By BRANDON HURLEY
Sports Editor
sports@beeherald.com
EDITOR’S NOTE: This story was compiled with references to the Smithsonian Magazine, the Des Moines Register, Thegreatautorace.com and the Jefferson Bee.
Mud was everywhere, transforming the subtle landscape of Iowa into a treacherous battleground.
The syrupy, top soil clung to tires, slowing traffic to a halt. The lingering effects of a long winter splattered across clothes and even stuck to exhausted, sun-kissed faces.
Mother Nature was the greatest enemy for a brave group of six drivers from four countries who trudged their way through Iowa some 113 years ago, in search of the ultimate glory and a distinction which has since never been matched. An incredible test of powerful endurance and geographical sense swept the world as the contestants departed New York’s Times Square on Feb. 12, 1908, embarking on the Great Race, an automobile race from New York to Paris, spanning 22,000 miraculous miles across three continents and several countries. While cars were still gaining a foothold among the rising U.S. population, the small contingent of competitors bound together to create the longest auto race in history in 1908, a mark which still stands today.
The magnificent, mind-numbing route even crawled its way through the entire, muddy terrain of Greene County, captivating residents in Jefferson, Grand Junction and Scranton.
The race, sponsored by the New York Times and a French newspaper, Le Matin began in the winter in hopes of crossing a potential iced-over Bering Strait, a somewhat reasonable sliver of the Pacific Ocean between Alaska and Russia. Organizers naively believed the massive body of water would freeze allowing the cars to drive on the ice. This of course was not the case, the ocean did not freeze and the cars were shipped to Russia after arriving in Seattle, Washington.
The automobile was still somewhat of a curiosity near the tail-end of the decade, having only been invented by Charles Edgar Duryea 15 years earlier in 1893. Gas-powered cars hadn’t be en vogue for long, having just overtaken steam and electric cars in general popularity in 1905. Attempting to navigate a world primarily connected via gravel and dirt roads, better suited for horseback, was a test of bravery, transforming into a battle powered by intelligence and patience much more so than speed and skill.
The competitors often refueled at local hardware stores thanks to a lack of gas stations, filling buckets of gasoline and transporting them to their cars. The Americans even brought along three extra gas tanks to prepare for the long, grueling journey.
The cars were magnificent and astonishing as well, withstanding some of the harshest conditions a vehicle can experience.
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The Americans drove the American Thomas Flyer to victory. The car, built in 1907 for $4,000 came in at 5,000 pounds, before luggage, tires, passengers and gas tanks were added. The four cylinder, 60 horsepower engine could reach speeds of 60 miles per hour, though it rarely touched those numbers during the 22,000 mile tour.
Each team was nearly self-sufficient though on several occasions they still required horses to pull bewildered competitors out of ditches or creeks. Every vehicle possessed a pair of 16-foot long boards strapped to the exterior which could be used to lay over holes to help the car safely navigate across without further damage.
The drivers embarked on their world-wide tour without the luxury of windshields, A/C or heat, battling an onslaught of pesky bugs, freezing rain, extreme heat and multiple bouts with confusion.
Mother Nature was clearly the fiercest competitor throughout the race, causing a number of accidents and sending cars into sink holes and snow drifts.
The United States portion of the race traveled along an east-to-west route through middle America which would eventually become the Lincoln Highway, entering Iowa through through Clinton and traveling up into Cedar Rapids and onward to Council Bluffs. Greene County’s portion of the soon-to-be Lincoln Highway was graveled in 1904, becoming the state’s first county to receive the Rural Free Delivery mail service, setting up a well-groomed track for the contestants.
The original Lincoln Highway ran parallel to the Chicago Northwestern train line, mimicking the least wet and most flat parts of Iowa, but that designation would not come for another five years in 1913. Greene County’s 30-mile portion of the Lincoln Highway was not fully paved until 1924, 16 years after the world-wide race.
Despite the governmental support, the spring thaw of 1908 made one hell of a mess, derailing a number of competitors while swallowing an entire crew along the way.
Iowa was a beast many drivers didn’t see coming.
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The Great Race was buried inside five months of exploration and pure hell. One of the shortest state-long stretches produced some of the most maddening headaches.
While winter’s stranglehold no longer impacted the Midwest, mud arose as an even greater enemy when drivers made their way into Iowa.
The landscape was in the thick of a brutal thaw, which created quite the obstacle along the state’s many unpaved roads. The dirt and gravel were overtaken by a constant stream of deep, thick mud, creating massive pot holes and quick-sand like surfaces.
The route was treacherous, which forced the drivers to take an abundance of caution while navigating across Iowa. “Frightfully sticky conditions - progress is slow” read a March 4 headline in the Des Moines Register. The irritating slosh was a foot deep in a few spots across the state.
