Nov. 5, 2002
Riding High on the Cycle of History
A Neighbors Old Bicycle Led to a Chance to See
the World, Compete for His Country, and Witness a Global Tragedy Unfolding
By Brian
Krause
A sea of on-lookers are massed in Olympic Stadium a magnificent
piece of German engineering that looks as though it was carved from
a single piece of stone. The spectators are gathered to watch the worlds
finest track and field athletes stretch the boundaries of human athletic
accomplishment. More Nazi Swastikas adorn the walls than do Olympic
flags.
Edgar Bieber and the rest of the 1936 US Olympic Cycling team watch
in bewilderment as a fanfare brings the people to a fevered pitch, arms
stretching out in front of them, voices crying out in unison, Sig
Heil!
Reaching into his bag, Bieber retrieves a pair of binoculars and peers
across the mammoth stadium to catch a glimpse of what could be causing
the commotion. Adjusting the focus of his glasses, Bieber sees the face
that will soon change the course of world history, the face of evil
itself, the face of Adolf Hitler.
You put dat avay, booms a commanding voice, drenched
in a thick German accent. Startled, Bieber lowers his binoculars and
turns to see a brawny SS guard towering over him. Knowing better than
to resist, he slowly lowers the high power glasses and meekly places
them back in his bag.
We were squeamish while in Berlin. You didnt know what was
going to happen and you didnt know who was going to follow you,
recalls Bieber. We had curfew at 9 pm and I didnt even get
to see anything. They didnt want us roaming around in the streets.
Sunning himself on a bench in front of the Schenley on H Street more
than 65 years later, Biebers deep chestnut tan is sharply contrasted
by the tufts of white hair that stick out beneath his neon yellow cycling
hat. The hat is more for safety than a fashion statement; he says it
makes him visible to cars while zipping around on his bike. Campagnolo,
written in black cursive writing across the up-turned brim of his hat,
is a proud advertisement for the manufacturer of his custom-built bike.
His extraordinary bicycle weighs only 10 pounds and has no brakes or
gears. Just like him, it is built for speed. I had it made by
an Italian maker. Its only made by hand, like a Stradivarius violin,
Bieber proudly explains. My spokes are made out of piano wire.
It even rings like a piano when you pluck it. You cant tune it,
of course.
The swarms of students bustling along H Street at one oclock in
the afternoon are unaware that they are in the presence of an Olympian;
that this unassuming 91-year-old man with a gentle lilting southern
accent has rendezvoused with history. From Nazi Germany to helping construct
the first atomic bomb, Bieber offers a wealth of knowledge and rich
experiences available right at GWs doorstep.
A resident of the Schenley for 63 years, Bieber remembers the days when
the street lamps were lit by hand, when there were civil defense blackouts,
and when Foggy Bottom suffered from a frog infestation. He delivered
newspapers to the Schenley building as a teenager, when the first Miss
America Pageant winner, Margaret Gorman, still owned it.
Ive lived here so long that Ive grown with it,
says Bieber. I know and have become friends with lots of the students.
I use Gelman Library and I work out at the Smith Center. You cant
beat the convenience of being so close to everything.
Fate introduced Bieber to the sport that would become his passion. While
growing up in Southeast DC, the United States cycling champion, Charles
Smithson, lived across the street from him. While one brilliant career
ended, another started when Smithson retired and gave Bieber his equipment,
bike, and jersey. Not long after, Bieber won his first title, District
of Columbia champion, in 1927.
When a member of the 1936 US Olympic Cycling Team fell ill, he jumped
at the opportunity to take his place. Cramped in close quarters on a
ship en-route to Nazi Germany, Bieber and other members of Americas
Olympic contingent, including Jesse Owens, wondered what would await
them.
I didnt know it was that bad in Germany, but I knew that
something was going on, says Bieber. Its hard to believe
Ive seen all those things.
A member of the Naval Reserves, just 28 days after Pearl Harbor, Bieber
found himself called up to active duty and stationed aboard the USS
Vestal, the second largest repair ship in the fleet. It was the Navy
who taught him how to weld, and even sent him to GW to take math classes.
I was in the Navy for six years, and when I got out, I wasnt
in any condition. My legs were gone because I wasnt exercising.
If you were a boxer or a basketball player, and you were on a ship,
you could at least practice hoops and fight, but they didnt have
that for guys like me, says Bieber. The Navy is not for
cyclists, you dont have a chance to work out.
A chief petty officer when he was discharged, Bieber used his new skills
in civilian life, landing a job at Harry Diamond Laboratories, now known
as the US Army Research Laboratory. A highly skilled welder, he worked
on the first mock-up of the atomic bomb before going to work for the
ultra-secret National Security Agency. Now, he works the graveyard shift
at the Naval Gun Factory, spending his Monday and Friday nights welding
titanium into 16-inch guns for war ships.
Ive got to have something to do with my hands or else Ill
go crazy, says Bieber. Welding isnt a substitute for
riding, but at least it gives me something to do with my body.
His cycling career has been as distinguished as his military service.
For the last 35 years he has held the speed record from the US Capitol
to downtown city hall in Baltimore, at an amazing 1 hour, 34 minutes,
16 seconds. Records were made to be broken, says Bieber,
and someone nearly did two years ago, coming within 90 seconds of removing
him from the record books.
A member of the Amateur Athletic Union, Bieber never accepts monetary
prizes. Instead, he has collected an array of plaques, medals, and watches,
so many that he has had to throw much of it away. What he has managed
to save, such as a watch given to him by Robert Ripley, who wrote Believe
it or Not, is testament to the unique experiences that cycling
has offered him. He has kept a scrapbook since he was 16, crammed with
news clippings and photos documenting his remarkable accomplishments.
More valuable than money and watches, cycling has given Bieber the opportunity
to travel the country. Winning the title of District of Columbia Champion
four times, he has raced in all but nine states and has competed in
many exotic locations such as Bermuda. I never would have been
able to afford to see any of that if it hadnt been for racing,
says Bieber.
For 88 years, Bieber never broke a single bone, took medicine, or even
saw a doctor, a blessing that he attributes to the health benefits of
cycling. Although still in phenomenal shape, he is now recovering from
a hernia operation and hopes to resume his weekly 35-mile sprint to
Mount Vernon, VA, a long-standing Sunday ritual.
In the meantime, he is perfectly content to help GW students develop
the same enthusiasm for physical fitness and cycling as he has. Residents
in the Schenley often ask him for advice on picking the right bike,
and he has taken many of them to the Georgetown Pro Shop to buy their
first bikes.
A girl in my building saves a bundle because she bought a bike
and loves it and rides it to work on Capitol Hill everyday instead of
using the Metro. Now shes in condition to ride there, Bieber
brags. She looks better, shes got a great tan, and shes
taken off weight.
With his racing days a fading memory, Bieber hopes one day to reunite
with the remaining members of the Olympic team and go back to Berlin
to see the city they had been denied access to in 1936. I want
to go back to Berlin for a vacation. I want to see everything I didnt
get to see the first time, says Bieber. I want to see Olympic
Stadium.
Send feedback to: bygeorge@gwu.edu