Lost Highways, Old Friends & And A Hearty Breakfast

Lost Highways, Old Friends & And A Hearty Breakfast

Marty and one of the horses that trailed us as we sought out remnants of the National Old Trails Road

What do you call a day that includes a Route 66 road trip, an awesome possum breakfast at a classic Route 66 restaurant, exploring not one but three historic highways and seeking out Arizona railroad history, and a shared adventure with an old friend? Well, in normal times you would call it a great day. In the era of COVID 19 you call it a very rare treat.

It was to be a short run of just 200 miles round trip but being seasoned desert adventurers, and as the Jeep is now 23 years old with an unknown number of miles (a story for another day), we packed a shovel, water, a few edibles, cameras, a few quarts of oil and basic tools. And as the quest was to find remnants of the National Old Trails Road west of Seligman, Arizona, I also carried a copy of the Arizona Good Roads Association guide book to roads in Arizona and southern California that was published in 1914.

After a hearty breakfast of oatmeal and berries, we hit the road at first light before the sun had chased the shadows from the Hualapai Valley east of Kingman. The conversation was lively as we are both story tellers, hadn’t had a visit for a spell and have aged a bit, and we both had desert adventures to share. The pace was slow as there were things to point to in the brush and desert along Route 66.

A link that enabled dating the car shell.

The first stop was just east of Grand Canyon Caverns. Some years ago Marty had found traces of what may have been an early alignment of the National Old Trails Road, the fast fading remnants of a building that had most likely once served as a garage and livery stable, and the picked bones of an old car. On a previous stop at the site Marty had found an ancient piece of iron with ornate Cadillac script. This and some of the trash at the site enabled us to pin down a rough date for the car as well as the former business – pre 1910. I suppose some of us never out grow the childhood excitement that comes with a search for lost treasure, and discoveries that spark the imagination.

The next stop was a few miles to the east. As we followed the faintest trace of old road through the dry grass and the junipers, confirmation that we were on the right track appeared in the form of a stone masonry culvert. That quickened the spirt as I reflected on Edsel Ford’s travel journal from July 16, 1915 and the notes he had made after driving this very road. Here was a tangible link to more than a century of transportation. Was this the alignment followed by Louis Chevrolet and Barney Oldfield during the 1914 Desert Classic automobile race that had followed the National Old Trails Road east from Los Angles to Ash Fork, Arizona?

The second breakfast, a brunch of sorts, at the one and only Road Kill Café in Seligman included a visit with Debbie and her husband, the owners. The awesome possum breakfast was delicious and the conversation lively as they had spent most of their lives in Seligman or the immediate area. They were able to fill a few holes, point us in the right direction, and inspire plans for the next adventure before even completing the first one. And after breakfast we explored the back streets of Seligman in search of automotive treasures.

We continued east along Route 66 past the old Crookton railroad overpass, and then followed an older alignment to a long forgotten rest area. From here we set off on foot to follow the earliest alignment of Route 66, and segments of the National Old Trails Road. As an added bonus we found an even older road and vague hints that this was most likely a trace of the 1850s Beale Wagon Road. By this time the temperature was closing in on 100 degrees and the sweat was rolling into our eyes, but we pressed on speculating, sharing discoveries found under the junipers or among the rocks and discussing plans for a return excursion when the weather cooled during the fall.

On the return trip we made a couple more stops. One was to explore an interesting section of old road bordered by two concrete curbs near the Crookton overpass. Route 66? National Old Trails Road? Little discoveries raised more questions than they answered; remnants of a telegraph pole with threaded wooden dowel for the insulator, a weathered railroad tie with 1948 date nail, a broken Coca Cola bottle with Needles, California stamp. A herd of horses let curiosity overcome concerns and became our travel companions as we followed the old road across the high desert prairie of dried grass.

The last stop was at the 19th century railroad siding at Pica. The depot gave every indication that it would soon be little more than a forgotten relic and a pile of dried lumber amongst the grass. The big steam driven pumps and pump house that was hereon the last visit are gone. The towering water tanks that dated to the late 19th century and the era of steam engines still stood tall. Surprisingly, a graffiti artist of extraordinary talent had used them as his canvas creating a masterpiece or two. The things you find in the most remote of places, amazing.

