Armando Magri Autobiography - "Then and Now"

[EricOlson]

A beer after the race. Willie Saedler, Armando Magri, Mecca Cross, Riverside, 1948.jpg
A beer after the race. Willie Saedler, Armando Magri, Mecca Cross, Riverside, 1948

[RichO]

Thanks Eric for posting this great photo of a much younger Bill Seadler. I was fortunate to end up with all his archives that contained an unbelievable amount of motorcycle history in this area.

[indian301]

Thanks This is great stuff!

[EricOlson]

Road testing Motorcycles for the California Highway Patrol
From the autobiography of Armando Magri

During my tenure working for Frank Murray, the dealership did repair work on a fleet of Harley-Davidsons purchased by the California Highway Patrol. I was selected to do the testing on these machines for high-speed wobble, tire performance, brakes and handling. Over the years I also did road testing for Firestone, Goodyear, and U.S. Royal tire companies.

On a timed course, I tested the first CHP vehicle to run over 100 mph, a 1939 knucklehead. I also tested the first safety wheels, by letting air out of the tires and running 70 mph. The wheels handled so well, I was able to take my hands off the handlebars.

Different accessories, like seats, windshields, and fairings could make a significant difference in the performance of a machine at top speed. I tested various set-ups for the Harley-Davidson factory.

On one occasion, I ran a model through speed traps several times with the throttle wide open. I brought it in and told Charlie Warden (a former motorcycle officer now in charge of the motorcycle division) that the motorcycle was dangerous at those speeds, loaded up with this particular equipment.

Charlie wasn’t completely satisfied with my runs, thinking I didn’t have the bike wide open, but he was wrong. He got on to try the bike out himself. When he failed to return in a reasonable amount of time, we went out searching for him. Sure enough, the bike had gone into a high speed wobble.

This happens when a machine is unbalanced, and, at certain high speeds, the front forks begin an intense wobble from side-to-side. The only thing one can do is let off the throttle and hold on for dear life while the bike slows down.

Charlie was lucky to have landed in a mud puddle when the bike threw him. I made him wear gloves before taking off, and that saved his hands. As he slid across the pavement for a short distance, the asphalt completely chewed up the palms of those gloves.

He ended up with broken ribs, a broken wrist, skins and bruises, but that’s all. I had taken several non-racing test rides, even into my 70’s, but never had an accident or took a spill. All Charlie had to say was, “you sure were right, Magri.”

During the dealership years, motorcycle officers were always asking me to road test their machine, adjust the carburetor, or check some minor thing. They pestered me at work, on my lunch hours, on the road somewhere, even at home. One evening, an officer named De Lisle asked me to take another motorcycle and test it against his, to check his top speed. While I was trying to catch him, a concerned citizen reported a civilian chasing after a CHP officer. We were waved over by a patrol car and explained everything, and it was fine.

Over the decades I was justly rewarded for the work I did on officers’ bikes. Many of them looked the other way when they caught me speeding. They even let my son off a few times. Ken once told me an officer said, “I’m letting you off with a warning because of the work your father has done for the Highway Patrol. But I’m telling you right now that you’re a punk, and to slow down!” And Ken said he answered like I taught him. “Yes officer, I’m sorry officer, thank you officer.”

As an aside, after I first read this I (Eric Olson) had to wonder if my grandfather and Armando may have crossed paths back in the day. My grandfather was a CHP motorcycle officer in the Sacramento area in 30's and 40's before the war, so it seems like a good likelihood.

Charlie Warden on a knucklehead back in 1937, when he was a motorcycle officer..jpg
Charlie Warden on a knucklehead back in 1937, when he was a motorcycle officer.

CALIFO~1.JPG California Highway Patrol motorcycles lined up in back of Frank Murray's Harley-Davidson dealership in Sacramento, 1930

A special Harley-Davidson test model, 1960s.jpg
A special Harley-Davidson test model, 1960s

CHP-Sacto rotate.jpg My grandfather, Bill Cowan, back row second from the left in uniform

Grandpa Cowan on his CHP Harley Davidson.jpg
Bill Cowan on his CHP motorcycle. I wonder if Armando did any road testing for him?