The professional drivers rarely reached average speeds above seven miles per hour during their trek through Iowa, careful not to slip into the muddy abyss of a rural unpaved road or risk losing an axle in the numerous pot holes.
The same roads which caused insane amounts of danger during the day would re-freeze over night, motivating the teams to head out early in the morning, usually around 8 a.m. The drivers often traveled in 30 mile spurts, recuperating during an hour-long pit stop, slowing each day’s progress to a crawl.
While the drivers would rest up in hotel beds each night, the crews would spend much of their evenings cleaning the vehicles inside and out, a process which took several hours.
Danger Hill was yet another tricky spot after departing Jefferson on the way to Scranton, known for its steep grade. Cars often went backwards up the incline to help regulate the flow of gasoline since fuel pumps had not yet been created. The gas would retreat to the rear of the car, unable to reach the engine for normal combustion.
Years after the race the hill was reduced down to a six percent grade, requiring 15-feet of ground removal. Greene County’s 30-mile portion of the Lincoln Highway was not fully paved until 1924, 16 years after the world-wide race.
Despite all of Iowa’s obstacles, Greene County was a place of celebration in mid-March of 1908.
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The first vehicle to arrive trudged through Jefferson around Midnight on March 4. The unique pace-car like automobile stood out and was nicknamed the “Army” car, a 30-horsepower Studebaker.
The crew was not an participant in the race, serving more as a guide, but they were still greeted by 200 Jefferson residents, who led the car into the Hutchinson garage for some much needed repairs.
The Studebaker’s headlights had ceased working shortly before arriving in Grand Junction. A Dr. S.C. Kirby loaned a temporary light to the driver so they could reach Jefferson. The pace car had just a single seat and was in poor shape when it slowly rolled into town, caked in mud. The muffler was gone as well, creating an almost unbearable noise as it drove along. Despite all these potentially crippling inefficiencies, the Army car spent just 15 minutes in Jefferson before heading out of town, allowing enough time to correct the broken headlights and to fill up for gas. The repairs were sudden and minor, as the car continued to emit smoke and flames as it rolled toward Scranton.
The Army car was quite the interesting appetizer, but once the real racers came along, the frenzy began. Eager Jefferson residents were greeted with quite the wake up call shortly after sunrise that same day.
The American team, which at the time was piloted by Monty Roberts, arrived in Jefferson at 7:25 a.m., more than seven hours behind the pace car. Roberts and crew spent just 10 minutes in Jefferson, enough time to refuel and receive a rousing welcome.
Local resident Henry Hagg drove out to Ogden at 6 a.m. to help guide the Americans through Grand Junction and into Jefferson. This was a common theme throughout much of Iowa, with a number of residents acting as escorts. Local Greene County residents were in awe of Roberts’ powerful vehicle, which would later lead the Americans to victory.
“It looked like a hayrack convoying a picnic party, the big planks which rode the fenders on both sides giving this weird effect,” a Jefferson Bee writer reported in the next day’s paper. “The car was enormously long with a wheel base of 120 inches and as loaded, weighed over three tons.”
The car did not handle rough roads well because of how far apart the wheels were.
Despite these detailed first-hand accounts, Roberts seemed a bit oblivious to his troubles, or he may have been hoping to shield his fellow Americans from his bad luck. He was quoted in the Des Moines Register praising the state for its pristine roads.
“The roads are not bad and we have not had a great deal of trouble in Iowa,” he said.
Perhaps the American was hoping to forget his trek through Marshalltown. It took him nearly two days to reach Ames, a straight shot of roughly 45 miles. His car broke through a bridge after departing Marshalltown, causing the rear wheels to break off into the creek five feet below. One of his passengers was also flung from the vehicle but escaped the creek unscathed.
The accident created an irritating setback.
The entire process from retrieval to repairs took several hours, forcing the crew to spend the night a few miles outside of Marshalltown. Roberts’ troubles weren’t done quite yet, as he encountered a flat tire just six miles after departing the next morning.
The Americans were far from the final crew to experience a number of troubles, but Roberts certainly wasn’t the most beloved. That honor belonged to a well-spoken Italian, close behind in second place.
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The gravel race route zig-zagged from Grand Junction westward toward Jefferson across Buttrick’s Creek, which today is a deafening S-curve between the two towns, spiraling along the creek bed.
The Italians, spearheaded by young journalist and poet Antonio Scarfogolio driving a Zust, was the second team to arrive in Jefferson around 1 p.m. on March 4. The 21-year old ran into a bit of a delay upon his departure from Grand Junction. He arrived into the county seat three hours later than expected because of an accident on a hill near the cemetery east of Jefferson, likely as he climbed out of the creek bed.
