Excerpted from an article by Sarah Crist in the Montgomery Advertiser of September 1, 1940
"Are you sure you have the chains and the shovel?" "Yes, Mama, you just see that you pack plenty of lunch and bring along your veil and goggles. I'll take care of the rest." "Well don't forget the jack and the pump. And do bring enough matches, Papa. You know we have almost a hundred miles to go and even with an early start, we'll have to light the headlamps before we get there." Tbey're off! Chug, chug, chug - hitting on all two cylinders. "Doesn't she ride pretty," exults Papa, "We must be going twenty miles an hour. And say, does this beat driving a horse! Why, it's almost like flying." "But Papa - we forgot the collapsible bucket. You know the motor will boil over every time we go up a hill." "You're right, Mama. We'll have to go back." Chug, chug, chug.

The State's record of automobile registrations goes back to 1913-1914, when 9,108 tags were sold, but there were automobiles in Montgomery as early as 1901.

Probably the first automobile ever seen here was a Locomobile Steamer which Benny Greil bought from Dave Todd in that year. Mr. Todd still remembers the stampede that automobile caused on Commerce Street. It was unloaded down near the Union Station, and when that steam powered job, smoking from the crude oil it burned and hissing with steam, bucked up Commerce Street, horses reared and ran away dragging their buggies and wagons after them and people fled screaming in every direction. The chief of police threatened to lock Mr. Todd up for causing a riot.

This early "man killer," as the old folks called them, had no steering wheel and was guided by a handle. It had to be repaired almost every day and driving it more than a mile from home was a hazardous adventure. Mr. Todd says Mr. Cook never did learn to drive his high-powered machine. He finally got mad at it and gave it to him.

Tom McGough, who was working around automobiles as far back as 1904, remembers that even a cheap car in those days cost from $1,500 to $3,000, with tires selling for two or three times as much as now [1940]. To start a car in those days, you used to crank until you were blue in the face and then trust in your good luck to keep the car running until you had the wind to get out and crank some more.

September 2, 1904, was a great day in Montgomery. On that day, a shiny new red auto was given away at Pickett Springs. Rich and poor alike shared for a brief time the dream of ownership.

The Advertiser on the following day gives this description of the event:

"P. J. Dreher, 100 Holcombe Street, is the luckiest man in Montgomery. He won the red automobile at the Pickett Springs Casino last night; the automobile which was given away by the merchants of Montgomery as a trade inducement. The thousands of Montgomerians who have been dreaming of riding in a red skidoo wagon, sitting haughtily by the side of an imported chauffeur (pronounced shover), scattering the common people may now wake up. That is all except Mr. Dreher who, as a favorite of fortune, has the right to scoot about the streets of Montgomery and see just where the fun comes in when automobiling."

"The six or seven thousand other people who held tickets and dreamed may stand on the side walks and watch Mr. Dreher pass, or dodge quickly out of his way at the toot toot of his automobile horn." Just before the ticket was drawn, one young lady de- clared:

"I forgot my smelling salts and I'll never be able to go up on that stage and face the crowd when my name is called."

John Yung, whose father's Cadillac was probably the first four-cylinder machine in town, remembers that standard equipment at that time did not include headlights, windshield, spare tire, and sometimes even a top.

Lights were of carbide gas generated by water dripping from a small tank above. As night came on, the driver had to stop, strike a match, and do what he could to adjust the lamps. Of course by the time he had cranked up and got going again the lamps had gone out or flared up too high, and he had to get out, fix the lamps, and crank up again. Not long after that, Pres-O-Lite lamps came into use and every car had its tank of Prest-O-Lite gas on its running board.

Most cars came with pneumatic tires but they were so given to blowing out and getting punctured that they were generally changed for solid rubber tires which gave the riders a thorough jouncing as they rode along the cobblestones of Dexter Avenue. Montgomery's first ordinance regulating automobile traffic was passed September 17, 1906. The Advertiser of September 18 gives this account of that memorable meeting of the Board of Aldermen.

Alderman Strauss threw down the gauge of battle for the chug chug wagons and Alderman Sullivan was on hand with some talk about the masses of the common people who did not own even a toy wagon. At the last minute the enemies of the modem machine went to the extent of getting through an amendment making it a penalty for an automobile not to come to a halt in the presence of a frightened dog. The ordinance requires auto drivers to stop whenever approaching a frightened horse. An amendment by Alderman Holloway increasing the maximum penalty from $25 to $100 was adopted. Alderman Jones suggested that no reference was made by the measure to mules, but he did not urge the insertion of the word "mules." Alderman Strauss announced his opposition to the ordinance. He said the machines were usually owned by rich people who were men and women of politeness and judgement. Then Alderman Roemer arose to discuss the ordinance. "Mr. President," he said with some confusion but intense earnestness, "if an automobile is afraid of a horse-." He didn't get any further. The Aldermen broke into a laugh and he sat down. Sullivan warmly applauded. He said that the automobilists of Montgomery were a reckless class and they ought to be checked.

