Mike Melton 1949 - 2011

I just received the sad news this morning that former framebuilder Mike Melton passed away Wednesday, January 26th 2011.

I met Mike soon after I came to the US in 1979; I was working for Paris Sport in New Jersey and was building some special aerodynamic bikes for the US team. (Mike is on the right in the picture on left.)

The tubing was specially developed for the project by Reynolds Tube Company in England, and time was running short to get the frames finished, so Mike Melton was called in to help me.

After that Mike went back to his frame business in Columbia, South Carolina, and I later went to California to work for Masi. Mike and I would usually run into each other at the annual bicycle trade shows.

From 1982 to 1999 Mike worked for the Huffy Bicycle Company in Dayton, where he designed and built bicycles for Huffy-sponsored athletes, including the 1984 and 1988 U.S. Olympic Cycling Teams. 

Mike developed some special carbon fiber frames for the Olympic athletes, when that particular technology was in its infancy.

Mike Melton who had served in the U.S. Navy from 1970-1976 and was a Vietnam combat veteran, had been sick for the last four years with a rare neurological disease believed to be spinal cerebella ataxia, similar to ALS or Lou Gehrig’s disease.

I did get to speak with Mike last May, however it was a difficult somewhat one sided conversation as the disease had affected his ability to speak. Never-the-less I felt privileged to have the opportunity of this brief contact after so many years.

Mike’s wife Jamie has asked if anyone has pictures of Mike or his work to forward them to her: mjzmelton@gmail.com

Addendum February 2nd 2011: I received the following tribute from Bill McCready; Founder and President of Santana Cycles, where Mike Melton worked in the 1980s.

In 1982, after Mike Melton's financial backer locked him out of the year-old Melton Bicycle factory in Delaware, Ohio, Mike phoned me to ask about a job at Santana. Because I knew Mike's work, had talked to him at trade shows and expos, and had sold his frames at my retail store (Bud's Bike Shop), I immediately agreed.

Mike, a gifted designer, moved to California to become Santana's original staff Engineer. His first duty was to audit all the various build processes at my six-year-old tandem factory. Next, we bought the partially-prepped tandem tubesets from Mike's former financial backer and used them to create a less expensive line of "Solana" tandems with Reynolds 531 tubing.

When the resulting frames didn't perform as well as we had hoped, the resulting discussions caused me to have Mike create a tandem version of the "Tarantula" frame efficiency evaluation jig that Gary Klein built for Bicycling Magazine. Using this apparatus we experimented with various designs and "invented" the Direct Lateral layout that soon eclipsed all previous tandem frame designs.

One of Santana's early tandem customers (as well as my friend from previous years) was Chester Kyle, who came by the factory one day to inform me that he was doing aerodynamic consulting for the U.S. National Cycling Team. When Chet sketched out some crude ideas and asked me if Santana could fabricate some experimental stems and forks for him, I introduced him to Melton. With my approval Mike built Chet's designs after hours at Santana.

After Chet and the new sponsor of the National Team (Huffy Bicycle Company) realized how gifted Mike Melton was at design and fabrication, they offered him a job designing and building bikes for the upcoming 1984 Olympics. When Mike, who felt he owed it to me to remain at Santana, asked what he should do, I said "It's a once in a lifetime opportunity—Go!" Mike moved back to Ohio and, over the following few months, designed many of the bikes that were used to win America's first medals in Olympic Cycling.

On the eve of the LA Olympics, Mike showed up at Santana with a van full of his bikes that needed an overnight repaint. We were happy to help.

Mike and I remained friends and would meet if and when when Huffy sent him to cycling trade shows. We kept his number in Santana's Rolodex, and often called to ask for help. Mike assisted Santana with a number of projects; and was especially helpful with the geometry of track tandems. The last time I talked with Mike (in the late '90s?) he told me that he'd lost his fervor for cycling and was busy modifying Cobra race cars.

I'll always remember Mike Melton for his creativity, ready smile and positive outlook.

Bill McCready

                         

Steve Bilenky Fuso Tribute Frame

I never know from one day to the next what surprise will show up in my email box. Like yesterday for example, Ron Lau a friend from the West Coast, sent me pictures of a Fuso “Tribute” frame that he had Steve Bilenky build for him. Ron already owns several frames I built.

When I started building the Fuso frames in my shop in San Marcos, California in 1984 I was simply trying to produce a reasonably priced hand built frame that would compete with all the Italian import frames that were around at that time.

I never could have imagined that some twenty-five years later another esteemed framebuilder like Steve Bilenky would replicate the frame as a tribute.

Steve did not copy a Fuso exactly; there would be little point in doing so as there are still plentiful supplies of used Fusos around.

Instead the frame is definitely a Steve Bilenky, but there is no mistaking where the inspiration for the paint scheme came from.

I am deeply touched.

A 100 year legacy

I initially learned my framebuilding skills from a man known as Albert “Pop” Hodge. Born in 1877, he was almost 80 when I first met him in the mid 1950s; he had been building frames since 1907.

