Seven Falls on the Road to Roubaix
On April 2, 1899, thirty-two riders left Paris for the textile city of Roubaix, about 160 miles to the north. That year the organizers had tried something new: riders could draft behind motor vehicles, a concession to the craze for paced racing that was filling velodromes across Europe. The change drew track specialists who had never raced on open roads. One of them was a slight twenty-year-old Parisian named Albert Champion, who stood about five feet seven and had spent his short career circling banked tracks behind tandems and motor pacers.
He broke away almost at once, tucked in behind a motor tricycle. The established road men chased and could not close the gap. His nearest rival, Émile Bouhours, got within about a minute at Amiens, near halfway, before his pacer struck a spectator crossing the road. On the cobbles beyond Arras, Champion slowed to walking pace over the worst stretches. His biographer, Peter Joffre Nye, counts seven falls. Each time he got back on. He rolled into the Roubaix velodrome in 8 hours, 22 minutes and 53 seconds, roughly twenty-three minutes clear of the next men. It was the only road race of his professional career.
He had entered Paris-Roubaix as a youngster. Now he is a man.
— Victor Breyer, quoted by Peter Joffre Nye in VeloNews, 2015
Within a decade that rider would be making spark plugs in Flint, Michigan, on the top floor of a Buick factory, a week before
Billy Durant incorporated General Motors. His surname would end up on one of the world's best-known spark plug brands, and his initials on another. He would hold, by Nye's count, around thirty U.S. patents, employ some 3,000 people in Flint, and die in a Paris hotel at forty-nine in circumstances that were never fully settled. His story is thinly documented next to those of the carmakers he supplied, and many popular retellings muddle which of his two companies was which. What follows sticks to what the better sources agree on and flags where they don't.
By the Numbers
Albert Champion, Racer and Industrialist
1899Year Champion won Paris–Roubaix, his only professional road race
58.8 secHis motorcycle mile on a Cambridge, Massachusetts, board track in July 1903
11 weeksTime in traction after a 1903 car-racing crash shortened his left leg by two inches
1908Year he incorporated the Champion Ignition Company to supply Buick in Flint
~30U.S. patents credited to Champion by biographer Peter Joffre Nye
~3,000People AC employed in Flint at the time of his death, per Nye
The Errand Boy at Clément
Champion was born in Paris in early April 1878, near the Arc de Triomphe. Sources give the exact day as the 2nd, 4th or 5th. His father was a coachman and his mother a washerwoman. After his father died, Albert left school at about twelve to help his mother support him and his two brothers.
Like a great many Parisian boys in the 1890s, he fell for the bicycle. He earned money doing stunt riding and then found work as an errand runner for Clément, one of the most innovative French cycle makers of the day. According to the Automotive Hall of Fame's account, his speed on deliveries caught his employer's attention, and he was encouraged to race. He won the first race he entered. Before long he was racing on weekends and working in the factory during the week, and the firm's founder, Adolphe Clément, took an interest in him.
That apprenticeship mattered more than the trophies did. Clément sold bicycles, and later motor vehicles, by winning races and publicizing the wins. When paced racing moved from human-powered tandems to motorized pacers, Clément fitted its machines with De Dion-Bouton engines, and the electrical parts, spark plugs included, were designed in-house. A teenage racer at Clément got to see, up close, how a manufacturer used the track as both a proving ground and an advertising medium. Champion would run the same play for the rest of his life.
He turned professional at about eighteen and specialized in motor-paced track racing, which was then drawing big crowds in Paris, London and Berlin. His small frame suited the discipline: tucked behind a pacer, less body meant less drag. The Parisian journalist Victor Breyer, later one of the founders of cycling's international governing body, nicknamed him the petit prodige, the little marvel.
An American Contract and an Army Summons
The Roubaix victory changed Champion's price. A Boston-area bicycle maker offered him a contract to race in the United States for the 1900 season. Several accounts note that the offer arrived at about the same time as his orders to report for compulsory military service, which could have kept him in uniform for years. He took the boat.
His American sponsor was connected to the Waltham Manufacturing Company outside Boston, whose Orient bicycles and motor vehicles were promoted by Charles Metz. Champion brought De Dion-Bouton engines with him and helped fit them to Waltham's machines, which pushed the firm toward motorcycles. For four seasons he raced on the outdoor board tracks of the East Coast circuit, from Boston and New York down to Atlanta, with trips to Chicago and St. Louis. His rivals included the Welsh star Jimmy Michael and the American Bobby Walthour. By 1903 he had won around a hundred races in America.
