BSA Gold Star
... he’d have been a Gold Star, the sneering lip on two wheels that tore its way through the ’50s. The Clubman DBD34 was The King
If you’re looking for a 500cc motorcycle that defines the ’50s, BSA’S Gold Star is it. This was the decade when Britain started to creep out of post-war austerity, when rock ’n’ roll started to change the musical landscape, when the rocker emerged – and when the cult of the café racer came to its peak. The ’50s seemed made for the Gold Star and the Goldie - especially in its ultimate DBD34 Clubman form – was certainly made for the ’50s.
The origins of the Gold Star go back to 1937, when Wal Handley came out of retirement and broke BSA’S self-imposed exile from racing to score a convincing win at Brooklands. In doing so, he recorded a fastest lap of 107.57mph – more than enough to earn him and his factory-tuned Empire Star a Brooklands Gold Star, awarded for any lap over 100mph. The following year, BSA listed a new, sporting Gold Star model in their line-up and a legend was born.
But, fine machines though the pre-war Gold Stars were, it was the ’50s when the Goldie reached its zenith. When production of the Gold Star resumed in 1949, development soon took it from 350cc to 500cc and from ZB32/34 through BB, CB and DB incarnations, to the definitive DBD34 Clubman model, introduced for 1956. It would prove to be the end of development for the Gold Star, despite the Goldie remaining in BSA’S range until 1963. With the production of Lucas magnetos coming to an end and BSA management
being keen to push the more modern, unit-construction models, the Gold Star had run out of time.
In the late ’50s, though, there was little in the 500 class to touch a DBD34 for fast road use. The Gold Star engine’s performance and reputation are all the more remarkable when you consider that even a late DBD model is essentially a B33 unit with an all-alloy top end, bigger valves, GP carburettor, high-compression pistons, hotter cam, and a megaphone silencer. Precise specifications for the engine could be chosen by the customer from a bewildering variety of catalogued parts. And, in the case of the DBD34 in Clubman trim, there was the option of a huge 190mm front brake, too, while clip-ons, rearset footrests and a 1½in GP carb were standard fare. The Gold Star was to sporting motorcycles what a bespoke suit was to tailoring.
Small wonder, then, that the Gold Star’s appeal remains both deep and enduring. Today, a Clubman-spec DBD34 is the most sought-after, collectable and valuable of the Gold Star line. It’s a machine that inspires passion, lust and dedication in equal measure – and no-one appreciates that more than DBD34 owner John Birchall. John has been the chairman of the Gold Star Owners Club for the past few years, so you’d expect him to be a fan. But his route to Gold Star ownership has been slightly unusual.
“I’ve been into bikes since I was a lad,” he says. “Mum and dad had a Panther Model 100 with a Watsonian child/ adult sidecar attached as family transport and I had a little 125 James as a field bike. As soon as I got to 16, I got a Norman B4 – dad put his Panther in as part exchange – but I’d already got my eye on a Gold Star. I used to go up to Henstocks Motorcycles in Mansfield on Saturdays and there was a bunch of lads who used to turn up there every week on Goldies. I was just in awe of them – the bikes, not the lads. I passed my test as soon as I could, but my dad said: ‘You’re not having a Gold Star – you can forget that.’ He thought they were hooligan bikes.”
John had a break from bikes for a while after getting hit by a truck and ending up unconscious in hospital for five days. “But you never get bikes out of your system,” he continues. “I started working at Copes Motorcycles in Mansfield as a salesman and used to ride the odd smaller bike to and from work. Then I got married and later my wife Sue and I had a BSA A65 and Palma sidecar.”
John could never quite get the Gold Star thing out of his system, though. And about 25 years ago, he started to go to the local meetings of the Gold Star Owners Club. They called the group the North Notts Roadhammers, John recalls. “I didn’t have a Goldie, of course, but the group made me feel really welcome and it was good just to be around the bikes again.” And, after he’d been going to club meetings for a while, an extraordinary opportunity arose.
“A guy called Ian Gates got in touch with the club secretary,
Malcolm Clarke,” John recalls. “He said he’d been following the group through the run reports in the club magazine and he’d worked out we organised more runs than any other group. He had a Gold Star that he wasn’t able to use because he worked away from home so much, and he asked Malcolm if there was anyone in the group that would like to use his bike for the summer. Malcolm asked me and, of course, I jumped at the chance.
“When I went to collect the bike, I asked Ian if he wanted me to sign anything – like some sort of agreement for the loan of the bike. He just said: ‘Why would I want you to sign anything? You’ll look after it, won’t you?’ I was just amazed at his trust and generosity. In the end, I had the bike on loan for five years. Then Ian told me he’d decided to sell it – and wanted to sell it to me. I told him I couldn’t afford it, even at a very reasonable price. But one of my sons was working in a car dealership and the salesman there was able to get me a really good low-interest finance deal for the bike. I still wasn’t convinced, but my four boys (John’s brood includes multiple world sidecar champions Ben and Tom Birchall, by the way) said I should go for it – and even offered to make the payments for me between them. I took the plunge and here we are, 20 years later, still with the Goldie.”