Roemer sent up an amendment sffiking out the word "horses" and inserting the word "animals."

"Why that includes dogs," said Mr. Strauss.

"Let it go at that." responded Sullivan, and the amendment was passed. Automobiles must hereafter stop in the presence of frightened dogs.

Gus Wolff brought action against Mrs. Carrie Clapp to recover $5,000 for personal injuries suffered August 3, when Mr. Wolff was struck down on Dexter Avenue at Court Square by an automobile driven by Mrs. Clapp and was seriously injured. The Advertiser reported:

"Mrs. Clapp had purchased the machine only a short time before the accident occured and was leaming to drive it. In his Bill of Complaint, Mr. Wolff said that Mrs. Clapp was in charge of controlling or operating a certain vehicle called and known as an automobile, negligently and carelessly ran into the plaintiff, knocked him down and severely bruised and injured him whereby he was confined to his home for several weeks and suffered great pain, both mental and physical."

The account of the accident the previous month had said:

"Mrs. Clapp has owned the automobile about a week, and is not experienced in driving it. Witnesses said she did not seem to have control of the machine, which was not driving fast. She undertook to turn aside to pass pedestrians, and in doing so ran directly into the path of Mr. Wolff, who was directly in the course of her car."

One should have no trouble in picturing Mrs. Clapp, probably in linen duster, goggles and motor veil steering the unfamiliar vehicle through a section that is even today [1940] a nightmare of traffic congestion.

The day he was graduated from Harvard, his parents presented him with an automobile-a snappy red paint job-that was the talk of the town. The Winter Garden was playing an engagement at Pickett Springs that season with Gertrude Hoffman as the star and the red roadster became a familiar sight out there. The story is that John's mother decided that he was driving his car around entirely too much and too fast and he must give it up.

So, says the story, John drove the car into the barn, said to his Mother: "If this is to be my last day with it, let's make it a memorable one," and held a lighted match to the gas tank.

The story has a happy ending however, for mother relented, John kept the car, and everyone lived happily ever after.

The unfortunate Mrs. Clapp, while probably the most unlucky, was far from being the only woman driving a car around Montgomery in the early days of the automobile.

Mrs. Frank Lockwood with her duster and gauntlets, Mrs. David Riley Cook, and many others of the gentler sex took their courage in their hands and learned to drive the things.

Only the most adventurous ever left town in automobiles back in the early nineteen-hundreds. Perry Street was not paved above the Governor's Mansion, so driving but as far as Felder Avenue on that dirt track provided thrills enough. Montgomery Street was a long red hill and a hazardous jaunt in wet weather.

A little later, a drive around "Abraham's Loop," sometimes called the "Court Street Loop," was a Sunday afternoon's excursion of real excitement. The Pike Road loop was an all-day trip and necessitated the taking of a picnic lunch, spare tire, tools, and a shovel.

Late in the first decade of this century, financiers began to worry about the money that was being spent on automobiles and their upkeep. On August 11, 1910, the Advertiser published a symposium of interviews on automobile ownership.

Bernard Steiner, cashier of the Montgomery Bank and Trust Company, was quoted as saying:

"There are men in Montgomery who are mortgaging their homes in order to be- come members of the so-called automobile aristocracy of Montgomery. I do not believe that men should buy machines unless they have money enough and over for such luxuries. It cannot be denied that the automobile is a very useful, as well as expensive article, but when a man has to go to work and mortgage his home in order to possess a machine; well that is going too far!"

"This is the opinion," continued the story, "entertained by almost all of the prominent bankers of the city."

"You must not quote me," said one, "but I certainly do think the automobile is taking away a great deal of money that would otherwise have been put to some real use in building Montgomery and in enriching the investor."

Mr. Steiner further remarked, "I can't believe that the automobile is causing the high prices of things, for the money spent for a machine does not leave the country, but goes to the north, and most of it to Michigan, and as far as I can see, the price of living there is as high as it is with us. I don't mean to say that all of the money goes away from the city. I know that the jobbers get their twenty percent all right and money for repairs, etc., but when a high-priced machine is bought, it is so much money gone, absolutely gone. Of course the money is put in circulation in the country--but not in this town."