Pop assembled his frames without the use of jigs. He measured and cut the tubes and measured the angles with a protractor. He drilled and pinned the tubes in the lugs with penny nails. He then laid the frame on the brick floor of his shop; the lines made by the mortar between the bricks told him if the geometry was right.

He brazed the lugged joints, blacksmith style, in a hearth of hot coals. He had a hand held torch which he used to add braze-ons; it was fueled by the town gas supply, which at that time was coal gas. The flame was boosted by compressed air supplied by a small compressor.

The air compressor was the only piece of electrical equipment Pop used, he had a bench drill and a hand drill, both were hand cranked.

I learned the basic skills from Pop Hodge, but in later years when I started my own framebuilding business, I no longer brazed in a hearth. I used an oxy-acetylene torch with a small but extremely hot flame, and controlled the heat by working quickly. I used jigs to assemble the frames, and aligning tools to ensure accuracy. I had taken framebuilding to the next level.

Fast forward to 1985, when a young Native American boy named Russell Denny came to work for me. 18 years old, and fresh out of high school, Russ became my apprentice. He learned every aspect of the craft of framebuilding; learning and mastering one task at a time before moving onto the next. Learning is like climbing a tree in the dark, one needs to be firmly placed on each branch before moving to the next.

By the end of the 1980s and in the early part of the 1990s the bike business was going through some drastic changes. An ugly beast had appeared known as the Mountain bike, and like some strange species introduced to a new environment, it took over and destroyed the road bike.

I knew that change had come but I wanted no part of it; I was bitter and burned out. I was ready to liquidate everything and leave. Russ Denny begged me not to, and I felt I had a certain obligation to him. I had taught him a skill, the only skill he knew. I stayed on as long as I could but in the end had to leave and turned the whole thing over to Russ.

For the next ten years I turned my back on the bike business, and even lost touch with Russ Denny. When I did finally get back in touch, Russ was doing well and had taken framebuilding to the next level, just as I had done.

He was building racing frames in aluminum, and carbon fiber. By this time I was living on the East Coast and Russ was still in Southern California. I have yet to get back for a visit or to see firsthand what Russ Denny is doing.

I was pleased when recently a good friend, Steve Farner (Picture at top of page.) who lives in So. Cal. Decided to start racing again after a break of twenty some years, and needed a modern bike to do so. He had Russ build him a custom frame. Here was someone I trusted that could truly compare the old with the new, and give me feed back.

Above: Russ Denny with his new creation

Russ Denny can build a frame in aluminum or carbon tubes with aluminum lugs, or any combination of the two, like aluminum main triangle with carbon fork and rear triangle. He can also still build a steel frame, lugged or filet brazed if you so desire.

Steve Farner chose an all aluminum frame with a carbon fork, simply for reasons of cost. Russ built him a custom fitted 52 cm. frame. Writing about the bike, Steve said:

From sitting position the top tube looks round and the same diameter; from the side it goes from diamond to oval, and Russ made it only slightly sloping, which I like better than “compact” frames. The seat tube is an oversize single diameter. The down tube is fat, sort of clover shaped and highlights Russ Denny’s decals, including his feather. The entire bike is painted metallic red, screaming speed like a Ferrari Dino. I have always liked red bikes.

Steve previously owned a custom frame that I built in 1984 a year before Russ Denny came to work for me, and incidentally the year I met Steve as a twenty-something young racer. His ‘dave moulton’ weighed 21 lbs. The Denny weighs slightly over 16 lbs. The ride was of course totally different, but it took Steve only about a week to grow to love his new ride. He said:

The Denny absorbs rough sections similar to steel bikes, which was surprising. The harder I push it, the more it gives back in forward motion. This bike tracks absolutely dead-on: throw it into a corner, sprint as powerful as you can, emergency brake, shift in a corner, hit potholes and it doesn’t flinch (or flex out of control). Of course Russ knows how to weld a straight frame.

When Pop Hodge built frames from 1907 until the early 1960s they were the racing frames of the day. The 1922 World Road Championship was won on one of his bikes.

The bikes I built were the racing bikes of the 1970s and 1980s, and now Russ Denny has taken frame building to the next level and into the 21st Century.

We can all lament about the beauty and the passing of lugged steel, but the sport of bicycle racing has changed and if someone wants to compete seriously he must do so on a modern machine.

As is evident by the North American Handmade Bicycle Show there are still plenty of builders offering “Pieces of Art,” lugged steel, for those who want that; I am pleased to see this tradition carried on. But how many framebuilders can build you a one off custom frame, that builds into a modern bike that you can race on, and more importantly, someone who knows what he is are doing.

I doubt if there are more than a handful of framebuilders in the whole world who can boast a direct unbroken connection of 100 years of framebuilding. I am proud to be that living connection between the old and the new.

Here is a link to Russ Denny's Website.

You can read Steve Farner's complete article here as a PDF.

The Paris Galibier Frame

In 1950 as a 14 year old, I attended Luton Technical School, some 30 miles north of London, England.

Adjacent to that school was a Technical College for older engineering students. Many of these students were racing cyclists and would leave their bikes in the bicycle rack in the school yard.

Lunch time would find me scrutinizing every fine detail of these bikes; it was the beginning of love affair with the bicycle that ultimately shaped my life, and lead to a career as a framebuilder.

