Super Cycle Article

K
E L S E Y
T
K e l se y ’s c u st o m c r e a t i o n s w e r e
b u i l t o n c h a sse s sp o r t i n g l o n g ,
lon g f r on t f or k s r otatin g on
m a ssi v e l y m o l d e d n e c k s, b i g f i v e
in ch wid e r ear ween ies an d
h a i r l i n e m o l d e d g a s t a n k s...
H E
K R A F T S M A N
A K a p su l e K h n r o n i c l e o f t h e K u st o m K r a z e
( O r , K y c l e K r e a t o r G e t s K r i p se d , b u t K o n t i n u e s)
W
hat befalls old motorcycle customizers? Do they jes fade away like anodized colors in the
noonday sun? Or do they glisten on and on like polished 316 stainless steel? Well, kick back,
bros, and we'll tell you a-story of how one crafty craftsman has continued—and paint you a thumbnail
history of modified American motorcycle machinations to boot.
The 1990s have ushered in an exploding worldwide interest in custom, heavyweight two-wheeled
SuperCycle December 1994
machines (spelled, for the most part H-A-R-L-E-Y, natcherly). From massive meets like Sturgis
and Daytona—to a plethora of potent and prettied-up parts purveyors—to fanzines that even
feature foxy female riders, foreign-built ‘FLs and fantastic, phosphorescent flame jobs—the entire
global village has gone cycle cuckoo.
But would you believe it's not the first time? Back in the late 1960s and early 1970s an
earlier motorcycle heyday flowered—that of the "chopper."
And, one of thc East Coast's leading wielders-of-the-axe and
bike painters was Kelsey Martin. Bikes with his distinctive
multi-color ribbon-and-scroll decorations showed up at the
major meets, took trophies galore at the shows, and were
plastered all over the pages of publications with now-quaintsounding tides like Street Chopper, Big Bike and Cycle Guide.
Kelsey's Kustoms, as his shop in Beverly, Massachusetts, was
called, crafted everything from wheeled dragsters to show
bikes to machines. Kelsey was one of the first to, take the
customizing principles developed on the Harley chopper and
apply them to other makes-—including BSA, Triumph, and
even Honda. Kelsey's custom creations were built on chassis
sporting long, long front forks rotating on massively molded
necks, big five- inch-wide rear weenies and hairline molded gas
ranks that could bang in The Louvre, artistically
H i s r a d i c a l l y -r o d d e d e n g i n e s sp r o u t e d sp e c i a l t i e s
l i k e su p e r c h a r g e r s a n d m a g n e t o s; e v e r y e x t e r n a l
g ew g a w —f r o m b a n j o h o l t s t o t a p p et t o p s t o
c r a n k c a se s— w a s d i p p e d i n sh i n y st u f f
.
Powerplants? His radically-rodded engines sprouted specialties like superchargers and magnetos and every external
gewgaw—from banjo holts to tappet tops to crankcases—was dipped in a lustrous layer of shiny stuff so deep it looked like you
could dive in.
H
is "Long Gone" was a perfect case in point. It was one of the first full-blown (literally, it had a Gilmer belt-driven
Roots unit) Triumph show customs to be featured in a mainstream motorcycle magazine.
One of his most noted Triumph street bikes, the elaborately painted and plated Ghost, showed up in a centerspread layout,
parked in a graveyard, appropriately. A later project involved a Corvair six-cylinder engine, Latham supercharger and speciallymade right-angle drive—all in one two-wheeled motorcycle.
But Kelsey could also put together simple and clean machines with the best of them. His spare and functional
Aggravation, a 650cc Bonneville twin in a rigid frame, even ended up in the pages of normally-sacred Harley ground-—in a
magazine that featured a non-Harley only once in a blue moon.
Building talents aside, Kelsey had a sense of humor as wry as 100-year-old rye. He referred to low-slung custom bikes as
"toilets," due to the upright seating position and the proximity of one's butt to terra firma. So when he decided to chop a Super
Glide, it got dubbed, not surprisingly, ''SuperToilet." And what rode on the back of SuperToilet-type mounts? Hoodsies, of
course...we're not talking ice cream cups, mind you ...
Word of Kelsey's talents began to spread and before long, auto customers beat a path to his door. His shop grew by leaps
and bounds. I le was engulfed with paint and bodywork orders for anything and everything automotive from street rods to
restorations to replicas. Kelsey’s palette of choice in the door-slammer world was the 1930s era Ford—suitably louvered, flamed,
chopped and channeled.
