A South Dakota Rendezvous: The Sturgis Motorcycle Rally and Races
Carlton L. Bonilla
South Dakota History, volume 28 number 3 (1998)
South Dakota History is the quarterly journal published by the South Dakota State Historical Society. Membership in the South Dakota State Historical Society includes a subscription to the journal. Members support the Society's important mission of interpreting, preserving and transmitting the unique heritage of South Dakota. Learn more here: https://history.sd.gov/Membership.aspx. Download PDFs of articles from the first 43 years and obtain recent issues of South Dakota History at sdhspress.com/journal.
The fur trappers of the early nineteenth century were hardy men, spending months isolated from the civilized world. Each summer, however, these rugged individuals gathered at a designated location to trade pelts, garner supplies, and celebrate. Their unique gatherings, known as rendezvous, were spectacular events, bringing together trappers from throughout the Rocky Mountain West. Today, a new breed of frontiersman has appeared, a modern-day "mountain man" who has replaced the pinto of the trapper with the "iron horse of Milwaukee"—the Harley-Davidson motorcycle. Their gathering takes place each year in Sturgis, South Dakota, with all the grandeur and excitement of the original assemblies. Known variously as the Black Hills Motor Classic, Sturgis Rally, and Races, or simply, "Sturgis," the event is the rendezvous of the twentieth century, bringing together people from all over the world for camaraderie, commerce, and entertainment.
The traditional rendezvous began in 1825, when William H. Ashley, a fitr-trade entrepreneur from Saint Louis, took a supply train to the central Rockies after broadcasting the time and place of arrival to trappers in the mountains for months beforehand. Upon reaching his destination, Ashley provided the trappers with a year's worth of supplies in exchange for their beaver pelts, which he shipped back to Saint Louis to sell at a profit. The rendezvous system increased traders' profit margins by reducing the need for permanent fur posts and allowing trappers to work in the mountains year round rather than traveling east to trade.
Within a few years, the American Fur Company, Hudson's Bay Company, Rocky Mountain Fur Company, and smaller concerns began taking supplies west to trade for the trappers' furs. As more men filled the mountains and talk of the rendezvous spread, the event grew in popularity. One observer called it "a general jubilee" as the rendezvous site came to resemble a frontier town, half of whose residents were women and children. While the rendezvous was primarily a commercial activity, it was also a social gathering where "whisky went off as freely as water, . . . and all kinds of sports were indulged in.
The Sturgis Rally and Races began in a similar manner. In 1938, J. C. ("Pappy") Hoel, owner of an Indian motorcycle shop in Sturgis, worked with the local Jackpine Gypsies motorcycle club to organize races for motorcycle enthusiasts in the Black Hills of western South Dakota. Close to eighty attended the first rally and races held at the Sturgis Fairgrounds in August 1938. As the rally grew in popularity, other events were added, including scenic rides through the surrounding pine-covered mountains. From its humble beginnings as depression-era entertainment, Sturgis has blossomed into the world's largest motorcycle rally.
Since 1938, the rally and races have taken place every year, with the exception of two years during World War II. In August 1998, the western South Dakota town will host the event for the fifty-eighth time. Sources estimate that well over two hundred thousand bikers will attend. This number pales, however, when compared to the three hundred thousand bikers who came to the quiet ranching community for the fiftieth-anniversary rally in 1990, outnumbering the town's residents by a ratio of fifty-seven to one. In that year, more than half of all Harley-Davidson motorcycles in the United States were assembled at Sturgis. According to one participant, the bikes, if lined up single file, would have formed a parade 1,057 miles long, the distance from the Missouri River bridge in Kansas City to the Lincoln Memorial in Washington, D.C. like the fur-trade rendezvous, the rally is commercially important to its sponsors but more importantly, it continues the tradition of the original rendezvous as a unique social gathering.
When people imagine a town full of motorcycle enthusiasts, they conjure images of Hell's Angels destroying buildings, kidnapping women, and looting property. Like the biker, the fur trapper or mountain man before him was labeled a coarse individual, both unintelligent and dangerous. The image arose from a distinct group of individuals known as free trappers. These men "prided themselves on their hardihood and courage; even on their recklessness and profligacy," wrote Frances Fuller Victor in her biography of the famous trapper Joe Meek. The free trapper, who owed loyalty to no company, "took what route he thought fit, hunted and trapped when and where he chose."
