Return of the Blob
RETURN OF THE BLOB
STEVE McQUEEN IS GONE, BUT HIS FAVORITE OLD INDIAN REMAINS
"WE DEAL IN LEAD, FRIEND." IT WAS A line movie legend Steve McQueen delivered to Eli Wallach's bad-guy character in The Magnificent Seven, a classic western that remains one of McQueen's best-remembered films. The line was a summation of McQueen's gunslinger persona in that film. But not in real life: Things were far too complex for anything so simple.
That may be why McQueen kept safety valves, release points for the pressure developed by his life as a high-pow ered, high-profile motion-picture star. Away from the stresses of his career, he took refuge in speed, most often on two wheels.
His passion for it shines through in some of his most memorable films. For evidence, look nOFarther than the epic chase scenes in The Great Escape and Bullitt.
When an assistant director shouted, "That's a wrap," at the end of a shooting schedule, McQueen got serious about his safety valves. He had his choice of a wide variety of exotic vehicles, everything from perfectly restored classic cars to supercharged dune buggies to Stearman biplanes. But often he rejected the lot, choosing instead the unlikely motorcycle you see here, a well-worn and unrestored 1947 Indian Chief chopper.
Riding was a kind of catharsis for him. He once told an interviewer, `Every time I think the world is all bad, then I start seeing some people out there having a good time on motorcycles, and it makes me take another look."
McQueen bought the Indian, as best as can be deter mined, in 1977. The point of the bike was two-fold. The first part was simple. It was merely to ride. But the second was far more complex. It involved anonymity.
NINA PADGETT
At about the time he acquired this Indian, McQueen was feeling overdue for a vacation from both acting and star dom. His most recent film, The Towering Inferno, had been a record-breaker at the box office, as well as the re cipient of three Academy Awards. Production had in volved a monstrous effort, and McQueen was tired. He badly needed to get away, to rest. By now, he knew very well that the only way to avoid the public eye was to travel in disguise, so he devised a good one. He allowed his hair to grow shoulder-length, gained 30 pounds and stopped shaving. And he rode the Indian. Except for his piercing blue eyes, he was virtually unrecognizable.
The ruse worked, in part, because no one would expect Steve McQueen to ride a beat-up old chopper. To its rough paint, fat-bob fuel tanks and extended fork, he added a masterful finishing touch. He tied a sleeping bag to the sibar.
The sleeping bag was strictly cosmetic; the bike was> rarely ridden far from home. McQueen was aware that the Indian was unsafe and unreliable. Indian restoration expert Bob Stark, who operates Starklite Cycle in Perris, Califor nia, once performed a tune-up on the bike for McQueen, and recalls, "The brakes on that thing were terrible. Plus, it leaked oil like crazy."
McQueen cared not at all. The bike did for him just what t~;a; ;;;~~;~i~' ;i him to reveal no more of himself than he wished to.
"We called that bike `The Blob,' after that movie Steve was in," says Dave Hansen, owner of The Shop in Ventura, California. "He brought that bike in for a tune-up one day, and we fixed the brakes and some of the oil leaks," Hansen continues. "Then, it was a pretty good runner. I used to ride with Steve occasion ally, when he had that Indian. I'd kid him that I was embarrassed to be seen with him, riding that thing. But he liked it, because it kept him anonymous. Eventually the bike's nickname got transferred over to Steve. He'd call up the shop and say, `Blob here,' and we'd know it was him."
McQueen was aware that the Indian was unsafe and u n re I I a b I e. The brakes were terri ble, and it leaked oil like crazy.
The Blob, a 1958 sci-fi movie, was, in fact, McQueen's break through film, a role he landed the same year he began the television series Wanted-Dead or Alive," which ran through the 1961 season. His film debut had come two years before, as an extra in Somebody Up There Likes Me. Soon after, he played a supporting role in Never Love a Stranger, and then landed the lead rote in The Blob. By 1960, McQueen's career had taken off. He was cast alongside Yul Brynner, James Coburn, Charles Bronson and Wallach in
The Magnificent Seven. This was followed by a string of blockbusters that included The Great Escape, The Cincin nati Kid, The Sand Pebbles, Bullitt, The Thomas Crown Affair and Papillon. In all, McQueen appeared in 28 films before complications from lung cancer claimed him in 1980 at the age of 50.