He also went to the automobile shows. At one in New York, according to a review of Nye's biography, he met James Ward Packard, the racing promoter Carl Fisher, and a young executive of the Hyatt Roller Bearing Company named
Alfred Sloan. None of those meetings would have seemed important at the time. Sloan's would turn out to be.
In 1903 Champion set out to ride a motorcycle a mile in under a minute. On July 12, at the Charles River track in Cambridge, Massachusetts, on land that is now part of the MIT campus, he took a heavy French machine around the board velodrome in 58.8 seconds. He lowered the mark again at later meetings in front of crowds of more than 12,000, and in September he was timed at 55.4 seconds, about 65 miles an hour. Nye describes that as the fastest mile yet driven in the United States in any motor vehicle.
The Crash at Brighton Beach
A month later speed caught up with him. Racing a Packard, the famous "Gray Wolf," at the Brighton Beach track in Brooklyn in October 1903, Champion lost control at around 50 miles an hour. He suffered a compound fracture of his left femur and spent eleven weeks in traction in a New York hospital. When he left on crutches his left leg was two inches shorter than his right. For the rest of his life he stood with one leg crossed over the other, or with his feet planted wide, to hide the difference.
Nye and the Automotive Hall of Fame agree that the convalescence is when Champion decided to go into the automobile business. By then he had spent years around engines, and he had watched more than one machine stop because its ignition failed.
He also wanted one more title. In the spring of 1904 he went back to Paris, where the French press openly mocked the idea of a limping man contesting the national championship. He compensated by fitting cranks of different lengths on each side of his bicycle. He won the 50-kilometer Grand Prix de Paris against top motor-paced specialists, then won the French 100-kilometer motor-paced championship at the Parc des Princes, beating the defending champion Henri Contenet and Émile Bouhours at an average of about 41 miles an hour. The effort reopened the injury, and surgeons at the Hôpital Boucicaut removed bone fragments from the leg. He was twenty-six, and he retired from racing at the end of that season.
The Importer Who Became a Maker
Champion stayed in Paris for a while and worked around car factories. One belonged to his friend Édouard Nieuport, a former bicycle racer and engineer whose spark plugs, magnetos and ignition parts had a good name with road-race drivers and early aviators. Champion reached an agreement to sell Nieuport's electrical parts in America.
In the spring of 1905 he returned to Boston with trunks of Nieuport plugs, coils, magnetos and batteries, and in June he incorporated the Albert Champion Company in the Cyclorama Building in Boston's South End. The money and the business structure came from partners, the brothers Frank and Robert Stranahan, with a third brother, Spencer, also involved. Champion was president, and the company bore his name, but the partners held the purse. That was a common arrangement at the time, and it would cost him dearly.
The import business went well enough that the company soon began making its own parts. By 1907 it was producing porcelain-insulated spark plugs of Champion's design with his name stamped on the side. Several sources, including Hagerty and the Automotive Hall of Fame, describe these as the first American plugs to use kiln-fired ceramic insulators, made from clay imported from France. Early plugs failed constantly. Insulators cracked, or fouled with oil and carbon, and the spark leaked away to ground instead of jumping the gap. A good ceramic insulator protected the center electrode from heat, moisture and high voltage, and in 1907 that was a real product advantage.
Champion was not a trained engineer, and the reviews of Nye's book stress the point. His talents were elsewhere. He knew which part failed in the field because he had raced on machines that failed. He had learned at Clément how a victory could sell a product. He took charge of sales himself, travelling to Detroit and other auto towns to demonstrate his plugs to manufacturers and dealers.
A Day with Billy Durant
In the summer of 1908 Champion met William C. Durant at the Buick dealership in Boston. Durant controlled Buick, then one of the best-selling car companies in America, and he was about to build something much larger. Buick was buying its spark plugs from an outside supplier, the Rajah company, and Durant thought he could make better ones more cheaply in-house. Nye, drawing on Durant's own account, says the two men spent the whole day together, with Durant asking to see Champion's office and shop.
Durant wanted Champion to bring his plugs to Flint. The obstacle was the name. Lawrence Gustin and Terry Dunham, in their history of Buick, record the exchange: Champion reported that his backers would not sell the Champion company name, and Durant replied that he was interested in the spark plugs, not the name.
