Unpublished manuscript -- circa 1992
The Harley Mystique
by Carl Caiati
It's as American as Mom, apple pie and the eagle wings that have adorned its paint job for years. It's created a legend, a cult, even a subculture that spans the globe. It represents today the rarest of the rare — a quality American institution that's universally acclaimed, highly desired, avidly consumed and ridden by Hell's Angels and corporate CEO's alike. It's the Harley Davidson motorcycle.
The Harley mystique is all these things and more. For this is a company and a motorcycle that has endured. Over a decade ago, beset by foreign competition and other financial obstacles, it veered perilously close to disaster. Now it enjoys a startling renaissance — a revitalized product, a phoenix-like charisma, an undisputed dominance in a market once thought lost to foreign competitors.
But let's start at the beginning. The first Harley Davidson motorcycle emanated from a Milwaukee, Wisconsin, shed so small it was once picked-up and carried by hand. In 1903, three Davidson brothers — Arthur, Walter Sr., William — and one William S. Harley founded the company.
It was a gutsy move for a time when personal transportation was in its infancy. Would the world ride, let alone buy, the two-wheeled equivalent of a horseless carriage? The fledgling outfit soon had its answer. Harley sales grew steadily. And the firm established a reputation early-on for advanced engineering with a 1912 racer sporting four-valve heads when mere balloon tires were considered an innovation. By 1926, sales mushroomed to 23,354 units.
In 1929, Harley debuted the first in a long line of twin-cylinder "V" engines that still remain the heart of its product. Three 45 cubic inch V-twins ranged from a low-compression "D" model for sidecar and three-wheeler application, to the standard DL offering, to the higher compression DLD.
The next watershed year for Harley was 1936, with the introduction of a 61 cubic inch V-twin that had features highly advanced for its day. Nicknamed the "knucklehead" for the distinctive shape of its valve covers, this powerhouse featured a then-revolutionary combination: overhead valves, hemispherical combustion chamber and fully recirculating oil system. Another major improvement was a six-plate clutch with alternating steel and fiber inserts and spring control for smoother, more positive shifting. To convince the few doubters, the factory built a streamlined, knuckle-powered racer and shattered speed records with ease. A vestige of this effort was an unused boss for tachometer mount on all early knuckle cam covers. Harley enlarged the engine to 74 cubic inches in 1941, giving rise to an advertising phrase, "Big Twin" that aficionados still affectionately label their Harley motorcycles today. Original examples of knucklehead versions, now revered by collectors, change hands for scores of times their original prices.
The year 1948 found Harley improving the breed again, and again, ahead of its time. The new 74 inch "panhead" engine superseded the knuckle with a new all-aluminum cylinder head, plus widespread use of the light alloy throughout for substantial weight savings and heat dissipation. Also headlining the changes were improved top-end lubrication, push-rod type hydraulic lifters and redesigned rocker arms to minimize maintenance and engine noise.
A key to such innovation was Harley's commitment to vertical integration. Save carburetors and tires, everything on their motorcycles was made in their Milwaukee factory — from sparkplugs to spokes, from gas tanks to gaskets, from pistons to pushrods. For decades it was a unique advantage. Later it was to become their achilles heel in a competitive manufacturing environment that rewarded arrangements with small offshore subcontractors and just-in-time inventory.
Harley's detail engineering improvements stood in stark contrast to Detroit's preoccupation with annual cosmetic styling changes. And in 1949 they were at it again, pioneering the use of the hydraulically-damped telescopic front suspension in their Hydra-Glide model. Most other makes of the day used a variety of friction-damped, link-type front "springer" forks. But following Harley's lead, in a few years, smooth-riding front tele's were demanded by riders worldwide — and industry standard. Harley brought hydraulic shock suspension to the rear of the frame in 1958 in the form of a new Duo-Glide. Curiously, their 1957 model remains a collector's item. It was the only year with a rigid frame that had the cleaner-appearing straight front bars of the Duo-Glide.
Meanwhile, the first in a wave of challenges to Harley's domination of the American motorcycle market — and ultimately, its very existence -- had begun. H-D had surmounted economic hard times before. Sales had plummeted by over half in the early 1920's due to a postwar slump and increasing acceptance of Henry Ford's low-cost model T. And just as recovery loomed, the Great Depression struck. Harley aggressively cut output by 80 percent by 1933, down to a bare-bone 3,700 motorcycles.
Management gained widespread admiration for guiding Harley to survival; one of the rewards was lucrative government business that followed during World War Two. Harley even fielded a new military machine designed for the occasion, the opposed cylinder XA. Postwar performance riders came to prize XA forks because their longer length gave a few precious inches extra in cornering clearance.