If it's obvious that McQueen worked hard and died young, it is equally obvious that he played hard, and that a great deal of that play involved motorcycles and fellow riders.
"Steve always seemed the most relaxed sitting around benchracing with his buddies," recalls filmmaker Bruce Brown, renowned not only for his classic surfing film, The Endless Summer, but alsOFor his 1971 motorcycle docu mentary, On Any Sunday, which McQueen's Solar produc tion company helped finance.
McQueen loved racing, and he was good at it. He was a member of the U.S. International Six Day Trials team in 1964, the 10th-ranked Amateur in desert racing at one time, and a formidable competitor at mo tocross. "When he gets on his race face, the world could be falling down around him, but all he sees is the track," Brown once told a reporter.
Indeed, McQueen went sOFar as to do some of his own movie stunt rid ing. His chase scene in 1963's The Great Escape is legendary. In this film, McQueen played both escapee and pursuer. Camera manipulation en abled him to alternate between his own role as a World War II POW on the lam and that of a motorcycle mounted German pursuer. McQueen did all of his own Great Escape riding-with the exception of a spectacular, 60-foot hurdle over a barbed-wire fence. For this, he was doubled by Bud Ekins, a stuntman and ex pert motorcyclist who was to become one of the actor's closest friends.
It was Ekins who got McQueen interested in collecting vintage motorcycles in the mid-1970s. One of the first bikes McQueen bought was a 1942 Indian Scout. Bob Stark had just finished restoring the bike when Ekins and Mc Queen came into his shop.
"Steve wanted that bike in the worst way," remembers Stark, "but I really didn't want to sell it. He managed to talk me out of it, though." McQueen persuaded Stark with an offer of $5000 for the Scout-about three times what the bike was actually worth. At the time of his death, McQueen's collection included 112 bikes, among them some of the most important models in the history of American motorcycling. It was this collection that was broken up and auctioned off at his estate sale in 1984.
Ironically, the task of apprais ing the collection prior to the auction fell to Ekins. "The prices I gave were high," he says now, "but when the auction was over, I was told that I was within $4000 of what things actually sold for. A Pierce four-cylinder went for $25,000. That set the price for Pierces for awhile."
mentioned it, but word was out that this was Steve's per sonal bike." The Chief now belongs to Ralph Engelstad, owner of the Imperial Palace Hotel and Casino in Las Vegas, and is part ofthe hotel's automobile collection.
The Blob, complete with sleep ing bag strapped to its sissy bar, sold for $6000, a lot of money for the bike at that time. Ekins re members, "The auctioneer never
McQueen would have been mildly surprised at-and per haps a little embarrassed by-the attention directed towards this ratty old Indian. Once, speaking of his fame, he said, "I don't believe in all that phony hero stuff." Indeed, it seems evident that McQueen never felt completely corn fortable with his Hollywood image, or with Hollywood it self. And that, perhaps, is one reason he loved the view of the world he got from the saddle of The Blob. He could be himself, forsaking the larger-than-life image stardom had saddled him with.
"He liked to work on his own equipment, and got his knuckles bloodied just like the rest of us," says Brown. "He was a fine motorcycle rider, a hell of a good partner and a nice guy." -
Sadly, on November 7, 1980, less than a year after Mc Queen was diagnosed as having inoperable cancer, the re laxed weekend rides aboard his tattered old Indian chopper came to an end. ,~,1 1~'~ ,"
"We were good friends, and he's gone now," says Ekins. "I miss him." 4,-~ -L.~4-l,~-. 4-I~.,-.4-
It's very easy to believe that is the eulogy that would have meant the most to McQueen.
At the time o~f his death, McQ ueen's collection included 11 2 bikes, a mong them some of the most important models in the history o1 Ameri can motor cycling.