One of the Zust’s rear wheels fell off unexpectedly and without warning, causing the car to veer into the nearby ditch while the wheel nearly struck a residential vehicle following behind in pursuit. The Italian’s luck could’ve been much worse, but the rear axle was still buried in a foot of mud. Scarfogolio’s crew mates first attempted to jack the car up in the mud and place the errant wheel back on, but the soft ground made it difficult to gain a solid foundation. The bearing was eventually replaced and back on the road they went. Though the Italian team spent just five minutes in Jefferson, the townspeople left quite an impression, especially of the female type.
Scarfogolio fell in love with the ladies and the festive atmosphere the small town greeted him with. He was quoted in a Chicago newspaper a few days later reminiscing of his joy after being showered with praise from hundreds of females, entranced in song and dance.
“The presence of men would only have marred the glorious train of maidens waving banners, showering flowers, throwing kisses and indulging in other violent manifestations of feminine enthusiasm,” he said. “It is painful to leave such an ideal place.”
The Italian’s visit was not entirely of storybook lore, as he encountered a bout with an unidentified thief before he departed. Somehow, in the five minutes he was in Jefferson, someone managed to rob Scarfogolio’s car, ridding him of a few important vices. After Scarfogolio left town he realized he was missing two large bottles of whiskey and several boxes of cigars, though he refused to accuse the women of Jefferson as the culprits. He instead suspected a few men likely took advantage during a moment of distraction.
The writers of the Jefferson Bee would not accept Scarfogolio’s claims, and assumed he was out of line, saying “We confess we are pained by (this), which seems to be the only discord in this paean of joy. There must be some mistake about the whiskey and cigars.”
The writers went on to essentially offer up Jefferson’s population of single women to Scarfogolio as a payment for his loss, assuming the ladies would want him to return to town.
“There are several beautiful and unattached maidens in Jefferson who would be pleased to meet Scarfogolio again and assure him that his judgement was not at fault, nor his confidence misplaced,” the article read.
The excitement was not yet done despite the Italian team’s scandalous departure, paving the way for a few other unusual sights and sounds.
The Greene County courthouse bell rang loudly on five separate occasions that spring, initiating the arrival of each racer.
When the tremendous bell dinged a fourth time signaling the second to last car, residents were transported into a state of envy. The Germans were firmly in fourth place, piloting a Pronto, which was driven by Maurice Hutchinson on March 15. The vehicle was nothing like anything Jefferson had ever seen before, big and bold, but anchored by a aura of professionalism. The local paper was impressed with how the Germans had discovered a way to create a wagon-like covering for their vehicle. As they arrived in town around 4:30 p.m., the residents were shocked by the car’s power and size, wondering why it was 10 days behind the leader.
The fifth team, the only remaining French vehicle, came through town on Tuesday, March 17. The crew did not stop in Jefferson but decided to pull off in Scranton for a 30-minute break, enough time to fill up for gas and to enjoy a short lunch.
The path to gold didn’t get much easier upon departing Greene County. Though five teams made it through the most central part of the state, only four cars escaped Iowa’s suffocating mud. The French, driving a Moto Bloc, had seen enough of Iowa’s mud and had to call it quits near Council Bluffs. Roberts described the roads of western Iowa as “Muddy canals and some have no bottoms in the middle,” he said in the March 5 edition of the Des Moines Register. “If you could have seen us after a day’s ride, just a big lump of nice, soft Iowa soil.”
The Americans eventually claimed overall victory after leading the race most of the way. The crew was the first and only vehicle to reach Alaska on the original route, but quickly realized the state was far too dense with forestation and snow to drive a car through. They somehow found a way to relay that information back to the race organizers who then decided to ship the cars across the Pacific, avoiding a surely fatal trek across the clearly fluid Bering Strait. The Thomas Flyer was the only vehicle to reach Alaska having compiled a significant lead by that point, but since a re-route was now in play, it would allow the other competitors to catch up. Race officials determined the Americans would be granted a 15-day allowance, which gave the team the win even though they did not physically arrive in Paris first.
George Schuster of Buffalo, New York, was the winning driver who stepped in for Monty Roberts after he gave up upon leaving Iowa. The Americans completed the 22,000 mile journey to Paris in five months, a span of 169 days.
Six cars began the race but only four finished. One of the two French teams, driving a one-cylinder Sizaire-Naudio was undone by the winter weather in New York state, it’s 15-horse power too little to power on, was forced to drop out of the race before leaving the northeast. The other French squad never left Iowa.
The immense test of will and power was a sight unseen, and has never been replicated since. Perhaps a reboot is in store. But either way, Jefferson and Greene County are once again apart of historic lore.000