Swan Song of the Three Flag A Study in Men And Machines that Made a Thrilling Chapter in Motorcycle History. by J.J. O'Connor. (c) 1920 submitted by Charlie Carter • MSM Motorcycling Historian. Hello folks; The following article concerns a race few people know of today. It started in Canada and went through the Western USA finishing in Mexico. This particular article came from an October, 1944 issue of "The Motorcyclist" magazine. I was lucky to find that magazine in a pile of car literature at a local flea-market years ago. Enjoy this chapter of motorcycling history. Yours till the front forks collapse, Charlie Carter. Tia Juana, Mexico, August 26, 1920 - This is the fifth anniversary of the coining of the first Three Flag solo record in 1915 by Cannonball Baker and, by a strange coincidence, that premier Western road mark was cracked again today by the irresistible Wells Bennett on his bulldog Excelsior. Last September, Walt Hadfield, of Portland, had taken the blue ribbon title from Bennett, by a border-to-border dash on a Harley-Davidson, in 51 hours, 22 minutes and 1919 faded into history with Hadfield as the king of the Three-Flaggers. For almost a year Hadfield sat on the Canada-Mexico speed throne but, today he was pushed off and Bennett took over as the new king once more, in a realm to which he is no stranger. Bennett dropped in his clutch at Blaine, Wash., on the Canadian line, at 8:00 a.m., Tuesday, August 24th, being checked out by customs men and trade representatives. On arrival here Bennett had covered 1655 miles, in 51 hours, 4 minutes, shaving but 18 minutes from Hadfield's figures! That certainly is cutting it fine in battling the minutes and seconds hands for nearly 1700 miles. That 18 minutes is by long odds the smallest hunk ever chopped out of Three Flag time, yet Bennett was lucky to get the record at all, for hoodoos and jinxes beset him nearly all the way. In the Northwest he began losing time through muddy roads and detours, as a result of the heavy seasonal rains. This was followed by a series of stops caused by leaky tire valves, something out of the ordinary, but, nevertheless, time consuming. Crossing from Oregon to California, Bennett hoped for a better break and what he got was six hours of steady rain. With no front guard, he soon went on one cylinder and, not long after, his entire ignition was drowned out. Eventually, he threw off these diverse jinxes and, as he got pavement and clear skies going south, Bennett began to roll to make up for lost time. When Bennett reached Los Angeles at 7:00 a.m. today he was warned that all the cops in Orange County were gunning for him and to take no chances. Accordingly, he crawled across that hot spot from Whittier to Oceanside almost, safely inside the 35-mile limit, with motor cops dogging him most of the way, ever ready to pounce on him. At Tia Juana, the checking-in party had expected Bennett long before he arrived and had given him up. He stopped long enough in San Diego to stick his head into the agency to ask if anyone was at the border to check him in and, then tore off on his last lap with mighty little time to spare. A flat tire, or in fact, any kind of delay, would have washed him out of the record at the very finish. But Bennett got a break when he needed it most and snatched the record back by a whisker, this being the second time he has held it. "Why did you cut things so fine as to almost lose the record?" they asked him at the finish. "I had a schedule of 48 hours and expected to make it easily, or maybe better, if I hadn't had those unexpected delays up North," Bennett replied. "Of course, my new record won't last long and I expect Walt Hadfield to get it back almost any day. Up North the motor cops were fine and, altogether I had about 20 of them who gave me escorts, but there certainly was no brotherly love in Orange County. Those birds meant business." Just as Bennett predicted, he it did not hold the Three Flag long and Walt Hadfield was the one who took it away from him again. On November 3, Hadfield rolled into Tia Juana, in 49 hours flat, from the Canadian line, riding a Harley-Davidson, of course. He really took a good bite out of Bennett's record. Two hours and four minutes. The long sought achievement of pounding the Three Flag mark down under 50 hours now was an accomplished fact, when Hadfield checked in at Tia Juana at 9:00 a.m. on Wednesday, November 3rd. He left Blaine, Washington, at 8:00 a.m. on Monday. Hadfield explained that he would have made his shot for the record earlier except for rainy weather. He preferred to wait for clear skies and was rewarded by coming through with no road delays or mechanical trouble. For the second time, Hadfield stood as the boss of Three