“Keep the Girl on the Fence”
by Frank Leon Smith
Illustration by Peter Helck
Click image to enlarge.

“Motors roaring around the track, skidding on the turns, battles for position, shouting crowds—could even these make the heart of the girl from Boston beat faster?” asks the 1946 story, “Keep the Girl on the Fence” by Frank Leon Smith. We don’t know about the girl in the story, but it works at the Indianapolis 500 every year, in recognition of which, we bring you some mid-century illustrations of race cars.

Auto racing stories were popular in the Post in the ’40s and ’50s, and although the titles were sometimes melodramatic—“Murder Car,” “The Crowd Screamed”—a common denominator was the exciting illustrations by artist Peter Helck (1893-1988).

“Murder Car”
by William Campbell Gault
Illustration by Peter Helck
Click image to enlarge.

“The black job roared into second place, but its driver wasn’t trying to win. He wanted to kill the man ahead,” declares the intro to 1951’s “Murder Car” by William Campbell Gault. Although some of the fiction was overly theatrical, Helck was serious about the fast-paced scenes. He was also earnest about car racing, a passion honed as a young man when he witnessed the historic 1906 Vanderbilt Cup Race, featuring an American car built to beat the Europeans. Known as “Old 16,” the car won the Vanderbilt two years later in 1908.

Helck and his son in Old 16 race car.
from “Keeping Posted”
December 28, 1946
Click image to enlarge.

“Old 16 was built when the American automobile, then only a fast-growing youngster, first challenged the European builders,” wrote Post editors in 1946. “Motoring was just becoming something more than a fashionable—and pretty daring—sport. Two things were at stake: prestige and the booming American automobile market. Citizens of substance, if they had decided to trust their lives in one of these smelly new gas buggies, liked to buy European cars. There was a feeling that nothing built on this side of the water could equal such swank European cars.”

Helck acquired the legendary race car in the early ’40s. “Every time I take Old 16 out for a run, I recall the men who handled cars of that era—under the road and tire conditions they faced–and my admiration for their capabilities becomes a bit fanatic.”

[For more automotive history, see "Celebrating America's 125-Year Love Affair with Cars."]

“The Crowd Screamed”
by William Campbell Gault
Illustration by Peter Helck
Click image to enlarge.

“It was the last lap of 100 miles of murder that he saw a car broadsiding in front of him,” the lead-in to this 1952 story declares, “ready to spill—and [here comes the title], ‘The Crowd Screamed.’” Melodrama aside, this is an all-but-live-action illustration.

Though Helck was best known for these fast-action scenes, he did a great deal of industrial commercial art as well. One testament to the variety of his illustrative skill is his work for Post sister publication, Country Gentleman, with scenes of a more bucolic nature.

[You can view Helck's rustic scenes here, or visit Art.com to purchase.]

During his life, Helck described himself as an “auto addict” and wrote two books on racing—“The Checkered Flag” in 1961 and “Great Auto Races” in 1976—in addition to numerous magazine articles on the topic.

“His Finest Race”
by A. Stanley Kramer
Illustration by Peter Helck
Click image to enlarge.

Learn more about the life and works of Peter Helck at Peter Helck, American Artist, a website maintained by the artist’s son and grandson.

Classic Art: Sporty Race Cars The Saturday Evening Post

When Michael Clauer was deployed to Iraq in February 2008, his wife, May, became depressed and fell behind on dues totaling $977 to the Heritage Lakes Homeowners Association (HOA) where the couple lived. In an effort to collect unpaid dues, the HOA sent multiple notices by certified mail demanding they make the payment or face foreclosure on their home. After all of the HOA’s letters to the Clauers went unanswered, the association foreclosed on the Clauers’ home, and then sold it at auction for $3,201 to one Mark DiSanti. In May 2009, DiSanti sold the house to Jad Aboul-Jibin for $135,000.

In Texas, homeowners associations can foreclose on homes without a court order, therefore the Clauers were given no notice of the foreclosure proceedings.

The first inkling of the foreclosure and subsequent sale came in June 2009, when May received and opened a letter from the new owner requesting rent payment.

Still in Iraq, Captain Clauer found himself fighting two battles: one to protect his homeland and the other to protect his home.

