Evel Knievel - An American Hero

I grew up in England in the 1970's. That's not strictly true; I never grew up, but England in the Seventies was a dreary place compared to today. The adults worried about three-day weeks, power cuts, strikes - even the gravediggers went on strike, leaving bodies un-buried. Us kids played outdoors and didn't have a care - we had some cool toys and TV shows like the Banana Splits, Six Million-Dollar Man and Starksy & Hutch to keep us entertained.

 ABOVE: Posters - Viva Knievel was one of two feature films. 

BELOW: A Topps card series was produced. A complete set is highly collectable and hard to find.

Toys varied from spacehoppers to chopper bikes to 'force wands' - a lightsaber rip-off that was basically a torch with a plastic tube attached. Often these toys weren't always as cool as the adverts hinted - one such toy being the Evel Knievel Stunt Cycle.

 ABOVE & BELOW: A small selection of the massive marketing and promotional tie-ins; somehow my Stunt Cycle never went this well!

This was a gyro-powered motorbike toy with a bendy rubber rider that you sat on a small 'Energizer' platform which had to be frantically wound up to release the bike. On the tv advert the bike zoomed off to perform various tricks and stunts. On our carpet it tangled up and slid sideways into the skirting board. But, young and gauche readers may ask... who - or what was Evel Knievel?.

Robert Craig Knievel entered the World on October 17th 1938, in Butte, Montana. Of German descent, he was raised by his Grandparents. Aged eight, he saw an Auto Daredevil Show, which may have been the inspiration for what was to come. He worked as a mine-driller, and drove an earth-mover, but was fired for doing 'wheelies' in it.

He drifted into rodeo and ski-jumping before joining the US Army (Rather than go to jail). In and out of trouble with the law for poaching, he settled down into the motocross circuit and sold insurance for awhile before turning to the profession for which he became a legend, the name 'Evel' chosen as it rhymed with his surname.

 ABOVE: Evel Knievel in the late sixties.

BELOW: And in 1971. The Jumps were getting bigger.

Jumping a twenty-foot crate filled with rattlesnakes and mountain lions, Knievel just made it. Expanding the show, he started performing bigger and better jumps and switched to jumping cars. One thing Evel Knievel is remembered for is crashing. Man, did that guy wipe out. During his career he suffered nearly four hundred and fifty bone fractures. (Theres only 206 bones in a human skeleton.)

After a few minor accidents - including one where a speeding motorbike hit him in the 'family department' he shattered his arm and ribs in a 1966 jump over twelve cars. The following year he was badly hurt attempting to jump the fountains at Caesar's Palace, Las Vegas.

 BELOW: The Caesar's Palace jump goes terribly wrong.

 ABOVE: If it had wheels, Knievel jumped it.


The 1970's saw Knievel come to Worldwide fame; in 1974 he attempted to jump the Snake River Canyon in a rocket-bike (more rocket than bike). His drogue 'chute opened prematurely and he drifted to the canyon floor, narrowly missing drowning in the process.

 ABOVE & BELOW: The notorious Snake River Canyon jump.

Knievel tried repeatedly to get US Government permission to jump the Grand Canyon and even considered a jump between skyscrapers in New York. As if that wasn't enough, he planned to jump a tank filled with sharks as a tribute to the film Jaws. A cameraman lost an eye in a rehearsal accident.

ABOVE: There was even an Evel Knievel pinball machine.

In 1975 England thrilled to the sight of his Wembley Stadium jump over 13 single-decker buses. He broke his pelvis, thanked the crowd, announced his retirement... and walked off to a waiting ambulance... (He then changed his mind and continued his career).

 ABOVE: The Wembley crash. 

BELOW: Houston Astrodome, 1970.

Later in life it all caught up with him. He continued to jump, mainly shorter distances taking less risks. After an assault on a promoter who had written a book containing allegations of abusive behaviour and drug use, Knievel was sentenced to six months and lost his sponsorship deals. His remaining public appearances were mainly to help promote his son's own career as a daredevil.