Flag Avenue as a calendar year slid off into history, being the title holder as both new years of 1920 and 1921 came in. There was nothing done along the Boulevard des Three Flag in 1922, until late September, when Wells Bennett decided to get his titles back. His attempt was made as a dispatch rider carrying U.S. mail, a brand new twist to record breaking. Bennett failed this time, after a series of trials and tribulations which have no parallel in Three Flag annals. He checked out of Blaine, Washington, on September 12th, according to Hoyle, and elected to make his dash on a Henderson instead of his usual Excelsior. It was "all in the family" anyway. Besides, Bennett was so "hot" at that time for his Henderson, with which he had busted the 24-hour record, that he was keen to take another speed fling with it. Except for a short time, Bennett was on his own from the border to Seattle, where he took on a sack of mail and was given official credentials as a mail carrier for Uncle Sam. Obviously, this was for two reasons--additional publicity and immunity from interference by speed cops. But the latter angle did not work out and that is why Bennett missed the record. First excitement came at Kelso, Washington, on the Columbia River. Here a special ferry was arranged for to take Bennett across to the Oregon shore whenever he hit Kelso. But something went wrong or someone took a chance. At any rate, Bennett dashed up to the Kelso ferry landing as the barge and its tug motive power were almost in midstream with a load of autos, headed for the Oregon side. There was horn-tooting, shouting and wild gesticulations and, finally the lumbering craft turned around and headed back to Kelso to pick up Bennett. He was so excited that he and his motor leaped a gap and landed on the ferry before it touched the dock. Once again the craft for the Oregon side and, once again, Bennett gunned his motor and shot from ship to shore over space before the prow of the barge hit the pier. Well, that hurdle was behind him, but this was only a teaser of what lay ahead. Fifteen minutes later, while barreling down the Oregon highway, Bennett saw a motor cop coming toward him. Also, the cop saw Bennett put on brakes and took after him. It was none other that Walt Hadfield whose record Bennett then was after. Hadfield now was a member of the Oregon State Highway Patrol and covering a beat in that district. He recognized Bennett, pulled alongside, held out his hand and shouted "Good Luck!" Bennett returned the handclasp at 60 mph and shouted "Thanks!" and Hadfield waved to him as he slowed and saw Bennett disappearing in the distance. Oh, if only all motor cops were like that! At Portland, Bennett took on more mail, given him by Mayor Baker, for delivery to California points. This, by special arrangement, of course. At Portland, Bennett was five minutes ahead of his 44-hour schedule, which, if completed would make a five hour slash in the record. There were detours, tire trouble and minor delays here and there, but the first big jolt that helped wash Bennett out of the record overtook him at Fresno, California. Outside town two motor cops loomed up and Bennett waved in friendly fashion, thinking they were going to escort him in. But not so, not so, decidedly! These were California cops, and they lost no time in informing him that he was pinched "for reckless driving." His pleas that he was carrying U.S. mail and his official credentials meant nothing to these cops. They led Bennett toward the city jail for booking. En route they encountered the Mayor and a delegate waiting to receive Bennett and accept some of the mail he was carrying. Here he was, and here was the town's big shot waiting to welcome him. It didn't make any sense. The Mayor told Bennett the cops meant no harm, that they would not delay him and that he could be on his way. "Is that right?" he asked the cops and they growled assent. Bennett took off, wondering whether he was out of this world, or if the cops were. It was a good thing he did not know that, as soon as he was out of sight, those cops called their brethren in Bakersfield, Los Angeles and Orange County and asked to have him stopped by barricades across the road. Bennett lost 20 minutes in the Fresno muddle but left town with a kindly feeling for the Mayor. But his joy was short lived. It was only 110 miles then from Fresno to Bakersfield and while Bennett still was day dreaming, the wail of a siren crashed on his ears and he looked around to find a Bakersfield traffic car on his rear wheel. Again Bennett was pinched, his protests falling on deaf ears. They took him to the Kern County bastille and booked him. All this time Bennett was protesting violently and, after he was booked, the