Gallery: Mass Transit Through the Years The Saturday Evening Post

Trains were quickly losing passenger and freight revenue to automobiles between 1920 and 1929. In this 1931 article from the Post, Edward Hungerford, who was considered an authority on railroad history, is nostalgic for the once-popular railroad. In this abridged version, Hungerford suggests railroaders must unite to combat the competition.

[See also: "The Looming Crisis in Mass Transit" from our Jul/Aug 2012 issue.]

CAUTION! DANGER AHEAD!

January 31, 1931—A young man entered St. Lawrence University at Canton, New York, last autumn and confessed that he had never ridden upon a railroad train. One of the officers of the university, an ardent railroad fan, was most interested in this young man and took him, not long ago, for a ride on the local train to Ogdensburg. The boy said that he enjoyed the experience.

There are many boys and girls like this in American colleges today. In my day almost every boy knew the railroad and loved it. But the younger generation today begins to know the railroad as a tradition rather than as a practical or a really close-at-hand necessity.

Not long ago a railroad president went out into the Middle West to the dedication of a railroad station. When it was nearly over, a local banker approached the railroad president and congratulated him upon the elegance of the new building.

“Quite a monument to the railroad passenger business,” said he, in his impressive, bankerish way.

“Mausoleum would be a better word for it today,” replied the railroader.

He was thinking, rather sadly, of that former great factor in American railroading that of late has been slipping pretty rapidly. From a high peak of $1,305,000,000 in passenger-traffic revenues in 1920—the high record of all time—it descended, in an all too brief decade, to $780,000,000 in 1929. Slowly at first; just lately with alarming rapidity—toboggan-slide fashion.

Opened in 1926 the Delaware River Bridge (now called the Benjamin Franklin Bridge) allowed railroad and automobiles to cross the river.

Unfortunately there were, in 1920, problems not only of labor and of labor’s wages, not only of a morale seriously impaired by the long period of government control, but far more portentous, those of that swift-oncoming competitor, the automotive vehicle. The development of the motor car and the motorbus, the perfection of the national highway system, the cheapening of motor fuel all seemed to spell trouble for the important passenger end of the railroad business; while it was felt even then that the motortruck might yet become a serious competitor to the freight end of it.

It has been suggested that the present emergency is large enough to call a railroad convention-presidents, vice presidents and other high executives to continue in session for a week, if necessary, and to thrash out some of the problems that are so vexing to the business as a whole.

At this convention of railroad executives various questions would be pressed:

What shall be the attitude of the railroads toward highways and toward the waterways?

Shall they advocate regulation of the length, weight, and speed of motortrucks and coaches because of their destructive effects upon the highways and the dangers to which they expose private motorists?

What of taxing very heavily such vehicles?

How about meeting the competition of trucks by pick-up and delivery service from the door of the shipper to the consignee?

How about this question of lowered fares?

No battle was ever won by an army not sure of its course and reasonably sure of final victory. Cooperation is vastly more than a word, or a group of words.

It might be possible for the railroads to take a leaf out of the big book in the White House and appoint some sort of capable joint commission to make a careful study of the entire problem in all its many phases. The result of such a study, made by careful and experienced, yet progressive, men should also clear the present atmosphere. It is commended both to the rail carriers and to that far-reaching and powerful organization, the American Railway Association.

The American railroader goes his way slowly—sometimes too slowly. He is facing a real crisis, unquestionably. He has faced other crises—borne of them much more portentous than this one—and has come through them safely and with a smiling face. The present situation is by no means hopeless; the railroads have not ceased to be the very backbone of the nation’s transport system. It is the yellow signal that is displayed, not the red. Caution, not danger.

Caution! Danger Ahead! The Saturday Evening Post

 
 
With the help of Mayor Fiorello La Guardia, Maurice Zolotow, known more for his Broadway and Hollywood articles than transportation, describes how rapid transit came to define New York City in this excerpt from a 1945 article in the Post.

[See also: "The Looming Crisis in Mass Transit" from our Jul/Aug 2012 issue.]

Manhattan’s Daily Riot

March 10, 1945—Anything and everybody can happen on the subway in New York. Like the Bowery in the old song, the subway is today the place where they do strange things and they say strange things.

