In Remembrance of You
Page 11
The wheels had all new Diamond tires on.
We went to the races in the afternoon. We took the machine and went on the track between a heat, showing ourselves to 10,000 people in the grandstand. A man with a megaphone announced our famous names and occupation and we received applause and shot at by numerous Kodaks.
Our machine had a big sign saying Whitman crossed the Continent in this machine.
We are introduced to the big men of the place—all the officers of Oldsmobile and seem to be ‘it’.
Hammond nearly got dragged out of the elevator at the Cadillac. Took him for a hobo. That was rich.
This morning we took a streetcar out to the Belle Isle Olds factory, where they were fixing up our machine. They had put on four new wheels and replaced the engine shaft, flywheel, and speed gear. They replaced the hand crank starting chain, and the acetylene gas head-light. The rear axles and differential were changed so that we could use a new roller-type drive chain instead of our old block chain. An important addition was the mud guards or fenders. The fellows had put them on without my asking. My granddaughter had the right idea. The four new wheels sported a brand new set of Diamond tires. The rig looked like it was ready to leave the factory.
Then we learned the experts had been cranking the engine since early morning and couldn’t get it to start. They had put on a new coil, mixer, spark plug, and everything else they could imagine. Whit and I toured the factory while they continued searching for the answer to their problem. When we returned to our rig, the mechanics had decided to put in a new engine, a major operation!
We had long since discovered a peculiarity in the fuel mixer before we ever hit Detroit. I asked the boys what they would give me if I could start the engine. They offered me everything from a box of cigars to a five-dollar bill. So I walked up to our little Olds and said, “All you need, old girl, is somebody to give you a swift kick in the shins.” With that, I raised my foot and kicked the body on the side. Then I jumped into the seat, gave the crank a turn, and off she went! They were dumbfounded and wanted to know how I did it.
On the side of the body is a piece of tin about a foot square with dozens of holes punched in it, each about the size of a needle. A piece of burlap hose connected it to the mixer. These little needle holes would become plugged with fine road dust, and the mixer couldn’t draw enough air to mix with the gas to start or run the engine. My job every morning on the trip was to kick her in the right place to get rid of the dust before starting.
Returning from a short road test, the mechanics installed a sign on our luggage box:
THIS IS THE FIRST RUNABOUT TO MAKE A RECORD FROM SAN FRANCISCO TO DETROIT. L. L. WHITMAN LEFT SAN FRANCISCO JULY 6 AND ARRIVED DETROIT SEP. 7. ONLY 60 DAYS ON THE ROAD. IT’S MADE TO RUN AND DOES IT.
We’re off to the races! Except, we didn’t know the shop crew forgot to fill our gas tank. The engine sputtered and died somewhere between the factory and the Grosse Pointe Race Track. We found some gas, but we had to remove the sign as well as the luggage box to pour it into the tank. What a job!
When we arrived at the track, Mr. Olds introduced us to all the officers of the Olds Motor Works. We drove the machine out on the track, showing off the little Olds to a grandstand full of spectators. An announcer shouting into a large megaphone called out our names. He announced we were heading for New York City and described the Runabout. There was a lot of cheering, and many photos were taken.
There were some fast automobile races: 10 miles in ten minutes and forty-nine seconds, and 15 miles in sixteen minutes and two seconds. A French Darracq was the best running, driven by Jules Sincholle of Paris, France. Tom Cooper, with Henry Ford’s old “999,” made fast time in his big four-cylinder brute. Its open exhaust ports spit and popped like cannon fire! If we had that engine in the Runabout, I bet we could make New York City faster than a cannonball! Barney Oldfield drove Alexander Winton’s “Bullet” in the Five Mile Open Pursuit Race against the winner, Tom Cooper in Ford’s “999.”
Whit and I were introduced to Henry Ford, Barney Oldfield, Tom Cooper, and Dan Wurgis at the track. Wurgis drove the Olds “Pirate” in one event during the afternoon and made a good showing. I needed no introduction to my old friends Oldfield and Cooper, having competed with both men in bicycle racing.
When we returned to the Cadillac Hotel, wearing our traveling khaki “uniforms,” I walked in ahead of Whit. As I approached the guest elevator, an assistant manager headed me off, insisting I take the freight elevator. It took considerable persuasion on my part to convince the man I was not a hobo off the last freight train into town. When I explained my casual garb, he apologized. I didn’t bother to tell him that we ate supper last night in the hotel’s main dining room. The maitre d’ didn’t ask questions then, though some dowagers in their fancy evening gowns eyed us with curiosity. Their fashionably-dressed escorts merely nodded and smiled at us.
Canada—Best Roads of All
Wednesday September 9
Whit’s diary
Got ready and left at 3 p.m.
Passed through Customs House at Windsor and got away at 4 p.m. Had to deposit $130 returnable when leaving Canada.
We ran out to Wheatley 40 miles at 8 p.m.
Roads fine. Would be nice if dry. They are gravel and high so soon dry.