[EricOlson]

Thanks Eric for posting this great photo of a much younger Bill Seadler. I was fortunate to end up with all his archives that contained an unbelievable amount of motorcycle history in this area.

Rich, there are a bunch more pictures from Armando's collection that aren't necessarily tied to any stories. When I'm done posting the stories I'll post some of the miscellaneous pictures. Maybe Bill Seadler will be in some of them. And next time I'm in town I'll have to come over and check out some of those archives!

[EricOlson]

Chapter 38, Buying the Harley-Davidson dealership from Murray, a Dream Come True
From the Autobiography of Armando Magri

Murray had me in a managerial position during the post-war years. Frank wanted me to learn all aspects of the business and gave me full reign. To me this was heaven, because I liked Sacramento, the job paid well, I was working with motorcycles and the public as well.

The next few years went smoothly as I settled into a permanent position. Lu and I had a daughter, Terrie, and life out in Rio Linda was good. I learned the routine of the dealership and was proud of my work.

One day in September, 1949, Frank asked me to come into his office after work. He wanted to have a discussion. I wondered what in hell the deal was, and it bugged me all afternoon trying to figure out what it might be. After work he told me that he and his wife, Gladys, wanted to retire. He asked if I would be interested in buying the dealership.

I was speechless.

Frank was only 56 years old, and never gave the slightest inclination that he would offer me the dealership. My head was spinning as I drove up the driveway and walked inside to talk it over with Lu. We talked late that night, discussing all the possibilities, good and bad, and working through them. We wanted the dealership. The big problem was coming up with enough money.

We tried to get a loan at the Capitol National Bank in Sacramento. Frank banked there and thought it was the most logical place to go. The loan officer looked at our whole plan and made us feel like a couple of morons, practically laughing in our faces. Frank got perturbed at our treatment and talked the manager into firing the loan officer. Capitol National Bank, incidentally, went out of business several years later.

Then Frank asked us to talk with a friend of his named Vandenberg, who was president a Bank of America branch at 8th and I Streets. Mr. Vandenberg was very nice, happy to take a chance on us. Lu and I established what would be a long relationship with this bank. They not only handled the flooring, working with the factory back in Milwaukee, but also agreed to handle all motorcycle contracts. To this day I do all my banking with them.

Frank and Gladys were willing to personally handle the contract for buying the business. This eliminated a huge obstacle because Lu and I were never able to show sufficient collateral for a large personal loan. To get to Frank’s purchase price of $18,000 we had to scramble.

We cashed in all of the war bonds, all of Terrie’s bonds, and mortgaged the Chevy for a $750 bank loan.
After talking it over with Pa Tritten, he became the first relative to loan us money, and we used Magri Manor for collateral. We also received smaller loans from my mom, brother Jody and his wife Helen, and from Lu’s sister Betty and her husband Homer, who also cashed in their war bonds on our behalf.

We eventually paid all these loans back at four percent interest. The going rate was two and a half. We were finally ready to approach the Murrays with our offer.

Frank wasn’t the easiest guy to talk with, and when said we had raised $13,000 he answered, “Humph. That sure isn’t a hell of a lot.” For a moment or two, the four of us sat in complete silence.

Lu and I looked completely deflated. After a four month struggle to secure what we thought was a lot of money, our options were exhausted. We couldn’t offer any more. Besides, some of that 13 thousand needed to stay behind as working capital.

Finally Gladys spoke up and said, “Frank, if you ask me, I think that’s pretty good.” Bless her heart, she persuaded Frank to work with our offer and consummate a deal. We put eight thousand down towards Frank’s $18,000 price tag, and used the other five thousand for working capital.

Gladys taught Lu her unorthodox, but airtight, accounting system. Back then most Harley dealerships were a “mom and pop” operation. So would ours be one. On February 1st, 1950, with Lu as my confidant and bookkeeper, we took the biggest dice roll of our lives. Frank J. Murray Harley-Davidson Motorcycles became Armando Magri Harley-Davidson Motorcycles.

Frank told me, “Armando, you’re a personality. Take that personality, and your passion for motorcycles, and build your dealership around it.”