The Clauers filed a lawsuit to get their home back, claiming they were protected from foreclosure by the Servicemembers Civil Relief Act (SCRA), which protects those on active duty from certain financial and legal obligations, including foreclosure, without a court proceeding.

The HOA argued that SCRA did not apply in this case because Captain Clauer had no ownership interest in the home, as it was owned by May Clauer and her parents.

The HOA made good faith efforts to contact the Clauers on numerous occasions to collect unpaid dues, to no avail; therefore, on behalf of and in fairness to neighbors who paid dues, the HOA claimed legal right and responsibility to seek remedy through foreclosure. On a conciliatory note, the HOA said they wanted the Clauers to get their home back, but no longer owned the home.

As for the current owner defendant, he claimed that he was an innocent purchaser in this matter and the rightful owner. Nevertheless, he said he would have given the property back to the Clauers, but only after he was reimbursed for the purchase price he paid.

The Decision:
The federal judge ordered the parties to figure it out for themselves. They settled out of court. While terms of the settlement are confidential, the Clauers did get their home back.

Battle on the Home Front The Saturday Evening Post

Don’t miss: Wolf’s exclusive interview with Weiner.

Hollywood Visit: (from left) Alex Durham/Advertising Director, Steven Slon/Associate Publisher and Editorial Director, Jeanne Wolf/Entertainment Journalist, Matt Weiner/Mad Men Creator, and Joan SerVaas/Publisher and CEO.

Saturday Evening Post Staff Visits with Mad Men’s Matt Weiner The Saturday Evening Post

Diet drinks don’t cause diabetes directly. But, in an ironic twist, these beverages sometimes trigger greater-than-normal cravings for real sugar. Studies show that people who choose diet soda tend to dish up extra helpings of sugary foods to compensate. Doing so overtaxes the body’s ability to maintain a healthy weight and manage blood sugar, and it could lead to an increased risk of diabetes, says Mary Beth Robinson, a dietitian with the Texas A&M Health Science Center.

The healthiest drink? Good old water. If you must indulge your sweet tooth, Dr. Felicia Stone, host of the TLC show Honey, We’re Killing the Kids, says, “I’d rather see someone consume one daily soft drink (sweetened with sugar, high fructose corn syrup, or agave) than any drink with a non-nutritive sweetener. But there is no substitute for what we know works best: Eat less, drink more water, and increase daily physical activity.”

Diet Drink Debate The Saturday Evening Post

Quinoa Risotto Primavera

(Makes 8 servings)

Ingredients

• 2 ½ cups cauliflower florets, cut in 1-inch pieces, stems well-trimmed
• 1 ½ tablespoons extra virgin olive oil
• ½ cup finely chopped onion
• 2 tablespoons finely chopped shallot
• ⅔ cup quinoa, rinsed and drained
• 3 ½ cups fat-free, reduced-sodium chicken broth, divided*
• ⅓ cup thinly sliced baby carrots
• ½ cup frozen baby green peas
• ¼ cup grated Parmesan cheese
• Salt and freshly ground black pepper
• ⅓ cup chopped flat leaf parsley

*Using chicken broth gives this dish a rich flavor. I wish I could say “or use vegetable broth,” but in most commercially made vegetable broths, carrots dominate and the flavor overwhelms the sweetness of the vegetables. If you are vegetarian, try substituting warm water for the broth and adding extra cheese at the end for a better result.

Directions

1. Place cauliflower in food processor. Pulse until cauliflower resembles crumbled feta, about 15-20 pulses; there should be 2 cups chopped cauliflower to set aside. Use leftover to add to soup or salad.
2. In heavy, wide, large saucepan, heat oil over medium-high heat. Add onion and cook, stirring often, for 3 minutes. Add shallots and cook until golden, about 3 minutes, stirring occasionally. Add quinoa and cook, stirring constantly, until grain makes constant crackling, popping sound, about 5 minutes. Carefully add 2 cups broth, standing back as it will spatter. Cover, reduce heat and simmer quinoa for 10 minutes.
3. Add cauliflower, carrots and ½ cup hot broth and simmer, uncovered, for 5 minutes, stirring often. Add peas and enough broth to keep risotto soupy, about ¼ cup. Cook 8–10 minutes, or until quinoa is al dente or to your taste and vegetables are tender-crisp, adding broth ¼ cup at a time, as needed. Risotto is done when liquid is mostly absorbed and mixture is slightly wet, but not soupy. Off heat, stir in cheese and season to taste with salt and pepper. Garnish with parsley and serve. Leftover risotto keeps for three days, covered in refrigerator, and can be served at room temperature as a whole-grain salad.

