by Eric Reed
invited the cameras into his “secret room” containing private keepsakes and
souvenirs of his travels, including photos of Janine and Jacques in America
clad in Hawaiian shirts and leis. Television cameras captured the champion
racer tapping on a bongo drum and wooden chimes he collected in Africa
and, later, panned past the hundreds of bottles of wine in his private cellar.
The reportage also featured Anquetil managing the gravel- mining operation he owned.80 Anquetil’s lifestyle and outlooks, documented for the nation on
its screens, conformed well to the portrait of a modern, worldly, upwardly
mobile professional.
Perpetuating the caricatures that they helped to create, the media and the
race organizers transformed the Tour into a mythic battleground that pit-
ted archetypical protagonists against one another. One of the most legendary
battles between antithetical heroes occurred during the 1964 Tour. The media
cast Anquetil, the four- time Tour winner in search of his fi fth yellow jersey, as the invincible (and cocksure) champion and Raymond Poulidor as the
salt- of- the- earth, underdog peasant from Limousin. An overconfi dent An-
quetil, after rebuffi ng the offensives of Poulidor and other contenders during the fi rst weeks of the Tour, decided to attend a publicity picnic during a rest day in the competition. The following day, Poulidor attacked him furiously
on the road to Perpignan. Anquetil, apparently suffering from indigestion
after having consumed too much mutton at the picnic, could not respond.
He was saved from a catastrophic collapse during the Perpignan stage only by
a champagne- fi lled water bottle given to him by his coach, which settled his
stomach and allowed Anquetil to rejoin the main group of racers. Poulidor
attacked again in the Pyrenees, won a stage ending in Luchon, and whittled
more than a minute from Anquetil’s lead.
With Anquetil ahead of Poulidor in the overall standings by only fi fty- six
seconds with four days of racing remaining, the stage was set for an epic con-
frontation between the two on the terribly steep roads that climbed the Puy-
de- Dôme in central France. Anquetil and Poulidor rode shoulder to shoulder
for the fi rst kilometers of the 1,400 meter ascent. Surrounded by offi cial cars and motorcycle- riding journalists, the two stars jostled and matched each
other’s demonstrations of stamina and power. Anquetil, who was famous for
never breaking his perfect pedaling form regardless of the circumstances, be-
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f i g u r e 6 . Jacques Anquetil and Raymond Poulidor race wheel to wheel during the climb up the Puy de Dôme in the 1964 Tour de France. Poulidor beat his rival to the summit but lost the Tour, July 13, 1964.
Courtesy of Gamma-Keystone /Getty Images.
gan to tire visibly two kilometers from the top. Poulidor accelerated hard in
an attempt to drop the race leader and seize the yellow jersey. Both riders lost all sense of pedaling technique and cycling form as they struggled toward the
summit. Poulidor’s valiant effort shaved more than forty seconds from An-
quetil’s lead. Nevertheless, Anquetil had determined exactly how much effort
to expend on the climb to save his yellow jersey. He preserved a fourteen-
second advantage over Poulidor. Anquetil maintained his lead for the rest of
the race and won the Tour for the fi fth time.
The Puy- de- Dôme confrontation became the defi ning moment of each
rider’s career. Poulidor became known as “valiant Pou- Pou,” a star whose
frailties, vulnerability, and peasant simplicity, as well as his long record of dramatic failures, crashes, and bad luck in the Tour, seemed both to ennoble
him and to endear him to the “common” man. His ghostwriters commented,
“Between the city- dweller and him, between the peasant and him, there ex-
ists an absolute identifi cation. . . . [Everyone] has to admit in the ‘race of life’
that they more often fi nish in second or tenth place than in fi rst.”81 Poulidor understood the commercial value of his public persona and quipped, “My
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big luck was to have lots of bad luck,” since his misfortune seemed to make
him more popular.82 By contrast, Anquetil was remembered as somewhat of
a playboy with a weak work ethic. A racer endowed with tremendous natural
athletic talent, as well as a consummate cycling tactician, Anquetil’s victories came to him thanks to his athleticism and to his unparalleled ability to expend exactly enough energy to win important races. As a way of contrasting the
natural gifts — and public perceptions — of the two riders, the ghostwriters of Poulidor’s fi rst autobiography, written four years after the dramatic Puy- de-Dôme confrontation, described Anquetil as “at fi fteen or sixteen years old, a
sort of child Mozart” and Poulidor as “an accordion’s apprentice.”83
6. Idealism versus Reality: Intimacy and the Problem of Drug Use
A new, more intimate relationship emerged between cycling’s heroes and the
public. The stories of champions’ personal lives became as important as vic-
tories in enhancing their celebrity. Star cyclists participated in staged meetings with the media that offered cycling fans the opportunity, through the press
and television, to visit with them in their living rooms, meet their families,
and share their private moments. In one such encounter, French star Raphaël
Geminiani invited reporters into his bedroom to observe as friends informed
him of the death of Italian champion Fausto Coppi in January 1960. Le Miroir des Sports featured fi ve pages of photographs depicting Geminiani in various stages of mourning: collapsed in his bed, sobbing with a handkerchief, staring at a wall in disbelief, and being served broth by his attentive wife.84 Photographs of champions with their wives and children appeared frequently in
the media. In some cases, champion cyclists’ spouses became celebrities in
their own right because of the attention paid by the media to stars’ private
lives. During the 1964 Tour, for example, Jacques Anquetil’s wife, Janine, em-
barked on a publicity tour of SPAR department stores throughout France and
presented the fi rst customers to enter the store with special gift sacks containing Tour de France- related commemorative trinkets.85 Two years later, she
appeared as a special “behind the scenes” correspondent for Radio Luxem-
bourg during the Tour.86
Despite their differing, often antithetical heroic personas, all famous cy-
clists shared a similar characteristic in the public eye. They were a novel type of social icon and members of a new elite group in the mass era: sports celebrities. Because of their high visibility and celebrity after the Second World War, France’s cycling stars helped to defi ne ideals of respectability. The Tour and the sport of cycling in general needed certain types of stars who projected attractive, morally upright public personas. Italian star Gino Bartali
t h e f r e n c h s c h o o l o f c y c l i n g
105
won the nickname “The Pious” because of his strong Catholic convictions
and because he always dined with a statuette of the Virgin Mary on his table.