Ironically this latest test grew out of that war. GI's returning to the U.S. from overseas duty had brought home a preference for a multitude of imported motorcycles. These bikes carried names like Triumph, Zundapp, BSA, BMW, Norton, Moto Guzzi. For many riders, less became more. These import bikes were smaller, lighter, peppier and most importantly, less expensive. A measure of the share-of-mind that these imports had captured by 1954 can be seen in the movie the Wild-One. Starring Marlon Brando, it featured a motorcycle gang in a story inspired by a 1948 resort riot in Hollister, California. The real hooligans were almost exclusively Harley-mounted; but the movie's hero rode, horror-of-horrors, a British bike, a Triumph Thunderbird!
The trend grew slowly but inexorably, and soon claimed its first casualty. The Indian Motorcycle Company, Harley's main domestic competitor, had also cast its lot over the years on large touring motorcycles. And it was the first to respond and the first to founder. Indian fielded a new line of light-weight vertical single and twin cylinder models, the Arrow and Warrior. But they failed technically and by 1953 Indian ceased making its own motorcycles. The victims weren't just in America. Vincent, who built a powerful British V-twin with legendary speed exceeded only by its sky-high price tag, went out of business in 1955.
Some Harley riders began to take things into their own hands. They chopped weighty parts off and altered their machines to craft bikes in the image of the imports. Helping the situation was the vaunted parts interchangeability among Harley models. Entire books have been written on what-fits-what in the Harley realm. It was possible to build a bike by carefully selecting the cream of many years — a powerful late-model engine in an early lightweight VL frame with extra long XA front forks, for example. One example was built for Floyd Clymer. the famed founder and long-time publisher of Cycle magazine. He had developed the ability to ride a motorcycle backward and wanted a machine that could run that way under power. The marque he chose? Harley, naturally, because they offered a reverse-gear transmission for sidecar-motorcycle combinations.
Around 1950, California speed merchant Chet Herbert concocted another notable early custom, the Beast, a stripped-down knucklehead. It was enlarged to 80 cubic inches by using stroker flywheels cleverly adapted from Harley's obscure UL model -- and sported dual carbs on custom-brazed heads. In a scene straight out of Ripley's Believe It or Not, this two wheeled terror bested a USAF P-80 jet fighter during a highly publicized drag race. The only thing on two wheels that could touch it was another dragster aptly named Double Trouble. This was a Triumph with not one but two full race engines!
These custom-modified "bob-jobs" or "choppers" were the birth pangs of a vibrant aftermarket for lightweight, high performance and customized Harley parts. Today it has grown into a multimillion dollar industry. Magazines like Easyriders and American Iron cater to Harley riders and builders exclusively. Harley customizers like Dave Perewitz and Arlen Ness have styling clout to rival automotive legends like George Barris and Rollie Fernandez. And parts choices are so extensive that it is possible (though expensive) to build a motorcycle completely from aftermarket parts — crankcases, frames, con-rods, wheels, cylinder heads, oil pumps, the whole nine yards.
Harley itself took a different but characteristic and successful tack against the imports. At first they barely budged. An optional foot gearchange similar to European motorcycles appeared in 1952. Standard Harleys had been shifted, automotive style, with a hand lever that terminated at the gas tank side and a foot actuated clutch. Old timers still prefer this "jockey shift", so-called because the rider reaches to shift as if holding the reins of a racehorse. But it is not without perils, deftly summarized by the nickname "suicide clutch". For starting off requires that the rider raise his left foot to engage the clutch, a tricky undertaking for novices when the bike is stopped and leaning toward that side! Thankfully, the new foot shifting permitted a hand clutch.
In 1954 bigger things began to happen in H-D's Milwaukee headquarters. Harley went back to its roots to create a new, compact junior twin, the K-model. It was a radically revamped version of the old 45 inch series that had started the V-twin dynasty. Of particular note was a new crankcase that contained the transmission and primary drive in unit with the engine — a feature almost a decade ahead of the competition. So solid was this engineering base that race versions (the KR) continued to win races for decades hence.
But beginning in 1957 Harley really answered the imports with the potent and lean Sportster, an evolution of the K-model with 55 cubic inches, overhead valves and magneto ignition on many models. Its lean, spare design was a significant departure from the Big Twi, which had oversized everything to benefit the touring rider — tires, wheels, fenders, saddlebags, forks, gas tank. No slouch in performance either, the "Sporty" was cleverly geared for retina-detaching acceleration over a city block. It quickly gained a reputation (unofficial, of course) as an unbeatable street racer. Such was the Sportster's success that variants continue today, ranging from an 74 cubic inch XLH to an no-frills import fighter, the 883 cc XLX.
