All photos courtesy and copyright Charlie Beesley.
Before the motorcar became a reality, most Americans never ventured more than a few miles from home. In 1890, a farmer who lived, say, eight miles from town faced a four-hour round trip by horse and buggy.
That changed with the Ford Model T. Most farmers who could afford to buy Model Ts did, and the car totally altered their lives. They could now drive to town in half an hour. The Model T also freed people to travel just for the fun of it – to go places they’d heard of, dreamt about and never would have been able to visit in the days before Henry Ford offered them an affordable automobile. The romance of the road came to be what Woody Guthrie affectionately called “hard travelin’.”
The theme of this chapter of Charlie Beesley’s car pictures is “On the Road.” I don’t mean to sound like a PR flak for Ford, but the days of Americans hitting the road pretty much started with the Model T. And due to the T’s universality (and the advent of the Kodak Brownie camera – ed.), more people took pictures of themselves going places in their Lizzies than people who owned other makes of cars. The numbers favored the T from about 1913 through the first years of the Great Depression. More Americans drove Ts, thus more people took pictures of themselves with their Ts, thus Charlie ended up with more pictures showing the T during that hard-travelin’ era.
The T not only put America on wheels, but it was reliable and tough enough to slog through mud and bounce over the unpaved roads of that day. When the T did break down, most owners could fix it on the spot – another advantage it had over other automobiles.
Even so, the age of motor travel started a few years before the Model T became popular, and Charlie’s collection includes examples of that era, too. Then, in the 1930s, as the T began to fade and highways got better, Americans took to the road in even greater numbers. Tourists were still traveling around Europe mostly by train, but here in the United States, the car dominated.
Tourism became an industry. Motorists were encouraged to travel. Gas stations handed out free maps. Motor courts popped up along major routes. Roadside restaurants catered to families on wheels, and the public’s investment in national parks began to pay off. Gas was cheap, and people jumped into the family tourer for any number of reasons.
One of those reasons during the Depression was to move to places that held out hope of work. Thus began the great migration from Oklahoma and other central states to the job-friendlier climes of California and the West Coast.
But most of Charlie’s pictures aren’t of on-the-road Okies, because Okies couldn’t afford cameras. These are mostly photos of tourists having a good time, seeing new places and expanding their horizons as Americans had never been able to do before.
We begin our motoring journey with a series of pictures of Ford Model Ts. The T put American tourists on wheels. In the 1910s, when national parks were young, an adventuresome couple in an early Model T passes through the gates of Washington’s Mount Rainier National Park.
The next three photos show a T speedster heading across country sometime in the late 1920s. The car has New York plates, and that’s where the trek begins. Here the T pauses on the Bear Mountain Bridge over the Hudson River. The bridge was completed in 1924 and is now part of U.S. Routes 202 and 6.
Apparently two people occupied the cross-country T speedster, and the passenger got out to take this picture. Behind the T is a 1927 Chandler and another Model T, all skirting the muddier middle of the road.
Stopping somewhere in Arizona, the driver checks under the hood while his passenger snaps a shot of sheep grazing peacefully in front of a rather dramatic outcrop. Unfortunately, we have no pictures of the passenger.
A family stops briefly in Salem, South Dakota, on the way to who knows where. The father, we presume, took this picture. The T’s loaded to the gunwales, as is the trailer, which the son topped off with what looks like his soapbox racer. Actually it’s an upturned Radio Flyer wagon with a leather suitcase between the wheels.
Tourists, including Henry Ford and friends, indulged in what came to be called “tin-can camping.” Here a Model T and a 1925 Chevy share a tarp between them. Both cars have Ohio plates, but there’s no telling where these two families were roughing it.
Another tin-can camper pitches his tent, this time on a trip through the Yosemite Valley. Such scenes look bucolic, but similar photos might have been taken when families drove to the West Coast looking for work during the Depression.
A well-dressed family, in what looks to be an almost new Model T, stops off at some Hohokam ruins near Casa Grande in Arizona.
Somewhere in the Pacific Northwest, a Model T huddles beneath a cliff overhanging the roadway. Perhaps readers can tell us where this picture was taken.
Nebraska farmer Elmer J. Sweet drove his T to California in 1921 to visit his sister. The inscription records the impression of a flatlander viewing the Pacific for the first time.
To extricate a Model T from a muddy road near Brinkley, Arkansas, two mules patiently await the command from their owner down below.
This picture poses something of a mystery. There is no town in Idaho called Sunnyside. There is a Sunnyside, Washington, not far from the Idaho border, and the early Ford dealership there is the focus of an excellent book called Me and the Model T, by Roscoe Sheller.
Leaving the realm of Model Ts, we now step back in time to a slightly earlier period. Here we see a 1903-1904 Cadillac Model A with its front seat out. The engine is being tinkered with by a well-dressed trio of college boys while a woman, barely visible at the far left, sits in the grass and looks mightily unimpressed.
Three fortunate couples in a 1909 Buick (left) and a 1906 Maxwell-Briscoe go for a spin somewhere near South Bend, Indiana.