 BELOW: Warming up the Astrodome crowd.

 As his career progressed, Knievel's trademark Jumpsuits became more flamboyant. They were designed by Bill Belew, who designed Elvis Presley's famous stage suit.

Robbie Knievel has since gone on to break twenty World records, mainly because he used specially adapted Honda 500cc bikes rather than the heavier Harley Davidson's his Father used.

 ABOVE: It's in the blood; Robbie Knievel pops a wheelie for the fans. 

BELOW: An American legend in his iconic jumpsuit. Knievel campaigned for children's road safety and advocated Helmet use.

Evel Knievel battled his fear, injuries, strokes and diabetes. He died aged 69 on November 30, 2007 from pulmonary disease. Perhaps more so to an English kid from the seventies, he is a hero. An American Hero.

The Charity Shop Book Review II

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Yes, by popular request* here it is... The Charity Shop Book Review II – The Revenge.

In the spirit of the season, I'll do you two for the price of one... can't say fairer than that Guv'nor...

So, Nosher; the title of today's tome, the Nosher being one Frederick Bernard Powell. Born in Camberwell between the Wars, 'Nosher' got his name partly from his Dad, but mainly because of his famous appetite. The book itself – perhaps mistakenly – is marketed as one of those 'Hard-Nut-London-Street-Fighter' memoirs, rather than what seems to me the memoirs of an extraordinary life.

Let me qualify that; yes, the fists certainly fly on these pages, but its the circumstances; throwing Oliver Reed out of a party, 'Minding' (English slang for Bodyguarding and generally 'looking after' the client or V.I.P.) Sammy Davis Jnr and Paul Getty, then there's the Movies – Nosher Powell was a film extra and later Stuntman. And you've never heard of him. You might have seen him, if you've ever watched (And this is a tiny percentage of the list) Ben Hur, The Longest Day, Lawrence of Arabia, Cleopatra, Superman – every Bond film from From Russia with Love to...point made yet? )

My main problem (Apart from the head I've got from a night out) is this; reviewing books is, frankly the errand of a fool – we all read the same print, but the images and feelings the words invoke are, essentially, internal. Put simply, one man's meat. I like this book – I'm reading it for the second time, and that puts it in a small club. It's not Tolstoy (I couldn't spell Dozhtoyesvksy.) (Still can't – but as, Enid Blyton was the first name to mind, you're lucky to get Tolstoy.) or Oscar Wilde, but frank in-yer-face honesty - told in appropriate parlance from the man who has literally seen the lot and shares the anecdotes with us.

Example; Sammy Davis Jnr was increasingly riled that his Minder seemed to know – and be known by – people everywhere. This came to a head when the Billionaire Paul Getty walked past the Davis Jnr entourage – 'Good Evening Nosher' 'Good Evening, Paul'. The entertainer was left incredulous, but this is from a man who, when on National Service was locked in a ship's brig, only to find the jailer was an old mate from his Covent garden days. One of those people you find who know people everywhere, the kind that if set adrift on a raft in the ocean would sail into port two days later on a friend's yacht.

The whole thing is delivered with refreshing candour, with just enough dirt dished to avoid lawsuits or wooden overcoats – the latter a distinct possibility given the alarming nature of some of the faces in the book. Highly reccomended! - as you can see, skinflint here paid a measly three quid, but seek this one out from Blake publishing (ISBN 1-85782-371-0)

For more on the Powell family and their incredible contribution to the 007 Films, visit

http://www.jamesbondwiki.com/page/The+family+who+do+stunts+for+James+Bond

*Well, its early days.

The Man Who Saved Britain – A Personal journey into the disturbing World of James Bond.

I'll resist the usual temptations to sink into cheap cliché' (the kind of cliché that sticks to your skin like $5 perfume on a hot Chicago ni...Sorry.) So don your shoulder holsters and white tux and meet Winder. Simon Winder.

