For those of you who think this is just another article by a guy who loves some old bikes most people have never heard of, let me fill you in. I didn’t know much about Crockers myself, until a few days ago. Bandit gave me the assignment to write an article about these bikes and Don Whalen, a guy who buys and sells old bikes and has owned several of the rare original Crockers. I heard of Crocker, but not knowing much about the bike, I researched.
First, I’ll fill you in on why Crocker is such a unique bike, and then I’ll fill you in on why Don is such a unique guy.
The Crocker company was started by a guy named, well, Crocker. Al Crocker. Al started making single-cylinder bikes back in 1932 when the bikes he was seeing around didn’t meet his own standards for what a high performance. Now remember, these were the days when literally dozens of American and British makes were being pushed out of various sheds, factories and custom shops. Many of these bikes were supposed hot performers, so, if an ambitious guy was thinking of rising to the top of the game, he had his work cut out. Al Crocker was up for the challenge.
Albert Crocker earned his chops by working for Thor Motorcycle Company as a design engineer. After a few years, making quite a name for himself, he bought another motorcycle company called the Freed Motorcycle Company, and changed the name to, you guessed it, “Crocker.” When Al left Thor and bought the new company, he brought a good friend and designer with him, Paul Bigsby. Much of the innovative work you see in the Crocker designs was the result of the collaboration between these two guys.
By the way Paul Bigsby is famous for another reason. He invented what is known in the music business as the “tremolo arm” on many electric guitars. That’s the lever that sticks out next to the bottom of the strings that allows the musician to “bend” the notes he’s playing. But we’re off the subject, back to Crocker.
Albert took this small bike company and grew it into a strong business making sub-assemblies and parts for Indians. As yet another display of his business acumen, Albert also owned an Indian dealership on Venice Boulevard in the Los Angeles area. He had a reputation for hopping up Indians so they really performed. While some work was done on his own brand of machinery, the bills were paid by the production of Indian parts, and the dealership. In those days it wasn’t uncommon for people to own dealerships to finance their true loves, whether it was racing or their own motorcycle products.
In the early 1930s, after producing some board-tracker single-cylinder bikes, Al decided he was going to push his bikes to the top of the performance ladder by ignoring the rungs and jumping up ahead of everyone else with single-cylinder performance bikes. The British were kicking everyone else around the new flat track circuits. Board tracks lost their popularity, due to the high death and maiming rates of the racers, and Al decided it was time to show American prowess and power on the flat tracks.
Unfortunately, Albert’s dream of winning on the flat tracks didn’t become reality. The British, and other American bike manufacturers were too tough, and the secrets they knew about effective flat-track racers weren’t given up easily. The flat track Crockers (known collectively as the “speedway bikes”) weren’t seen in the Winner’s Circle much. But Al wasn’t to be discouraged. He had a plan.
In those days, as in now, cubic inches produced horsepower. Al knew this basic fact, and to get to the top of the horsepower game he started producing the largest displacement motorcycles made at the time (some as large as 91 cubic inches of 45 degree v-twin). A stock production motorcycle didn’t surpass this displacement until, believe it or not 1998, by Yamaha’s big 1600 cc V-Star. Al was going to win, no matter what it took.
Albert decided to break into the heavyweight, high- performance touring market, and with the help of his shop foreman, Paul Bigsby, he developed a motorcycle that would hit that niche. It was big, heavy, but beautiful, even by today’s standards. The motorcycle looks vaguely Indian-like, probably due to Al’s close association with the bikes produced in Springfield, Massachusetts. That piece of powerplant engineering was all Albert.
The power plant for Al’s new bike was a 45 degree V-twin that came out of his shop at about 61 cubic inches (unless the customer asked for more, in which case it could be punched out to over 90 inches). Both the engine and the transmission were built for performance upgrades; the cylinders were meant to be bored, and the three-speed tranny was built strong enough to pull a truck.
In the stock configuration, the engine produced about 60 horsepower, and with the right gearing could take the bike and rider up to well over 120 MPH. That’s fast, even by today’s standards, but remember, in those days roads were rarely paved once you hit the city limits, and they were usually heavily rutted, with potholes thrown in for added excitement. Add slow-moving four-wheeled traffic, and traffic laws that were vague at best, and they faced a ride that would make a video gamer sweat bullets. It took a tough rider and a tough machine to go fast.
Al was an innovative thinker. When Harley and Indian were making their intake manifolds bigger, Al was reducing the size of his, creating higher velocity intake speeds, and thus increasing the efficiency of his engine, by getting the fuel/air charge into the cylinders more quickly. His bikes had overhead valves long before Harley came out with their first overhead valve engine (the Knucklehead). Several of his bikes had hemi heads before anyone else had considered them. Al was always thinking.
He also built his bikes for longevity, with cast aluminum fuel tanks in two sizes and all parts made big and strong. Al was so confident in his designs that he had a standing offer to refund in full the purchase price of any Crocker owner’s bike, if it was ever beaten by the competition. No one ever asked for a refund. The performance advantages of the Crocker were real, and they worked.