Meanwhile, Harley went on perfecting the tried and true big brother. A new "shovelhead" design emerged along with electric starting in the mid-1960's Electra-Glide. In 1978 the design was enlarged further to a monstrous 80 cubic inches and output surmounted 60 horsepower. A cornucopia of enhanced details happened along the road to today — electronic ignition, five forward speeds, and unique belt drive systems that eliminated the problems of chains.
But storm clouds were brewing in the market again. In 1963 a new entrant targeted American shores with the now-famed "you meet the nicest people on a Honda" ad campaign. It was a veiled and underhanded swipe at the Harley rider, who was by implication somehow mad, bad and dangerous to know. (In doing so though, Honda contributed to a macho Harley image that would later return to haunt them). But this was also a new marketing approach. For decades, Harley had occasionally struggled, often thrived, but always survived by primarily selling motorcycle to died-in-the-wool motorcyclists, the military and loyal police departments across America. Honda was trying to enlarge the entire pie by persuading the penny-loafer and sweater crowd to try two wheels. For a while they and other Japanese vendors sold mostly small sportcycles — hardly a threat to H-D's domination of the heavyweight segment.
By 1969, it became another story. Many Japanese-initiated riders were now ready to trade up. And Honda was ready. They fielded their CB750 -- a smooth, powerful and sophsticated 45 inch, four cylinder machine. Slowly but surely the flood gates opened. Driven by domestic demand, big bikes of all descriptions began to flood America from the Orient. By the late 1970's even Harley's distinctive and unique feature were being cloned by metric cruisers for overseas — the hairy sounding, aircraft-like V-twin engine and comfortable cruising seat position that had given it a lock on the long-distance touring market for so many years.
Harley somehow coped for a while. In 1971, they fought back with the Superglide. It was a cut-down, simplified Big Twin and the most major styling departure since the Sportster. But in the midst of the marketing crisis, the company was hit by a bigger thunderbolt; it was acquired by conglomerate AMF. For decades a small, closely controlled company, Harley now had a parent and a bad case of corporate culture shock.
The Japanese continued to make inroads throughout the 1970's with fresh, reliable low-priced machines — the result of a long term commitment to quality and productivity. Meanwhile Harley's internal problems seemed to be taking it the other way. AMF infused the company with cash, but a priority was placed on production numbers at the expense of research & development and inspection control. In AMF's defense, Federally mandated environmental rules required a heavy investment in sound and emission control programs. But they also alienated long-time, loyal employees by abruptly pulling up stakes on their entire assembly operation and depositing it in York, Pennsylvania. During the dark days of the early seventies, there were rumors of sabotage, hardly assuaged by quality control problems. And H-D's price disadvantage ballooned. Even loyal customers began to depart in droves. For a while the crisis rose to such a magnitude that few thought the desperately-ailing company would survive.
Eventually some of AMF's changes began to take positive effect. And inside Harley itself a new name, Willie G. Davidson, began to be mentioned as someone who listened to customers and was willing to break with Harley's rigid past. Beginning with the 1979 Low Rider, a growing variety of sporting models based on the venerable Big Twin and the Sportster began to roll off the assembly line. Thanks to Willie G's influence, at long last you could buy a customized model — albeit conservative — right off the showroom floor.
After a decade of ownership and no clear turnaround, though, AMF began to make noises about selling. Formerly American Machine and Foundry, they had acquired Harley as part of a strategy to transform themselves into some sort of colossus in the leisure-time industry, from Voit basketballs to Brunswick bowling alleys. In retrospect, it appears they may have gone over their head to add motor vehicle manufacturing to their stable. To this day controversy rages over whether they in fact helped or hindered Harley's ultimate fate.
Again the company was wracked by worries about new management. The go-go 1980's arrived, and for once Harley was a beneficiary of the financial times instead of its victim. The buyout binge and debt craze of that decade may now be decried by many, but it did enable a internal management team led by Vaughn Deals to buy the company back from AMF in 1981. Harley remained on the ragged edge of break-even, but the stage for recovery was set.
In the currency markets things were now going Harley's way as well. The yen-to-dollar exchange rate, long a key to low-cost Japanese motorcycles, began a long and precipitous slide from 268:1 to 168:1 (by 1986). What's more, in 1982 Harley's new management filed for a protective relief from the International Trade Commission. They claimed that Japanese vendors were dumping -- unfairly selling motorcycles in the U.S. at artificially-depressed prices below actual cost -- to grab market share. A tariff would boost the competition's prices and eliminate a glut of import inventories overhanging domestic sales. Less than a year later, the ITC placed a substantial import relief tariff of up to 45 percent on all Japanese motorcycles of 700 cc displacement or over entering America. Along with the near-50 percent drop in the yen-to-dollar differential, it put Harley on equal footing at last.