Heavy showers in the night.
This morning the Automobile Equipment Company of Detroit presented us with a rain apron. Made of a rubberized cloth, it fastened to the rear of the seat on the Runabout. It had two holes in it that were large enough to fit over our heads and long enough to reach to the curved dash. It would keep us dry and warm. We were glad to have it.
We put the machine on the deck of a Detroit-to-Windsor (Ontario) ferryboat to cross the Detroit River. We were heading for Niagara Falls by way of Canada, the shortest route from Detroit to New York. We had to deposit a one hundred thirty dollar cash bond at the customs house at Windsor. The money would be returned when we left Canada.
An hour later, we rode into the domain of King Edward, the first time a United States transcontinental machine had crossed onto foreign soil. The macadamized roads were raised high, with sharp drop-offs at the shoulders. A shower had left the surface wet in spots into Wheatley, but the roadbed height drained the water off nicely, and it dried well, giving us no trouble. We arrived in Wheatley, Ontario, Canada to spend the night.
Thursday September 10
Whit’s diary
Ran in mud all day—a few showers. Ran 80 miles.
Rear wheel rim busted at weld which about collapsed.
Ran three miles very slow to Shedden where we telegraphed for a new one from Detroit.
There was heavy rain last night and one shower after another today. As we were rounding a corner into Shedden, one of our brand new rear wheels caved in, busting the rim at the weld. We had to run very slowly in low speed for the last 3 miles into Shedden, where we telegraphed the Detroit factory for a new one to be shipped by rail.
Friday September 11
Whit’s diary
No wheel came.
Telegraphed again.
Was mad when no wheel on 9 p.m. train.
We washed and cleaned the rig while we waited all day for the wheel package. One or the other of us met each scheduled train for the new wheel, but it never came. We were hopping mad tonight when no wheel showed up on the 9:00 p.m. train!
Saturday September 12
Whit’s diary
Found wheel shipped was up at St. Thomas in bond.
Customs House so it would get here.
I have taken wheel apart and riveted strap on. Came apart at weld.
Wrote Olds of the facts and set up the house at Detroit.
We left Shedden at 11 a.m. ran 20 miles to London, Ontario for dinner then
Woodstock, Brantford, Hamilton and Niagara Falls—Canadian side.
We made 170 miles in day after 11 a.m. but we arrived at 1 a.m.
We ate supper at Hamilton at 8 p.m.—b
ig city.
We found that the replacement wheel had been shipped in bond to St. Thomas, a town 18 miles east of us but not on our route. Whit’s telegram had instructed them to take the wheel over to Windsor and pay duty on it at the custom house so it would be sure to get to Shedden. We blamed those damn fool shipping clerks in Detroit, who hadn’t even telegraphed us what they had done.
Whit finally took the broken wheel off, removed the tire, and riveted a metal strap across the broken weld. Then I trued up the wheel by readjusting the spokes. After stretching the tire back on, we hoped that the rivets would not work loose and cause a puncture later on the road. After remounting the wheel, it was about noontime. We left Shedden and ran 20 miles to London for dinner. We assumed that the express company would return the unused replacement wheel to the sender. Whit would write Mr. Olds tonight, tell him the facts, and not spare those shipping clerks!
The Canadian roads were the best we had seen compared to those we traveled over in the United States. After a late supper in Hamilton, we lit the kerosene lamps and the acetylene gas headlight, and kept on driving. We were eager to make up time because we had lost two days in Shedden. We stopped after midnight at a comfortable hotel on the Canadian side of Niagara Falls. I was really tired after fourteen hours on the road.
Note from Granddaughter’s letter:
I looked for the Arch Bridge you are to cross in 1903 but couldn’t find it in 1985. We crossed the Niagara River on the Rainbow Bridge.
Looks like I’ll get to see a bridge my granddaughter didn’t.
New York—On the Way to Deliver the Mayor’s Letter
Sunday September 13
Whit’s diary
Breakfast at 6:30 a.m.
Then we had papers at the customs house fixed and came over by bridge (arch) to American side. Here had some papers to leave at the customs house.
Got four gallons of gasoline and left at 11 a.m.
Ran to Lockport for dinner, then to Rochester. Arrived about dark.
The agents not open so we lit out and ran to Palmyra, New York getting there at 8:30 p.m.
Stopped at Eagle Hotel. Had supper.
Day’s run 100 miles
After a fine breakfast at our hotel, we visited Niagara Falls on the Canadian side. We put on rubber suits and oilskin hats, went down in an elevator, and then walked under the roaring falls. We could see daylight in some spots through the water and spray. What a weird experience!
Because it was Sunday, it took us three hours to get the Olds out of bond, our papers cleared, and the refund of our one hundred thirty dollar deposit at the customs house. We drove to the American side over the Arch Bridge my granddaughter couldn’t find. Then more papers had to be left with the U.S. Customs Office. We left Niagara Falls, drove through Buffalo, and stopped at Lockport, New York, for dinner. We arrived at Rochester at sundown. We had planned to visit the Olds agency there, but it was closed. So we drove on through to Palmyra. We had supper and put up at the Eagle Hotel for the night.