The free trapper was not necessarily representative of the group, however, and the mountain man's reputation was not always deserved. Most trappers had company alliances and worked with a brigade under a company lieutenant. "Even the rudest and most boisterous of the mountain men were fundamentally honest, just, and kind," noted fur-trade historian Robert Glass Cleland. In My Sixty Years on the Plains, W. T Hamilton observed, "It was always amusing to me to hear people from the East speak of old mountaineers as semi-barbarians when as a general rule they were the peers of the Easterners in general knowledge." Historian William H. Goetzmann has argued that the mountain men were actually civilizers of the West. Rather than being social misfits, these men typified the enterprising capitalists of their era. By seeking their fortunes in the West, they helped to pave the way for American settlers and institutions and to influence national policy toward the region.
The motorcyclists of today have inherited myths similar to those of the trappers. From Marlon Brando's The Wild Ones to Brian Bosworth's Stone Cold and Charlie Sheen's Beyond the Law, Hollywood has led us to believe that bikers are dangerous. This image is personified in the outlaw biker, the "One Percenter." The term arose in the 1960s when the American Motorcyclist Association sought to counter the bikers unsavory reputation with the idea that 99 percent of all motorcyclists rode for recreation and resembled the people next door: clean, wholesome, and hardworking. The biker gangs latched on to the concept and began identifying themselves as members of the remaining 1 percent. Belonging to motorcycle clubs such as the Hell's Angels, Sons of Silence, Bandidos, and Pagans, the One Percenter occupies the periphery of "normal" society, often relying on intimidation and crime to cement his image. These individuals allow nothing to stand in the way of freedom and adventure. They make their presence known at Sturgis by wearing their colors and distinctive One Percenter patches on denim vests and black leather jackets, and they almost always travel in packs. But they make up a minority of those in attendance, and the tone of the rally is calm, Sturgis has long been considered neutral territory, where opposing gangs put grievances aside in deference to the party atmosphere.
Even though popular myth portrays motorcycle enthusiasts as outlaws, one writer discovered that in truth, "99% of the bikers at Sturgis turned out to be very much like the people next door." A survey conducted by Black Hills State University during the fifty-second annual rally in 1992 backed the writer's conclusion with hard figures. Two-thirds of survey respondents were between thirty-one and fifty years of age, and 57 percent were married. Just over one quarter had college degrees. The respondents' incomes averaged around thirty-five thousand dollars a year. Although 74 percent of those surveyed were men, the rally has attracted significantly more women in recent years.
Sturgis draws bikers from all fifty states as well as Canada, Mexico, Europe, Australia, Africa, and Asia. At the 1995 rally, three German men sporting "Harley Owner Group Nuremberg Chapter" patches on their black leather jackets yelled above the roar of motorcycles in downtown Sturgis: "We ride Harleys, so we had to come here at least once in our lifetime."' When asked to describe their impressions of the event, they responded, "How long is your tape?" A young Canadian couple found the Sturgis streets indescribable. "This is the biggest thing we have ever seen," they said, shaking their heads. "It's unbelievable." The pair added that they would stay until their money was gone. The Black Hills State University study portrayed the rally-goers succinctly, if dryly: "Those in attendance are a diverse population based on demographic characteristics. Their common the is motorcycles."
Like bikers, fur trappers shared certain bonds. Although the rendezvous was a place to trade furs for supplies and the Sturgis rally is a place to purchase accessories and race motorcycles, both gatherings grew in size and importance because of the human need to join with others who share similar interests and experiences. The camaraderie that helped to foster the gatherings of both the trapper and the biker also provoked envy among those who led mundane, conventional lives. Timothy Flint, in The Personal Narrative of James Ohio Pattie of Kentucky, wrote of the "moral sublimity in the contemplation of the adventures and daring" of the mountain man, who "read a lesson to shrinking and effeminate spirits, the men of soft hands and fashionable life, whose frames the winds of heaven are not allowed to visit too roughly."
Rally bikers express similar sentiments, reveling in the freedom that comes with their avocation. Ippy, whose tanned and weathered skin showed here and there amongst the patterns of his tattoos, sat on a Main Street bench in 1995 watching girls from behind narrow, dark sunglasses. "This is just your upgrade of the Old West," he said in a deep Texas drawl. "Instead of riding horses, we're riding Hogs." He continued, "Get out there on that scooter, ride, and enjoy it. Not a worry in the world . . . God is there with ya. It's freedom." Susan, who traveled on her own motorcycle with her husband from El Paso, Texas, commented, "It's just a nice freedom ride. We love motorcycles, the wind, the freedom. There is no word for it; just a feeling."