For the visitor, the subway is a bewildering experience. His eyes will be confused by the murky yellowish dimness. His ears will be racked by the crashing, clashing, grating cacophony of the trains grinding against the tracks, a noise that is magnified into thunderous reverberations by the low tunnels.

But millions of New Yorkers stolidly ride the subway to and from their jobs, and they travel—many of them standing up—an average of eighty minutes a day. The New Yorker would be perplexed if the noise and the mobs were to vanish.

As Mayor La Guardia puts it, “New York didn’t build the subways. The subways built New York.” Then he tells you that Queens was just a cow country until the subway system was extended there, and that suddenly the population quadrupled, real-estate values boomed, small civic centers grew up around each subway station, schools were built and paving laid, and apartment houses and stores and churches sprang up.

When the IRT [Interborough Rapid Transit], first of the New York subways, opened in 1904, New Yorkers greeted the new vehicles with a mixture of enthusiasm, curiosity, and fear. A hundred thousand passengers rode the IRT on opening day, and many uproariously traveled back and forth all day, just for sheer pleasure.

La Guardia sits in his office in City Hall and smiles gently when you ask him about crowds in the subway during rush hour. He has been a subway rider himself for a long time. He points to a wall map of New York City. The map is veined by the subway lines. The mayor leans back in his chair and darts his fingers at the map.

“Let me tell you this,” he says:

“Any time we don’t have crowding during the rush hour, there’ll be a receiver sitting in the mayor’s chair and New York will be a ghost town. Why, they talk about the rush hours and the crush and the noise! Why, listen, don’t you see that’s the proof of our life and vitality? Why—why, that is New York City.”

Manhattan’s Daily Riot The Saturday Evening Post

The original Mother Shipton was a freelance oracle of the 16^th century, who became famous when a book of her prophecies appeared 80 years after her death. In 1873, she got famous all over again when a new book of her prophecies appeared, now written in rhyming couplets.

Skeptics thought these newly discovered prophecies fit the 1800s a little too well. There were obvious references to locomotives (“Carriages without horses shall go/ 
And accidents fill the world with woe”), steamships (“Iron in the water shall float/ As easily as a wooden boat”), the telegraph (“Around the world thoughts shall fly/
In the twinkling of an eye”), and the California gold rush (“Gold shall be found and shown/
In a land that’s now not known.”)

Of course, we shouldn’t think less of a prophecy just because it tells us what has already happened. All the best prophecies work this way. It’s how Nostradamus became such a reliable forecaster. But Nostradmus was a professional; he wrote his predictions in a poetic style that could fit several events. Mother Shipton was an amateur who made an unmistakable declaration:  ”The world to an end shall come/ 
In eighteen hundred and eighty one.”

It was just too clear to be credible. Her new book was greeted with blistering criticism and sarcasm. The publisher soon admitted he’d admitted writing the entire book himself. Despite his public admission, the prediction gained currency, particularly as the year 1881 began. In February, the Post observed,

There are lots of people who will tell you that they put no faith in Mother Shipton’s prophecy that the world will come to an end this year, and yet will jump and have a scared look in their eyes when they suddenly hear the noise caused by the dumping of a load of coal.

Over its 60 years of publishing, the Post had often reported end-of-the-world prophecies. The editors were not impressed with this latest prognostication.

Mother Shipton and her prophecies are still in authority in parts of Canada. In one county several farmers have neglected putting in their crops because of their firm belief that the world will come to an end this year.  [July 2]

A newspaper agent, being told by an old lady that it was no use to subscribe for the papers now, as Mother Shipton said the world was coming to an end this year, said, “But won’t you want to read an account of the whole affair as soon as it is over. ‘That I will,” answered the old lady; and she subscribed. [July 30]

Another visionary authority unites with Mother Shipton in pronouncing that the end of the world will take place in this year of grace, 1881. In the fourteenth century, Aretino, an Italian author, fixed in his writings the exact date of the end of the world. According to this distinguished authority, the destruction of the earth and its inhabitants will occupy fifteen days. The cataclysm will begin by an uprising of the water. The human race, before perishing, will lose the power of speech. All will be dead before the final day—the 15^th of November. These old authors, it would seem, were terrible jokers. [June 23]

Terrible jokers, indeed. Aretino was a notorious satirist and pornographer of 16^th century Rome who reportedly laughed himself to death.