Frank Murray in his dealership, 1948.jpg
Frank Murray in his dealership, 1948

New Harley dealer in town, Armando Magri, 1950.jpg
New Harley dealer in town, Armando Magri, 1950

Armando Magri Harley-Davidson Motorcycles, 815 12th Street, Sacramento, 1950.jpg
Armando Magri Harley-Davidson Motorcycles, 815 12th Street, Sacramento, 1950

101507467_885256991959216_5975075814523089993_n.jpg

1949 Letter from John Harley to Armando Magri.jpg 1949 Letter from John Harley to Armando Magri

[EricOlson]

Letter from Arthur Davidson to Armando Magri, as he and Lu bought the Sacramento Harley-Davidson dealership from.jpg Letter from Arthur Davidson to Armando Magri, as he and Lu bought the Sacramento Harley-Davidson dealership from Frank and Gladys Murray, 1950

Lu Magri and daughter Terrie, Rio Linda, 1949. 'Terrie wouldnt let me go off to work without a quick Harley ride.jpg
Lu Magri and daughter Terrie, Rio Linda, 1949. "Terrie wouldn't let me go off to work without a quick Harley ride".

Armando, Lu, Terrie Magri, Rio Linda, 1950.jpg
Armando, Lu, Terrie Magri, Rio Linda, 1950

When Armando and Lu Magri had the #1 and #2 motorcycle license plates in California, Rio Linda, 1950.jpg
When Armando and Lu Magri had the #1 and #2 motorcycle license plates in California, Rio Linda, 1950

[EricOlson]

Chapter 39, How KCRA used me and a Harley-Davidson to scoop CBS with opening footage of the 1960 Winter Olympics
From the Autobiography of Armando Magri

It’s a miracle that the 1960 Winter Olympics were ever awarded to Squaw Valley, USA, because they were practically promised to Innsbruck, Austria. But the resort’s owner, Alexander Cushing, showed up in Paris in 1955 with a small model of this beautiful California ski resort near Lake Tahoe and seduced the committee with his vision.

Those winter games were the largest ever held to that time, the first ever in the western United States, the first to include an Olympic Village for its athletes, and the first to be telecast live. CBS paid $40,000 for the television rights, laying miles of cable across the mountain and throughout the site.

But KCRA TV cameraman Harry Sweet and I scooped CBS with a Harley-Davidson. Here’s how it happened.

A week before the Olympic Games our Capital City Motorcycle Club had its annual snow run up to Reno, and we took cameraman Harry Sweet along with us. KCRA news (Channel 3 in Sacramento) wanted to do a small feature on the event. Harry filmed us firing up bikes in front of my store, and included shots of us roaring under the Canterbury overpass.

Three days before the start of the Olympics, Northern California produced a mountain storm with blizzard conditions. KCRA got worried because they were sending Harry and sportscaster Stu Nahan up there for opening ceremonies. The station planned on driving Sweet’s film to Reno, then flying it by light aircraft to Sacramento for processing and broadcast.

One day before the opening KCRA news director Dave Hume called me. He had been worrying about driving the film to Reno, and asked if I thought a motorcycle could deliver it to the airport any faster. I had many miles of experience riding in snow, and told Hume I would be willing to try it.

“But why not bring the film directly to Sacramento,” I asked. “That would be considerably faster, and with a blizzard still raging, a small plane might not be able to take off,” I said. He took me up on the offer.

I rode a used Harley 74” with a windshield, saddle bags, and a lap apron. I brought a skid chain for the rear wheel, and was ready to leave the store by 8:00 am. It was February 20, 1960.

With all of Hume’s anxiety about getting me up there, he didn’t show up until 9:00 am. Jeez, I could have used that extra hour. Hume handed me a camera lens Harry needed, and told me to meet Harry at the front gates as soon as the ceremonies were over.

I had to stop and install the skid chain 60 miles up, at Gold Run. I snowed almost all the way. By the time that chain was on, my hands were nearly frozen. It was still snowing as I headed for Cisco, where a stop to answer nature’s call was needed. It’s quite a chore, with 3 layers of pants to go through.

