Sunday night would normally see the Thomas Factory on Niagara Street in Buffalo, NY dark and quiet. It was anything but quiet the night of Sunday February 16, 1908! Workers feverishly labored from dusk to dawn to replace our #4 cylinder and to substitute a straight front axle for the original drop axle which was scraping snow. Extra heavy radius rods were fabricated to replace the lighter ones which were buckling under the constant strain of plowing into snow drifts. We also needed to reduce the weight wherever possible so the metal fenders were stripped and heavy leather aprons were substituted. The tanning shop made some waterproof duffle bags for our supplies. An oil reservoir which depended on pressure to function was repositioned to allow simple gravity to do the work. All were much needed adjustments to our standard 1907 Model 35 Thomas Flyer.

I* was concerned about the possibility of something happening by accident or illness to myself or Monty leaving the Flyer in a very precarious position. I asked Mr. Thomas for an additional man and he agreed. My first choice was Charley Miller, one of our Buffalo road testers. Charley drove home to get ready for the global journey, but soon returned with tears in his eyes saying that his wife would not allow it!  George Miller was then selected who was unmarried and whose father had no objections. Miller would travel by train or pilot car to be just ahead of us to help as needed.

The spirit of the Race became more serious at Buffalo. Antonio Scarfoglio aboard the Italian Zust comments that the organizers had expected to cross the US in 15 days? This was absurd, as the US had never been crossed by an automobile during the winter. The estimates had been based on a record time set for a *summer* crossing by a light air cooled Franklin two years earlier.

The Thomas, Zust and De Dion Teams were to attend an Automobile Club dinner Monday night. However, when the Zust arrived in Buffalo at 6:30 AM Monday, it sped on leaving a note “We will wait for you in San Francisco!”. The De Dion, which had arrived in Buffalo shortly after us on Sunday, went directly to the Pierce-Arrow plant for repairs. They also left soon after the Zust rolled through on Monday morning. We cancelled the scheduled dinner and gave chase Monday afternoon in an effort to regain the lead.

Possibly with our knowledge of the territory, together with the fact that we had a pilot car ahead, gave us an advantage. At any rate, it was just turning dark when we passed through Ripley, NY. We met a local man who told us that one of those “funny looking cars” (the Zust) had an accident, and was in a barn along the road. We continued on to Erie, PA and spotted the De Dion at the garage we would also use for the Flyer. At the hotel, the French crewmen were already seated having dinner. Their surprised expressions showed they had not expected to see us again so soon. We joined them for dinner, but unfortunately during the meal St. Chaffray made several taunting and sarcastic remarks. “From now on you will know this is a race!” Roberts angrily replied, and he then promptly left the table.

We left early the next morning headed for Cleveland, Ohio and did not see the De Dion all that day. The road was covered with 10-12 inches of snow, but it was not drifted and we covered nearly 200 miles. The city lights of Toledo, Ohio finally came into view and we decided to spend the night. The Bodie hotel was crowded, so Williams (our New York Times reporter) spent the night in another hotel. Determined to get an early start the next morning, telephone calls to William’s hotel were fruitless, and we found him still sleeping when we arrived to pick him up. Adding to the aggravation, the De Dion came rolling up the street and passed us.

After a day of heavy snows with the wind piling it into huge drifts, we shoveled seemingly miles of path for the Flyer. Darkness was coming so we stopped at Corunna, Indiana with the intention of spending the night. During supper, Roberts casually rocked back in his chair unfortunately striking the coal stove which heated the dining area of the hotel. The stove pipe fell apart sending billows of soot and smoke into the dining room. The proprietor of the hotel, a stout Irish lady went into a rage, throwing us out of the place into the blizzard.

“Well, Kendallville is only eight miles from here, will go there.” said Roberts. The wind was howling, and shoveling a path was a huge undertaking. At 2 AM the Flyer was buried in a drift with snow piled over the radiator. We walked to a nearby farmhouse, where a farmer invited us in for coffee and doughnuts. We were just four miles from
Kendallville, Indiana and the farmer offered to bring his team of horses to break a trail for us. After 14 hours of grueling and frigid effort we covered the eight miles from Corunna, arriving in Kendallville at 10 AM. Exhausted, we slept a few hours but were back on the road again by 4 PM headed for Wawaka, Indiana.