At the end of the journey, whether one was a trapper entering the valley where a rendezvous was being held or a biker riding down main-street Sturgis, the scene was and is awe-inspiring. Frances Fuller Victor related Joe Meek's recollection of a rendezvous camp as wearing "motley garb and brilliant coloring." Completing the "spirited and enchanting picture" were the sounds of "gay laughter, and the murmur of soft Indian voices." The sheer number of individuals assembled must have impressed the mountain men, who led a solitary existence for most of the year. "All the different hunting and trapping parties and Indian allies were gathered together," Victor wrote, "so that the camp contained several hundred men, with their riding and packhorses."
A biker writing about the 1994 Sturgis rally offered a contrasting, yet similar picture. He described the town's main street as "four blocks of hogs parked tank-to-tank against both sidewalks and two-deep in the center of the street." Motorcycles also filled six blocks of parking space down the side streets. The veteran rally-goer added, "There was as much exhibition on the sidewalks as in the streets. Female skin was the main attraction."'"The participant's themselves are indeed something to behold. According to one spectator, the main-street crowd was a veritable "army of hairy human beings in black T-shirts and wallet chain uniform crawling around, over, and under the machines, probing, fondling, eyeballing.'' A biker from New York State, wearing a helmet made of a stuffed raccoon with electric red eyes, stated, "Sturgis brings me to Sturgis. It's the greatest place in die world."
In addition to looking at the sights, the bikes, and each other, Sturgis rally-goers have the opportunity to examine an endless array of concessions. Souvenirs bearing the official rally logo or promoting Harley-Davidson motorcycles dominate the scene. Motorcycles of all makes are represented at the rally, but those produced by the Harley-Davidson Motor Company of Milwaukee, Wisconsin, have outnumbered the rest since the 1960s. Harley-Davidson actively promotes motorcycling and product loyalty through the hundreds of local chapters in its Harley Owners Group (H.O.G.), many of whose members travel to Sturgis. In addition, the company sends a contingent of sales people to demonstrate its bikes and work the crowd. Other major motorcycle manufacturers also maintain sales booths at the rally.
Commerce was also a main order of the day at the fur trade rendezvous where, as Joe Meek told his biographer, '"As the goods were opened, the scene grew livelier." Washington Irving, in an eloquent narrative taken from the journals of Captain Benjamin Bonneville, stated that with the arrival of the traders' supply trains, "a mania for purchasing spread itself throughout the several bands." Trappers could purchase all their essentials: blankets, lead, powder, flour, salt, sugar, coffee, and whiskey. ''Every freak of prodigality was indulged to its fullest extent," Irving also noted, and after squandering their years worth of wages, the mountain men were "ready for another hard campaign in the wilderness."
A similar "mania for purchasing" exists at Sturgis. A week before the rally l">egirLs, stores close, and owners move their merchandise to cellars and other out-of-the-way places to make room for the approximately seven hundred vendors who arrive each August from around the country. Tícese merchants have leased the stores for exorbitant prices, and they come ready to sell,
removing storefront windows and setting up merchandise and cash registers on temporary shelves. Hemmed in by hungry merchants on one side, and parked motorcycles on the other, thousands of shoppers run a consumer's gauntlet where almost anything conceivable is for sale. A 1995 report of the Sturgis Rally and Races Committee listed 109 T-shirt vendors, 77 leather-apparel vendors, and 95 food vendors. In addition, people sell knives, fur seat covers, toys, sunglasses, patches, bumper stickers, and much more. Vendors of motorcycle accessories also take advantage of the market. Among the most sought-after commodities during rally week are tattoos. In 1995, 96 tattoo artists received licenses to ply their trade, but the waiting lines were still long, so great was the consumer demand for fresh ink.
While most local merchants lease out their stores, the owners of restaurants, hardware stores, drugstores, and bars operate as usual. One drugstore owner stated that rally week was like having a thirteenth month of business. He estimated, based on the massive influx of people to town, that his store handled the business volume of twenty similar-sized concerns. His top selling items were healthcare products and film.
For mountain men who had worked largely alone for a year, the rendezvous was time to play, One can imagine the rush of adrenaline the fur trapper must have experienced upon entering the rendezvous site or greeting new arrivals. William Dainimond Stewart described one such arrival. ''A cloud of dust was rising in a continuous line at the lower border of the plain, . . . and those who had horses up .. . were mounting and galloping forth to meet what seemed to be a gay cavalcade, who were prancing over the sandy prairie." Stewart rode out to meet the approaching party, whose horses he found "gay and gallant in trim," with gear of "flaming red, or dazzled with embroidered white." Commenting on the riders, Stewart wrote, "The husbands or fathers alone maintained the sedate demeanor which they wished to be an example to the joyous spirit of youth, so hardly to be restrained."
