The Secretary of the ICA also knew he could count on the votes of the Canadian and New Zealand representatives, whom he had invited to this strained meeting to ensure a comfortable majority. This internal struggle between English speakers and ‘Latins’ went further, with each side seeking to favour federations in ICA member countries that were committed to its cause. Thus Sturmey and his followers refused to recognise Alfred Riguelle's UVF, preferring the USFSA – with its insignificant cycling section – while in the United States, two organisations were vying for authority in cycling: the National Cycling Association, represented by the Frenchman Victor Breyer, who was close to the UVF, and the League of American Wheelers (LAW), long affiliated with the ICA.
High tensions
In the absence of witnesses, it is not clear exactly what was said, but it is certain that proceedings were heated. The British particularly criticised those from the Mainland for defending an overly flexible view of amateurism. This was the big argument of the moment, with professionals often competing in the same events as amateurs and the latter also receiving prizes in cash or in kind. The American Arthur Zimmerman is a textbook case: the first ICA World Sprint Champion in 1893, he was theoretically an amateur, but earned a good living on the track. In 1892, the New York Times listed his earnings as follows: ‘Twenty-nine bicycles, several horses and carriages, half a dozen pianos, a house, land, furniture and enough silverware, medals and jewellery to open a jewellery shop.’
The ICA banned him from racing in the UK, but that didn't stop him from going to France or the Netherlands to cash in on his talent.
‘We parted very late, all dissatisfied, all defeated and victorious at the same time.’
Henry Sturmey's opponents also considered it absurd that nations where cycling had only a negligible impact should impose their law on countries where the sport was extremely popular. After five hours of debate, the Belgian delegate Émile de Beukelaer, the head of one of his country's largest distilleries and a skilled negotiator, proposed that three votes be given to the most represented unions and only one to the more modest National Federations, including England, Ireland and Scotland. This resolution, adopted by seven votes to four with two abstentions, placed the Secretary of the ICA and his supporters in a minority. But while the question of his replacement arose, Henry Sturmey managed to retain his post. As a journalist posted near the Cardinal reported at the time: ‘We parted very late, all dissatisfied, all defeated and victorious at the same time.’
Before returning to their homes or their rooms at the Hotel de Russie, the ‘continental’ delegates from mainland Europe decided to meet on their own and secede. A letter, signed by Alfred Riguelle, Count de Villers, Émile de Beukelaer, Mario Bruzzone, Victor Breyer and A. Champion, confirmed the death of the ICA.
‘Mr President, the undersigned representatives of the federations, believing that the results obtained at today's congress do not serve the interests of international cycling, hereby declare their resignation from the ICA.’
Birth of the UCI
In the same breath, the same people announced the birth of a ‘new federation under the title of Union Cycliste Internationale’, whose first appointed President was its skillful Belgian founder.
“(After the birth of the UCI), the fury of the United Kingdom knew no bounds. But a few years later, perfect harmony reigned, and England rejoined the UCI like a repentant mother.
A few days later, in the official journal of the UVF, the journalist Paul Puy, Director of the Journal des Sports and organiser of the Bordeaux-Paris cycling race, wrote the eulogy of the ICA: “The ICA, which could have played a major role in the world, preferred to live peacefully in an indolence that bordered on sleep, on lethargy. Imbued with prejudice, closed to new ideas, prone to petty squabbling, it had managed to make everyone unhappy and to halt the upward movement of cycling as a sport. As a result of the numerical preponderance of phantom federations, truly sporting countries could not obtain any satisfaction. Thus Germany, France, Italy and America, where cycling is flourishing, were being crushed by England, Holland, Denmark, Sweden and Norway, where cycling is just a word. This could not go on forever. Men of energy and initiative came together, who boldly shook off the yoke that oppressed them and abandoned to its unfortunate fate an institution that had become retrograde. On the very day of this abandonment, the same men founded the Union Cycliste Internationale, and that is why, since Easter, we have been living under a new regime in which we must have the utmost faith, since it emanates from us. The ICA is dead, long live the UCI!”
Recalling a quarter of a century later, in 1925, the birth of the UCI, L'Écho des Sports, edited by Victor Breyer, one of the putschists of April 1900, wrote: “(After the birth of the UCI), the fury of the United Kingdom knew no bounds. But a few years later, perfect harmony reigned, and England rejoined the UCI like a repentant mother.
It was in fact in 1903 that England joined the UCI, ratifying the definitive disappearance of the ICA. Disowned, Henry Sturmey did not give up his passion for cycling. In 1902, he developed the Sturmey-Archer integrated hub with engineer James Archer, an alternative to the derailleur that is still used today.