Like any high-performance machine, the big bike was hard to start, and idled like it was on the verge of stalling at any moment. It was noisy and cantankerous, and as skittish as a race horse. Twist that throttle, though, and like a race horse, the bike found itself, taking you down your local country lane at breakneck speeds, probably touching the ground every 100 feet or so. It must have been quite a ride! Harleys, Indians, and Excelsiors, even when they were hopped up to their max performance, couldn’t keep up with a stock Crocker.
There is no doubt that Harley and Indian riders grumbled about Crockers, just as they do about the faster other brands of today.
As a matter of fact, Harley was so aggravated that Crocker was beating the pants off their offerings that they sued for patent infringement. It would seem that Harley’s current lawsuit shenanigans are nothing new. It must have been an odd argument to sue a company for patent infringement, when that company’s motorcycles were of better design, and out- performing H-Ds so dramatically. The judge agreed. The case was thrown out. Harley’s case couldn’t be proven (and maybe the judge had a Crocker tucked in his garage…who knows for sure?)
There were other problems, though, that Albert couldn’t overcome. Al’s shop was tiny. He couldn’t produce enough bikes and parts to keep the prices competitive through sales volumes. A Crocker of the day could cost anywhere from 25 to 50% more than the equivalent Harley or Indian. Only the very well-off riders could afford them. Parts were virtually impossible to get, and frighteningly expensive even when you could locate them. Though Albert had a reputation for standing behind his machinery, no matter what, Indian and Harley were beating Crocker in a different way, through sheer volume of production that allowed lower prices and better parts availability. Then World War II started.
Materials for anything but the war effort were difficult to get, and most of the people who would buy a motorcycle were probably riding olive drab versions of what they’d love to have in their own garages, somewhere in Europe. There was no way to make the bikes, and no one to buy them. Because of it’s small size, the Crocker Motorcycle Company couldn’t land its own contracts to supply machinery for the war effort. With no raw materials, no buyers, and no defense contracts, the end for the Crocker came quickly. Al Crocker and his crew ended production of his motorcycles in 1942, after producing about 200 bikes total, of which slightly more than 60 were of the big twin variety.
Of course, the take-no-prisoners style that Albert always displayed continued to hold true. Albert began making parts for the war effort, and changed the name of his shop from Crocker Motorcycles to Crocker Manufacturing. After a long successful run in manufacturing, Albert sold his business to Borg Warner for a tidy sum. He was a success in business, but his motorcycles were history.
Because of Albert Crocker’s dedication to high performance, and the uniqueness and design elegance of his machines, the Crocker is a bike that any collector who loves unique machinery would love to have. Because of the small numbers of bikes produced, and the large numbers of collectors who would like to buy these machines, they command an impressive price.
That’s enough to make even someone like Jay Leno pause for a minute to let the dizziness pass, before whipping out the plastic.
If someone bought a Crocker 40 years ago, they probably paid a measly couple of thousand, and complained about it. That’s a bargain, considering what they’re worth today! As collectors began to recognize the bike for what it is, the price sky-rocketed to its current stratospheric prices. A bike that was sneered at in the ‘60s is now commonly seen at high-end venues such as the Guggenheim Museum and Concours d’ Elegance events around the country.
Now we come to this Crocker story.
When Crocker Motorcycles was shut down in the early ‘40s there were a lot of partly-assembled bikes and boxes of new parts in storage. A guy named Ernie Skelton (a Boozefighter) recognized the value of these bikes, bought up all the parts and pieces, and partially-assembled bikes. He held onto them. He worked to complete the partially-assembled bikes and built others from scratch using the remaining parts inventories when he could.
Now we come to Don Whalen and how he is an integral part of the Crocker/Boozefighter story. Don is an old motorcycle collector (the motorcycles, not Don. Even though he does show a wrinkle or two) and a Crocker aficionado. After getting the hot lead from Keith “Bandit” Ball I called Don to pick up the story and his association with the club and the bikes. The story continues to be an amazing tale of didication and love of machinery.
The Boozefighters have been around for a long time. One of their many claims to fame is their true key to the birth of the American biker culture we know today. They were the group who took Hollister by storm July 4th, 1947, generally partying and enjoying themselves until cops over-reacted, and the media blew everything out of proportion (some stuff never changes). At the time, the founder of the Boozefighters, Wino Willie, was around and still kicking.
In those years, on of the Boozefighters in the LA area, a guy named Jack Lilly, happened upon a deal at a local bike shop. A friend of his owned a Crocker and was having trouble making payments. Jack liked his buddy's bike, and so, offered to take over payments. He didn't hae a lot of money, but figured he could squeeze out the monthly payment. The dealer wouldn't hear of it. The dealer wanted to get in the middle of the deal, and hear himself $50 in the process. These wer the days when fifty bucks would pay the rent. Jack Lilly couldn't swing the deal.