An artist with extraordinary talent used these 19th century water tanks as his canvas at the Pica siding west of Seligman ©

The drive home was a leisurely discussion of discoveries made, tall tales heard and shared, and savoring the vast landscapes that have soothed my soul for nearly sixty years. Even in these trying times, the best medicine is still a road trip, or even better a road trip on Route 66, old friends, good food, a desert adventure and discoveries that provide a tangible link to another time.

Route 66 or National Old Trails Road? ©

 

 

At The Intersection Of The Past & Future

At The Intersection Of The Past & Future

Buffalo Bill Cody at the tiller of a 1903 Michigan. Photo Jim Hinckley collection.

A common question asked in interviews is what period of history do I find to be the most exciting and interesting. The answer is 1990 to 2020 and 1890 to 1930. That in turn usually leads to an expression of surprise followed by a series of related questions. The swirl of past, present, and future during the 1890 to 1930 period is an endless source of fascination. As an example, consider this. Buffalo Bill, the legendary frontiersman, purchased a Kalamazoo manufactured Michigan in 1903, and played an important role in the development of the National Old Trails Road, predecessor to Route 66 in the southwest.

Edsel Ford, Emily Post and thousands upon thousands of tourists were discovering the wonders of the great southwest by following the National Old Trails Road to California for the Panama Pacific Exposition in 1915. This was the year that the Dodge brothers launched an automotive empire that would in time challenge the dominance of Henry Ford. And in Europe, for the first time airplanes were being used in combat. Meanwhile, in remote areas of Arizona stagecoaches were still in use.

Henry Starr

On this past weeks episode of Coffee With Jim, I referenced Henry Starr, the 6′ 7″ Cherokee that was born in 1873 in the Oklahoma Territory. He was a prolific bank robber and in 1893 killed a U.S. Marshall. While in prison he learned Latin, began studying the law, and developed an educational program for illiterate prisoners. The latter led to President Theodore Roosevelt issuing a pardon. But almost as soon as he was released, Starr resumed his career as a bank robber.

This was followed by another prison stint, another pardon and then a daring attempt to rob two banks simultaneously in Stroud, Oklahoma. This time he was wounded and arrested. Shortly after release from prison his life took a dramatic and unexpected turn, a movie star that played the role of western outlaw and bank robber. His first film was a moderate success, and there was every indication that he was on the cusp of a new career.

Instead he returned to Oklahoma and began making illegal withdrawals from rural banks. His luck ran out in 1921 when in the course of a robbery he was mortally wounded and died four days later. Starr began his career as a bank robber escaping posses on horseback. He ended it with escapes, or attempted escapes, in a Hudson or Studebaker. Changing times.

I reference the current era as it is also a period of dramatic transformation. As a point of reference just consider how dramatically 2020 has forever changed the world. Still, as exciting as it is, to be honest, there are days when I reflect on how nice it would be to read about this era in a history book instead of live through it. As I recall the years 1890 to 1930 opened the door to a pretty tumultuous period of time, and there are ample indications that we could witness a replay of sorts in the not so distant future.

 

 

 

A Dark Chapter

A Dark Chapter

On July 6, 1917, representatives of the Chamber of Commerce and business owners in East St. Louis met with the mayor to demand the resignation of the police chief and for extensive reform in the police department. Newspaper writers, outraged by the rioting, accused the mayor of having allowed a “reign of lawlessness.” The death toll may have been the primary focus of news stories, but the cost of extensive property damage was another cause for outrage. The Southern Railway Company loss claims included a warehouse and more than one hundred carloads of merchandise valued at more than $525,000. A theater valued at more than $100,000 had been burned, and at least 312 homes were destroyed.

The year 2020 with its countless stories of tragedy, political intrigue, and the dawning of a dramatic pandemic induced global shift will provide ample fodder for a generation of historians and authors. More than a few will ponder the Black Lives Matter movement and linked societal unrest and see it as a manifestation of a story that has plagued America since its inception.

In the first decades of the 20th century deeply rooted prejudices and related perceptions were an accepted part of American society. Incidents of this manifesting in violence were long a part of the nations story. But nothing compared to the explosion of turmoil that decimated communities along what would become the Route 66 corridor after 1926. Race riots decimated the Greenwood District of Tulsa, and African American neighborhoods in Springfield, Illinois. But these paled in comparison to the horrors unleashed in East St. Louis, Illinois.