One of the most unusual and eye-catching bikes was the Paris “Galibier” model. Paris was the brand name of London framebuilder, Harry “Spanner” Rensch. His last name sounded like Wrench, hence the nickname “Spanner.” During WWII Rensch was an oxy-acetylene welder in London’s shipyards.

Paris Cycles started during the war in 1943. Harry probably chose the name Paris rather than use his own German sounding name, because of obvious wartime anti-German feeling, especially after the London Blitz.

He used a “Bi-laminated” construction for his frames, that is a sleeve brazed over the ends of the tubes, and the actual joint then filet brazed. Referred to as “Bronze Welding” in the Paris literature.


Beside the Galibier model, Harry Rensch also built conventionally designed frames. The most popular of which was the “Tour de France” model. (Click on picture above for a larger image.)

Paris frames often sported very flashy paint jobs, especially for that time. I remember red, white, and blue fade paint for example. There was a large Eiffel Tower decal on the seat tube, and the Paris name was stenciled on the down tube.

Ever since the introduction of the Galibier, and to this day, many a fierce argument has been held over this style guru’s dream machine. Is it just a style gimmick or is there real merit in this design?

I never rode a Galibier, but I will say this, a bicycle frame twists as it is being ridden, about a line from the head tube to the rear dropout. So placing a single large tube along this line, (Or there abouts.) does have merit. The seat tube is also split to form an interesting cantilever design.

One thing cannot be denied is the superb craftsmanship of Harry Rensch. Like many artists before and since, Rensch was not a good businessman. Paris Cycles was always plagued with financial problems, and lasted just 10 years, closing their doors in 1953. Harry Rensch never returned to the bicycle business and died in 1984. The Galibier is his legacy.


In recent years Condor Cycles in London bought the rights to the Paris name and are reproducing the Galibier model. (Picture above.)


Pictures from Classic Lightweights, UK

Russ Denny

Russell Denny is my ex-apprentice who took over my framebuilding business when I left in 1993.

He still runs the business today in the little desert town of Hemet, in Southern California.

Russ came to work for me in my San Marcos, California frameshop in 1985. He was 18 years old and fresh out of high school; he had been recommended to me by a friend of a friend. Russ is of Native American origin and is proud of his heritage.

What I liked about Russ was that he knew nothing about bikes or framebuilding, but at the same time he had scored well in woodshop at school and had made furniture. In other words he had the makings of a craftsman, but had no pre-conceived ideas about framebuilding or what it entailed.

I had had some bad experiences prior to this with young people who had contacted me, begged me to take them on as an apprentice. They always agreed to start at the bottom, but without exception after a very short time grew tired of filing dropouts and wanted to plunge right in and start building a complete frame.

In the case of Russ Denny, here was a young man who was not only prepared to spend the first few years doing menial tasks like slotting chainstays and seatstays and mitering tubes, he really enjoyed it.

(Left, is a picture from the 1980s of a very young Russ Denny tapping the bottom bracket thread in Fuso frames.)

I had him totally master one task before he moved on to the next. His first attempts at brazing were brazing dropouts into chainstays and adding certain braze-ons to a frame. Five years later Russ had mastered every aspect of the craft of framebuilding.

It was the 1990s and the business was changing rapidly. The demand for road bikes was falling as the Mountain Bike grew in popularity. We tried to switch production but in the first place my heart was not really into building mountain bikes, and there were other established builders of MTBs who had their own following.

I was ready to close up shop, liquidate all the tools and equipment and move on, but I had Russ to think of. He had worked for me for over five years and framebuilding was the only skill he had. I could no longer afford to pay him but he stayed on and managed to get a few orders for his own custom mountain bikes, and he also built frames for Quintana-Roo for the Triathlon market.

This improved his skill as a frame builder and after eight years he could do anything that I could do. In fact in one aspect, namely fillet brazing, he was better than me, because of all the oversize tube MTB frames he had built.

By 1993 it got to the stage where I could no longer keep the business going. My whole business was reliant on a nationwide dealer network, and dealers no longer sold road bikes. Russell seemed to think he could survive on his own, and he did so by giving up his apartment and sleeping in the frameshop. I left the business and took other employment.

Today, Russ Denny has to be one of the most qualified and experienced framebuilders around. As I mentioned when I left in 1993 his skill level was equal to my own, and since then he has added another 14 years experience to this; a total of 22 years.

Russ survived by cutting back on expenses, and starving a little. He also took the business to the next level and started building in new materials as the market demanded. I probably would not have done this because I am too rooted in the past, in tradition. However, Russ was able to move forward and take these ‘old skool’ values in craftsmanship, and design, and apply it to the new.

(Above, a Russ Denny carbon fiber tube bike with aluminum lugs.)

He has gone on to build frames in aluminum, and aluminum and carbon fiber mix, and can still build a frame in steel, both lugged and filet brazed. He offers the best of both worlds. He still incorporates my design philosophies regarding fit and is one of the few people around who can build you a custom CF frame.

Russ has recently put up a new website with contact information and more pictures and details of his frames.