I am very much interested in the name – that's my name.
— Albert Champion, as recounted by Lawrence Gustin and Terry B. Dunham, The Buick: A Complete History
Champion left the Stranahans that year. Some accounts say they forced him out, others that he chafed under their control and walked. Either way the Boston company, and the right to the Champion brand, stayed with the Stranahans. Champion went to Flint with his wife, his youngest brother Prosper, and about a dozen French workers. Durant gave them a corner of a Buick building on East Hamilton Avenue and told them to start making plugs that fit Buicks. A week after Champion arrived, on September 16, 1908, Durant incorporated General Motors, and within months he had bought Oldsmobile and Cadillac.
In October 1908 Champion incorporated the Champion Ignition Company, with its first office on the top floor of a Buick factory. Because his old partners were already selling Champion-branded plugs, the new company's product was sold as the AC plug, from his initials. Durant's holding company soon owned a stake; Flint histories date GM's purchase to 1909, though Champion kept shares until his death. By 1912 the company had its own plant at Industrial Avenue and Harriet Street, which it enlarged in 1915 and again in 1918.
A Decade in Court
Meanwhile the Stranahans were struggling. By 1910, according to Hagerty, they owed about $20,000. They were rescued by Willys-Overland, which offered to make them its exclusive spark-plug supplier on condition they move to Toledo. They moved, incorporated as the Champion Spark Plug Company, and a couple of years later won a similar contract from
Ford in Detroit, an hour to the north. As Model T production climbed, the Toledo Champion became very large and the Stranahans very rich.
They also sued. Claiming prior rights to the Champion name, which they had used since 1905, the Stranahans took Albert Champion and the Champion Ignition Company to federal court. The Flint company counter-claimed, alleging patent infringement and the poaching of its workers and engineers to learn its manufacturing methods; a 1917 ruling in the Eastern District of Michigan dealt with those counter-claims. The case dragged on for more than a decade. In 1922 the parties settled out of court. The Toledo company kept the Champion name, and the Flint company became the AC Spark Plug Company.
That settlement is the reason two rival brands carry one man's name. Champion plugs went on to Federal-Mogul and its successors. AC stayed inside General Motors, merged with GM's United Delco division in 1974, and became ACDelco. More than one writer has noted how many published histories confuse the two, and the confusion started with the founder: the man called Champion spent most of his career unable to sell a product called Champion.
Growing Inside General Motors
Durant lost control of GM to bankers in 1910, won it back, and lost it for good in 1920. Through those swings the spark-plug business kept growing, because every car GM built needed plugs, and so did every car anyone else built. In 1916 Durant set up United Motors, a group of parts makers run by Alfred Sloan that included
Charles Kettering's Delco, and folded it into GM two years later. As Sloan reorganized GM's parts businesses, AC was set up as a freestanding unit that sold to other manufacturers and to the replacement market, not just to GM's own assembly lines. The Automotive Hall of Fame and Hemmings both credit Sloan's reorganization with that change, and with making Champion president of the operation that bore his initials.
The product line grew beyond plugs. AC made speedometers and other instruments, and Nye credits Champion with the idea of lighting the speedometer so drivers could read it at night. In 1921 Champion founded the Flint Faience Tile Company next to the Harriet Street plant. Its purpose was practical: spark-plug kilns are damaged by repeated cooling and reheating, so rather than let them go cold between production runs, the company fired decorative ceramic tiles in them. Tiles from the operation still decorate parts of the old plant. GM closed the tile business in 1933, when spark-plug demand needed all the kiln time.
In 1925 AC bought the new factory of the failed Dort Motor Car Company on Flint's Dort Highway and expanded it to nearly 470,000 square feet. Abroad, Champion arranged majority interests in the Sphinx Sparking Plug Company in England and the Oleo company in France, both established plug makers, which gave AC manufacturing in its two most important European markets.
Sloan, who knew him from the New York auto shows of the early 1900s, later gave the verdict that best explains Champion's business record.
The keynote of his success was that he was never satisfied with the product of the job he was then doing. His mind was always open to the necessity for constant improvement.
— Alfred P. Sloan, quoted in Peter Joffre Nye, The Fast Times of Albert Champion, 2014
Racing, Flying and the Value of a Famous User
Champion never really stopped selling through speed. AC plugs were in Peter DePaolo's car in 1925 when he became the first Indianapolis 500 winner to average more than 100 miles an hour. The company pushed into aircraft ignition as aviation grew after the First World War.