"I agree with these men," said Mr. Steiner, "when a man who really cannot afford to buy a machine buys one, I do not believe that any banker in this city would lend money to a man to buy an automobile if he knew that the money was for that purpose alone. If it were a customer to whom money should be lent whether or no, then he would at least try to dissuade him from that foolish step."

"Most of the banks around here have been receiving all sorts of letters from the different motor manufacturing companies trying to find out what class of people were buying machines and if we thought they were causing any financial loss. I don't think that is the case often in the community, but I know of instances, the fewer the better, where people right here have mortgaged their homes to buy automobiles."

J. M. Winchester, bank cashier, had told this reporter:

"I think automobiles are an unnessesary extravagance. They are certainly useful as time savers, but I think they are more of a fad than anything else. They will die out as the bicycle did before them. The average wages of a man are $125 per month. If that man has a family to support and rents a house, as most do, and also the desire to possess an automobile, then you can see where the trouble comes in. The minimum cost of upkeep of an automobile is $40 leaving $65 a month for his family and rent. Suppose that house costs $30. What remains will leave a little over a dollar a day for his family. He spends more for the automobile which is for pleasure alone, than he does on his family. That is omitting the original cost of the automobile entirely. Is that right?"

There is no doubt about the fact that it took money to own an automobile in those days. Charles Ingalls, who started selling automobiles in Montgomery in 1906, remembers that in that era a Packard cost around $6,500, and a Thomas Flyer, $2,000. That was for the hand-cranked jobs with windshields and lights considered extra equipment. One thing the pioneers did have on the makers of more recent years though, was the gear shift on the steering post. The makers of Pierce-Arrows, which sold for something over $5,000, thought that one up around 1908.

Mr. Ingalls was the first man who ever rented an automobile in Montgomery. He used to charge $1.50 for a ride with a chauffeur from Court Square to the Capitol and back, and every Sunday afternoon the car was kept full of young people speeding over the cobblestones at 15 miles an hour. One night along about that time he had a wire to meet an eastern train and take a man on an emergency trip to Selma. The drive was over muddy roads and it took seven hours to make the 50 mile trip, but he was paid $70 for his trouble.

Mr. Ingalls knew Henry Ford when he used to help load his cars onto the freight trains in Detroit. He says he was one of Ford's customers and Ford was always glad to see him. As a pioneer in a shaky busi- ness, Mr. Ford was often Mr. Ingalls' guest in his old home in Cloverdale.

"Montgomery real estate men hold the opinion that the increased popularity of the automobile during the past few years is responsible for the growing decrease in property deals. All of them agree that home and residential property does not sell now as formerly.

"Many assign no cause for this condition, while others promptly place the blame on the automobile industry. They contend that salaried people are not buying homes, but are placing their money in the upkeep of automobiles which they have secured by mortgaging property and, in many cases, the machine itself.

One real estate man estimates that there is at least $1,000,000 invested in automobiles by private individuals in Montgomery. He bases his estimate on between 800 and 1,000 machines averaging the cost of at least $1,500, the lowest possible figure. He ar- gues that each of these cars costs the owner $100 a month for maintenance. These fig- ures, he contends, are sufficient arguement that the automobile is hurting the real estate business.

"Any one of these automobiles," he states, "depreciate in value at least 33 percent every three years unless the owner has spent money in abundance to keep it in tip- top shape. A $1,500 car would hardly net the owner $500 at the end of that time and he is out the money he spent for maintenance during the time he had to run it. I know of one particular instance where a man of small means mortgaged his home to buy an auto.

"There are numerous instances where homes have been mortgaged to buy automobiles but the deal usually turns out disasterously unless the owner has other property to fall back on. The realty men of Montgomery are offering small homes on the easy payment plan and they are well witlun the reach of salaried men. It seems to be the tendency during late years with each newly married man to get an automobile instead of a home. This foolish craze for show is a deep hole for small home owners and young manied couples to get into."

L. E. Rogers, chief of the motor vehicle division of the Alabama Department of Revenue, says that demand for automobile tags has been so great this year [1940] that several counties have run out and have had to borrow tags from other parts of the state until more could be supplied.

Yes, it really looks like the automobile is going to take the place of the horse and the mule, not without, however, some struggle on the mule's part.

Mr. Sam Robertson, down Evergreen way, used to tell about the time he was whizzing along in his two-cylinder roadster and met a mule in the middle of the narrow road. Mr. Robertson slowed up, got right behind the mule, and squeezed a terrific blast on his rubber-ball horn. The mule, without so much as cocking an ear, raised up his two back feet and kicked the radiator clear off Mr. Robertson's new car.

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