It was good timing, for the modified motorcycle craze was fading for the time being. Harley entered the AMF-era with its
attendant production problems. The trickle of bland, but efficient and powerful big bikes from Asia turned into a tidal wave—so
the real raison d'etre (we throw in those fancy French words every once inna while to show a little class) for motorcycle
chopping—less weight and more speed—was diluted.
And, on the other side of the world, the British motorcycle industry's financial troubles back home were having their
effect on this side of the pond. Fewer and fewer new English bikes were being sold, thus the supply to customize dwindled and
then disappeared. And soon, the "chopper" motorcycle movement largely went the way of the hula hoop and the Edsel—although
a small group of hardcore enthusiasts continued to build modified motorcycles—-with forks less than a city block long.
H e r e f e r r e d t o l o w -sl u n g c u st o m
b i k e s a s "t o i l e t s," d u e t o t h e u p r i g h t
se a t i n g p o si t i o n a n d t h e p r o x i m i t y
o f o n e 's b u t t t o t e r r a f i r m a . S o w h e n
h e d e c i d e d t o c h o p a Su p e r G l i d e , i t
g o t d u b b e d , n o t su r p r i si n g l y ,
''S u p e r T o i l e t ."
Special note: just before
presstime, word reached us that
Kelsey Martin had been seriously
injured in a fire. But true to
form, his skin grafts took in
record time and he was out of the
hospital and back on the scene
(at his home in Massachusetts) in
a matter of weeks, confounding
all she experts who said it
couldn’t be done. Knowing
Kelsey, we coulda told 'em he'd
beat the odds.
N
ow it is almost three decades later and the cycle (pun intended) has crested again. There's been a rebirth of interest in the general public
about two-wheeled machines. You can even tell from television. Around 1970, it was the motorcycle-mounted hero called Bronson.
(Remember how he used a roadside rock to "rebuild" his Super Glide?) This season, in the "Renegade" series a new nineties protagonist once again plies
his TV trade on two wheels. To many of us aficionados, motorcycle's magnificent madness never really left. But to some extent this new popular revival
centers on Harley's rebirth and now has now grown to a broad and deep aftermarket for modifications, magazines, memorabilia and more.
Kelsey, who has always stayed on top of the wave, now works in the video industry. But he still keeps active in the custom car business. And, in
the past few years we'd heard rumors that he was returning to his roots, by branching out to collect and rework a few two-wheelers here and there.
What a hoard he has! SuperCycle was lucky enough to catch up with him recently and finally get a rare glimpse of his amazing assortment of
two-wheeled iron, We're not talking about just a mere basement full. Kelsey has bikes by the bushel—in a garage, a storage shed, an outbuilding, even a
tent. Parts? They're stashed by the ton in cabinets, boxes, attics. The machines run the full gamut of styles, types and models. He's got a brace of oldstyle choppers—including his original Long Gone and Ghost, albeit in need of some refurbishment after a long train of owners.
A passel of go-fast modifieds is headed up by a twin-engined drag bike. And he has a small squadron of interesting and unusual stockers—like
several examples of the "Hurricane" triple, uniquely styled with a fiberglass fairing from the mind of noted industrial designer Craig Vetter. In fact,
Kelsey has a particular fondness for the three-cylindered BSA Rocket and Triumph Trident. Between complete bikes, plus pares to build many more,
he's literally got dozens. A measure of his collection's size can be seen in an assortment of matched three-cylinder carburetor sets-—a whole storage
cabinet full. Or, in Rocket III and Trident gas tanks that hang from the rafters like a legion of sleeping bats.
These days, with a lotta old-time scooters out of print, when Kelsey occasionally puts together a hike for himself it's often as likely to be a
restored original model as a radical custom. His current pet project is the rebirth of a little side valve military single. It's complete!)' correct right down
to die olive-drab paint scheme, but that finish— -reflecting the use of up-to-date processes like powder coating — is certainly rat more cherry than
anything that ever saw combat. He's also currently bringing back to life an X-75 Hurricane that he calls his "crash-and-burn' special. That's because it is
a combination of two bikes. One crashed, destroying the frame; the other burned, consuming the unique gas tank-scat bodywork. He's taken two totalled
machines and cleverly resurrected one complete bike that salvages the best of both.
All of this isn't to say that Kelsey probably doesn't have an old-style chopper still left up his sleeve. But regardless of whether it's restoration
or customization, we figure he's got plenty of raw material to last the lifetime of both himself and his son, who’s also been bitten by the bike-building
bug. Though a lot has changed in the past quarter century, it's nice to know thai at least one noted customizer is still doing his thing., .at a moderate pace
that will easily keep him going another bunch of decades.
— by the Kamikaze Kameraman — photos by the Kamikaze Kamera man