We had a few helpers to shovel a path for the Thomas, but as the drifts grew deeper they began to disappear. That evening in Wawaka we bargained with some farmers for use of their teams of horses, but when morning came none of them showed up. We had no idea how far this snowbelt extended? It was a constant battle with the snow to make Goshen on Friday Feb. 21.   It was there, while working into the night on the Thomas, I discovered fractures in the housings carrying the transmission counter shafts. Long after midnight I telephoned our factory manager and asked him to have a reinforced pair of these parts sent to Chicago, hoping we could get that far before the housings totally failed.

The blizzard raged, and the only hope of continuing was to drive over the trolley line which ran from Elkhart to South Bend, Indiana. Beyond South Bend, we hired farmers with their teams of horses (six to eight at a time) which would wallow in the deep drifts dragging the Flyer behind them till the horses became exhausted. Eighty dollars had been the day’s expense for these teams to cover a distance of just fifteen miles.

At one point, we even built a stone boat with the idea of hauling the Flyer upon it like a huge sled. With the Flyer onboard, eight horses were hitched up, but they could not budge the sled, so it was back to hand shoveling a path in the general direction of Chicago. Our regret was that we had paid $25 for building the stone boat, only to abandon it in the middle of a snow drift. It took us 22 hours to flounder only 8 miles!

The other competitors were not faring much better. Approaching Chicago, Scarfoglio notes the temperature falling below -26*C (-13*F) with all the cars towed at some point by animals. Frustrated by conditions and slow progress he also comments American inhabitants are uncivilized from living far too long in the wilderness and then went on to note, they spit a lot. He would make similar observations of other parts of the world, as he moved along the course!

Ober-lieutenant Hans Koeppen was also having his share of difficulties as well. He faced not only problems with the snow and bitter cold, but mounting mechanical problems and discontent within his own crew was brewing. Hans Knape and Ernest Maas were both listed as “engineers”. This gave the newspapers the impression that they were chauffeurs for Koeppen rather than his partners, causing Knape and Maas much consternation. It finally came to a confrontation as the Protos neared Chicago, with Knape offering Koeppen a simple choice. Either Koeppen leaves the Protos, or both he and Maas would! The Lieutenant noted in his later writings that no amount of discussion would change their minds, and as a German officer he could not leave his post on the Protos. With that decision made, next stop for Knape and Maas would be Germany leaving Koeppen alone with the Protos. Not a good thing for someone who did not know how to drive or repair his “wagon” (the Protos)!

The Germans were not the only ones with serious morale issues. St. Chaffray, a French aristocrat was also having problems with Capt. Hansen the Norwegian Artic explorer. According to Hansen, when it came to shoveling snow for the De Dion, St. Chaffray had his own special “baby” shovel and he often sat directing Hansen who had a much larger and heavier scoop.  Tempers flared and Hansen called it quits with the French team in Chicago. He returned to Buffalo, with the intention of asking Mr. Thomas to join the American team.

We were the first car to officially reach Chicago in a drizzling rain at the South Shore Country Club, 4:25 PM February 25^th. It had taken 13 days, 6 hours and 10 minutes to cover the 1,403 miles from Times Square with 8 of those days to cover the last 256 miles to the “Windy City” in brutal winter conditions. The Zust arrived the next day with the De Dion behind them. The Protos and Motobloc were trailing far behind the De Dion.

We stayed at the Chicago Athletic Club, with a steam bath after dinner. Monty weighed himself and discovered he had lost 20 pounds from his frame that had no extra weight to begin with. I finally settled in for a much needed long sleep!.

 *About the author: The above is written in the first person as Jeff Mahl heard the recollections from his Great Grandfather, George N. Schuster, winner of the 1908 New York to Paris Race. Jeff is seated to the left of “Great Gramp” holding the 45 star US flag which flew from the Flyer, with his brother Matt and sister Jenny. For additional information visit: TheGreatAutoRace.com

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