Gregg Bagni was too much for this world. Possibly because he was not of this world.
Or so he said, anyway. Ack ack ack.
The former Schwinn pitchman and Dispenser of Alien Truth has returned to the Mothership after a snowboarding accident in British Columbia, according to Bicycle Retailer and Industry News. He may have been 72, but it’s so hard to tell with these extraterrestrial types. I mean, just look at Doctor Who.
Like the Doctor, Bagni had been known to get around and about. In November 2009 he emailed to mention, among other things, being fresh off a little spin through the Dolomites — 650 miles with nearly 68,000 (!) feet of climbing — in the company of Clif Bar’s Gary Erickson.
I had skipped Interbike that year, so I don’t know what Bagni might’ve been up to in Sin City. But if he had been there, it would’ve been something. That was the one sure thing at Interbike, year in and year out. The Bagman would be up to something, and his act was always worth the price of admission.
For Schwinn’s 100th anniversary he hired 100 Elvis impersonators to march down the Strip, led by Fr. Guido Sarducci.
In 2003 he was stalking the show with what I described in BRAIN as “a large, garishly painted wrestler who will be delighted to tie you into a granny knot while the Bagman snaps away with his Polaroid.”
And way back in 1999 — I think it was 1999, anyway — he drove a herd of cheerleaders to the VeloPress booth, where I was to be signing copies of my freshly minted collection of VeloNews cartoons, “The Season Starts When?”
I have no idea whether I was on his schedule. I do know that I didn’t want to be doing any goddamn book-signing, in public, unarmed, where all my many enemies could relish my humiliation, because I was certain that precisely nobody would want the book, especially if they had to deal with me to get one.
But I wound up signing a ton of books and people were pleasant and appreciative and I can only attribute it to extraterrestrial intervention.
Bagni was a prolific correspondent, and wrote in the manner of Archy from Don Marquis’s column in the New York Sun of the 1900s. Archy was a defunct vers libre poet reincarnated as a cockroach who borrowed the columnist’s typewriter from time to time. He had to dive head-first onto the keys to work them, but couldn’t operate the shift key, and thus Archy’s works were all sans capital letters.
In April 2021 Bagni wrote on Medium, in lowercase, about a few “great lessons” he’d learned and been able to put into play after having had a gun shoved in his face— twice — deciding he would not live past the age of 30, and “living [his] life accordingly.”
“frankly … been pretty lucky being able to ride this crazy blue ball this long.
If you read it you’ll get a good idea of how he turned out. And if you never met him, you’ll wish you had.
Peace to Gregg Bagni, his family, friends, colleagues, and co-conspirators. Ack ack ack.
Mad Blog Media 
72, eh? Shit-oh-dear….
I already wish I had met him! Nice tribute to your buddy.
Ah, he was a maniac. One of the good ones. Some marketing types remind me of car salesmen. Bagni was a showman. Bicycling’s very own P.T. Barnum. A strong sense of play in a business that sometimes forgets its product is supposed to be fun.
Bagni will definitely be missed. Despite his public persona, he helped quite a few people, including coaching me through an AFib diagnosis and treatment (he suffered from the same).
Sometimes the wild ones are the folks who will pitch you a life preserver when you need one. Plenty of people out there willing to look the other way or worse, toss you an anvil.
Gregg was truly a marketing genius, constantly riding the edge of a cliff on a unicycle, yelling through a megaphone, while wearing huge gaudy sunglasses… well, so to speak. Could never truly figure him out. Having been in many a Schwinn booths at shows over the years, both as a dealer and also spending shifts working a show, his power switch was always in the “on” position. One really never knew what he’d do or say next, or if he might just finally go completely nuts a minute from then. He was a wordsmith, a comedian, an actor, and who knows how many other hats he could wear. The phrase “a man of many talents” hardly covers it. One thing for certain, he had a lot of fun doing everything, and freely delivered the same in every direction to those anywhere near him. Curious smiles were trained on his every move. Gregg’s antics could empty competitor’s booths at the other end of a trade show hall to wander towards Schwinn’s, wondering what all the noise was about, and what was happening there — because of him. I have a house full of objects he would toss at events — Schwinn super balls, mugs, frisbees, hats, shirts, a Sting Ray pint glass (he didn’t throw that), pens, and Lord knows what else, all conceived via the endless Bagni promotional brain. All good memories. My pint glass with Guinness in it will be raised tonight in his honor. He will be greatly missed.
He was a Character with a capital “C,” for sure. Madmen like him were part of what made cycling fascinating to me.
People like that exist elsewhere, of course. There just seemed to be more of them in cycling.
I hired Bagni early 90’s to rep Veltec stuff in Chicagoland. He was fresh off the Miyata gig and a great person to connect with. I enjoyed the guy’s company and he worked hard. Left us for Schwinn. Later on he connected me with the American Tire gig which though not fruitful for me, gave me some jingle at at time when I was in the need and kept me current on OEM spec/sales. He made a great business out of being hisself. RIP.
Aha! Another of my favorite industry characters chimes in. Veltec seems a million light-years and two or three timelines away in some other Marvel-ous universe, yeah?
The Pinarello cyclocross frameset is long gone, but I still have my Northwave kicks. The soles have come unstuck, though. Is the warranty still good?
The soles had come unstuck on one of my favorite sets of MTB shoes. I used shoe goo to glue them back on, and that worked for about a year. Somewhat embarrassingly, one came completely apart as I was teaching a LAB Traffic Skills class. That left me rather red faced.
Shoe Goo and maybe a screw or two. Compress tightly with clamps!
The shoe goo and clamps worked pretty well, as those were my full time off road shoes. And I actually glued them twice. Was the second time they came loose.
My wife tells me I still live like a graduate student. But that’s not all bad.
Do you ever finally discard a piece of cycling gear? 😜
O, the situation must needs be dire indeed so. I still have a couple Sangre de Cristos Cycling Club jerseys from … 1991?
Perhaps Herb and I should help you clean and organize all your cycling stuff. We can do it alone, no need to help us. Whaddaya think Herb, would a rental van be enough to haul the stuff Patrick doesn’t need back to your place? If we could get the Jones in the van, I might start riding again.
Titebond wood glue works…. So far. And as long as you don’t mind a mostly rigid sole plate.
– I usually have a wood glue around the house, but not always the Shoe Goo. Prior to the wood glue fix, I used some Clear Grip Gorilla Glue and it ended up being worthless.
Perhaps Greg would get a chuckle out of a blog string about him, touching on the aspects of gluing old shoes together. With great respect for you and of course Greg, I did think about that when I added my 125,000 Rials worth. Because I have been a part of this rolling world, Greg’s exuberance in it has most likely affected my enjoyment of it. I can only hope that his last sights, sounds, scents and feelings were also enjoyable, perhaps with the thrill of dropping down a run on his board up in BC, and never realizing that his element of conscious existence in our world is no longer. Thanks POG and other voices from the bike world, for your comments and memories.
Many a tale will be told of Himself, and many a song sung. I wouldn’t be surprised — indeed, I’d be delighted! — to see him pull a Tom Sawyer and attend his own funeral.
There’s the old saying, he who dies with the toys wins. Never cared for that. So we made it, he who dies with the most stories wins.
But I think that was equally off the mark.
How a bout: He who dies with the most people telling stories about you wins?
There you go. I’ve known any amount of eejits with toys and (thank Dog) a smaller number of people with tales worth the telling.
Kerouac said it:
Spiders Across the Stars would be a great band name.
Then again, you could that all day with Kerouac.
Dude did cover a lot of waterfront. “The Dharma Bums” would make another good band. Country Zen, banjo and wooden flute.