Well... anyway, this is one that prompts mixed feelings. Any Bond fans are advised (As in the book) to look elsewhere, as this is no fact-filled gadget and babe compendium – rather a sideways look at the self-image of Great Britain after the war. The whole theme of 'Britishness' and its importance to a nation recovering from a second helping of agony is the spine of the book. 'Our' Empire was just an echo, a faded mirage – the reality; a bankrupt island facing ruinous unemployment as the World started buying cars from the nations we had fought so hard to defeat was, for many simply unbearable. Fear and mistrust over immigration from former dependencies added fuel to a brush fire of resentment from the newly-independent colonies.

So, Bond – now, me buy book with snazzy cover me learny lesson; I was in a hurry, it said James Bond and those rascals at Picador put some Bond-Babe silhouettes on the cover. Lucky. Its a fascinating read; even though it is more about how Bond is a cipher, the man we want to see in the mirror: a kind of plaster for national soreness than the books or films themselves. The reality intrudes in jarring hilarity; Winder is an Oxford old-boy (It shows; he knows all the words) and one of his teachers was reputedly an MI6 recruiter; whilst Winder was never asked (Could you ever...kill a man: if it was your duty, I mean?) the only known spy recruited was a boy who had been photographed in Nazi uniform; not the cleverest bit of head-hunting. Since Winder's book (Which came out before Craig's Casino Royale) (In my opinion the best Bond since Connery) pre-dates the recent scandal involving a spy padlocked in a bag – possibly a bondage game gone wrong, it confirms he hit the button; MI6 aren't famous for their successes.

The problem MI6 (Actually the Secret Intelligence Service) will have is obvious; they win quite a few, but they'd have to kill you (They don't. Apparently.). Shouting 'We got your top Nuclear scientist working for us' to the Iranians would simply have them top him before changing the locks and hiring another one; it wouldn't work. So, we get to hear about the failures; much like the SAS (whose famous mission Bravo-Two-Zero went awry in lots of ways; you simply never hear about the secret stuff that goes well ). Also, in the films the image is of guns and glamour, the suave spy in the casino playing Mr.Funnyname for millions and a night with his missus; unlike the civil-service reality so carefully hidden behind all that green glass by the Thames. Stella Rimington (ex-Chief of MI5*) nails the lid on the lie with her fantastically revealing quote on the back cover; 'Poor Bond is little more than a prop to Winder's obsession with the evils of Empire... and his desire to denigrate Britain's intelligence services'. The real 'M' is an office manager.

Mind you, she has a point; Winder doesn't exactly hide his lefty-liberal leanings, he clearly despises the Britain of Empire – yes, it doesn't stand up to any amount of scrutiny, yes, it was a racist resources grab by a rapacious nation that caused plenty of bloodshed (even when we pulled out, leaving rival factions to slash it out for the top seats), but he overdoes it for me – it will seem like sneering to many readers.

To sum it up, its an odd one; I'm the biggest James Bond fan around, here's a man who hates everything post-Goldfinger rubbishing a lot of my favourite films... and I enjoyed reading his book. Witty, entertainment that requires a fair bit of intelligence to absorb and understand, plus it might be hard to get the feel of it if you weren't born here. Winder is just young enough to be from my generation (Me 1967, He 1963) so a lot of the references circa-1970's are memory-lane gold for me. I'd recommend this to anyone that wants a wider take on the whole British thing...

(www.picador.com ISBN 978-0-330-44246-6)

*MI5 – The Security Service; responsible for Internal security issues, largely anti-terror work and protecting national interests and industrial secrets; if a terrorist wants to play the fizzy-rucksack game abroad, it's the Secret Intelligence Service (Bond's employers if he were real), but in the UK it's the Security Service. The 'MI' refers to the time when both were nominally under the umbrella of Military Intelligence – it changed years ago, but MI5/6 sounds sexier to the media.