In much the same way, entering Sturgis is a grand time for the bikers, who pride themselves on their motorcycles' custom paint jobs and chrome. Many people stop at the car wash to clean the road grime off their machines before joining the show on Main Street. One biker filing through downtown with a motorcycle club stated. "'We roared through Sturgis in a large pack. There is something about riding in a pack that is exhilarating—particularly when it's done right." Most riders travel to the rally with a group of friends or a club. The H.O.G.s, with chapters all over the world, are widely represented. Religious biker clubs also make up a good percentage of those attending. Each group, from small to large, gathers at one end of Main Street and then blasts down the biker's grand boulevard, pipes blaring at each opportunity.
The exhaust system of the motorcycle is in itself a status symbol and an unspoken contest exists to see who has the loudest pipes. A spectator can stand at a Main Street stop sign for only a few minutes before his ears ring from the melody of well-rehearsed cracks of throttles. For many enthusiasts, pipes are pan of the mystique of motorcycling. Two attractive middle-aged women, standing over their Harleys, commented that they began motorcycling because they hated the bar scene, The motorcycle, one of them said, "feels good between your legs, won't break your heart, and won't give you social diseases!" As another biker backed into a spot nearby, his Harley's unmistakable idle broken intermittently with blasts from his pipes, one of the women explained why she came to Sturgis. "Tlie pipes," she cooed, 'hearing that motor. . . Lord!"
Despite the many distractions for both mountain men and bikers at their respective gatherings, high on the priority list was and is reestablishing ties with others. Trappers attended rendezvous not only to trade pelts but also to visit with friends and "find out who had gone under during the winter." One biker summed up the Sturgis Rally and Races when he wrote, "The real pay dirt's makin' new friends and hookin' up with old ones." Duke, who identified himself simply as a Vietnam vet, noted, "I came to Sturgis to meet all my old friends here. Some make it back, some don't."
The rendezvous, like Sturgis, was a place to renew friendships, but the spice of the gathering lay in the day-to-day events and revelry. Far removed from society's watchful eye, the trapper at the rendezvous was free to express his enthusiasm in any manner he chose. The Arkansas Gazette of 28 November 1826 called that year's rendezvous a great celebration, with "songs, dancing, shouting, trading, running, jumping, racing, target shooting, yarns and frolic, with all sorts of extravagances." The "tame" events included shooting contests, wrestling matches, and horse races. Once the trapper had sold his pelts and purchased necessities for the coming year, the remainder of his money was often 'squandered in roaring, riotous debauch, devoted in about equal measure to legal whisky, reckless gambling . . . and an orgy of sexual abandon." Washington Irving, recounting the observations of Captain Bonneville, added, "A camp, recovering from one of these riotous revels, presents a seriocomic spectacle; black eyes, broken heads, lack-luster visages." No one could escape the fun at rendezvous. Frances Fuller Victor wrote that in the 1830s Joe Meek "had been gathering laurels as a valiant hunter and trapper . . . Ibut] was also becoming fitted, by frequent practice, to graduate in time of the vices of camp life, especially the one of conviviality during rendezvous." Meek himself admitted to often being "powerful drunk" at rendezvous time.
James P. Beckwourth recalled that whiskey encouraged indulgence in "all kinds of sports . . . with a heartiness that would astonish more civilized societies." Typical of the more hearty sports was the "grand entry)'" at the 1834 rendezvous of an Indian chief named Bull's Head, who opened festivities by driving a buffalo bull through the main camp. Rendezvous was a time to relax and make up for a year's worth of loneliness with one or two weeks of fun.
The Sturgis rally may exist in a more "civilized" era, but the events are nevertheless just as exciting as those of the fur-trade rendezvous. Sanctioned activities include races, hill-climbs, parades, and music concerts. Rally organizers offer awards in categories such as oldest rider and longest distance traveled. From Hariey-Davidson and BMW demonstration rides to a motorcycle exposition, to drag racing, to organized rides to Mount Rushmore and Devil's Tower, there are plenty of "civilized ' events in which to participate. A sense of reckless abandon permeates the atmosphere, however, and one frequent rite of passage among some bikers is a scooter ride taken without clothing. One rally-goer commented: "Sturgis was a party...I came early and stayed late, till the last dog was hung." Another biker added, "There's nothin' to do with your scooter self other than biker antics from dawn to dusk." A man identified only as Mic stated, "I come to Stugis to be a fool, drink beer and watch women." Lori, a T-shirt vendor, called the scene "absolutely crazy," adding: "Everyone's a freak, but no one's a freak. Nobody judges anybody" She enjoyed the chance to "let loose and be a dirty pig for a week" in a place where she could get away from everything."