cops explained they had orders to lock him up but could not do so on traffic charges, as the law provides that bail must be accepted. So Bennett put up bail and was free once again. There was no welcoming party at Bakersfield to save him and Bennett was glad to escape as he did. Over the Ridge Route he observed the speed limit meticulously, expecting any minute to hear a police siren sounding more bad news. But he made Los Angeles without further hoodoo and found friends and hospitality awaiting at the Henderson agency. At Los Angeles, Bennett was 41-1/2 hours out from the Canadian line with 150 miles to go. He still could get the record by a fair margin if there was no more bad luck, particularly cop interference, which was the only thing he dreaded. He was warned in Los Angeles to stay rigidly inside the limit in Orange County which was very "hot." With an escort from the county line, all went well and dreaded Santa Ana, the county seat, was by- passed without trouble. But at Irvine Station the knockout blow landed and the record attempt took the count. Acting on the request of their Fresno pals, the Orange County cops threw a barricade across the road. Bennett and his escort naturally halted. The cops told Bennett he was "wanted" in Fresno for "reckless driving!" Bennett explained that he had been released at Fresno by order of the mayor and with the consent of the arresting cops. He told further of putting up bail at Bakersfield. He explained that he was carrying U.S. mail, asked to be allowed to put up bail, continue to Tia Juana and return the next day for court appearance. But nothing that Bennett could say or do made an impression on these Orange County cops. They had their orders to stop him and hold him--and that was that. So back to Santa Ana went Bennett with the cops. They did not jail him but they did lock up his motor which was just as bad. They told Bennett to go to a hotel and appear in the morning for further disposition of his case. With less than 100 miles to go and the record up to then surely in his grasp, Bennett accepted defeat and hunted up a hotel, not to enjoy a well-earned rest flavored with victory in achievement, but a fitful, tossing night of eerie dreams of motor bulls, badges, bastilles and barricades. This was the one and only Three Flag attempt of 1922. All this, of course, savors strongly of the cops exceeding their authority, by holding Bennett and refusing to permit him to post bail. After all, he was not guilty of any felony, and any charge up to murder is bailable. Sure, you can stand on your civil rights and tell a cop that "You can't do this to me!" and he will go right ahead and do it, just to prove that America IS a "Free" country. Come 1923, and quite a reshuffle in affairs Three Flag. A new face, a new mount and a new date, blazed the next entry in the border-to-border log of fame. Portland again furnished the hero or "star" in the unknown Paul Remaley. He shot to stardom on an Indian Scout, the first time this middleweight had been fired at the target. The burning of the speed slots was done in May, the earliest ever, for this course. Remaley played unconventional stuff all the way, reversing the course, by starting in Tia Juana and finishing in Blaine. Like Hadfield, he clipped of 1685 miles, being clocked officially by customs men at each end of the line in 46 hours, 58 minutes, which was two hours and two minutes under Hadfield's time. Hadfield rode a 61 Harley, while Remaley's job was a 37-inch Scout. So the little fellow took the big fellow in this case. Also, Remaley recaptured the. middleweight Three Flag honors, slicing exactly 18 hours off the figures set by "Hap" Scherer with a Harley Sport flat twin, in June, 1919. It will be remembered that Scherer made the run in 64:58, which was very good time back in those days. Remaley was just the type to crack hard records. A Portland youngster, who rode special delivery for the local post office, who cared nothing for roads or weather, who had courage plus and the guts to twist a throttle with anyone for money, marbles or chalk, he was practically a sure thing bet when he took off. Of advice and tips he had plenty, and he was wise enough to scout the route, for its full length, before he lined up for the watches. Service support for Remaley was all that could be desired. Fuel was strategically spotted; likewise escorts, save in the wilds of Northern California where he bored through heavy night fogs alone, undaunted and unafraid of man or beast. It was at Kelso, Washington, just after crossing the Columbia on the ferry, that Remaley had his closest call to losing the record. He came upon a road gang rolling huge stones across the highway. It was too dangerous to try to rush