About then, Wino Willie heard about what was going on. He stepped in, bought the Crocker Jack wanted so badly, and set up a payment plan so Jack could pay him back (that, my friends, is brotherhood). As Jack Lilly got familiar with the Crocker he fell in love with its mechanical elegance to the point that he refused to ride anything else. He got real good at repairing them, and over time was the “go to” guy for anyone who needed help with a Crocker. Because of the un-blinking dedication to the brand, he eventually became known as “Crocker Jack.” I'm sure there were those around who didn't know anything about bikes who wondered why that big, tough, biker was called “Cracker Jack,” and when corrected tha it was “Crocker” wondered why this guy was so fascinated with confectionaries, but the stories around that confusion are for another time.
As time passed, Crocker Jack bought and sold bikes, as we all do. One of the bikes to go was the original bike he bought from Wino Willie. He eventually lost track of the bike. As many of us do, he alwyas regretted selling that bike. and often worndered what ever became of it. Now this is where the story of that particular bike gets interesting.
Ernie Skelton (remember him?). He located the bike in the mid-'80s. It was actually owned by a guy named Daniel Statnekov. Ernie restored the bike to its original, pristine condition, and in 1988, at a Boozefighters's reunion, in Texas, he presented the restored original to Crocker Jack, with Daniel's permission. By this time Crocker Jack was well into his 80s. He was crippled, sick and almost completely blind. After surprising Jack with his old bike, his Boozefighter brothers helped him sit on it and feel it run. Two old friends, one human and one mechanical, were reunited.
To Commemorate the occasion (see photo), Crocker Jack signed and dated the tractor-style seat. You'll note inthe picture that the seat also contains the years of Jack's life. The Boozefighters scribed them into the seat after Jack's death. One has to wonder if Jack's spirit doesn't hover around that old bike, even today. Most certainly the spirit of Crocker and Crocker Jack live on in the hearts of the Boozefighters.
Flash forward a decade and we come to where Don Whalen gets involved. Don loves old bikes. We're not talking just looking at them. We're talking a guy who knows the history of the bikes, how they were designed, who designed them and the personal stories behind the metal. He lives the details.
Don started off by telling me the basic facts about Crockers, and how they were designed and used. He told me about the folks associated with Crocker.
After talking to Don for a while, he started telling me about recent deals he’s brokered for Crockers. Remember, there are only about 96 of them around, and of those bikes, only a few of dozen of them v-twins. Don told me that he recently acquired a Crocker at the Concours d’Elegance in Half Moon Bay (not far from where I live). He saw a Crocker on display, and heard through the grapevine that the owner was interested in selling this perfect example of the machinery Albert designed and built. Don approached the guy and made an offer that, after fees and costs, was well over $250,000. Don was VERY pleased with his purchase, and took it to his secure warehouse.
What seemed like minutes later, Don got a call from a collector on the East Coast, who had been in the market for a completely different motorcycle. This collector had gone into his local broker, and spotted a picture of the Crocker on the broker’s desk. “I want THAT one. How much is THAT one?!?!” The east coast broker told him it was on the West Coast, and that it was expensive. The customer replied, “I don’t care. I’ll take it.” Don was contacted, and within days, the deal was made, pushing the price of the bike even higher. An East Coast collector paid a stratospheric sum of money, but it now the proud owner of an original and VERY rare Crocker. He may not own a fistful of diamonds or a wheelbarrow full of gold (items that everyone understands the value of) but he surely owns something even more rare and valuable!
Don continues to promote the legacy of Crockers and other old bikes. You’ll see him haunting bike shows and competitions, looking for the rare old bikes in pristine condition (and maybe not-so-pristine, if there’s potential). Don is well- connected in the vintage motorcycle world and takes a lot of joy and pride in getting the right motorcycle to the right collector. If you have a spare quarter-million or so to spend, and want a motorcycle in your garage only a few illustrious folks have, call Don. He’ll fix you up!
(626) 358-9696
That being said, you should understand where Don comes from. Like the dealers of old, Don doesn’t buy and sell bikes just to make money. He does it for the love of the machinery. While the money involved is definitely a plus, Don’s real reward comes in the opportunity to be around old bikes, Crockers among them. Don is one of the most self-effacing guys I’ve ever talked to, but his on-going contributions to motorcycle and biker history are invaluable. Unlike many owners of these jewels from the past, Don actually likes to share his toys with others. He’ll let you sit on them, and hell, even take one for a ride (after you give him your wallet for safe-keeping, I’m guessing) if you catch him in the right mood.
While many of us pride ourselves in our detailed knowledge of our bikes, Don stands tall in the crowd, keeping the history of the Crocker and other bikes in his head. He and the rest of the Boozefighters are part of the unbroken chain of continuing the legacy of what it is to be a real biker. These guys are the keepers of the flame for old machinery that would be forgotten in some landfill, if it wasn’t for those who loved that old stuff. They are also the thread in history that links present day bikers back to that historic day in 1947.
The next time you see a Boozefighter, shake their hand and thank them. What you are today is due in no small part to the club, and all the things its members have done through the years. And if you get the chance to meet Don, grab yourself a large refreshment, take a seat, and say to him, “So, tell me about the Crocker”. You’ll be in for a treat!
