A decade and a half after the first automobile appeared in Bangor, hundreds of motor vehicles — autos, trucks, even motorcycles operated by women — were rolling through the streets of the Queen City of the East after the last snow melted each spring. The growing number of automobilists had created new businesses for a host of enterprising entrepreneurs as well as new headaches for city fathers.
Horse-drawn conveyances were still an important and popular mode of transportation. Bangor still supported six carriage and sleigh dealers, three carriage maker suppliers, eight carriage smiths and three carriage trimmers, according to the Bangor Business Directory in 1916.
But in only 15 years, the city had accumulated 14 automobile dealers, 11 “repairers” and seven storage garage operators, not to mention a variety of dealers in parts such as the United States Tire Co., manufacturer of the famous Knobby Tread, with a store on Harlow Street in the Windsor Hotel building.
Gas pumps were apparently threatening to sprout along city streets like mushrooms.
In June 1915, the Bangor City Council was debating regulations for the new “gasoline tank stations” that were appearing around the city. How many should there be and where should they go?
The ones that already existed were located “on the outer edge of the sidewalk and underground with the familiar iron frames above with pump and electric light surmounting the whole,” reported the Bangor Daily News on June 16.
Gasoline, the fuel of choice, carried great risks as documented in the newspapers. Blazing autos and exploding motor boats were not uncommon sights.
“An automobile spurting sheets of flame and pursued by at least a hundred men and boys sped down Park street hill early Monday night, described a semi-circle, and ended its career near the new federal building. It was a really wonderful spectacle,” reported the Bangor Daily News on May 25.
A more serious incident occurred in July when the “gasolene distributing boat” Petrolia III blew up at her dock in Rockland harbor, killing the cook and throwing the captain and a crew member into the harbor. Owned by Standard Oil Co., the 75-foot boat was taking on a supply of gas “to take to the westward,” reported the Bangor Daily Commercial on July 19.
Advertisements for “public autos” — the taxis of the future — were becoming commonplace in the newspapers. One such ad offered “A PUBLIC AUTO for ladies and gentlemen, Calls at your house and takes you to whist parties and shopping, making accommodating stops. … New car in first class condition and careful driver.” Interested customers were advised to call TEL. 975-J or to leave an order at R. A. Bourgeois’ barber shop at 128 Main St.
Downtown parking had become a problem even though the number of vehicles was only a small fraction of what it is today. There were plenty of places to park, but people were afraid to leave their shiny new vehicles along the streets unattended for long periods of time. An official parking place with an attendant on duty would contribute to the prosperity of local businesses, suggested Taber D. Bailey of the Bangor Automobile Association.
Mayor Frank Robinson agreed, suggesting an official spot be established — perhaps along Franklin Street — where “a suitable man” would charge a small fee of 10 cents so as not to cost the city anything to supervise parking, the Bangor Daily News reported on July 20.
Thanks to the advent of automobiles, summer tourism was becoming important to Bangor. Vehicles were passing through the city on the way to numerous destinations — even Bar Harbor, which had only recently opened its roads to motor cars.
The Maine Automobile Association, meanwhile, predicted that World War I would cause a large increase in auto traffic as wealthy tourists sought to avoid the danger and disruption in Europe.
“The summer automobile tourist season has begun in earnest,” declared the Bangor Daily Commercial on June 14, 1915. “Bangor is the hub of eastern Maine, and practically all the automobile parties that incline toward this section visit this city sooner or later. Cars from distant points are now seen in city streets, from New Brunswick, Quebec, New York and even Texas and California.”
Items like this one were numerous in the city’s newspapers: Mrs. Cyrus Walker and Mrs. Ira Pierce with their maid had recently arrived from San Francisco in their Locomobile. They checked into the Bangor House, the city’s finest hotel, on their way to East Machias for the summer.
Money could be made offering roadside services to these travelers, many of whom looked for less expensive accommodations than the Bangor House. For example, Johnson’s Restaurant at 20 Central St. promised lunches and dinners at cut prices for parties from out of town, while Frey’s Sanitary Cafe located just up the street “catered for automobile parties touring through the state.” The Colonial Hotel advertised rooms for $2 and $2.50 per day as well as a dining room for “automobile tourists.”
A large program of road improvement was under way boosted by money from the state’s skyrocketing auto registration fees. Endless debates began appearing in the newspapers over what roads should be improved and how much should be spent. Farmers lobbied for roads over which to take their produce to market, while hotel owners advocated highways for tourists.
Gravel vs. pavement occupied more space in the newspapers.
Everyone seemed to think he was an expert on road building. For example, Bangor was experimenting with gravel, asphalt, bricks, wood blocks, concrete and granite all at once in its downtown streets.
“The short stretch of granite paving in Harlow Street from the corner of Central to the wood paving at the Windsor Hotel building will be replaced with wood blocks, making a continuous stretch from Hancock Street to the high school building. … Opposite the new federal building, [City Hall today] the plans call for the complete filling of the street from curb to curb with wood blocks,” according to the Bangor Daily News on June 14, in a typical story.
Given the fact that the state speed limit was only 25 mph on the open road and 15 mph in built up areas, we can guess how bad these roads were. It would be a long time before Maine roads and streets would be anything resembling the speedways we have today, and dirt roads were still the rule in most towns. Ironically, most communities in 1915 still lacked police cars to enforce even these limits.
The quest for the tourism dollar had unexpected pitfalls. A drop off in auto traffic part way through the summer of 1915 led to charges in Bangor that Portland hotel proprietors and garage owners were spreading false reports that roads in eastern Maine were often barely passable because of construction and poor maintenance (which, of course, was true). This was “hardly neighborly,” fumed an editorial in the Bangor Daily Commercial on July 22 titled “Selfishness in Portland.”
The Bangor Daily News, meanwhile, revealed that the war in Europe, in fact, was not adding much to Maine’s tourist population.
“So far as the war is concerned, it is pointed out that those who spend their summers in Europe when there isn’t any war are largely of the wealthy class, whereas the majority of Maine’s summer visitors are of the big, healthy middle class — the merely well-to-do,” according to the newspaper on July 23.
Of course the “cottagers” of Bar Harbor and Dark Harbor on Islesboro were striking exceptions, but for the most part, the former European travelers sought out Newport, Rhode Island, and “other fashionable resorts than the coast of Maine.”
The rise of the automobile had caused another transformation, which we might refer to as “resort sprawl” today. Autoists were bypassing the “big, barnlike” summer hotels and building “camps, cottages and bungalows” of their own at the ocean and on lakes and ponds all over the state.
“Hotel life is no longer necessary to hot-weather recreation, for the popular-priced automobile has made a wonderful change in the last eight or [10] years,” noted the newspaper.
Wayne E. Reilly’s column on Bangor a century ago appears in the newspaper every other Monday. His latest book, “Hidden History of Bangor: From Lumbering Days to the Progressive Era,” is available where books are sold. Comments can be sent to him at wreilly.bdn@gmail.com.