The slightly less fortunate owner of a different 1909 Buick ponders the mysteries of its four-cylinder engine. At that time, Buick offered six models ranging in wheelbase from 92 to 112 inches, some with overhead-valve engines and others with side valves.
A 1910 Stanley steamer, the first car to traverse Boulder Canyon between Nederland and Boulder, Colorado, breaks down somewhere along the way. The Stanley belonged to the Nederland Auto Stage Co., which ferried passengers between the two towns.
Another Maxwell parks beside a hollow tree in the town of Sedro-Woolley, Washington. Sedro-Woolley took its name by the combining of two towns, Sedro and Woolley, on the Skagit River inland from the Strait of Juan de Fuca and the Canadian border.
Here’s an air-cooled car surrounded by water – a circa-1924 Franklin on Kelley’s Island in Lake Erie, just north of Sandusky, Ohio. These tourists jammed even the family dog inside, and thank goodness for running boards. Bag and baggage are neatly stacked and wrapped in oilcloth.
When the bridge went out over the East River, near Almont, Colorado, an enterprising farmer took his two white horses and, for a modest fee, offered to tow cars across. He’s astride the hood of a 1920-ish Dodge touring car.
We’re not sure where this photo was taken – either in Mexico or Arizona. The 1928 Chevrolet cabriolet has a neat roof extension over the rumbleseat, shading a woman and boy who’d otherwise get fried.
A brand-new, first-year 1926 Imperial 80 roadster crests a hill somewhere in Michigan (we think). The number 80 referred to the Imperial’s top speed, a mark rarely attainable on the roads of that day.
Someone built himself a snug housecar/camper on a 1928 Stutz base, driving it bravely in wintertime along the Victory Highway. The Victory Highway ran coast to coast south of the Lincoln Highway, New York to San Francisco.
Three guys in a 1933 Chevy coupe look like they’re in no hurry to get anywhere.
An early Auburn speedster with 1940 California plates heads east on Route 66 in New Mexico. On the back of another picture of this car, someone wrote, “Muroc Dry Lake, 4-7-1940, 93 MPH.”
A Graham Blue Streak coupe poses alongside a trim young woman somewhere in the Sierra. The date is March 1934, and the note on the back says, “Coming back from Reno,” presumably to Sacramento or perhaps San Francisco.
Several families loaded themselves into the bed of a mid-1930s International-Harvester pickup for a day’s excursion to the snow. What’s unusual about this pickup are its General Streamline Jumbo tires.
The 1935 Plymouth knows it’s really gotten somewhere when it crosses the Continental Divide in Wyoming at 7,176 feet. The car’s owners and their small dog stretch their legs before heading down the other side.
“Dapper” has to describe this young man who stands so proudly in front of his 1935 La Salle en route to Beverly Hills in 1936. Actually, he’s Rudolph de Hapsburg ver Mehr, great grandson of John L. ver Mehr, missionary and founder of what later became Grace Cathedral in San Francisco.
The legend on the back of this picture says, “This is the flood at Sandusky, Ohio, after a cloud burst. We drove nearly 50 miles under this much water and more. Picture taken from our car.”
Not to worry – he’s only checking the oil level of his 1942 Chrysler. The plates indicate U.S. military, and the date is 1951.
A lovely 1947 Buick Roadmaster sedanet pauses beneath a rugged outcrop somewhere in the American Southwest.
This young woman parks her 1947-1948 Chevrolet Fleetline Aero and hops aboard the marker welcoming her to Texas. Here’s hoping she won’t mess with it.
These guys seem positively pleased that they had to pull everything out of the trunk of their 1947 Studebaker Starlight coupe to change the tire. And here’s a question: Would bumper jacks get past a car company’s legal staff nowadays?
Somewhere along Highway 1 on the Pacific Coast, a low tide allows the owner of this 1949 Buick Super to make a very pleasant detour onto the beach.
A 1951 Ford stayed properly cool on its way down to the lowest point in Death Valley. Now the question becomes: What’s going to happen on the way back?
Coming out of Parowan, Utah, a man in a 1957 Mercury Turnpike Cruiser stops and ponders whether to head toward Cedar City or Beaver, Utah.
Same idea as the Stutz above, but this homemade camper has a raisable roof, and the Cadillac stays intact, so it’s usable as an everyday driver.
The reason there’s no visible background in this Polaroid is because the man in the Corvan posed on the White Sands of New Mexico – a spectacular sight, but you want to be sure to bring your sunglasses.
This Florida matron seems to have car camping knocked. Whether she’s loaded the kitchen sink into her 1957 Ford Ranch Wagon remains unknown, but she’s certainly brought along everything else. The photo was taken in August 1962 in Missouri.
It’s the little car that could. You gotta love a Citroën 2CV that makes it up the summit road of Mt. Lassen in Northern California. Other shots from the series show the 2CV with two sleeping bags stretched out inside.
Ah, the bliss of taking a little nap in the back seat with the kids. Has the trip really been that long and hard, or are they just dozing recreationally?