Racial tensions had simmered in East St. Louis in the late nineteenth century and the first decade of the twentieth century as thousands of African Americans poured into East St. Louis from the states of the former Confederate States of America in search of economic opportunity. By 1910 the African American population in East St. Louis was six thousand, a number that would double by 1917 as factories employed more workers to fill war-contract quotas. In February 1917, the predominately white workforce at the Aluminum Ore Company went on strike. In retaliation and to prevent a decline in production, the company hired African American workers as replacements. The fuse was lit.

On the heels of a fiery city council meeting on May 28 where angry white workers lodged formal complaints, rumor of an attempted robbery of a white man by an armed black man spread through the city. Enraged mobs poured from taverns into the streets, beating any African Americans they encountered. As the violence increased, the governor dispatched the National Guard to restore order. By mid-June, control was returned to the city and the soldiers withdrew. But it was brief respite.

Then, on the first day of July, groups of white men drove through neighborhoods and indiscriminately fired guns at the houses of African Americans. Armed African Americans, some military veterans, took to the street, and in one incident shots were fired into an oncoming car in what was believed to be self-defense. Tragically, the two men killed during the brief melee were police officers, Detective Sergeant Samuel Coppedge and Detective Frank Wadley, who had been called out to investigate the drive-by shootings. The following morning, after a meeting in the Labor Temple where crowds were whipped into a frenzy of anger and hatred by labor leaders and politicians. Attendees of the meeting swarmed onto the streets where they savagely beat African Americans with guns, rocks, and pipes. Homes were firebombed, residents and business owners fleeing for their lives were shot, and several impromptu lynchings were documented.

Carlos F. Hurd, a reporter who had gained notoriety in 1912 for his heart-wrenching interviews with survivors of the RMS Titanic sinking, wrote a detailed eyewitness account. Published in the St. Louis Post-Dispatch on July 3, the article was also quoted in The Crisis, an NAACP publication. He opened his feature with, “For an hour and a half last evening I saw the massacre of helpless Negroes at Broadway and 4th Street, in downtown East St. Louis, where black skin was a death warrant.”

His account continued, “The East St. Louis affair, as I saw it, was a man hunt, conducted on a sporting basis, though with anything but the fair play which is the principle of sport,” he wrote. “There was a horribly cool deliberateness and a spirit of fun about it. ‘Get a nigger’ was the slogan, and it was varied by the recurrent cry, ‘Get another!’” The Crisis featured additional articles that provided details of mayhem, brutality, and outright horror: a person beheaded with a butcher knife, a twelve-year-old African American girl pulled from a trolley bus, and the girl’s mother attacked and left for dead with a gaping hole in her head.

As reports of the incident spread, there were manifestations of national outrage and investigations at the city, state, and federal level. An article published in the Post-Dispatch of St. Louis noted, “All the impartial witnesses agree that the police were either indifferent or encouraged the barbarities, and that the major part of the National Guard was indifferent or inactive. No organized effort was made to protect the Negroes or disperse the murdering groups. The lack of frenzy and of a large infuriated mob made the task easy. Ten determined officers could have prevented most of the outrages. One hundred men acting with authority and vigor might have prevented any outrage.”

In Washington D.C., hearings before the Committee on Rules in the House of Representatives began on August 3, 1917, which led to a federal investigation. Among those brought to trial to account for the tragic events was Dr. Leroy Bundy, a dentist and prominent leader in the East St. Louis African American community. In the rush to judgment, he was formally charged with inciting a riot. Bundy was given prison time in connection to the riot, along with thirty-four other defendants, ten of whom were white.

I was aware of this story, as well as the one about the Tulsa Race Riot, but only vaguely. While conducting research for my latest book, Murder & Mayhem on The Main Street of America: Tales From Bloody 66, I had this overwhelming conviction to include these stories even though they predated the certification of Route 66. These horrendous incidents had an effect on the evolution of that highway, and of the nation as we can see by the racial strife in 2020.