Nutrition Facts

Per serving

---

Calories: 120
Total fat: 4.5 g
Saturated fat: 1 g
Carbohydrate: 14 g
Protein: 5 g
Fiber: 3 g
Sodium: 280 mg

Quinoa Risotto Primavera The Saturday Evening Post

Illustration by Jonathan Bartlett

I did not eat much the winter of my last year in high school. I read compulsively and rarely slept. I didn’t know what I felt when my classmate Ginger Graham died three months after coming to school one day with a bump on the underside of her chin, several months before we were to hear which of the Seven Sisters had accepted or rejected us, and two days after my father hurled a heavy crystal glass across the living room of our penthouse over East 73rd Street, shattering the windowpane in a thousand pieces, and marking one of his last nights in what had been, for all these years, our home.

Miraculously, the heavy tumbler in which he drank Scotch and water, then Scotch and Scotch, bounced back into the room and landed on the grand piano no one played.

It was early 1972, and my parents were good Democrats who opposed the war in Vietnam, supported civil rights, and hated Richard Nixon. It was not politics that pulled them apart, but the political moment—the previous decade of protest, war, burning cities, burning bras—that gave my father the idea that marriage did not have to be a lifetime obligation. And the fact that I, the youngest of three children, was about to leave home. Why couldn’t we all just leave?—that must have been his thinking.

“Are you out of your mind?” my mother shrieked from the armchair that held her, a few beats after the crescendo, once we could see that the drinking glass had boomeranged back to the living room.

“No more than usual.” He did not shriek in return. No need to; evidence of his feelings was everywhere. Bits of glass covered the surfaces like confetti. The air was hushed, electric, and frigid. Cold air blew in through the jagged hole in the pane, and the wind threatened to dislodge even more pieces of glass.

It was her way to shriek and his to respond in dulcet tones, an effort of many years, to make her sound like a madwoman. It didn’t work that night. I felt a sliver of something on my cheekbone, and I could see that my mother was afraid to move. For one thing, she would have to cross my father’s path and feel, from close up, how much distance there was between them.

“Anybody want a refill,” my father said, “besides me?”

She didn’t look up. When he disappeared into the kitchen, she turned to me, her expression as flat and hopeless as I had ever seen it. In 1972 she was a pretty 47-year-old woman—I’m startled by her loveliness in the snapshots I see now, the bright brown eyes and soft smile, her abiding kindness laced with deep despair—but to me that night, she was old and haggard.

“I’m sorry,” she said softly. “Since you’ve got shoes on, would you go to my closet and get my slippers and a pair of socks? I’m afraid to get up.”

When I returned, my father had a broom, a dustpan, and a brown paper bag. He wasn’t a liberated man doing his share of the cleaning, nothing like that—more like he’d made a mess building a cabinet or drilling a hole in the wall, and it was part of the project to tidy up afterward. But to do it properly, he’d need a vacuum cleaner, even I knew that—and he wouldn’t go that far. That was women’s work.

He had chosen the apartment for the view of Manhattan’s skyline that unfurled and glistened through the oversize windows that circled the living and dining rooms and that he hired someone to clean every two weeks. Through them, he could see from high above what he had come to conquer all those years before.

Now he was all out of dreams, out of rage, expectations, and money too. And it was impossible to see the skyline through the web of broken glass.

My mother put on her slippers as my father picked up what he could with his fingers, and I stood watching until I saw that I could retreat to my room, crack open the window to smoke a cigarette, and read a book of letters from F. Scott Fitzgerald to his daughter. They were mostly written when she was at Vassar, and she was so alienated from her frequently soused father that when they arrived, she’d check them for money and news and toss them into a drawer—“these gorgeous letters,” she says decades later, full of regret at not having been a better daughter. I blew smoke rings out into the cold, keeping the tip of the cigarette in the night air. They knew I smoked, but the rule was that I couldn’t do it in the apartment. It was the only thing they agreed on anymore, maybe the only rule left in our household.