A young lady, recently married, read Mother Shipton’s prophecy for the first time the other day. “Just my luck!” she exclaimed, throwing down the paper, “here I am newly married, and now the world’s coming to an end.”  [November 30]

All too soon, the year was over and, from all we can tell, the world didn’t end. But where Mother Shipton’s forecast of doom had fallen, several others stepped forward to takes its place.

Mother Shipton’s prophecy having failed to bring about the end of the world at the appointed time, another very old prediction is now brought forward. It is expressed in a French stanza, and clearly proves the end of the world in 1886.

Devout Moslems confidently predict the end of the world on November 8 [1886], the close of the Mohammedan thirteenth century. A proclamation has been issued from Mecca warning all true believers to prepare for the coming day [when] the sun shall rise in the West, the day of mercy and forgiveness shall cease, and that of judgment and retribution begin.

We now know that the world will end next year, thanks to the 2100-year-old Mayan calendar. Unfortunately, this prediction relies on the Western calendar, which has been continually revised over the past two millenia. Such fine points will make no difference, however, since the world will end on December 31, when our own calendars will run out of pages.

Mother Shipton Oldsmobile Ad

The World Comes To An End. Again. The Saturday Evening Post

Betty Drake

Safford, Arizona

I remember a time when Americans were unified and in love with America for the opportunity it provided and for what it represented. My feelings were rekindled after reading “Waiting on a Train” by James McCommons, which outlined why passenger trains have a future in this country and are making a comeback.

Terry Chambers

I enjoyed the cover story “Waiting on 
a Train.” Excellent and easy to read. 
I felt like I was actually sitting in the coach seat with Mr. McCommons, enjoying the picturesque sites from 
the observation lounge car, and even the aroma of brewing coffee!

Darlene Clemons

In Praise of Trains The Saturday Evening Post

“On the flight home, I kept thinking about that train,” says McCommons, who teaches journalism at Northern Michigan University. “When are we going to have a decent passenger-rail system in this country again, one that moves people efficiently between major cities and provides Americans with a true alternative to airplanes and automobiles?” To answer that question, McCommons spent a year riding on and writing about America’s trains. He shares insights from his journey in the May/June cover story of The Saturday Evening Post, and also in his book, Waiting on a Train available for purchase from publisher Chelsea Green.

Exclusive Excerpt from James McCommons’ New Book The Saturday Evening Post

View our classic train covers gallery.

Post cover reprints are available at www.curtispublishing.com.

Classic Covers: Trains The Saturday Evening Post

The date is more than just a turning point in railroad history. The appearance of the Pullman sleeper car wrought changes affecting American business, social class, labor unions, and race relations over the years.

1858:
George Pullman was inspired to build a rail car with sleeping berths after making a miserable overnight journey across New York state in a make-shift sleeping car.

1862:
He formed the Pullman Palace Car Company to build railroad cars in which berths would fold down from the roof at night. During the day, the berths were stowed above, not unlike overhead storage in modern airplanes, and passengers sat in comfortably upholstered seats, enjoying the luxury of wash rooms, chandelier lights, thick carpeting, and heating stoves.

1865:
Public acceptance developed slowly. The Pullman coach received much favorable publicity after Mrs. Lincoln chose a Pullman car to transport her husband’s body back to Springfield.

From June 23, 1866, issue of the Post.

1866:
The Saturday Evening Post noted in its June 23 issue, “Mr. Pullman, the projector of the sleeping-car improvement in railroad traveling, has just placed on some of the western roads new cars, with conveniences, luxuries, and ornamentation quite in advance of anything yet produced. A novel arrangement of the trucks [wheel assemblies] secures such a steadiness of motion that writing is as easily done as in a home library, and tables are provided for this purpose. One car, the ‘Omaha,’ is furnished with an organ.”

1870:
A Post writer, writing on a trip “Homeward from the Pacific Coast” made an observation about that organ. “We took our place in the luxuriant ‘Pullman Palace.’ There was a parlor organ on board, a poor wheezy out of tune thing, but as we were in the realms of sage brush and alkali again, we managed to make it serve for the getting up of quite a Sunday afternoon concert. What mellifluous sounds were wafted out upon the desert air only those on board that train can tell, but finally the most energetic of our singers were forced to desist because two refractory keys of the upper bank would insist upon singing out above all else, even when not requested to do so by touch of hand.”

