When you hear the phrase 10 wild facts, you probably picture modern drama, but the very first Tours were a circus of cheating, brawls, and downright absurdity. Below we count down the most jaw‑dropping stories from the race’s embryonic days, proving that the Tour’s early chapters were wilder than any reality TV show.
10 That Little Cheater!
Maurice Garin, the victor of the inaugural 1903 Tour and its 1904 edition, earned the nickname “The Little Chimney Sweep” because of his diminutive stature. He wasn’t just a champion cyclist; he was also a character straight out of a novel. Garin was often seen with a cigarette dangling from his lips, and he proudly claimed that his 1893 triumph—considered a precursor to the Tour—was powered by a diet of red wine, tapioca, hot chocolate, and oysters. While the menu sounds more like a feast for a gourmand than a training regimen, it somehow worked for him.
The real scandal unfolded during the 1903 race. Garin became infamous for actively sabotaging his rivals: he would shove riders off their bicycles, stomp on their wheels to damage them, and even hop onto a passing train to leapfrog ahead of the competition. His reputation for cheating was so notorious that officials stripped him of the 1904 title, though his 1903 victory still stands. Garin died decades later as a celebrated hero in France and a legend worldwide.
9 Hot Off the Presses
Contrary to popular belief, the Tour de France wasn’t born to glorify cycling; it was a clever marketing ploy. In 1903, journalist Géo Lefèvre worked for a struggling newspaper called “L’Auto.” To boost sales, he proposed a massive race that the paper could exclusively cover. His editor, former champion cyclist Henri Desgrange, loved the idea, but early interest was dismal—only fifteen riders had signed up a week before the planned start.
Desgrange delayed the launch by a month, trimmed the race from a proposed five‑week marathon to eighteen days, and offered a bonus of five francs per day to the next fifty participants. That incentive spurred over sixty cyclists to enlist, and the Tour quickly became a media sensation, catapulting “L’Auto” out of its financial slump.
8 No Referees
Today’s Tour is a high‑tech spectacle with officials stationed in every town, cars trailing the peloton, and cameras on every corner. In the early 1900s, none of that existed. The winner’s prize—3,000 francs—equated to roughly two years’ wages for a manual laborer, attracting both seasoned pros and hopeful amateurs hungry for cash.
With almost no race officials scattered across the countryside and no night‑time surveillance, riders resorted to all sorts of cheating. Some hopped onto trains between stages, while others scattered tacks and nails on the road to puncture competitors’ tires. A few even took shortcuts or caught rides on passing vehicles during the grueling night legs. The lack of oversight made these tactics virtually impossible to police.
7 Shaming the Loser
In the very first Tour, the last rider in each segment had to wear a literal red lantern—a practice borrowed from railway safety, where a red lantern at the caboose signaled the train’s end. The 1903 “lanterne rouge” lagged so far behind that he crossed the finish line two days after Maurice Garin’s triumphant arrival.
The red lantern quickly became a mark of shame, but over the decades it evolved into a badge of honor. Today, the term “lanterne rouge” designates the rider who finishes last in a classification, and many cyclists wear it with pride, embracing the idea that if you can’t win, you can at least lose with style.
6 Poisoning Problems
While modern doping scandals dominate headlines, the early Tours featured a more sinister form of sabotage: poisoning. In 1903, favorite Hippolyte Aucouturier was forced to abandon the race after suffering severe stomach cramps caused by a bottle of poisoned lemonade handed to him by a spectator.
The menace didn’t stop there. In 1911, stage winner Paul Duboc fell victim to a spiked drink allegedly administered by rival François Lafourcade. Duboc’s ensuing illness left him vomiting on the roadside, while Lafourcade managed to frame an innocent cyclist for the attack. Poisoning was a dark, yet common, weapon in the early Tour’s arsenal.
5 Fight! Fight! Fight!
The 1904 Tour proved to be the dirtiest edition yet. Mid‑race, four men in a car ambushed Maurice Garin, beating him brutally—likely hired by gamblers or local thugs hoping to sway the outcome. Later, supporters of Antoine Fauré littered the road with shards of glass to sabotage rivals, and rocks were flung at competitors during the second stage.
The climax came in Saint‑Étienne, where townsfolk, ardent fans of Fauré, erected a blockade to halt Garin and another rider. When Garin protested, the mob turned violent, beating both cyclists until race creator Géo Lefèvre intervened, firing a pistol into the air to disperse the crowd. Despite the chaos, Garin still secured his second consecutive Tour victory.
4 Dirty Tricks
Early Tour rules forbade any external assistance for bike repairs, so riders often carried spare tires strapped to their bodies—resembling a human version of the Michelin Man. Spectators and rivals alike were not shy about tossing glass, nails, and tacks onto the road, leading to constant flat‑tire woes.
Beyond tire trouble, the races were riddled with devious tactics. In 1903, Garin’s friends repeatedly knocked fellow rider Fernand Augereau off his bike—twice—only for Garin to stomp on Augereau’s back, ruining his wheels beyond repair. Riders also stretched wires across the pavement, hidden among the trees, causing unsuspecting cyclists to crash. In 1904, some even dumped itching powder into opponents’ shorts. The early Tours were a battlefield of ingenuity and sabotage.
3 Culling the Herd
The inaugural Tour began with a 300‑mile (482.8‑km) first stage—a grueling marathon that left 60 starters exhausted. Only 37 managed to reach Lyon after 17 relentless hours, with Garin edging out his nearest challenger by a single minute.
Riders faced over 1,500 miles (2,414 km) across just six stages, with only a day’s rest between them. The sheer brutality caused 23 of the 60 entrants to abandon the race on day one, and by the finish, a mere 21 cyclists crossed the line. For comparison, the 2017 Tour covered just over 100 miles (161 km)—a fraction of the original distance.
2 Got Beer?
Nutrition science was in its infancy, so early cyclists concocted their own fuel strategies—often involving alcohol. Maurice Garin was known to stop at taverns for a quick brew, while Henri Cornet favored champagne, hot chocolate, and massive servings of rice pudding each day.
The loosely monitored routes allowed riders to indulge wherever they pleased. In the 1910s, a wealthy cyclist even arranged for his butler to set up a roadside picnic. Beyond beer, some cyclists turned to cocaine for eye stamina and chloroform for gum pain, illustrating the wild lengths they went to stay ahead.
1 Illegal Aid From Engines
Perhaps the most audacious tale involves riders hitching rides with early automobiles. Hippolyte Aucouturier, infamous for his cheating, would attach a cork‑filled mouthpiece to a wire, tie the other end to a car’s rear bumper, and silently ride along while the car powered him forward. In one 1904 stage, he literally crossed the finish line being towed by a car that had been driving the entire route—undetected by officials.
This brazen method of engine assistance epitomizes the early Tour’s lawlessness, where ingenuity and desperation often outpaced fairness.