We’d moved to the city when I was 8 and my brothers were 11 and 12. The first year, my father ordered Christmas catalogs from Tiffany and Harry Winston, and we played a game with them well into the spring. One of us would cover the prices of things with our hands, and the others would guess how much they cost. He was schooling us in the ways of the rich for future reference.

It wasn’t until my last year of high school that I learned he usually had more credit than money and now had very little of either. He had made bad investments in real estate. He drank too much and made deals with people like himself. That winter a check that was supposed to come any day now did not come, and we ate a lot of spaghetti and were not allowed to charge anything at Bloomingdale’s.

He ate, when he ate with us at all, in a trance, and did not speak unless asked a question. But there must have been someone he liked, because he spent many nights out and returned as I left for school in the morning. We met sometimes at the front door of the apartment and maneuvered around each other silently.

The doorman on duty in the mornings had begun to say “Good morning” to me in a full, somber voice and dash to open the door, which he knew annoyed me. He must have thought I needed caretaking, and I suppose I did, but I wouldn’t know it for many years.

That winter was also the season of my floor-length navy-blue cashmere coat, which I’d bought for $3 in a thrift store and loved to feel billow around my ankles as I charged through the city. When the hem fell and I mended it with safety pins, my mother said I couldn’t leave the house unless it was sewn. My father said, “Since when are we so poor you have to buy your clothes in a thrift store?”

I wasn’t a fighter like my brother Daniel, but a peacekeeper. If I’d been combative, I’d have zinged back a barb: “Since when? All you ever do is complain that you don’t have any money.” Enter pandemonium.

Paris in the Twenties The Saturday Evening Post

After obtaining a fresh supply of capital, he re-started his business on May 19, 1903, and named it the Buick Motor Car Company.

Shortly after Buick moved the company to Flint, Michigan, the company signed on William Durant as general manager and director. Durant provided the business skills that Buick lacked, and eventually built the company into automotive giant, General Motors. Buick retired from the company in 1908, never finding the success he had hoped his automobile would give him. Durant, though, was a born salesman with valuable connections in the horse-carriage business. Within a few years of joining Buick, he had obtained enough investment capital and built a distribution network so efficient that by 1908, Buicks had outsold every other automobile in America.

Buick ran its first ad in the Post in 1912, and followed it with more than 3,200 ads across the decades. The advertising in the gallery below highlights the introduction of several innovations and models in the Buick line.

Classic Ads: The Birth of the Buick The Saturday Evening Post

In recent months, there has been a sharp increase in filibustering. Republican senators have used the filibuster to block the appointment of federal judges and cabinet members, and oppose the use of surveillance drones in the U.S. What was once a last resort is becoming the rule, and Senate business has nearly ground to a halt.

Some Democratic senators say it’s time to reform Senate rules and curb the dependency on the filibuster. But as you can see in “Reform Of The Senate Rules,” people have been saying the same thing for at least 88 years.

The article was written back in 1926, when it was the Democrats who were filibustering. Vice President Charles Dawes warned Americans that the filibusters worked an “evil influence” over the county’s laws.

He believed the filibuster made it impossible to seriously consider lawmaking. He asked readers to imagine they were in a group that had to discuss and act on an important matter. However, “in this meeting any one of us may talk as long as he pleases, whether relevant to the subject we are considering or not. If anyone desires he may use up all the time we have at our disposal, even if he has the purpose of depriving us as a body of the right to act.”

Such an arrangement would be met with “scorn and derision,” except in the U.S. Senate. By permitting the right of unlimited debate, he wrote, “it has surrendered to the whim and personal purpose of individuals and minorities.”

Filibusters, he added, caused delays in business so that other bills couldn’t be properly debated. Generally they didn’t defeat legislation but pressured the senators to change laws shaped by public interest to favor personal and sectional interests. The result of all these amendments, Dawes says, is a spiraling increase in the number of laws.