The biggest publicity came in May 1927, when Charles Lindbergh flew the Spirit of St. Louis nonstop from New York to Paris with AC plugs in its Wright Whirlwind engine. Lindbergh praised the plugs' reliability afterward. Some accounts say the endorsement was arranged in advance, and Flint Public Library materials cited by Hemmings credit it with a burst of new growth. Flint histories add that AC plugs were later in Amelia Earhart's plane for her 1932 solo Atlantic crossing, and AC igniters fired rocket stages on the Apollo 11 mission, long after Champion was gone.
The logic was the same one he had learned at Clément thirty years earlier. A plug is invisible to the buyer, sits inside an engine, and is judged only when it fails. The most persuasive advertisement is an extreme user whose engine did not fail: a racer at Indianapolis or a pilot over the North Atlantic.
The Temper and the Scandals
The man behind the brand was harder to love than the brand. Gustin and Dunham describe a temper that showed itself almost daily on the factory floor at Harriet Street, where Champion would fire workers on the spot and then complain when they failed to turn up the next day. According to their account, an associate eventually took to following him through the plant and quietly rehiring people as fast as he dismissed them.
His private life gave the newspapers plenty of material. Nye reports that Champion, who had backed the racing driver Louis Chevrolet, pursued Chevrolet's wife. Chevrolet, much bigger than Champion, stormed into his office, and the argument in French turned into a fistfight that Champion lost badly. Nye says Chevrolet then left Flint. Champion married his childhood sweetheart from Paris in Cambridge, Massachusetts. The marriage ended in divorce, and Nye says his first wife had hired a private investigator to find out about the woman who became his second, Edna Crawford, a former chorus girl from Kansas City whom he married in 1922.
None of this made the company worse, and the record doesn't show that it hurt sales. But it's one reason GM's official histories said so little about him, and it is the backdrop to the way he died.
Death in Paris
In October 1927, five months after Lindbergh's flight, Champion and Edna sailed to Europe. The trip mixed business and pleasure: he was introducing American auto executives to European manufacturers and was due to visit AC's operations in Paris. On October 26, at a Paris hotel, he collapsed during a dinner with friends and business associates and died within the hour. He was forty-nine.
Accounts of the cause differ. Some period reports gave a medical cause, and one widely repeated version says an autopsy found a pulmonary embolism. Nye's research points to a confrontation that evening, at the Hôtel de Crillon, with Charles Brazelle, a former boxer who was involved with Edna Champion. In Nye's account Brazelle struck Champion hard in the chest, setting off a fatal heart arrhythmia. No one was charged. Edna inherited much of his fortune, and the aftermath, involving Brazelle, Edna and a contested estate, became a tabloid saga of its own.
Champion was buried in Père Lachaise Cemetery in Paris, next to his mother. In 1929 General Motors bought the remaining AC stock from his estate, and in 1933 AC became a full division of GM. At its peak the Flint operation employed about 12,000 people and ran like a small town, with its own fire department and hospital.
Two Brands, One Name
Champion was inducted into the Automotive Hall of Fame in 1977. On August 15, 2015, Flint unveiled a life-size bronze statue of him as part of the city's Back to the Bricks automotive pioneers project, placed at a discreet distance from the statue of Louis Chevrolet. By then the AC plants on Industrial Avenue and Dort Highway had long since closed.
Champion is easy to caricature as a sprinter who got lucky: he was in the right Buick showroom on the right day in 1908. The record shows something more deliberate. He identified the component that most often stranded early motorists, found a better insulating material, and set out to sell it. After losing his first company and his own name to partners who controlled the capital, he started again next to the fastest-growing customer in the industry, under his initials. He kept that business growing through a decade of litigation, two changes of control at GM and the transition from a supplier to Buick to a supplier to the whole industry. He did it without an engineering degree, relying on people who had one, and he kept the product improving, which is what Sloan remembered.
He also showed the risks of a founder whose appetite for speed and conflict extended well beyond the track. The same boldness that took him out of Paris to escape conscription, and back onto a velodrome on a shortened leg, also drove the personal feuds that shaped how he died. Both of his brands outlasted their founder, and the name the Stranahans kept is still on spark plugs today.