Mike Selby
It was called the Dreyfus Affair.
The 1894 arrest of Alfred Dreyfus had split France in two. Accused of selling military secrets to Germany, Dreyfus — a 35-year-old captain in the French army — was sentenced to life in the notorious Devil’s Island prison. Convicted on what appeared to be the flimsiest of evidence, Dreyfusards (those who believed in his innocence) railed against the anti-Dreyfusards (those who “knew” he was guilty).
While the major French newspapers took sides and published endless editorials, the most ardent defense of Dreyfus appeared not in the most popular paper at the time — ‘Le Petit Journal’ — but in its sports supplement — ‘Le Velo.’ While always popular, the editorials on Dreyfus resulted in ‘Le Velo’ selling 80,000 copies per day (unlike today, the sport pages of French newspapers were sold separately from their home paper).
The Dreyfus haters couldn’t abide this at all, so two of them started their own sports paper, which would spend most of its pages beating its readers over the head with Dreyfus’ guilt. Titled ‘L’Auto,’ its first issue appeared in October of 1900, and was printed on yellow newsprint to distinguish it from the green pages of ‘Le Velo.’
It was not a success. Advertisers were wary of appearing anti-Dreyfus and losing half of their customers; and readers were off-put by the yellow pages. Bankruptcy would be filed in January of 1903 unless something drastic could be done.
‘L’Auto’s’ editor, Henri Desgrange, gathered his small staff and asked for any idea, no matter how ridiculous it may seem, to try and save the paper. No one said anything, and the meeting was almost over when Geo Lefevre — the newest and youngest reporter whom Desgrange had poached from ‘Le Velo’ on the strength of his rugby coverage — startled everyone with his suggestion: “What about a bike race?”
Lefevere explained that when ‘Le Velo’ covered a day-long bicycle race, sales went way up. Instead of just covering a race, ‘L’Auto’ should create one. And not just a day-long race, but a multi-day race. One around France. The longer the race, the more coverage will be written, and the more papers will be sold.
It was wild and unprecedented, but Desgrange liked it so much he marched the young reporter to explain to the paper’s owners.
History records two different stories of the encounter. One in which the owner quickly opens the company safe and tells Desgrange to “take whatever you need.” The other has the owner opening the safe (which was empty) saying, “we have nothing to lose.” Wherever the truth lies, the owner was supportive of this last-ditch effort to save ‘L’Auto.’
The paper quicky advertised their multi-staged multi-day race beginning May 31 in Paris and ending July 5 with the riders returning to Paris. The winning rider would win 12,000 francs, which was the equivalent of six years of wages. The very first Tour de France was about to begin.
Except nobody entered. Well, 15 people entered, but most were uncertain if they would even race. Professional cyclists did not exist yet, and everyone who raced had full time jobs. Ones that did not give you weeks and weeks off to ride your bike.
Desgrange cut the race back to only 19 days and offered a small daily allowance to anyone who entered. This time they had 80 riders enter (only 60 actually showed up). And on July 1, 1903, the world’s first Tour de France began.
The riders rode heavy steel bicycles which only had one gear, along horrendous dirt roads, all while wearing wool turtlenecks. They rode at night, with a miner’s oil lamp attached to the front. The lamps did not illuminate the road ahead of them, but made them visible to the horses, carriages, and the new automobiles they shared the road with.
Cheating began almost immediately. When a young lady offered the riders a tall glass of lemonade, French rider Emile Pagie gratefully accepted it. It was poisoned and Pagie became violently ill after drinking it. Family and friends of other riders put broken glass and nails on sections of the road; one rider was caught being towed by an automobile; and a handful of riders were seen boarding a train at one stage. A rider from Italy was beaten by a mob before officials could save him. One rider also became violently ill, but this was due to downing litres of red wine while riding.
Which is not the only instance of doping in 1903. Nitroglycerin, strychnine, cocaine, opiates, ether, and brandy were all in use by various riders to stay awake, numb their pain, or give them the competitive edge. Crashes were also a constant, with spectators, dogs, and late-night cows causing numerous pile-ups and injuries.
The race was won by the French rider Maurice Garin, a poor chimney sweep whom, as a baby, had been sold into indentured servitude by his parents for a slab of beef. He rode into Paris with a three-hour lead and was greeted by 100,000 spectators. The yellow jersey, based on the newsprint used by ‘L’Auto’ unfortunately hadn’t been created in time, so Garin was draped with a green armband. ‘L’Auto’ also destroyed its competition in sales and is still in print to this day (now called ‘L’Equipe.’)
The cheating was so bad in the 1904 Tour de France, that Desgrange told everyone it would be the last. He was convinced otherwise, and it has run every single July since then (with the exception of two World Wars; and COVID-19 caused the Tour to take place in August instead of July in 2020). Desgrange passed away in 1940, but his initials appear on every yellow jersey since then.
Alfred Dreyfus — whose arrest indirectly created the world’s greatest bicycle race — was released from prison in 1906. He was innocent after all, having been set up by France’s top military brass. His only crime was being Jewish.
Mike Selby, BA, MLIS, is Programs & Community Development Librarian at the Cranbrook Public Library