The Malcolm Effect

Remembering and celebrating Malcolm Smith’s influence.

*This article was written in 2014.

Before Malcolm Smith ever saw his first motorcycle race it was motorcycle racing that killed him. It was an oval course, dirt, and he remembers going around and around, and around. Other riders were passing him and he could never quite keep the pace. And then he died. He doesn’t offer any details on how or why and it’s very possible that at that point we were all just too stunned to ask more questions.

“And that’s why I never raced flat track,” he said.

The legend is staring back at us, blinking slowly, possibly wondering why he just shared such a personal story with people he barely knew. He has told his wife about the recurring dream he had between the ages of five and 13 but not his own children and certainly no one else. Whenever he had the flu or a high temperature his mind became locked in a dusty oval of hell while his body lay in bed and sweated out the illness.

The interview was officially over but our subject was happy to keep chatting about politics, Patagonia and of course, motorcycles. The question about dirt track was asked for no better reason than curiosity.

Malcolm Smith, who finally saw his first real motorcycle race (a scramble) when he was 13, was the guy who did it all on two wheels and those diverse skills were showcased in the Oscar-nominated 1971 film “On Any Sunday.” From the Mexico 1000 to the ISDT in Spain and even the Widowmaker Hillclimb in Utah, Smith showed viewers how fun motorcycles were and how many different ways one could enjoy them.

But of all the competitive motorcycle events Smith ever did in his career, flat track wasn’t one of them. Yet, Bruce Brown didn’t need Malcolm to race the Sacramento Mile. He had Mert Lawwill for that and that may be what made “On Any Sunday” so great. In their niche of a world, Smith and Lawwill were the best but it was Brown’s movie that ensured the rest of the planet knew it as well.

Chicken or the Egg?

In the motorsports world, Malcolm and Mert are mononymous people, much like Madonna and Pelé. Brown won’t take any credit for that or for their status as living legends. “They would have been that anyway,” Brown says.

A great way to ignite an argument is to ask who did the most for motorcycle sport and who was the reason for “On Any Sunday’s” success. Was it Malcolm’s constant smile and Mert’s unflappability in a failed title defense or was the real hero of the movie Bruce Brown, the man responsible for assembling the characters, finding the money and directing the film?

Brown gets aggravated when the subject of how Mert and Malcolm became legends is brought up at all.

They’re really good at what they did and the movie showed it. I don’t want to take credit for something like that. Go on to something else.

–Bruce Brown.

Malcolm won’t let Brown off that easy. Even though he admits that, to this day, people still approach him and say he was the reason they started riding motorcycles, he’s hesitant to accept that responsibility. “But it isn’t me!” Smith says. “It’s Bruce Brown who did that. He’s the guy who could make people understand the thrill of it and the excitement of it. I was just one of the guys he used.”

When asked how the movie affected his life and career he smiles and says that Husqvarna sales increased considerably. So humble, Smith will give the spotlight to an inanimate object when he has the chance.

Like Lawwill and Brown, Malcolm has been inducted into two halls of fame: the AMA Motorcycle Hall of Fame (1998) and the Motorsports Hall of Fame (1996). For its 100^th anniversary volume in 2012, Motorcyclist magazine named Malcolm Smith the motorcyclist of the century yet he still feels like he did nothing more than work hard and take advantage of opportunities.

“I’m an opportunist,” he said. “When an opportunity arises I try to take it. All my life I have. If the guy goes wide in the corner, I take the opportunity to go underneath him. If he’s my business competitor and he’s doing something wrong I try to take some of his customers away from him.”

Best Decision Ever

Malcolm almost said ‘No’ to the biggest opportunity of his life. Luckily for him Bruce Brown was a persistent producer who knew how to cast the right people. He was also already a big fan of Smith’s. He figured that if he got a Husky just like Malcolm then he’d be able to ride just like Malcolm.

“Well, it turns out it wasn’t the bike, it was him,” Brown says. In the late 60s Smith was the service manager at Ken Johnson and Norm McDonald’s dealership, K&N Motorcycles and Brown was a customer, as was Steve McQueen. Smith’s expertise was as skilled in the shop as it was on the trails and he not only sold Brown bikes, he also fixed them.

Six months passed after Brown first told Malcolm that he wanted him to be in a motorcycle movie he was producing. In that span, Malcolm purchased the dealership from Kenny and Norm and, as a business owner, had just acquired much more responsibility.

When Brown called again, this time to let Malcolm know that shooting was about to commence, Smith said he couldn’t do it because he was overwhelmed with learning the financial side of running the business. Brown said he wasn’t starting for a couple of weeks and he would call back.

Today, it’s unimaginable to think someone else could have been in Malcolm’s spot in “On Any Sunday” but Brown said there never was a plan B. “I had never thought about it,” he says.” I wanted Malcolm and I always knew I was going to get him even if I had to cry.”

Brown didn’t have to beg. In that two weeks Malcolm determined on his own that it was something he needed to do so when Brown called back Malcolm said he had his affairs in line and was ready for the first shoot.

But there were still moments where Brown had to pry. Competitions like the ISDT and the Mexican (Baja) 1000 were events where Malcolm shined but Brown wanted to truly see how good this man was so he asked him to try out the Widowmaker hill climb, which, at the time, had not been conquered.

“Malcolm said, ‘Well, I really can’t leave the shop. How many days is it?’” Brown said.

“Three days,” Brown said. “What do you make at the shop?”

“Oh, about $100 a day,” Smith said.

“OK, then we’ll give you $300 to go Salt Lake.”

“OK.”

