Human nature being what it is, most folks would rather ride somewhere than walk, so how did people get around the rapidly growing cities during the 19th century? The well off could afford to own their own “coach and four,” along with a driver and a footman or two to take care of them. A middle class family might have a buggy and a horse, and lesser people walked.
An early innovation in the larger cities here and in Europe was the “omnibus,” a wagon gear with an enclosed coach containing windows and a bench seat down each side. The driver sat on the roof and collected fares through an opening just under his seat. Passengers climbed a flight of steps and entered through a rear door, handed the fare up to the driver and took their seat.
The Oct. 2, 1864 issue of the New York Herald gives us this look at riding the omnibus: Modern martyrdom may be succinctly defined as riding in a New York omnibus. The driver quarrels with the passengers. There are quarrels about getting on, quarrels about getting off. There are quarrels about change and quarrels about the ticket swindle. The driver swears at the passenger and the passengers harangue the driver through the trap hole. Reputable clergymen in white chokers are obliged to listen to loud oaths. Thus the omnibus rolls along, a veritable bedlam on wheels.
Then, in the early 1830s, street car lines began to be established in New York City. The rails were set into the streets flush with the pavement and the cars were pulled by one or two horses. The cars were lightly built of wood and were decorated with fancy striping and gilt lettering. There was no heat and perhaps an oil lamp or two for light at night. Besides the driver on the front platform there was usually a conductor to take fares and assist passengers.
Before long other cities, and even smaller towns began to sprout horse car lines, and in 1882 the Railway Review stated there were at that time in the U.S. 415 street railways in operation. These roads had over 3,000 miles of track, 35,000 employees, and owned 18,000 cars and 100,000 horses, who ate 150,000 tons of hay and 11,000,000 bushels of grain each year, while carrying 1,212,400,000 passengers.
By the 1890s, horse car lines were fast being replaced by electrically driven cars which were fast, dependable, and quiet, and needed no hay or oats, while leaving no road apples behind to be cleaned up. Although the conversion was expensive, by the turn of the century virtually all the former horse lines were electric.
Horse car workers had it better in some ways than many of their contemporaries in factories and mines; the work was clean and not especially dangerous, one got to wear a uniform, and the pay was relatively good at $2.00 to $2.50 per day. The hours, however, were terrible; in 1880, Railway Age magazine published the following letter from a horse car conductor: We average about sixteen hours work a day. I breakfast at home, and one of my children leaves me my dinner on my noon trip up town. I either eat it in the car on the last stretch near Druid Hill Park, if the car is empty, or at the stables; or, if I am hurried, I wait until the down trip, and eat when there are few or no passengers. My supper is sent to me in the same way. I don’t get home until midnight, or after; but I hear from home when my meals are brought me. I have one day to myself in each week, for which I am not paid. I generally spend it with my family at home in winter, or in the parks during the summer.
Despite the drawbacks, some employees found a little fun in their jobs. The January 13, 1883 American Railroad Journal carried this description of a common experience by a driver: After the balky horse has stopped ten or fifteen times on the route he fairly gets his mad up and declares he won’t go any farther. Well, the conductor rings the bell and only one horse starts and we don’t go worth a cent. So I’ve nothing to do but to lick the balky horse. And the lady inside next the window says: ‘Jest see how that man is beating those horses.’ And the old lady next to her says:’Did you ever see anything like it? I shouldn’t think they’d let him.’ Then sombody else says: ‘I’d like to know what’s the matter now. This is the tenth time we’ve stopped since we left the bridge. I don’t see why we need so many stops.’ Somebody else yells: ‘Say driver, what’s the matter? Why ain’t we moving?’ Another replies: ‘It’s a bocky (sic) horse.’ ‘A bocky horse,’ cries someone else, ‘well that ain’t any way to handle a bocky horse. Why don’t somebody get out and lead him? There’s no reason a carful of people should be kept waiting in the middle of the street because the driver don’t know his business.’ Then the balky horse rares up on his hind legs and goes to pawing the air, which always frightens the women. They holler and most everybody stands up to see what’s going on, and just then the horse decides to go with a jerk. The way them people go down then does me more good than all the rest of it. No fun driving a horse car? Well, I suppose there ain’t to a man who hasn’t got it in him.’
And another glimpse of life in the “Good Old Days.”
Happy New Year! Sam Moore