through, with boulders tumbling down every minute. The foreman was as tough and as hard as rocks. A motorcycle record meant nothing to him. To Remaley's urgent and plaintive pleas he turned a deaf ear. "You can't come through here," he barked. "You go back nine miles, then turn so and so and so and it will bring you back on this road, and so and so." Some of the gang who over- head the argument, felt sorry for the kid and stopped rolling the stones and wildly motioned him to beat it through there. He did not need a second urging and the foreman could do no more than let loose a barrage of cussing which fell on deaf ears as far as Remaley was concerned. Maybe the gang who helped him caught hell for it. As to be expected, Remaley finished fresh at Blaine, the vigor of youth warding off the fatigue that takes its toll from the older speedsters. "Paul," they asked him as soon as he had been checked in at Blaine, "tell us in a jiffy some things you remember." "Well," said Remaley, "at one place a speed cop swung in ahead of me and I stood it for five miles and then decided to get rid of him. So I drew alongside, told him I was in a hell of a hurry to reach Sacramento. He said 'O.K., go ahead' and I started to unwind and soon lost him. "Once I slammed on the brake when something loomed ahead. When I got there it was nothing. I was pretty tired and 'saw things' I guess. At Merced I nearly rammed into a car and got a real thrill in missing it. Outside of these it was just a case of keeping rolling. I had a schedule of 39-1/2 hours, which was set purposely high so I wouldn't let down and coast." Now the Three Flag had been done in both directions, solo, and the fastest time yet made had been done on a reversed course, if that proves anything. Remaley's touch off the Three Flag doings in May, seemed to have stirred up the animals and gave promise that 1923 was to be a busy year on the big alley of the speed aces. The Portland kid did not hold the spotlight of stardom for long, but his successor kept the laurels of Mercury in the Rose City. Dormant since last September when he was washed out by Orange County cops who took him off the road when he had the record in his grasp, Wells Bennett came back to the famous battle terrain of the space destroyers on June 7. Checking at Tia Juana in 46 hours, 9 minutes, he snatched the newly won the from Remaley by burning 49 minutes off the figures the Portland fireball had tacked up only a month before. Bennett made the run from North to South checking out at Blaine at 6:20 pm on June 5th and crossing the Tia Juana line at 4:29 pm on the 7th. As on his unlucky trial last year, he again shot with Henderson this time and put it over. "Wells, why did you take such a small piece off the record?" they asked him at Tia Juana. "Shucks, that 49 minute clip don't mean nothin'. It won't last." "I know it," said Bennett. "Sure it won't last. But I rode in the rain half of the way and I was scared of motor cops all the time. I took no chances and stayed inside the lime in a lot of places where I used to highball through. From now on, every fellow who tries for this record has got to outsmart the cops. They are making it tougher all the time for anyone to bust the record." Sounds reasonable. Not satisfied with getting the solo record--for the fourth time--Bennett was crazy to wipe the slate clean and take the whole works. So he laid around San Diego making his plans then slid up to Los Angeles for a sidecar to hook onto his Henderson the same job with which he just had cracked the solo record. With Ray Smith of San Diego as passenger, Bennett checked out of Tia Juana at 2:30 pm., Wednesday, June 13. On the 15th the road burners wheeled to the Canadian line, at Blaine, at 9:12 pm. Elapsed time, 54 hours, 42 minutes. This was 11 hours, 11 minutes, under the existing sidecar record set by "Cannonball" Baker and Olin Ross, with an Indian, in July, 1919. Bennett now was the all around Three Flag champ, holding both the solo and sidecar records. Baker was the only one previously to have held both titles. The time is 7:22 am, the date July 12, 1923, just a little more than a month after Bennett made his solo record and the place, Tia Juana, Mexico. Before many of the local motorcycle boys had downed their java and sinkers this morning, the Three Flag solo record had changed hands again. Paul Remaley came in on an Indian Scout from Canada and once more a Portlander had relieved a Portlander of the West's greatest road record. Remaley's time was 43 hours, 21 minutes, which blasted 2 hours, 48 minutes off Wells Bennett's mark of 46:09, set in June. Bennett had taken the solo title from Remaley by 49 minutes. This marked the second time in two months that Remaley had