Of course, the Senate has always had the means to end filibusters. If enough senators vote for cloture, the filibusterer has to yield. In Dawes’ time, cloture required the approval of two-thirds of the senate’s 96 members. Because of the difficulty in obtaining the consent needed, Dawes wrote, “the Senate has amended the Constitution as to make it possible for a 33 per cent minority to block legislation.” He proposed that cloture votes require a simple majority: 51 percent instead of 66 percent.

Today, the rules for ending filibusters are slightly easier. A cloture vote can be carried by three-fifths of the members. But it’s hard to get 60 senators to agree in a Senate polarized between 53 Democrats and 45 Republicans.

Will the current move to reform the filibuster rules be successful? There are two reasons why it’s unlikely. First, changing Senate rules would take the approval of 66 senators at a time when it seems impossible even to get agreement among 60. Second, there are the practical considerations of politics: filibusters can work for either party. The Democrats may find the filibuster very convenient when they are next in the Senate minority.

In the meantime, though, senators will continue talking about the need to reform the rules. And Americans will keep hoping to see a new Senator Smith stage a solitary fight on the Senate floor.

Why the Senate Can’t Fix the Filibuster The Saturday Evening Post

Woman in Wheelbarrow
Ellen Pyle
June 20, 1931

Ellen Pyle (1876-1936) was known for her beautiful use of color. In 1927, she received a note from fellow cover artist Norman Rockwell about how much he liked her Post covers. “They are dandy. So full of color and so broadly painted. Believe me I envy you the latter quality particularly,” he wrote, according to Delaware Art Museum’s Illustrating Her World: Ellen B. T. Pyle.

As in many of her 40 covers for the Post, the model is one of Pyle’s children. In this case, teenage daughter Caroline is taking a wheelbarrow break from gardening duties.

Baseball Player Mowing the Lawn
Stevan Dohanos
July 20, 1946

“When summer rolled around,” wrote Post editors of this 1946 cover, “and the grass in Westport, Connecticut, began to grow as fast as a small boy’s hair, Stevan Dohanos recalled one of the duties of his youth and how mowing the lawn can ball up a man’s more important engagements.”

The frame house, however, was not in Connecticut, but back in artist Dohanos’ (1907-1994) hometown of Lorain, Ohio. Editors noted that he sketched it a couple years before it appeared on the cover. “Obviously it was a good stage, a good setting, but he never had decided just what story to tell against this background. Now he uses it to tell of a common summertime crisis—when the star pitcher has to work,” Post editors wrote.

Put the Tree There?
George Hughes
April 9, 1955

Illustrator George Hughes (1907-1990) was an avid outdoorsman, but we’re not sure how he felt about planting trees. He would probably feel the same as the poor guy from the local nursery on this 1955 cover, if he had to deal with an indecisive homeowner.

Hughes painted 115 Post covers, and was especially productive in the 1950s. Typical output for the more popular illustrators was around 40 to 50 covers during a decade. Hughes’ friend Norman Rockwell, for example, did 44 during this period. Hughes did 80 in this timeframe; mostly fun, slice-of-life scenes from midcentury suburban life.

View more in the George Hughes gallery.

Artist Thornton Utz (1914-2000) enjoyed gently bucking the trend and depicting the neighborhood nonconformist. Mr. Leisure in this 1957 cover uses his backyard purely for relaxation, not caring how high the grass gets.

Meanwhile, in nearby yards, neighbors are flummoxed by Mr. Leisure’s indifference—at least those who can spare a second from their suburban chores.

Spring Yard Work
Thornton Utz
May 18, 1957

Even the little girl in the middle yard wastes no time as she tends to her dog’s bath. Post editors mused that the cover might start a debate “about whether people should nourish their backyards or let their backyards nourish them.” We’ll let the reader decide.

Classic Covers: Yard Work The Saturday Evening Post

You can make it a meal by adding wild rice topped with lentils. Simply place warm rice on a plate and top with several heaping tablespoons of lentils heated with a bit of water or vegetable broth. Of course, you can always serve up some sides of any vegetable leftovers you have handy.