That’s an amazing story. And, talking to John today, I can tell how much he appreciates being able to own the bike of his dreams. The enthusiasm bubbles over from him as he tells me a little more about the machine that has been part of his life for a quarter of a century.
The first thing I did when I first got the bike on loan from Ian was research its history,” he says. “It’s not a matching numbers bike. Actually, there are surprising few about. Ian Jackson, our club registrar, has copies of the factory despatch books that reveal my bike was originally fitted with a 350 engine and was originally supplied to Comerfords in Thames Ditton. From there, it went to the States and by the time I got it, it had this 500cc engine in it. Both the engine and frame numbers have been confirmed as genuine factory stampings, though, so it is the real thing. Personally, I’m not too bothered about the matching numbers thing. As long as it’s all genuine Gold Star, that’s good enough for me.”
And John’s bike very nearly is. The only deviations from factory specification are the Carillo conrod (a vital upgrade for any hard-ridden Goldie), a Bob Newby belt primary drive, a cartridge return-side oil filter and very neat fuel taps that are actually gas fittings. “They don’t leak,” smiles John. “And all the modifications were already on the bike when I got it.”
These days, there are numerous modifications and upgrades available to tame the single-minded nature of the Gold Star. But John prefers to enjoy his bike as close to how it would have been in 1957 as possible. “You can get a clutch conversion (which uses a Suzuki clutch), 12-volt electrics,
electronic magneto conversions, Mikuni carbs – and even an electric start,” he says. “Each to their own, but I like to keep the bike as standard as possible. All that modern stuff is cheating, isn’t it?”
Whether it is or not, John’s purist stance means his Gold Star remains remarkably close to how it would have been when its original owner first rode it 64 years ago. RRT2 gearbox, all-or-nothing GP carburettor, high-compression piston, clip-ons and rearsets. It’s a time capsule taste of the café racer era. It certainly looks the part and sounds the part. In the end, though, there’s only one way to get a real insight into just what makes a genuine ’50s motorcycling icon. And that’s to ride it.
John has spared any possible embarrassment for me by firing up his Goldie and warming it up while I pull on helmet and gloves. The GP carb has no tickover provision, so John is blipping the throttle to keep the engine spinning. I really hope he’s got understanding neighbours (he certainly seems to have) as the ‘silencer’ could definitely be open to charges of misrepresentation. Now’s not the time to test the neighbours’ tolerance, I think to myself, so I swing a leg over the seat, hook the gearbox up into first and head off in search of some open roads.
First, though, I have to negotiate a few miles of stop/start traffic, T-junctions, traffic lights and all the other impediments to enjoying a bike like this in town. And then there are the Goldie’s own foibles to contend with. The high first gear in the RRT2 ’box isn’t actually that much of an issue, to be honest. A little more slipping of the clutch than with most gearboxes is needed before I can let the clutch lever fully home, but it certainly doesn’t spoil the ride. John has warned me that the clutch does tend to overheat and slip when used constantly, so I have to get used to selecting neutral when I stop – or just before, once the clutch starts to show signs of getting hot and bothered. And the uncompromising riding position gets a little uncomfortable, too. I can’t wait to break out of town. Finally, I clear the last set of traffic lights and the Goldie and I are free. Out on my own in the countryside, with fast, sweeping roads and remarkably little traffic, the Gold Star totally seduces me. A few miles of fast cruising cools the clutch and normal service is resumed. John has asked me to keep the revs below 5000rpm – but to be honest, that’s no great hardship. Decent power comes in just over 3000rpm, once the GP carb clears its throat and the big inlet valve is sucking in mixture as fast as it can. Then I can just roll on the throttle and enjoy. This is a deceptively fast bike. Keeping within the speed limit – even on an empty dualcarriageway – and respecting John’s rev limit, really only requires the first three gear ratios. It’s no wonder Gold Stars dominated the Clubmans TT back in the ’50s.
Out in its natural environment of fast, empty roads, it’s hard to find fault with the Goldie. I’d like the optional 190mm tls front brake – the 8in sls unit is marginal when I get the Goldie tramping on a bit – but that’s about it. Yes, in town it’s an awkward, ill-tempered, impractical beast of a bike. But it more than makes up for that when you get somewhere you can really let it off the leash. That’s what the Clubman DBD34 is all about. A perfect motorcycle? No. What is? But a nailed on icon? Without a doubt. It’s a marvellous motorcycle now, but in the ’50s it must have seemed genuinely awesome. And what am I saying about perfection anyway? After 25 years of ownership, to John Birchall, his DBD34 is most definitely his perfect motorcycle.
JOHN BIRCHALL ‘I’M NOT BOTHERED ABOUT MATCHING NUMBERS. IF IT’S ALL GENUINE GOLD STAR, IT’S GOOD ENOUGH’