CHRISTMAS 2003 Last summer PBS showed a fascinating story about 3 cars crossing the country for the first time in 1903. Uncle Tony took a similar trip in 1920 in a Model T from Chicago to San Francisco and back. While the roads were improved here and there, by 1920 there wasn't much else done for the motorist at that point in time. I heard the story once or twice when I was 4 or 5 years old so much of the details are now lost. Allow me to set the stage.
Uncle Tony and some of his Chicago friends had bought 5 or 10 acres of land with some mature trees on it for summerhouses in Palatine, a suburb of Chicago. Around the central region they put in a commons road loop and divided the outside perimeter into plots for maybe 10 or 12 summer houses. At one end of the commons area they had an evening fire area where they could burn brush to discourage mosquitoes, surrounded by logs to sit on, sing and tell stories on warm summer evenings. It was dark by the time the brush had burned into glowing embers. The children would sit between their parents and the embers and listen to the stories. Uncle Tony was one of the chief story tellers- boy, could he tell stories! Some of the kids and not a few parents would always clamor for his cross-country story.
He and an ex-army friend had been mustered out of the army at the close of WWI, bought a Model T and began to equip it for a cross-country trip in 1920. Uncle Tony would jump to his feet and ask the children why they equipped the car for the trip as they did. Why the cans of drinking water and gasoline? Why the tent? Why so many tires mounted on rims? What about the long, heavy rope? And why did they get out the rope every night? Why did he not sleep on a pillow and why did this save his trip on one occasion? At this point everyone was clinging to his every word.
In 1920 there were still not enough cars and trucks to support stores and filling stations between cities so it was still necessary to carry drinking water and gas even on main roads which were still largely dirt or gravel. Some of the worst muddy spots would still stop a team pulling a wagon, and occasionally blasted rocks with their sharp edges would be used to fill in some spots. The sharp-edged rock would tear up car tires quickly- and of course there was nowhere to buy replacements. There were no motels; summer rains were frequent, so a tent was essential. What about the long, heavy rope, you ask, and why take it out every night?
During the day it would prove indispensable to help withdraw cars stuck in the mud and of course when their Model T got stuck. Every night the rope was uncoiled and placed around the perimeter of the tent. Poisonous snakes such as water moccasins abounded, it was said, and for hot, summer days they would stay hidden in cool animal holes until night, when they would be attracted to the smell of food in a tent. But they would not crawl over a large diameter rope according to prevailing opinion at that time. So Uncle Tony and his buddy were careful to always make sure that the rope went completely around the tent. Imagine the impact this idea would have on the imaginations of 4 or 5 year olds.
One time they picked up a hitchhiker. After spending a number of days and nights with them, he suddenly disappeared one night. The next morning Uncle Tony's partner discovered that his pants, wallet, watch and every other item of value had been stolen. Now Uncle Tony did not bring a pillow; instead he rolled up his valuables into his pants, made these into a compact package and slept on it. They were able to survive for the remainder of the trip because of this foresight.
I have fond memories of Uncle Tony. He had a tremendous body build; today he could be a stand-in for Schwarzenegger. He had a commanding voice, perhaps from the army training. Underneath this commanding exterior was a pleasant, accommodating person. He was a roofer by trade and on one visit my family was in the process of building a house. He spent about 4 days putting on the roof and teaching me how to correctly put on a roof, proving to be an excellent teacher. As a result today I can still look at a roof critically and assess whether first class professionals did the job.
One time when we were visiting relatives in Chicago mom bought a throw rug on sale at a rug warehouse store, to be delivered the next day to my grandparent's tailor shop. When the rug was delivered mom was astonished: it was both smaller and of an inferior weave to the one that she had bought. Mom was almost in tears, but Uncle Tony happened along and said that he would accompany her back to the rug warehouse and help her get the correct one. They entered the store, mom with her receipt in one hand and Uncle Tony carrying the rug under one arm. There were no customers in the store- the manager was in the back of the store with several employees. In his commanding voice that reverberated throughout the building Uncle Tony said, "WHERE'S THE MANAGER?" Mom could see the manager duck down behind a desk and hear him say to an employee, " Give them anything they want." The employee came running with the correct rug; they made the exchange and left the store without further words.
For the summer Saturday and Sunday afternoons Uncle Tony would organize games such as baseball. Sometimes the ground would be too muddy for baseball, but large, deep puddles made it suitable for an exciting tug-of-war. The tug-of -war (maybe with the famous road-trip rope?) would be set up on either side of the largest, muddiest puddle. Dad also had a tremendous body build, and excelled at boxing and wrestling in high school. Uncle Tony explained to dad how to win at tug-at-war. He said that if you held the rope at waist height you were sure to loose. Instead, by keeping it at knee height you had not only a lower overturning moment but also could use your massive leg muscles to move the rope. When they were on the same side they always won. At length, the others refused to play the game unless Uncle Tony and dad were on opposite sides. This was in the middle of the Great Depression and the prize was a box of kitchen matches or a can of tomatoes, prizes for which I had no interest, so I didn't mind being considered too young to participate.
There was only one time when the titans collided. Dad had driven his motorcycle the 30 miles from Libertyville to court mom. He appeared at the tailor shop with tickets for a play or opera and asked mom to go with him. For some reason mom declined saying that she had no suitable clothes. Dad said that this wouldn't matter. Uncle Tony told dad to leave. Words soon escalated into action. They swung a few punches at each other and dad left with a black eye. As soon as he left mom told me that she broke out in tears saying that she had probably lost the only man she would ever be interested in marrying. Dad overheard and said that he could have decked Tony but he was afraid of loosing the girl that he hoped to marry. We will never know.