The Vespa Club of Britain (VCB)

Fifty years of continuous existence is quite an achievement – no other UK scooter club even comes close – and the VCB deserves credit for staying the course. The basic facts are that the club was founded in May 1952 with just six branches and rose to a peak of around one hundred and fifty active branches in 1960 by which time it had a full-time staff of five. Since those days membership has declined, but much of the structure and traditions remain.

In comprehending the nature of the VCB it is necessary to understand something of Piaggio itself. The Pontadera Company has traditionally been a paternalistic employer, providing housing, schooling, childcare and leisure facilities from “cradle to grave”. Being by far the largest employer in Pontadera the local economy must have been hugely dependant on the successful implementation of his policy in the aftermath of WW2. A paternalistic style of this kind is characterised by certain things. Great loyalty is expected, and this leads the employee to identify closely with the company and its values. A tightly organised structure also has to evolve to keep everything together.

Around 1954 Piaggio decided to organise the disparate national Vespa clubs under an umbrella organisation controlled by itself – the FIV. Naturally the form and structure of the FIV reflected Piaggio’s own view of the world. Thus specific conditions were laid down for membership of national clubs, the most notable one being that there should be no “all makes” policy. In addition a common style was determined (badges, logos etc) that reinforced the feeling of belonging, and the whole thing came together every year at Eurovespa.

In Britain the emerging VCB adopted this ethos with enthusiasm. It should not be a surprise that this was so. Britain in the early fifties was very different from that of the late sixties. The recent experience of the war – and subsequent National Service – meant that acceptance of authority and a reliance on central organisation was second nature to much of the population. It would also be fair to say that at this point ownership of the Vespa was largely by the professional middle classes – people who have a natural affinity with operating organisational structures.

Consequently, far from rebelling against the impositions of structure by the FIV, the VCB took it all to heart and even added a few layers of its own. As the club expanded the National Council was supplemented by Regional Councils and innumerable sub committees to organise rallies or whatever. Everything was debated, minuted, circulated. There was a full-time secretariat in London (subsidised by Douglas) to make sure everything ran smoothly.

And run smoothly it did. Vespa clubs in the fifties and early sixties were integrated into mainstream society in a way that seems unimaginable now. Vespa club floats were prominent in carnivals and pageants throughout the country every summer, and the rallies (and even routine activities) were eagerly reported upon by the local press. There were visits to country houses, fire stations, theatres and telephone exchanges. When the VCB went to Eurovespa it did so in some style –riding through Europe in convoy with everyone in yellow boiler suits and Union Jacks everywhere.

In an age before E-mail and credit cards (many people still didn’t even have a telephone) organising all this was much harder than today. So it was that the apparently bureaucratic VCB organisation came into its own, allowing everything to take place as it should (subject to the weather!). The VCB at this time was an organisation to be reckoned with. Curiously, British society appears to retain almost no memory of any of this, scooters being forever associated in its mind with spotlights and broken deckchairs.

Alas and alack, rising living standards meant that after around 1961 potential new members could afford a car, so decline set in. The full time staff had to go, and eventually Douglas itself disappeared. The Club was reduced to a hard core that largely comprised of those interested in the sporting side. However the structure and traditions of the Club remained, ready to take advantage of any upturn in interest in scooters. When such an event took place there was a benefit to membership numbers for a while, but it became apparent that later generations of scooterists had less interest in organisation than their forbears. Nor in the specific activities that the club had to offer. One vignette serves to illustrate this. Amongst the nightmare of mud, matt black cutdowns, terrible food and more mud that was DISC 85 appeared an incongruous sight. The VCB had organised a gymkhana –complete with sponges for throwing into buckets and a seesaw- in exactly the same way it had done so since the fifties. Naturally there were few takers. In one sense the sight was ludicrous, but in another it represented an almost magnificent (and very British) show of defiance.

During the nineties, in particular, attempts were made to get the VCB more involved in what is now considered to be mainstream scooter culture, but the strains involved proved too much, leaving the club to ponder upon its purpose. There was, however, one area of brightness. As long ago as 1964 a Veteran Vespa Club (VVC) branch of the VCB was formed, and this has now expanded to the point where it accounts for nearly half of the total VCB membership. The VVC has been able to create a fifties scooter club type of environment since those who own vintage Vespas tend to be amenable to such ideas. The remainder of the VCB, on the other has to try and tempt owners of new Vespas (and Piaggio automatics) to join in something similar. This is not always an easy thing to do.

The VCB is possibly the last remaining unbroken link to British scootering in the fifties. There is still an AGM followed by a formal dinner. It still sends a “British Team” to Eurovespa. It still has its gymkhanas and speeches and cog badges. Continuity is so great that some of the officers of the club have been involved since its inception in 1952. It’s easy to take all of this for granted, but once continuity has been lost it can never be regained. At the end of the day I’d be prepared to bet that the VCB will still be around to celebrate its one-hundredth birthday.


Ashley Lenton

(Originally published in the Autumn 2002 edition of Scooterist Scene)

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