Grilled Salmon and Spinach Salad

(Makes 4 servings)

Ingredients

• 1 pound salmon, cut in four fillets

Marinade ingredients

• ¼ cup reduced-sodium soy sauce
• ¼ cup rice vinegar
• 1 teaspoon mustard powder or 1 teaspoon prepared mustard

Dressing ingredients

• 3 tablespoons orange juice
• 3 tablespoons rice vinegar
• 2 tablespoons honey
• 1 teaspoon extra virgin olive oil
• ½ teaspoon roasted sesame oil (or regular sesame oil)
• 2 cloves garlic
• 1 teaspoon minced fresh ginger
• Salt and freshly ground black pepper to taste

Salad ingredients

• 5 ounces baby spinach, rinsed clean
• 8 cherry tomatoes, halved
• 1 red bell pepper, sliced thin

Directions

1. Whisk together marinade ingredients to combine well. In shallow dish, coat both sides of salmon with marinade. Cover dish and refrigerate for at least one hour.
2. Coat grill lightly with oil to prevent sticking. Remove salmon from marinade and discard remaining marinade. Place salmon, skin side down, on medium-hot grill. Cook about 6 minutes until skin is browned and crisp. Gently turn fillets over and cook additional 2-3 minutes until desired degree of doneness. Remove and set aside.
3. Combine dressing ingredients in food processor or blender and pulse or blend until well combined, about 1 minute.
4. Arrange salad ingredients on four serving dishes. Drizzle half the dressing on salad. Place salmon on top and drizzle remaining dressing. Serve.

Nutrition Facts

Per serving

---

Calories: 270
Total fat: 13 g
Saturated fat: 2.5 g
Carbohydrate: 20 g
Protein: 21 g
Fiber: 3 g
Sodium: 400 mg

Grilled Salmon and Spinach Salad The Saturday Evening Post

Friction. Clap your hands, stomp your feet, or give them a mini-massage. But you already know that one, so consider…

Yoga. Lie on your back with legs against wall, perpendicular to the floor for as long as comfortable. When leg muscles relax, blood vessels open up and circulation improves.

Aerobic exercise. Take a walk, ride a bike, or do jumping jacks—anything that makes you work up a sweat.

Still feeling frosty? Consider thermal bio-feedback, a natural therapy that trains patients to warm their hands and feet in about 20 sessions. For a referral, talk to your care provider or go to bcia.org.

How to Shake Off a Chill The Saturday Evening Post

First published in 1943, the single-paneled cartoon series quickly became a hit. Later on, it even inspired a TV show by the same name that ran for five years in the 1960s.

“Then I add my mayonnaise … “

February 1962

“Spring Training.”

March 1958

“You’re Eating Out.”

January 1959

“You’ve got to be kidding!”

November 1978

“Don’t sh-h me! I said it once and I’ll say it again!
Woman’s place is in the home.”

December 1946

“How big was this frog?”

July 1949

“I’ve had a LONG, HARD day.”

January 1952

Cartoons: Everybody’s Favorite Maid The Saturday Evening Post

Up/Down Planks

1. Get on floor in push-up position, supporting body with hands beneath shoulders and feet flexed so base of toes touch floor.
2. Hold body in straight line from top of head to heels.
3. Drop to right elbow.
4. Drop to left elbow.
5. Return to push-up position described in step 1.

Repetitions: Start with 5 reps. Work up to 20 repetitions as you gain muscle control. If too difficult, start on elbows and feet. Then, hold for as long as comfortable.

Find more workout tips from Warner here.

5-Minute Fitness: Planks for Core Strength The Saturday Evening Post

By the 1930s, the rising costs of servicing steam locomotives, as photographed here in Chicago North Western railyard, was causing the railroads to lose money.
Photo courtesy Library of Congress.

The age of the great locomotives ended in the early 1960s, and yet they are still missed—even by people who have never seen one in operation. Something about these massive, steam-breathing engines captures the imagination and impresses us in ways that a Boeing 747 can’t.

Many Americans who have only known interstate highways and airports yearn to see a locomotive pulling out of a station in a cloud of smoke and steam. Or hear the mournful cry of a distant steam whistle in the night. And they wonder what prompted the railroads to replace these magnificent machines with the grimy, boring diesel engines.

Fortunately, we have a Post article from the 1930s—the time when railroads introduced diesel power. “The Articles of Progress” by Garett Garrett offers a good explanation of why railroads abandoned their steam engines.