As I popped back out from the forest, the Highway Patrolman was standing next to the bike. He said, “You’re riding too fast. You had better tone it down from 55 mph to 35 mph. That’s the legal limit with chains.” I explained to him everything; the TV station, the news director, the film, the lens, opening ceremonies. He turned out to be a pretty good guy and let me go on, saying only to be careful.

The ride down old Donner Summit got especially intense because road conditions suddenly became slippery. I was doing fine, but had to be cautious. Halfway down I passed a Cadillac with three beautiful girls in the back. They waved to me and I waved back, eyeballing them a bit (an old habit). When I looked ahead there was a snow plow in front of me. I hit the brakes a little too much and, wham, the bike slid right out from under me. No harm done. The Cadillac stopped and everyone came out to help, so I did get to meet those girls, but felt really foolish.

Approaching Squaw Valley, a string of cars was backed up for three miles just outside of Truckee. The road was an icy mess, with deep ruts, which tipped me over a second time. No harm again, but picking up the bike, pushing it, starting it up, doing all the usual tasks, became even more difficult in these conditions. Nevertheless the motorcycle enabled me to ride between cars, pass whole bunch of them, and make my way to the front gate of Squaw Valley.

There were NO PARKING signs all over the place. But when I found a guard and told him I was from a major television network (a tiny exaggeration), he quickly found a place to park the Harley. Getting caught up in my role I told him “keep an eye on it for me, will you?” “Yes sir, yes sir,” he said, as if I was some kind of a big deal.

There were about 47,000 people at the Winter Olympics that day, but Harry was nowhere in sight. At least he wasn’t at the front gates, so after a half hour I made my way over to Blyth Memorial Arena, thinking he might be there. They wanted $27.50 just to get inside, which I wasn’t about to pay.

So I found another guard and told him I rode all the way from Sacramento just to deliver this camera lens to KCRA’s Harry Sweet. He was very gracious and let me in. As you can imaging, Olympic security has changed quite a bit since those innocent days.

Almost immediately I ran into Stu Nahan. Stu told me to hold tight, “Harry will be back in a few minutes.” It turned out that lens was pretty important, as it allowed Harry to get both close and long shots.

To describe what he filmed, I’ll quote directly from Harry’s own autobiography: “the storm broke and the sky cleared just as Vice President Richard Nixon declared the games officially open. Walt Disney, who was Head of Pageantry, oversaw the release of 2000 doves into the cold air. A marching band of 4,000 Californians provided the musical accompaniment for Andrea Mead Lawrence as she skied down Papoose Peak to hand the Olympic torch to Kenneth Henry, who then skated around the ice rink and climbed the stairs to light the Olympic Flame.”
-from “The Legacy of Harry Sweet”

After filming the ceremonies Harry handed me four rolls of 16mm film and took a couple of photos with me and the Harley. He said, “Good luck, Armando,” and I headed for Sacramento. It was 3:30 pm.

It began to snow again, and snowed like crazy for the first part of my return trip. But like that race in Marion, Indiana, I decided this was one of those times to let it all hang out. The snow turned into rain at Blue Canyon, where I pulled over to remove the skid chain. Then, encountering no difficulties, it was full bore straight to KCRA.

Once at the station I ran up to the newsroom and handed the film straight to Dave Hume. He asked me what the station owed me for the effort, and I answered, “No charge. This one is on me.” The time was 5:41, I had made the trip back in 2 hours and 11 minutes. It was easily the coldest motorcycle ride I ever took.

Hume stuck a $20 bill in my shirt pocket, thrilled because he knew the film could be developed in time for their next newscast.

The film was indeed developed and edited in time for airing on KCRA’s early evening newscast. That was the first TV showing, anywhere in the world, of the 1960 Squaw Valley Games. KCRA scooped the CBS network by an hour and a half.

When CBS executives asked how KCRA got the film so fast, and were told “by motorcycle,” they couldn’t believe it.

That episode was quite an achievement for KCRA and Harry. He wrote an article about it, on my behalf, for Harley-Davidson’s Enthusiast magazine. Harry went on to be a veteran photographer and cameraman for 38 years, developed his own film archive, then retired to travel and write his autobiography.