Although many veteran rally-goers complain that the event has grown too wild, the Sturgis gatherings of yesteryear were far from tame. Jack Hoel, son of rally founder Pappy Hoel, recalled an incident involving his father that has become part of rally lote. A wooden wall of tongue-and-groove construction was doused with gasoline and set a flame. Revving up his motorcycle for the grandstand crowd. Pappy Hoel rode directly into the burning wall. According to Jack Hoel, the saint "almost warped [Pappy's] entire outlook on life. .. . It didn't hurt him, but it got his full attention for a minute or two."
The days and nights of near-pagan bliss at rendezvous attracted the attention of missionaries seeking converts in the West. Reverend Jason Lee, a Methodist missionary on the Oregon frontier, recognized a fertile field in the large number of individuals gathered at one rendezvous but tempered his hope with realism. "Though we might have a congregation of some hundreds of whites to preach to today if they were disposed to hear," he wrote, "yet we have no doubt if [we] were to propose such a thing that it would be rejected with disdain and perhaps with abuse." Leaving the rendezvous a few days later, Reverend Lee could only comment. Had been quite long enough in camp and glad to pursue our journey." Reverend Samuel Parker, a bolder soul, tried to hold a religious service at an early rendezvous, but found that "little pious reverence marked the countenances of that wild and noisy congregation." Instead, "curiosity, incredulity, sarcasm, or a mocking levity, were more plainly perceptible in the expression of the men's faces.'
Just as the missionaries did not look favorably on the trappers, neither did the mountain men see the clergy as a positive addition to their festivities. Reverend Lee recalled, "They threatened that when we came they would give them Missionaries 'hell.'" He was further advised to be on his guard and give the trappers no offense." No harm came to the visitors, but their- presence may have spurred even more madcap behavior than usual, especially when four female missionaries attended the 1837 rendezvous.'
The "biker antics" displayed at Sturgis each August have also attracted the attention of the clergy and produced much the same reaction. In preparing for the Sturgis rally's fiftieth anniversary in 1990, Reverend Harold Verhulst, a local pastor, remarked, 'This year kinda scares me." A more optimistic clergyman found it "a challenge to the churches to find appropriate ways to minister to the people who come." A Sturgis priest, observing the massive influx of bikers during rally week, noted with disappointment that he "did not notice a significant increase in the number of people which go to mass." Although some members of the religious community oppose the rally, others greet the bikers with prayer meetings and all-you-can-eat breakfasts. They see the gathering as a part of life in Sturgis and a unique opportunity for mission work. Like the mountain men before them, some bikers resent religious activity at their annual gathering. One read a newspaper article in which an evangelical preacher asked, "Can you imagine what would become of your town if 60,000 bikers descended on it?" The biker responded, "Can you imagine what would become of your town if 60,000 evangelists descended on it?"
Celebrating their existence far from the watchful eyes of those who would judge them, mountain men might have thought the rendezvous would continue forever. As the number of beaver and the demand for them declined, however, the era of the fur trapper ended. By the 1840s, trappers had been pushed into the deepest recesses of the mountains, and their rendezvous was on its way to becoming part of the past.
The Sturgis Rally and Races has seen tremendous change as well. The rise in popularity of the Harley-Davidson motorcycle has encouraged a new generation of bikers anxious to experience Sturgis. The event has grown beyond the capacity of the South Dakota town, and by the end of each August, most Sturgis residents are ready to vote it permanently into history. But each year these motorcycles return. Hundreds of vendors and droves of bikers come back to the Black Hills to experience another gathering of kindred spirits, to play, ride, and rekindle their passion for motorcycles, and to create another year of tales from the rendezvous of the twentieth century.
South Dakota History is the quarterly journal published by the South Dakota State Historical Society. Membership in the South Dakota State Historical Society includes a subscription to the journal. Members support the Society's important mission of interpreting, preserving and transmitting the unique heritage of South Dakota. Learn more here: https://history.sd.gov/Membership.aspx. Download PDFs of articles from the first 43 years and obtain recent issues of South Dakota History at sdhspress.com/journal.