The Man Who Launched Empires

The Man Who Launched Empires

On June 28, 1945, the Detroit Free Press, New York Times and other leading newspapers throughout the world noted the death of Benjamin Briscoe. “BENJAMIN BRISCOE, President of First Maxwell Company, Financier That Launched David Buick’s Automotive Endeavors and Founder of United States Motor Company Dies.”  So, who was Benjamin Briscoe, “the founder of the domestic American automobile industry” and the man behind numerous pioneering automobile manufacturers?

Briscoe was born in 1867 to a family of successful entrepreneurs and inventors. His grandfather was a railroad mechanic that was attributed with numerous innovations, and his father was the founder of Michigan Nut and Bolt, a company that produced an array of products using machines of his design. At age eighteen, Benjamin Briscoe using his own money established Benjamin Briscoe & Company that used metal stamping to manufacture buckets, barrels, a variety of cans and even bathtubs. And that led to an association with David Dunbar Buick that would later prove pivotal to the development of a pioneering automotive endeavor.

Buick was an innovative manufacturer of plumbing fixtures with more than a dozen patents to his credit, but profit remained elusive until Briscoe began supplying a wide array of related stamped metal supplies on credit. And then Buick perfected and patented a successful process for affixing porcelain to metal, expanded his endeavors, and began manufacturing toilets, sinks, bathtubs and related goods. Success was imminent.

Shortly after entering into the arrangement with Buick, Briscoe sold his business for a tidy profit and established the Detroit Galvanizing and Sheet Metal Works, and using a machine of his invention, began manufacturing corrugated pipe as well as sheet metal components for stoves, ranges and furnaces. In 1900, Briscoe’s brother Frank joined the company that was then reorganized as the Briscoe Manufacturing Company, and the product line was expanded to include cast iron radiators and copper units used to facilitate the cooling of industrial engines. It was the later which led to a project for Ransom E. Olds.

First, however, Briscoe had to overcome a major hurdle. The Detroit bank used by Briscoe had failed which in turn left Briscoe’s company facing bankruptcy. Undaunted by this potential disaster Briscoe brazenly, without introduction or endorsement, traveled to New York City, and talked his way into a meeting with financiers at J.P. Morgan and Company that included J.P. Morgan himself. Briscoe returned to Detroit with a commitment of a $100,000 investment in his company.

The arrangement with Olds was rooted in disaster. R.E. Olds chief engineer Jonathan Maxwell had perfected an improved cooling system for the Oldsmobile. However, a devastating factory fire in 1901 had decimated the company forcing Olds to seek an outside supplier for a radiator and so he approached Briscoe to negotiate the purchase of 4,500 radiators. Briscoe quickly closed the deal but, in the process, had negotiated for the manufacture of gas tanks as well.

In 1899, David Buick answered the Siren’s call that was the infant auto industry, sold the plumbing supply company and turned his attentions to the development of a valve in head engine, the first step in what he envisioned would become an automobile manufacturing company. By late 1902, Buick had exhausted his funds and yet his prototype being built in partnership with Walter Marr was not ready for display. As a result, there was little hope of attracting investors. Fortuitously Buick turned to Briscoe who agreed to forgive an outstanding loan, to pay off Buick’s other outstanding debts, and to provide the funds needed to finish the prototype. As per their agreement, Briscoe would become the owner of the completed vehicle, but Buick would use it to solicit for investors to initiate manufacturing.

Briscoe would eventually loan Buick an additional $1500.  To protect his investment this arrangement included the stipulation that if the loan were not repaid within twelve months, Briscoe would become the sole owner of Buick Motor Company.

As Buick focused on development of the fledgling automobile company, Briscoe met with Jonathan Maxwell, the former Olds engineer that was now planning to launch a company of his own, and asked that he evaluate Buick’s project. Sensing an opportunity Maxwell noted the various flaws in the Buick design and presented Briscoe with a business plan for the establishment of a company to manufacture Maxwell’s automobile.

This partnership would lead to the building of two automotive empires, one of which would become the foundation for Chrysler. It would also lead to the establishment of two companies that forever transformed the international auto industry, the founding of an automobile company with a quirky claim to fame, and Briscoe’s diversification into an array of endeavors that would underpin many aspects of the infant auto industry.