Every so often when the Olympics come around, someone at KCRA does a story about Harry and me. He never forgets to give me a plug. In Harry’s version I rode back to Sacramento in less than two hours, and received $50 for my Olympic riding skills. I’ve been kidding Harry for years about where that other $30 went.

Armando Magri on a Capital City Motorcycle Club snow run, 1954.jpg Armando Magri on a Capital City Motorcycle Club snow run, 1954

103261571_887794661705449_8452143341347580793_o.jpg
Armando Magri, about to carry film footage of the 1960 Winter Olympics. Photo by Harry Sweet

Armando Magri, about to carry film footage of the 1960 Winter Olympics. Photo by Harry Sweet.jpg
Armando with the footage. Photo by Harry Sweet

102685264_887795501705365_9080503573809412338_o.jpg

103974203_887796848371897_6794055016918564024_n.jpg
Harry Sweet

[EricOlson]

This ends the stories written by Armando for his autobiography. I have a few other items, stories written about him by others, stories involving him, and of course a lot of pictures, that I'll continue to post. Armando sure did a lot in his life, and I'm glad he wrote it down and photographed it so the tales could live on after he's gone. It's the people and the stories, as much as the old bikes themselves, that I love about the AMCA.

[EricOlson]

Here is an article that Armando wrote for the December 1959 issue of "The Enthusiast", and a few extra pictures to go with it.

1. Motorcyclist Article 1.jpg
1. Motorcyclist Article 2.jpg

Armando Magri with a Harley single on a fishing trip, Northern California, 1953.jpg Armando Magri with a Harley single on a fishing trip, Northern California, 1953

Armando Magri, trail riding and fishing with the little American Harleys, 1950s.jpg
Armando Magri, trail riding and fishing with the little American Harleys, 1950s

LUMAGR~1.JPG
Lu Magri on a fishing trip with her little Harley single, with friend Marty Palermo in the background, 1940s, photo by Armando Magri.

[EricOlson]

ARMAND~4.JPG Armando's friend, Marty Palermo riding a little Harley-Davidson single across the river on a fishing trip, late 1950s, photo by Armando Magri.

117643396_938176423333939_6811166824021546978_o.jpg
BOBREE~1.JPG Bob Reedy, Sac Bee photographer, loading Harley-Davidson trail bikes into Armando's shop truck, with its hand-painted sign boards, on a hunting and fishing trip, Sierras, 1958

Armando Magri's little Harley-Davidson single and a deer he bagged in Colorado, 1961.jpg Armando Magri's little Harley-Davidson single and a deer he bagged in Colorado, 1961

photo of Armando Magri on a Colorado deer hunting trip, somewhere around 1959-1961.jpg
Armando Magri on a Colorado deer hunting trip

[T. Cotten]

Your effort is greatly appreciated, Eric!

....Cotten

[EricOlson]

Your effort is greatly appreciated, Eric!

....Cotten

No problem Cotten. The effort was mostly Armando's in living the life and writing it down. And his son Ken for first putting it out. I'm glad I'm able to share it here though, as I know many others really dig this history as much as I do. It's good stuff, no doubt!

[EricOlson]

Well, I was a bit early in saying that was the last story from his autobiography. I almost missed the following:

My Associations with the Harley and Davidson Families
From the Autobiography of Armando Magri

Being a Harley-Davidson dealer for 33 years, I had the opportunity to meet several members of the two families through several generations:

Arthur Davidson (first generation)
Of the original founders, Arthur Davidson was the first family member I knew personally. I first met him on one of his numerous trips out to California, to visit Harley dealers. He was an exceptionally nice guy. Along with Frank and Gladys Murray, Arthur was a great help in arranging for Lu and I to buy the dealership in 1950.

Over the years Arthur gave a lot of good advice, showing Lu and I examples of business procedures we could follow. When we secured the dealership, he sent a letter advising us to take things one step at a time, which is exactly what we did.

