A “hot debate” about traffic congestion in downtown Bangor flourished a century ago, when a growing number of automobiles — aka “devil wagons” — and other gasoline-powered vehicles competed with plodding horses and clanging electric trolleys for control of the streets.
The answer for some city fathers was a long, complicated traffic ordinance that would outline rules of the road most drivers take for granted today. Back then, these rules seemed like needless inconveniences to people used to parking on sidewalks, driving down the middle of the street and other reckless behavior.
The “hot debate” reported in the papers on Oct. 13, 1915, on the latest version of proposed road rules that city councilors had been working on for at least three years gives us an idea of the touchy nature of the discussion.
“This ordinance,” the aptly named Alderman Eben Blunt declared, “will protect the humble pedestrian who has just as much right on our streets as the man who drives a devil wagon. And something should be done to curb the reckless automobilists who are the cause of accidents or near accidents every day. They ought to be rounded up and Judge Blanchard out to give ’em some good stiff sentences.”
Blunt declined to actually read the proposed ordinance, which went on for seven typewritten pages, according to the story in the Bangor Daily News.
Then the hot debate began.
The acting president of the Bangor Railway and Electric Company, Edward Graham, said his company’s effort to get trolleys from Bangor to Brewer in 20 minutes was being impeded on Exchange Street. Parked automobiles in the busy afternoon and early evening on both sides of the street forced moving vehicles into the middle of the street where, they blocked the trolley tracks.
“Why, I counted 36 there this afternoon, and one of them — a Ford — had been left at least 4 feet from the curb,” Graham said. The situation was “highly annoying.”
But the trolley system had its enemies. Graham got as good as he gave from Alderman Fred Ridley, who appeared to dislike the traffic ordinance as well as the trolley company. BR&E cars were speeding as they approached the entrance to the Bangor-Brewer Bridge, and there would have been an accident long ago if other drivers hadn’t exercised extraordinary precautions, Ridley said.
Ridley moved that the ordinance be sent to a committee for further study. He was seconded by Alderman Charles Hubbard, who proceeded “to rip the ordinance to pieces for about 20 minutes.” Hubbard noted that the sponsor of the measure, Alderman Frank Youngs, had gone hunting rather than attend the meeting to unveil his creation.
Speed was another issue addressed in the ordinance. An alderman left unidentified in the story suggested the traffic cop stationed at the busy intersection of Exchange and State streets should be enclosed in a box to protect him from reckless automobile drivers.
The police, however, were frequently criticized for not doing enough to enforce traffic laws. Such a structure would enable the traffic officer to hide, another alderman noted. No mention was made that patrolmen did not have their own cars to chase speeders and other violators.
Then the debate turned to Broad Street. Councilor James Gallagher recounted how he had seen a delivery wagon “placed squarely across the sidewalk, and a number of women and children had to walk out into the mud.”
Gallagher said, “I remonstrated with the driver not for myself but on the women’s account. But he gave me no satisfaction. Why, he told me to fire hot sand at myself. I did not do this, as it would have been a most difficult procedure.” (The meaning of this expression has apparently been lost to time.)
This was not the first time that a traffic ordinance proposal had been referred to a committee or tabled amidst controversy. Another plan met a similar fate as reported in the Bangor Daily Commercial on Nov. 13, 1912. The concerns of businessmen about deliveries to their stores and warehouses were cited.
A Broad Street businessman said that teams with heavy loads should be able to block the street for more than five minutes while loading or unloading.
An auto owner complained he would be unable to park in front of his Main Street business under the regulations. Instead, he would have to rent space in a garage.
Alderman Blanchard complained, however, there were times during the day when a man couldn’t drive a wheelbarrow down the street. He noted that it was only by “merest luck” that an accident hadn’t occurred while fire apparatus was being rushed down Main Street “where vacant automobiles add to the congestion made by the regular traffic and the electric cars.”
Various proposals were made for mass parking — on Franklin Street and on the site of the old post office in the Kenduskeag Stream. The police also issued dictums about clamping down on speeders, motorcyclists on sidewalks and other violators of the law. The Maine Automobile Association issued various directives about dimming headlights when passing other drivers and fixing rural roads and so on.
Perhaps the best hope of a permanent fix to the traffic mess — at least on Sundays — was proposed by the Rev. C. W. Collier of the Hammond Street Congregational Church.
“The place for the automobile on Sunday morning is in the garage,” he told a meeting of ministers as quoted in the Commercial on Oct. 14, 1915. “That is, unless it is used to take its owner and his family to and from church or is needed for an errand of mercy or for some other imperative cause.”
In the afternoon an automobile owner had a perfect right to go on a Sunday drive, but he shouldn’t make his chauffeur do the driving, Collier said.
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.