Monday September 14
Whit’s diary
Left Palmyra at 4:30 p.m.
Got up and sneaked out. Lighted lamp and ran to Lyons for breakfast.
Dinner at near (8 miles west) Syracuse.
Night supper at Utica then ran to Little Falls; arrived at 11 p.m.
Bed at midnight after writing some.
130 miles. Roads not very good. Passed through many towns.
Up before daylight, with all lamps lit, we drove to Lyons, New York, for breakfast. Our best road down the Mohawk Valley was the towpath along the Erie Barge Canal. About every hour, we had to give way to mules pulling barges. We pulled off to the side of the road and shut down the engine to let them to pass. The mules seemed to have no fear of us or the machine.
We passed through many small towns and made it to Little Falls. In general, the roads were not very good today.
Note from Granddaughter’s letter:
The Vanderbilt Mansion, just south of Rhinebeck, is a must see. In 1985, I had my photo taken on the grounds there, sitting in the 1902 Olds.
Wouldn’t it be something if we could take a photograph of us in the same place?
Tuesday September 15
Whit’s diary
Left Little Falls at 5 a.m.
Ran 20 miles to breakfast.
Dinner at Schenectady then 20 miles.
Very poor roads—sandy street tore up to Albany. Reached there at 3 p.m.
Left at 4 p.m., ran to Poughkeepsie—75 miles.
Went to bed at 2 a.m. 160 miles.
We got an early start and had breakfast at Nelliston on the Mohawk River. Not long after Little Falls, the Erie Barge Canal joined the Mohawk River.
After dinner in Schenectady, the next 20 miles were over very poor roads. Such roads are a disgrace to the State of New York! We entered Albany in midafternoon. We stopped there for an hour to take on three gallons of gasoline, add water, get kerosene for the lamps, and check our oil. Back on the road again, we crossed over a bridge to the east side of the Hudson River, passing through Castleton, Stuyvesant, and Hudson.
The valve on the bottom of our gas tank broke off again today. I jumped out and ran to a farmhouse close by. A lady came to the door. Not wanting to lose our precious petroleum, I asked her to loan us a pail, quick! She must have thought her house was on fire, for she ran fast to a cowshed and came back with a milk pail. It saved the day.
While I was repairing the gas tank, an old man with a cane came out of the farmhouse to retrieve the bucket. After watching us for a while he asked, “Where’d you fellers come from?”
Whit replied, “San Francisco. We’re on the way to New York.”
“How long you been?” he questioned further.
“Sixty-nine days up to here,” Whit answered.
“Gawd!” he snorted. “I could drive a cow out there quicker than that!”
Did he have a fast cow? Did he even know how far it was to San Francisco?
The road was in good condition along the Hudson, and with the aid of our lamps, we pushed on through Germantown, Red Hook, and Rhinebeck, past the Vanderbilt Mansion. I couldn’t see the buildings through the trees. We passed by the mansion, too late to stop. I felt bad that we missed it since my granddaughter was so impressed with the place.
Whit was so sleepy that he nearly ran off the bridge coming into Poughkeepsie. I was wide awake, fortunately, and grabbed the tiller, straightening her up before we could hit anything! I wondered what might have happened had he been alone? I was more than just the mechanic on this trip! It was late to bed for us tonight.
Wednesday September 16
Whit’s diary
Left at 8 a.m.
Ran to Peekskill when a heavy storm struck us.
Put up and had pictures developed.
Very handsome, rich old mansions all the way down here. Big shade trees all the way the finest drives in America—45 miles.
It was hard to get up this morning, but then I realized New York City was not that far away. For the next 45 miles, the roads were in good condition. We saw many luxurious old mansions, all facing the Hudson River. We passed through Wappingers Falls, Castle Point, Beacon, Cold Spring, and Garrison.
Just as we drove into the town limits of Peekskill, a heavy thunderstorm struck us. We stopped to cover ourselves with the rain apron. It kept us dry from the downpour. A photographer snapped our picture from a Kodak store doorway. As conditions got worse, we decided to go no further, though it was only early afternoon.
After dinner, we walked back to the Oldsmobile, which we had run inside of a nearby stable. An ambulance was parked beside the machine. Whit climbed into the ambulance and stretched out on the single cot. He soon fell asleep, dog tired from long hours of driving. If I had not awakened him before supper, he would have slept on through the night! We left some film with a storekeeper to be developed overnight, then we put up at a local hotel. Accommodations there were more comfortable than Whit’s cot.
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br /> Tomorrow should be a big day for us and the Runabout, when we enter New York City.
Note from Granddaughter’s letter:
I extend my congratulations to you both on your history-making trip. It opened up and “paved” many a roadway for affordable travel.
I take my turn of the century, tied-down hat off to you and Whitman.
Love,