Norris et al. I have a Stronglight crankset, steel cottered five pin - a
49a? withte words stamped on the back; it looks like Verct - Perrin or
Vergt - Perrin. I fact it could be \erct - Perrin its hard to make out. The
stamp on the cranks says COMPETITION STRONGLIGHT(in oval) MARQUE DEPOSEE
In regard to 'the gen' you gave on Exceltoo does this mean anything to you.
I had a long talk with Alec Bird, the late Ken Bird's brother, the other
night. He Knew Bill Philbrook very well and told me that Bill had had a shop
in Forest Hill, on the Catford road. Now the south Circular. What I want to
know is when Bill left Claud Butlers and went to Gillotts and then when he
set up on his own before going to Gillingham. apparently Bill hated BOC and
wouldnt use their gas because of the cylinder rental. So he used town gas
and an old hoover motor to get the blown air. All his brazing was done this
way. The workshop was a tip, the tea was brewed in a filthy saucepan over
the brazing torch and brokne hacksaw blades were welded back together. Yet
he produced some of the cleanest frames I have ever seen. He wasnt a Prima
Donna either. Alec recalls him working at Clauds as an assembler. He also
recalls the last day at Clauds when Claud himself called all the workers
together and told them that he was bankrupt. He explained that rather than
the taxman getting everything, the workers should help themselves to 'A
couple of bikes each' and other bits and pieces as Claud could'nt afford to
pay them. There must've been a near riot. Alec reckons it was the cashflow
problem from the American market that caused thew downfall. I do know that
Bill Gray and another old friend, Jim Burrows were employed by the creditors
to finish off orders in hand.
Another lovely titbit from another source; Claud had a picture of Sandy
Holdsworth in his office. Great friends in the cycle trade. No Claud used to
throw darts at it.
And did you know that my first Hetchins was bought from the Man Who Fitted
Claud Butlers Wooden Leg. Beat that for wierd provenance.
Mark Stevens --in danger of rambling -- Evanton Scotland. Well what else
do you do on a cold January evening