Commenting on Raymond Poulidor, Jacques Goddet opined, “His popular-
ity is extraordinary. . . . Sports in general and the Tour de France in particular need men of his caliber, who ennoble their acts through their irreproachable
conduct and their love of
their work, the same way a peasant working his
plow ennobles himself.”87
The public also expected famous cyclists to live the lifestyle of the elite in
accordance with their stardom, and the media exalted champions as exem-
plars of social promotion and conspicuous consumption. The post- racing
biographies of the Tour’s stars fascinated the media and the public. The cy-
cling press frequently ran “where are they now” stories about the postretire-
ment lives of champions. Usually, the pieces stressed that Tour champions
remained humble, simple men whose personalities remained unchanged by
their wealth and celebrity. On the other hand, many of the features offered
poignant, detailed analyses of how far Tour champions had risen on the so-
cial ladder and how cycling victories and fame brought wealth.
The obituary for Fausto Coppi in Le Miroir des Sports after his death
from malaria in 1960 exemplifi ed these trends. The article made references
to Coppi’s peasant roots and praised the Italian champion’s humility. Despite
his status as an Italian national hero and as the de facto ruler of his nation’s professional cycling community, Coppi “lived simply, not in line with his
status as a great star.” The article described how the Italian campionissimo (“champion of champions”) retired to the village of Novi- Ligure to live a
simple country life: “‘I am a peasant,’ [Coppi] often said. ‘The big city tires and frightens me. . . . Caring for my vines is enough to make me happy.’” On
the other hand, the obituary outlined how Coppi’s wealth and fame trans-
formed him from a naive country bumpkin into a cosmopolitan aristocrat.
Coppi became enthralled with fashionable clothes and gradually he “dressed
more and more stylishly.”88 He purchased a sprawling, fi fteen- room villa in
Novi- Ligure where he housed his entourage of trainers, advisors, cycling
protégés like Jacques Anquetil, and the many other starry- eyed visitors who
made pilgrimages to meet the champion of champions in the 1950s.89 Coppi
continued to embrace his role as a celebrity after his retirement and used his
wealth to maintain his favorable image with Italian and foreign journalists:
“He understood the needs of the press better than any other champion.” To
the public and the media, Coppi presented an image of refi nement and lar-
gesse, and he “received [guests] with the splendor of a veritable lord” on his
manor.90
The press generated similar images of French Tour heroes. In 1969, after
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his retirement, Cyclisme Magazine visited with Jacques Anquetil. The former champion had returned to Normandy, bought the land where writer Guy de
Maupassant spent his childhood, and established a farm with his childhood
friend, Georges Lauzé. In characterizing Anquetil and his surroundings the
reporter Robert Silva evoked images of an artist seeking inspiration in pro-
vincial nature after a long and fulfi lling career. The cover of the issue featured a portrait of Anquetil crouched and sifting his farm’s “sacred” dirt through
his fi ngers. “Here, this is my life,” proclaimed the retired champion born of
poor strawberry farmers. The article included pictures of Anquetil driving a
tractor and a bulldozer, slopping pigs, and lugging milk cans from a barn.
Anquetil’s hair was coiffed and slicked back, however, and the champion
wore a perfectly creased shirt and spotless pants and boots. Silva made the
point that Anquetil was not a typical country farmer and that the retired star’s athletic successes and large fortune had helped him to climb high on the social ladder. The article explained that cycling helped Anquetil to escape from
his job as a factory metalworker and to purchase a hotel in his fi rst year as a professional. After his retirement, Anquetil bought 400 hectares (nearly 1,000
acres) of land for his farm, which made him one of the largest agricultural
landowners in France.91 Silva pointed out that although Anquetil “worked
hard” on his farm, the retired champion lived in the style of a “gentleman
farmer” and resided in a house that resembled a “château.”92
Louison Bobet graduated from cycling to big business after his retirement.
