By Kallie Cox
In the backrooms of a warehouse in Soulard, a not-so-secret society has a workshop with dozens of artistic masterpieces that have become staples of some of St. Louis’ most beloved parades.
Past the offices of the St. Louis Mardi Gras foundation, a cavernous room boasts shelves of paper mache pigs, snails, frogs, dinosaurs, and other creatures that come to life. Upstairs in the warehouse’s attic, bicycles fill an entire room, and more animals and fantasy creatures fill the rest of the space.
Above the craft room is a sign autographed by many of the group’s founding and long-time members boasting the organization’s name — The Banana Bike Brigade.
The same group of artists who lovingly crafted these puppets will infiltrate the warehouse on the weekends, fasten their creatures to their bikes, and take off for parades nationwide. Their sole mission is to spread joy through the “Art Bike Movement.”
Chris Koehler joined the brigade approximately 29 years ago, about a year and a half after the group was founded by three sisters Karen Finkline, Chris Dieckman and Kathy Bayless, and artist Uriel Starbuck who recently passed away.
It all started when Kathy dreamed of creating an art bike and riding it in parades, causing the sisters to seek Uriel’s help. They made three bikes — a dolphin, a seahorse, and a mermaid. The name itself originated from their mother.
“In the late ‘30s, people were interested in health and recreation, and one of the things they would do was take their bike down to the train station,” Koehler said. “People would put their bikes on to a baggage car, and they’d ride the train out 20 miles or 30 miles out to the countryside. They’d get off and ride back into the city on the country roads. This was very popular, especially when women got more into riding bikes. The sisters’ mom had a girls’ group that used to do this, and they called themselves the Banana Bike Brigade.”
The Banana Bike Brigade went from being a group of artists in the fringes of St. Louis to becoming the nation’s oldest art bike organization. Its members are celebrated in the community and invited to parades in Louisiana, Texas, and Illinois.
It all started with a hot dog
Koehler first encountered the brigade at Soulard’s Mardi Gras parade, and it was love at first sight for the mechanic with a flare for the arts.
“I approached one of the members while they were on their bike, and I said, ‘Hey, I want to join you guys. You’re wonderful,’” Koehler said.
It took some convincing before Koehler was allowed to join the society—even today, it remains invite-only. Though it only costs $1 to join, being asked for the dollar is a symbolic gesture, and you have to work to earn your place.
Since joining, Koehler has helped artists create hundreds of pieces and designed several of his own.
His very first creation was a hot dog bike. Because, as he puts it, art is a conversation with people and is meant to create interaction between the piece and those viewing it. He hoped that by creating a hot dog, he could have a sort of “Campbell Soup Can,” moment like Andy Warhol. And regionally, he did.
“When people look at a hot dog, it’s a cultural icon, so you instantly start getting this, ‘I love hot dogs!’ and it reminds people of happy times — picnics, barbecues, Fourth of July,” Koehler said.
With over 200 unique bikes and 29 years dedicated to the art bike movement, asking Koehler what his favorite creation is is like asking him to name a favorite child. But the way he lovingly describes the hot dog bike makes it clear that the creation has left a mark on him.
“I took this icon and made it larger than life and took it out and paraded it around,” he said. Many observers would begin singing the Oscar Meyer Weiner song, so Koehler adapted, adding music to the installation. The blend of art forms and the way they are presented create a unique form of performance art.
“They’re giving me as much as I’m giving them. So it becomes this interaction, and that’s why the hot dog has been great over the years. Is it my favorite bike? I don’t know. I just take as it comes, but the hot dog has been very iconic and super popular over the years, and everybody loves to see it and it gets lots of requests,” Koehler said.
Right now, the hot dog has been converted into a submarine for a “20,000 Leagues Under the Sea,” themed ride the group put on where Koehler dressed as Captain Nemo. But, Koehler insists the bike will be back to its hot dog form by Mardis Gras.
Over the years they have created dozens of themed rides, including dinosaurs for the Science Museum that were briefly used for parking attendants, canoes and root wads to symbolize a Mississippi float trip, and one of the group’s favorite events — the Popeye Parade in Chester, Illinois.
St. Louis’ (secret) puppeteers
Mardis Gras is the Banana Bike Brigade’s highlighted performance each year, but the group also appears at the People’s Joy Parade, Tower Grove Pride, Artica, and dozens of southern Illinois festivals.
The brigade used to participate in more events including the Dogtown parade and even weddings, but as they have become more unheard of in the community, and as its members have aged and passed away, they have reduced the number of rides they commit to.
Koehler used to work on the art bikes until midnight after his shift at work. Now that he is retired, he continues to spend hours creating and hasn’t grown tired of the art form.
“I love art, and I love interacting with people. It’s a vehicle to make friends. It’s a vehicle to bring some joy to people,” he said. “There’s a shortage of joy in the world. If we can bring you a little joy and forget about your problems for a minute and surprise you, we’re making the world a better place.”
The one thing Koehler wants to tell St. Louis? “We’re here.”
“We’re making art to brighten up your day, and you know, and if you want us to come to your event, you need to contact us, and we’ll try to come,” he said. “We’re here. We’re part of St Louis. We’re one of the things that makes St. Louis unique.”
To keep the legacy going, Koehler said the group is looking for new members and will help anyone make a bike if they put in the time and show interest.
“We’re going to do another 30 years, if we get enough people to come and pass the torch to.”
Kallie Cox is a former staff writer at the Riverfront Times. They began writing freelance content for the StLouisArts.org in June 2024.
Photo credit: Banana Bike Brigade