Bruce Brown is full of anecdotes like that but after this one he stands up from his porch swing because he wants to show us something inside. He leads us down a hallway that’s not unlike any corridor in a ranch-style home.

Keep in mind that this simple home has a view of the Pacific Ocean. The walls are neutral, the carpet is sandy colored but even after walking past a plaque that reads “certificate of nomination for award”, proof that “On Any Sunday” was nominated for an Oscar, nothing short of actually seeing them could have convinced us what was behind the coat closet double doors: hundreds of film reels from 1970 and 1971 in stacks eight high and on six shelves. “These are the originals,” Brown says.

Scrawled in black marker, the labels, now peeling and yellowing, indicate where the shoots took place. Some of the locations are unrecognizable to those familiar with the film.

Not every shoot made it into the final 96-minute long documentary. Malcolm knew Brown was blanketing the country, shooting at motocross, desert and dirt track events as well as drag racing, ice racing and even sidecar.

Although OAS filmed with Smith several times, he had no idea what was actually going to be used. Brown never told Malcolm that he was going to be one of the three main characters of the movie along with Lawwill and Steve McQueen. “I thought I was going to be two or three minutes and gone,” Smith said.

When he saw the movie in the theater for the first time he was shocked and then it hit him that he almost said no to the project.  

And that was the best decision that I ever made.

–Malcolm Smith

Eternal Youth

Malcolm and Mert are still 29, despite decades after the release of “On Any Sunday.” Mert and June (June died in 2019) still live in the same house in Tiburon, Calif. even though the neighborhood is now completely unrecognizable from the scene in the film. Homes, also with views of the Golden Gate Bridge, surround the Lawwill house. The garage where Mert tuned his Harley-Davidson is now a living room with a billiards table.

Mert likes to point out the exact spot where, in the film, he closely examined his transmission’s gearing. He now has a new and bigger garage where he developed the first mountain bike suspension and now prosthetics for amputees.

June was pregnant in the early days of filming and she wouldn’t allow Brown to film her because she “didn’t want to be pregnant forever.” Mrs. Lawwill may have been the only person to foreshadow the success of the movie. Mert was too busy trying to win another championship to give something like that much thought.

“[Bruce] was just another guy and if the movie turned out great, then that’s really cool,” Lawwill said.

Malcolm said that, even though he enjoyed the making of it, never imagined a lifetime of recognition from it.

I really thought the movie, in a year, would be completely forgotten, shelved, and nobody would even remember it.

–Malcolm Smith

Mert still gets phone calls from fans. Some come in the middle of the night because the caller is on a different continent. On birthdays his phone is busy.

Malcolm shakes lots of hands at dealer meetings and smiles when people give him the credit for convincing them to ride motorcycles. His favorite moments are when children think he is Malcolm Smith’s grandfather.

Unable to understand how the elder in front of them could possibly be the same man they saw in the movie their dad showed them the previous night, they deduce that this must be Malcolm’s grandfather. But they shake his hand and ask him to sign a hat because he’s still pretty cool.

“They’re still selling the movie, kids are still watching it,” Malcolm says, incredulously.

Mission Accomplished

Brown’s goal with the movie was to change the public’s perception of who motorcycle riders were. That’s why the early minutes of the movie include a scene with a clean-shaven man walking through San Francisco in a suit.

That’s why the movie features a lanky yank in El Escorial, Spain going through a six day torture test to represent The United States of America.

At the time Mert Lawwill competed at the highest level of American motorcycle sport. Mert was someone we admired with disbelief because of his talent and courage.

Malcolm Smith represented the rest of us. Technically, he was never a professional motorcycle rider. He won scores of events but not for number one plates or championships. His role in “On Any Sunday” was to make us believe that we could do it as well and he was presented as the guy who rides in a variety of events and disciplines.

As Brown narrated, “He seems to enjoy it more than anyone and he’s also the best.”

“His friendliness and his relaxed manner made people want to also ride a motorcycle like he does,” Lawwill said of his friend. “He’s done a tremendous amount, along with Bruce, that has made so many people want to get started in motorcycling, which they may have never had.”

That’s why approximately 24 minutes of the film includes Malcolm riding everything from desert events, trials, hill climb, the ISDT, a grand prix and ‘cow trailing’.

The last five and a half minutes featured some of the most magical riding scenes ever filmed. Steve McQueen, Mert Lawill and Malcolm Smith ripping down trails three wide near San Juan Capistrano and jumping (jumping!) sand dunes in the Baja peninsula of Mexico. In 1970, Airtime was something only Evel Knievel did.

The final scenes were filmed in three locations; Baja, Brown’s ranch in San Juan Capistrano and Camp Pendleton, a Marine Corps Base Camp that sits on 17 miles of prime Pacific coastline north of San Diego.

When Brown called the military to get into Pendleton they told him ‘no way.’ When McQueen called they said ‘how’s tomorrow?’  

The final scenes were part of Bruce’s original plan before he shot a single frame of film. It was those moments, three buddies riding together, having fun, which represented why people ride motorcycles. Flanked by a movie star and the nation’s top professional motorcycle racer, we wanted to think that Malcolm was one of us and we were just like him.

Realistically, we were the ones stuck in the mud bog at the Elsinore Grand Prix but because Malcolm’s smile and skills convinced so many to get to the starting line and trailhead, and because that work has continued beyond “On Any Sunday”, Smith still receives awards and accolades.

Even though his body isn’t what it used to be and his speed has slowed a bit, Malcolm Smith won’t stop smiling.

And that may be the biggest reason of all why Bruce Brown knew he had to be a main man in the movie, which is still considered the greatest ever made on motorcycling.