It begins with a description of Burlington Railroad’s new, fully streamlined Zephyr train and its maiden journey on May 26, 1934, across the Great Plains from Denver to Chicago.

News of the train’s passing drew crowds to the rail line in Colorado, Nebraska, Iowa, and Illinois. People gathered on hills, embankments, and rooftops to see this sleek, futuristic train race past them at speeds up to 112 mph.

“Parents held out their infants in arms, exhorting them to look,” Garrett writes. “Women threw kisses wildly. Men leaped and waved their arms. Some who had come to make pictures saluted instead and forgot to turn their camera cranks.”

It wasn’t just the shining, streamlined engine and cars that excited the crowds. It was the sight of tangible change and progress in the depths of the Depression.

The 1930s were a bad time to pour money into experimental trains, but the railroad had little choice. Revenues had sunk to a dangerous level just because of struggling economy. But profits had also been declining steadily since 1920.

The only way to survive was to reduce costs and improve efficiency. Diesel power seemed to promise both.

According to the designers, diesel engines could run faster and work longer than steam locomotives. They were more fuel-efficient; they didn’t require frequent stops to replenish coal and water. Instead of generating steam in an enormous boiler, the diesel burned oil to power a generator that, in turn, powered electric motors on the wheels.

Locomotives, in comparison, had a low thermal efficiency.

They used a vast amount of energy to build up steam pressure, which had to be discarded whenever the locomotive stopped or shut down. In every week of operation, a locomotive consumed its own weight in coal and water.

“They ate too much for what they did,” Garrett wrote. “Only about one-twentieth, or 5 per cent, of the potential energy in what a steam locomotive devours is delivered to the wheels in the form of effective driving power.” In contrast, a gasoline engine could deliver more than 25 percent of its potential energy to the wheels.

The Zephyr in the stable door before starting on its run of 1,017 miles in 785 minutes. It was unlike any train that came before it—and it brought with it a sight of tangible change and progress in the depths of the Depression.

Steam locomotives also required costly maintenance. Once a month, by law, the boilers had to be cleaned out. Furthermore, each engine required a regular, extensive overhaul, which meant it was available for work just 35 percent of the time. Diesel engines, which needed less maintenance, had 95 percent availability.

Because the manufacturer was using a new design for the Zephyr, the manufacturer decided to take advantage of a new construction method that used extra-light, electronically welded stainless-steel frames. Traditionally, the railroad companies had believed that adding weight to cars and engines made a train ride more comfortable. Heavier trains were also safer, they believed, because they would absorb lethal impact when collisions occurred. But as the weight of cars increased, so did the strain on rails and bridges, and with each added ton of weight, the fuel efficiency of the train dropped even farther.

The Burlington Northern railway planned to run the lightweight Zephyr train between Kansas City, Kansas, and Omaha, Nebraska, replacing a train made up of two locomotives and six heavy passenger cars. The old train weighed 1,618,000 pounds. The Zephyr would weigh just 200,000 pounds.

Two years after this article appeared, another Post article on America’s railroads reported the Burlington line had achieved a remarkable drop in operating costs. Their standard, steam-driven train had been running with an operating cost of 70 cents a mile. The Zephyr’s per-mile cost was 31 cents. The decline in rail travel had turned around. The railroads were becoming profitable again. But the steam locomotive had begun disappearing from the rail yards, taking with them the coaling stations, water towers, and the thousands of jobs that had been necessary to operate these high-maintenance engines.

As much as railroaders loved the old locomotives, they were doomed. Even as early as that first run of the Zephyr, a railway superintendant riding with Garrett confided to him, “I love the locomotive. God knows, I hate to see anything like this happen to it. But I’m a mechanic too. A machine is for what it will do. This thing skins the locomotive alive.”

Why You Don’t See Steam Locomotives Anymore The Saturday Evening Post

With Baz Luhrmann’s adaptation of the well-loved novel in the spotlight, we’ve been admiring vintage 1920s illustrations and advertisements from the pages of The Saturday Evening Post.

Here’s a look at some of the Post‘s Gatsby-era artwork. For more original illustrations and beautiful cover images, check out Gatsby Girls, available for purchase in print and digital editions.

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Vintage Gatsby-Era Art The Saturday Evening Post