cracked the record with the same Scout, each time wiping out big machine figures. Police interference gave a new twist to the next Three Flag attempt. Archie Rife and A. J. Landry, pulled into Blaine, Washington with an Indian Chief sidecar rig, at 6:57am on August 2, just 52 hours, 22 minutes out of Tia Juana and two hours, 20 minutes under the record set by Wells Bennett and Ray Smith in a Henderson and a sidecar outfit the previous June 15th. This was a South to North run and here is how three men share a two-man record. Rife and Landry got along tolerably well in their aims and ambitions until they became careless at Eugene, Oregon, and drew a ticket for 60 plus. Signing the ticket was enough to let them continue but at Olympia it was different. Very much so. Here they found a "reception committee" composed of cops, who without delay, proceeded to take Rife off the machine and cast him to the hoosgow. It looked like the record trial was up Frenchman's Creek and then some. But wait! Acting as escort along this part of the course was Paul Remaley, the solo holder. Seeing Rife put incommunicado, Remaley reasoned that maybe he might hop into the saddle and bring the outfit through for a record. It was up to the cops whether they would release the machine. They would. They wanted Rife and they had Rife, and they intended to keep him but as for the machine --not interested. Without giving them a chance to reconsider, Remaley hopped into the saddle, told Landry they were going through and tailed out of inhospitable Olympia. Burned up by what happened to Rife, Remaley put the spurs to the Chief for all she had and drilled into Blaine at 6:57 in the morning. Once more both the solo and sidecar Three Flag laurels belonged to Indian. While this was the first time a substitution of riders ever was made on a Three Flag record trial, in the absence of any definite rules covering such a point and lacked any protests from previous record holders, the record generally was accepted as fair and square. Now comes the beginning of the end of the world famous Three Flag. With Indian riders just having regained both the solo and sidecar records, the Indian factory announced that it would no longer support road record attempts or advertise any road records made by Indian riders. Ace followed Indian with a similar blackout on road records made by Ace riders. But there was one last salvo of speed before the grand old Three Flag was sunk for keeps. Refusing to be bound by the edicts of Indian and Ace, and his own factory taking a non-commital stand, Wells Bennett, determined that he would go down in history as the last holder of the Three Flag solo title. After a secret departure from the Canadian border at Blaine, Washington, at noon sharp, Monday, August 27th, Bennett rolled into Tia Juana on his Henderson at 6:44 am, Wednesday, August 29, in 42 hours, 44 minutes, chopping 37 minutes off Paul Remaley's Indian Scout time, hung up July 12. Bennett was checked at both ends by custom officers. Realizing the impossibility of getting through if any suspicion of his intentions were aroused, Bennett ducked four miles east of Blaine to throw out a false lead and bypass all towns in Washington and Oregon to avoid traffic officers. He was suspicious of everyone and took no chances on being stopped. With this enforced caution necessary through parts of Washington, all of Oregon and some of California, it was necessary for Bennett to highball it whenever it seemed safe to take a chance in order to maintain an average which would put him under the record. Running under a speed handicap he was lucky to get the breaks on roads, weather and no trouble, and did the 1685 miles without sleep. So down goes the curtain on one of America's greatest road records which began with "Cannonball" Baker in 1915. The finish saw Baker's original time of 81 hours, 15 minutes, about cut in half when Bennett took the final crack at the grand old Three Flag. No record in American motorcycle history achieved the promise of the Three Flag. No other record was so bitterly contested or changed hands as often. No challenger for the record ever was killed and but one injured seriously. The Three Flag rivalry kept the sports pot boiling in the West, boiling to overflowing at times, over the span of eight years and contributed much to the engineering development of the machines which participated in it. The Three Flag was a great crucible which helped produce better motorcycles and maintain high sports interest among American riders. Hail and farewell, Three Flag! Charlie Carter served as Motorcycle Shopper's Motorcycling Historian during the first couple years of the magazine. Article Database Index | MotorcycleShopper.com — Copyright —