To profi t from his expertise in modern methods of athletic training and re-
habilitation, Bobet established a seaside physical therapy center in southern
Brittany.93 An avid pilot who traveled the country in his private airplanes, Bobet also purchased an airline and named himself its president and chief op-
erating offi cer. Cyclisme Magazine included a feature on Bobet’s post- career business pursuits in the same issue as the Anquetil exposé. The story made
it clear that Bobet remained an important fi gure in celebrity circles despite
his retirement from professional cycling: his thalassotherapy clinic welcomed
such stars as Yves Montand, Simone Signoret, and Renée Saint-Cyr. Bobet’s
business grew rapidly. By the end of its fi rst decade of existence, more than
50,000 patients had visited his therapy center.94 In the early 1980s Bobet sold majority ownership of his center to the Sofi tel hotel chain.
The celebrity of the Tour’s star cyclists and champions opened doors to new
types of careers after the Second World War, especially in expanding media
like radio, television, and the Internet. After his retirement, Jacques Anquetil became a cycling commentator for the Europe No. 1 radio and television network and wrote frequent columns for L’Équipe and other publications. Raymond Poulidor appeared as a guest commentator for the Radio- Television
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Luxembourg network during the 1971 Tour (which he did not enter) even
before his retirement from professional racing.95 Bernard Thévenet, winner
of the 1975 and 1977 Tours, became a regular expert commentator for French
television after retiring from professional cycling and established an Internet-based cycling apparel company. Laurent Fignon, winner of the 1983 and 1984
Tours, purchased the right to organize several races, including the prestigious Paris – Nice stage race, and offered television and Internet commentary on
cycling. Some Tour stars translated their celebrity into positions in corporate public relations. Raymond Poulidor joined the Tour’s publicity caravan as a
representative of La Maison du Café, a French coffee company. The Société
du Tour de France hired fi ve- time winner Bernard Hinault as a public rela-
tions executive. Other famous Tour participants entered politics after their
retirement from competition. Louison Bobet joined the national commit-
tee of the Gaullist Rassemblement pour la République (R.P.R.) party, and
thirteen- time Tour participant Gilbert Duclos- Lassalle became a spokesman
for the Chasse, Pêche, Nature, Traditions (C.P.N.T.) party.
The stars of cycling often failed to live up to the standards of morality im-
posed on them. Growing media coverage complicated the task of maintain-
ing stars’ idealized public images. Scandal undermined the public personas
of some cycling heroes. For example, Fausto Coppi’s extramarital affair and
separation from his wife, Bruna, in the mid- 1950s transformed the Italian
racer from an acclaimed living legend into an infamous adulterer. Television
coverage of the Tour and other races hid nothing from vie
w and sometimes
undermined the rivalries and supposedly bitter antagonisms fabricated by
journalists to enliven their stories. French television often showed rivals riding together in the peloton, chatting and joking, which belied their supposed
animosities.96
Drug use, long a part of cycling, threatened to undermine cycling’s star
system entirely. Public knowledge of the intimate details of heroes’ blood
chemistry fostered increasing ambivalence. Christopher Thompson argues
that cycling’s popularity in France rested on widely accepted myths about
the nature of the sport as noble, heroic labor, especially that the “giants of
the road” were paragons of natural, drug- free, superhuman suffering, en-
durance, and survival. Increased drug testing of professional cyclists, which
accompanied the French government’s attempts to criminalize all drug use
beginning in the 1960s, resulted in a growing number of doping scandals
that challenged the Tour’s underpinning myths about athletic heroism.97 The
French School’s viability rested upon these myths, as well, and the problem of
le dopage crippled its standing, especially in the wake of particularly unsavory drug scandals.
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As drug testing grew in frequency and effectiveness, more and more star
cyclists were compromised. Jacques Anquetil, whose victories were attrib-
uted by reporters to his unique natural athletic gifts, repeatedly refused to denounce drug use by athletes and claimed that the physical exertions required
of cyclists were impossible without the aid of stimulants. Anquetil also led his fellow competitors in a three- minute “work stoppage” during the 1966 Tour,
during which racers dismounted their bicycles and trudged slowly down the
road chanting “shit” ( merde) to protest mandatory drug testing for professional cyclists.
During the 1967 Tour, the most dramatic and infamous doping scandal to
date transpired. British champion Tommy Simpson, who in 1962 became the
fi rst British racer to wear the Tour’s yellow jersey, collapsed and died during the ascent of Mont Ventoux. Autopsy tests indicated that Simpson died from
a heart attack caused by mortal exhaustion due to overexertion that was exac-