Critical Mass, the loosely organized bicycle group that ties up rush-hour traffic once a month in Minneapolis, has demonstrated who rules our streets. But Minneapolis isn't the only place where the Mass mob has strong-armed the police and City Hall, and left outraged motorists fuming but impotent.
Critical Mass, the loosely organized bicycle group that ties up rush-hour traffic once a month in Minneapolis, has demonstrated who rules our streets. But Minneapolis isn't the only place where the Mass mob has strong-armed the police and City Hall, and left outraged motorists fuming but impotent.
Today, Critical Mass cyclists cow commuters in more than 300 cities, from Denver to Rio de Janeiro, according to the San Francisco Chronicle.
The ride got its start in San Francisco (where else?) in 1992 with about 50 cyclists. Authorities there looked the other way as riders ran red lights and snarled traffic. Soon, the event was drawing hundreds, even thousands, of riders.
And therein lies a cautionary tale for Minneapolis.
Today, ugly confrontations are a fact of life in the City by the Bay, and traffic is a bad trip on the last Friday of the month. Cyclists sometimes scratch or beat on cars, taunt or spit at motorists, and come close to running down pedestrians.
Nevertheless, police maintain a hands-off stance, acting as little more than bystanders.
In March 2007, a mother who had brought five young girls to the city for a birthday party wandered into the path of 3,000 Critical Mass cyclists. Hundreds swarmed around her minivan, circling wildly and pounding on its windows. As the terrified children sobbed, one rider threw his bike and smashed the van's rear window. Damage totaled more than $5,000.
The incident provoked citizen outrage. But Mayor Gavin Newsom -- after a few empty threats -- declined to order arrests or more controls, and merely beefed up the ride's police escort.
How did San Francisco get into this state of anarchy?
The city ran up the white flag 10 years ago, after a pitched battle in July 1997 set a pattern of capitulation.
After negotiations, chaos
The July 1997 Critical Mass ride was touted as an unprecedented show of cooperation between police and cyclists. Authorities hoped to avoid a repeat of the previous month's disastrous ride, which had prompted then-Mayor Willie Brown to vow a law-enforcement crackdown.
But the illusion that negotiations would bring peace was quickly shattered. Instead, chaos erupted "as more than 5,000 cyclists ditched a police-approved route ... and struck out on their own, blocking on-ramps to the Bay Bridge, halting downtown traffic and provoking motorists to blows," according to the Chronicle.
Automobile traffic ground to a halt for hours. Throughout the city, violence flared as motorists took the law into their own hands. At some grid-locked intersections, they fought back by storming out of their cars and joining hands to block cyclists, while letting drivers pass. Passengers on one bike-surrounded bus jumped out and furiously kicked a bicycle with a rider perched on it.
"Many bicyclists were unperturbed by the hostility," wrote the Chronicle. "They seemed drunk with power, with controlling the streets."
Police arrested 105 cyclists on charges ranging from assault to unlawful assembly, and confiscated their bikes. An enraged Brown denounced the event as "the ultimate arrogance" and its leaders as "lawless, insurrectionist types."I absolutely insist on full prosecution," he told the public.
But in the riot's aftermath, Brown softened his rhetoric. The city's district attorney said confiscating the bikes was illegal, and police released them.
Meanwhile, defense attorneys rushed to rescue rioters from consequences. The cyclists had engaged in "protected First Amendment activity," they said. The district attorney reduced most charges to minor violations and they were all dismissed. Many San Francisco citizens continue to seethe about what they regard as inexplicably preferential treatment for Critical Mass riders. Over the years, San Francisco authorities have repeatedly threatened to clamp down on Critical Mass. They have vowed to enforce laws, and require permits or licenses. But Critical Mass continues to thumb its nose at wishy-washy city officials and feckless prosecutors.
"I don't know how this city ever got to the point where it tolerates bicyclists breaking all rules," moaned Mayor Brown back in 1997.
I think the answer is pretty clear.
Katherine Kersten kkersten@startribune.com Join the conversation at my blog, Think Again, which can be found at www.startribune.com/thinkagain.
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