William Harley (first generation)
Mr. Harley was the second of the original founders that I met. My cousin Ozzie Menconi and I were at the factory in 1938, getting my motorcycle overhauled. I had just placed third at the National Miniature TT Championship, and Mr. Harley was very interested in hearing about my unlikely performance. Walter C. Davidson Jr. suggested that the factory pay for my knucklehead to be overhauled so I could win more race victories for the brand, and Mr. Harley agreed.

One day in 1942, when I was stationed at Fort Knox, I walked into Colonel Waters office and Mr. Harley was sitting with him. “Hello Magri, how are you,” asked Mr. Harley.

The Colonel seemed surprised and Mr. Harley if he knew me. “I sure do! This young man can really ride a motorcycle.”

The factory planned to send an experimental Harley down from Milwaukee. It was a shaft-drive model called an XA, which was a rip-off of the BMW shaft design. It was needed for desert warfare where chain-driven, bikes were impractical in the sand. He told the Colonel that when it arrived, he wanted me to do the test riding. After the tests, I told them how well the XA ran. It became a highly successful addition to the motorcycle corps. The factory made approximately 1,100 of these models, one of which I later added to my motorcycle collection.

After that meeting, Mr. Harley and I became friends, but the friendship did not last long, as he passed away the very next year of heart failure at the age of 62.

William Davidson (second generation)
I met William (Bill) Davidson and his two sons, William G. and John A. Davidson at the New Models showing in 1952 in Milwaukee. At first I thought he was a bit stuffy. But we met again later when he invited fellow dealer Aubrey Isham and I to see the new Harley-Davidson snowmobiles they were testing at the factory. Later that night, he invited Aubrey and I to a dinner being held for the graduating police officers from the University of Wisconsin.

Bill’s brother Walter was surprised to see us there. “How the hell did you guys get in?” When we told him Bill invited us, he was a bit perplexed. It turned out that Walter didn’t have the authority to invite us, Bill did. Over the years I got to know Bill better. He was a white-collar worker all the way, but after you got to know him, there was no pretense. Every time I was at the factory, I visited Bill in his office.

Walter Davidson Jr. (second generation)
I met Walter at the 1938 National Miniature TT in Marion, Indiana. Walter was a huge race fan. That day he saw me win my heat on the knucklehead I had ridden out to Indiana on. He also watched me claw my way up to third place in the main event, after I accidentally started in neutral, with the riders leaving me behind.

Walter came up and introduced himself, and invited me to get my bike overhauled at the factory. He wanted me to enter another local race where an Indian rider was winning everything, but the race got rained out. From then on we were close friends. He was always ready to help me, and loaned me a factory WLDR for my second try at the Daytona 200. During the war, he invited me up from Fort Knox to Milwaukee, to have dinner with him and his wife Betty, and spend the night at their home in Brown Deer.

Over the years we would see each other at the factory, or when he came out to Sacramento. On one visit, I wanted to take him out to a nice lunch, and he said, “Heck no. Let’s go across the street and eat at Jim Dennys diner.” Owner Jim Van Nort was a real character at his well known 10-stool diner. He would regularly pester Walter (albeit all in fun) about extending the warranty on the little Harley single he bought to go trail riding.

In 1952, Walter and his wife, Katherine, invited Bud Oden, the Reno Harley dealer, and me out to his place for pheasant hunting. Then he decided my car was too shabby and arranged for me to get a new Chevy from a Milwaukee dealer, with a big discount. When I said that, even with the discount, Lu and I couldn’t afford a new car just then, he put the expense on our dealership pars account, so I could pay it off in time.

In 1969 Walter retired from the Harley-Davidson Motor Company. A new corporation was taking over, AMF, and Walter wanted nothing to do with them. Aubrey Isham and I helped him clean out his office on his last day of work. Then he took us out to dinner.

Walter was a great, fun-loving guy who cussed like a sailor, but that never bothered me. Walter passed away in 1974, at the age of 61.

John Harley (second generation)
I met John Harley, William’s son, at Daytona in 1941, where we had a great time together all week long. I didn’t see him again until 1943, when I was stationed at Fort Knox. John and I were both instructors at the Motorcycle School.