1872:
By this year, the Pullman company had 800 cars running on rail lines covering 30,000 miles of country. Pullman continued to introduce luxuries to his cars, including thick carpeting, dark wood interiors, and reclining seats.

1881:
The first Pullman employee moves into Pullman, Illinois, a town owned and operated by the company. In its time, Pullman was hailed as the ultimate, enlightened community for workers. It offered employees clean, well-lit housing with indoor plumbing, gas, sewers, stores, and theaters. The rent was higher than average, but the quality of housing was generally better than in surrounding neighborhoods. The higher living standard came with another price, though. George Pullman maintained absolute control on all organization, events, and publications in his town. He also required all employees—about 3,500 eventually—to live in the company town and follow its rules.

1885:
The April 25th Post marveled at the cost of Pullman luxury:

“Few persons, as they see one of the fast express trains go by, are aware of the value of such a train. What is known as the Royal Limited Express over the Pennsylvania road, as the train is ordinarily made up, represents over $120,000. This is a rather low estimate of one of the fast expresses. Some of the palace cars are worth $18,000 and Pullman palace cars occasionally run that cost in the neighborhood of $30,000.” (That’s the equivalent of $700,000 in 2009 currency.)

1893:
In response to the depression in this year, The Pullman Palace Car Company cut employees’ wages, but didn’t drop the rent it charged employees. When Pullman workers went out on strike, union workers across the nation added their support by walking off their jobs, effectively halting rail traffic. Meanwhile, at the Pullman factory, the strike led to property damage and fights with strike-breaking employees. Ultimately, the Pullman company convinced Washington that the strike was a threat to public safety and interstate commerce. President Cleveland sent in federal troops and forcibly ended the strike in favor of management. The strike leaders were arrested, tried, and sentenced.

1894:
Yet American opinion was not wholly supportive of the government’s actions. A national commission investigated working conditions at Pullman and concluded that the forced community for employees was “unAmerican.” The state Supreme Court eventually ordered Pullman to sell its company town and end its control over worker’s lives.

1935:
The American Federation of Labor broke with its own tradition to recognize the Brotherhood of Sleeping Car Porters, a union of black Americans who serviced the Pullman coaches. For many years, the Pullman Company was the largest employer of black Americans. Black porters on sleeping cars attended passengers’ needs, made up beds, and polished shoes. It was menial work, but it offered one of the few avenues to something like middle-class life to male black Americans.

1940:
The U.S. Department of Justice brought an anti-trust suit against Pullman. It claimed that being the chief manufacturer of passenger cars and the sole agent for tickets on these cars made Pullman a monopoly. The court ordered the Pullman Company to create two separate businesses for manufacturing and passenger-traffic.

1941:
A. Philip Randolph, president of the Brotherhood of Sleeping Car Porters, announced to President Roosevelt that he was planning to march on Washington with members of his union and the NAACP—just as the country was struggling to prepare for war. In return for calling off the march, Randolph obtained Roosevelt’s promise to outlaw discrimination on defense-contract work and to pass the Fair Employment Act. (In 1949, Randolph pressured Harry Truman to officially end segregation within the military.)

“Pullman Hotel” by Ralph Wallace, October 16, 1943.

1943:
The reverses handed to the Pullman company were not so great that it couldn’t thrive during the war years. As a 1943 Post article relates:

“Pullman’s original pool of sleeping cars has mushroomed to a fleet of more than 7,000 perambulating hotels which last year grossed better than $113,000,000. It is units of this highly mobile pool, distributed to the different railroads to meet hour-by-hour needs, which makes possible the efficient handling of close to 75,000 passengers a day.” Today, the American Transportation Authority estimates that the number of airline passengers, in a single day, can reach 2,000,000.

As late as the 1980s, the Pullman Company was still manufacturing passenger cars for commuter trains. Ultimately, various divisions of the company were sold off to other businesses. Part of the operations, for example, are now part of the Halliburton, while other parts have been subsumed by Halliburton’s chief rival, Washington Group International.

Having weathered the shrinking passenger car industry, the Pullman Company was purchased by Tenneco, and is now in the equally challenged business of manufacturing auto parts.

Pullman Car The Saturday Evening Post