And this outcome dovetailed beautifully with a new, aggressively focused approach at Harley — go after the heavyweight cruiser market exclusively. Harley discovered it owned other advantages as well. Situated on U. S. soil, it had lower distribution costs. Its tradition of evolving, detail improvement saved the expense of frequent, radical retooling. And it's spare, focused two-engine product line made it relatively economical and speedy to respond to the market.
These events had their results. By 1987 Harley's $3995 Sportster competed wheel-to-wheel with Honda's Shadow at $3898. A new advertising campaign stressed Harley as the traditional, real, one-and-only American motorcycle and pointed out higher H-D resale value. Aggressive licensing and marketing of the Harley name and logo backed that up. Many riders came to realize that the Japanese copies were merely caricatures of the real thing. For in the macho world of motorcycling, too much refinement now was a bad thing. In contrast to the sewing machine smoothness and sameness of the imports, only a Harley filled the rider with the sounds, the rugged sensations of solid substance, of unvarnished power. On a Harley the rider KNEW they'd shifted gears. And to company began to leverage to the hilt this former liability as a promotional asset.
It wasn't just pricing and PR that was changing at Harley, either. In 1984 they embarked on a major modernization of their Big Twin engines (and later the Sportster) with the new Evolution line. Quickly tagged the Blockhead by enthusiasts, this computer designed update brought it to world class in reliability, power, quality and oil tightness. A growing variety of chassis choices included rubber mounting, innovative rear suspensions, seating positions, and chain or belt drive trains. Even a factory version of the old "springer" fork returned — replete with modern geometry, metallurgy and damping. To keep things on the boil, H-D management took the company public in 1987, with an offering of stock on the New York Exchange. With fresh capital, reduced debt and the resources to respond to the market quickly and convincingly, Harley was on a roll.
And then Harley took am unheard of step. With profits now safely assured, they voluntarily requested that a tariff benefiting them be lifted. It was a master public relations stroke. President Ronald Reagan visited a revitalized York assembly plant and gave management and factory worker alike his highest accolades for their contributions to the comeback.
Today Harley's renewal has convinced the deepest of doubters. Approaching their 90th birthday, they have the vitality of a teenager. Their share of the U.S. heavyweight motorcycle market — over 40 percent — is the envy of the industry. Harley continues innovating, with the industry's first application of electrostatic powder coating of parts in 1991 and o-ring sealed drive chains slated for '92. Rumor has it that the factory's next-year production is already completely sold out. Consortia of overseas buyers scour garages and shops nationwide for Harleys -- in any condition. So striking is the rebirth, it has been made a book-length example of corporate excellence in business journalist Peter Reid's "Well Made in America."
Credit goes to many for this resurgence, not the least due to Harley management for their foresight and tenacity. But a special place should be accorded to the long-time and loyal cadre of dealers nationwide. For the face that Harley presents to most riders is their local agency. H-D dealers' constant support, even love, for the company over a roller coaster ride of years is perhaps best exemplified in the words of Phil Peterson, of Peterson's Harley-Davidson in Miami, Florida. He makes it well known that he wants his gravestone to read: "I hope that I have done as much for Harley as they have done for me."
An honorable mention also must go to Willie G. Davidson, grandson of a founder. Vice President of styling and product design, he is widely acknowledged as the guru who has brought innovation to Harley in a way that attracts new trade-up buyers without turning-off traditional customers. Under his tutelage, Harley now offers a rich selection of models to meet all customer styles in the best Tom Peters tradition — from continental touring to cafe racing to bar-hopping — plus H-D's own line of customized parts for owners who want even more.
In the final analysis it is impossible to neatly dissect the Harley mystique. It's part patriotic triumph over adversity. It's part a rich tradition that has, as often knowingly as not, catered to and celebrated the individual, the customizer in all of us. It reflects the unique, independent experience of American long-distance motorcycling that cuts across all walks of life. Like last-century's Wild West cowboys who roamed the range on their hay-fed steeds, you feel the wind, smell the air, and somehow seem more alive more when you're motorcycle-mounted, outside any protective automotive cocoon.
Perhaps it is best summed up by the late and inveterate biker Malcom Forbes, Sr., who penned in his book "More Than I Dreamed: " Motorcycles are like racehorses. You want to have the best bloodlines, and that means a Harley, if you can." So well entrenched is Harley in American folklore, in American spirit, that to many riders their Sportster or Big Twin is their own personal piece of the American Dream. To them Harley is hardly a mere mystique, but a profound reality, a magnificent obsession, a pleasant contagion. Watch out — it's catching!
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