ABSTRACT
Early in the 1924 Tour de France, the popular defending champion Henri Pélissier dropped out, complaining of the race's humiliating rules. Couched in the language of worker rights and magnified by the Communist press in particular, his remarks sparked a national debate about the race's abusive nature that lasted through the 1930s. A new representation of the Tour racer was born: the 'forçat de la route' ('convict labourer of the road'), a sinister counterpoint to the conventional celebration of racers as 'giants of the road' and 'survivors' of the most difficult event in all of sport. To ensure that the Tour lived up to its reputation, its organizers - the sports daily L'Auto - had indeed created numerous rules. Some imposed a rigorous self-sufficiency on Tour racers: for example, they had to effect all repairs entirely on their own. Responding to bourgeois spectators outraged at the racers' 'scandalous' conduct, the organizers had also formulated other rules, fining contestants for begging, stealing, cursing, public urination, and acts of aggression against fans, race officials, and each other. Invoking these rules and building on a widespread contemporary understanding of long-distance cycling as harsh physical labour, L'Auto portrayed the race as a civilizing process that transformed its uncouth contestants into honourable, disciplined 'ouvriers de la pédale — 'pedal workers' — worthy of emulation by their lower-class fans.