John and his wife Kay also invited me out to their home for dinner and an overnight stay. I will never forget that they served raw duck. It wasn’t that good, but John kept kidding Kay about how delicious it was. John and Kay owned a home on a lake, so the next day they taught me how to water ski, which I was pretty good at. After that, I saw John whenever I was out at the factory.

John A. Davidson (third generation)
Lu and I both became acquainted with John and his wife Chris through dealers meeting and conventions. On one year, the new models showing was held at Lake Tahoe. We all saw Liza Minelli at Harrahs, and afterwards had fun gambling at the blackjack table.

We were all winning, and at some point Chris said we should quit while we were ahead. On the way back to our rooms, John smacked Lu on the butt and said “We sure had a good time, didn’t we?” Lu was surprised a bit because John was such a formal and reserved guy, not like his brother Willie G. But we got him to come out of his shell a little bit that night.

John held the presidency of Harley-Davidson from 1971, during the AMF takeover years, until he retired in 1981.

William G. Davidson (third generation)
Willie G., as he is commonly known as, was the only member of the Harleys or the Davidsons to go to art school. As a result, he became the Chief of Design at the factory. He is the celebrity of the families, and everybody who is seriously involved in motorcycling knows who he is. He has been called Harley-Davidson’s “genius of styling.”

Although I first met him in 1952, it wasn’t until 1957 that we really got to know each other. He was attending Art Center in Pasadena at the time, and came up to Fresno with Gordon Davidson, his cousin, and factory representative Sam Greco. We wanted to go do a little honky-tonking that night and asked a gas station attendant where we could have a good time in Fresno. He answered, “You guys from out of town are all alike, always looking for some nookie.”

Well, that was the furthest thing from our minds, but we had a good laugh over it. We managed to find a couple of night spots ourselves and got a bit tipsy that night, but it was all in good fun. Lu and I had great times with Willie G and Nancy whenever they come out to California. We would go shopping in Old Sacramento, go out to dinner, or just hang at our house in Arden Park.

Willie and Lu shared a love for collecting antique toy motorcycles, so he was always interested in what she had. Whenever Willie and Nancy wanted to go on a Redwood Run, I would have a Harely set up and waiting for them. Willie attended several bike runs, which gave him more insight into ways Harley owners customized their own bikes. Then he translated those influences into new production models that made a stock Harley look like a custom bike right off the showroom floor.

Nancy always said that she felt a rush of adrenalin whenever they pulled into a camp and found such a large participation of motorcycle from all over the country.

The highlight of our friendship was in 1983, our last year as Harley dealers, when Lu and I were in Milwaukee for a convention. Willie and Nancy us and Bill and Phylis Chaney, the Pleasant Hill dealers, out to their house for a Bar-B-Q. Three generations of the Davidsons were there. Then next day, they took us to see a floral garden and out for a boat ride on Lake Michigan.

Even after retirement we met up with Willie and Nancy when they invited us on a company cruise to the Bahamas that the factory sponsored for all of the Harley dealers and wives. We had been retired for four years, but Willie didn’t care about that, so he had us invited.

Armando with George Harais and William Davidson, 1952.jpg
Armando with George Harais and William Davidson, 1952

ATHARR~1.JPG At Harrah's Casino in Lake Tahoe with John and Willie G. Davidson (front and back on the right side), late 1970s.

John and Chris Davidson at Daytona, 1978.jpg
John and Chris Davidson at Daytona, 1978

John, Nancy and Willie G. Davidson at Daytona, 1978, photo by Armando Magri.jpg
John, Nancy and Willie G. Davidson at Daytona, 1978, photo by Armando Magri

HARLEY~1.JPG Harley-Davidson dealers meeting in the Bahamas, with district manager Ray Weser, the Walkers, the Chaneys, the Perkins, the Magris and Osterellos, 1987

[EricOlson]

Jim Van Nort and Armando Magri.jpg
Jim Van Nort of Jim Denny's restaurant and Armando Magri

A letter from Willie G.jpg A letter from Willie G

A1984C~1.JPG A 1984 Christmas greeting from Willie G. and Nancy Davidson, to Armando and Lu Magri, showing some of Willie G.'s watercolor skills