Although it would take years for us to really understand what had been accomplished, we had somewhat recovered from months of little sleep and often little food by August 4, 1908. We received a proposal to take the Flyer to London, where the Olympic Games had just ended, but I turned the offer down. I did not want to risk a breakdown in Trafalgar Square. Captain Hansen went home to Siberia, and our New York Times correspondent George MacAdam took a short vacation. George Miller and I drove the Flyer to the port at Le Havre, and on August 5 it was time for us to make the final leg of our journey back to where it all began in New York City. We boarded the S.S. Lorraine for the Atlantic crossing. Just before I left I bought a watch for my young son George Junior, and some souvenirs for my wife Rose.

We arrived at the pier in New York on the morning of August 15, with my wife, son and father-in law Jacob Berner there waiting for me. Miller’s fiancée, Miss Margaret Reilly, and her sister were there to greet him. It was a joyful reunion after 6 months of separation.

While we were savoring our triumphant return home, our Italian counterparts with the Zust were still making a valiant effort to reach Paris. Antonio Scarfoglio recounts “We have been traveling for seven months – seven months of toil and labour, seven months during which half the earth has passed under our wheels. In all that time we have had only one desire, one hope, one vision – Paris, the Eiffel Tower, rising its giraffe-like skeleton to the blue sky and the city stretching at its feet between the verdant hills.”

Unfortunately, they were still in Russia and thousands of miles from the Tower. Soon, tragedy would befall the Italian Team. Near Tauroggen, a Russian frontier village, two small children were playing near the road. A passing horse drawn cart is startled by the sound of the Zust and takes to flight. “The wheels of the cart bump more violently over a little heap of rags, and the cart disappears in the dust. On the ground, huddled on its left side with a fair head covered in sand and blood the little body remains, dead.” The Italians pick up the child, and “place him gently as possible, as though unwilling to disturb his sleep, in the hinder part of the machine on a heap of furs, and then cover him to hide him from our eyes.”

They stop at Tauroggen to report the accident to the local police, having to awaken the Chief. After relating the account of what happened, the Police Chief responded that he had received an earlier report by telegraph from the cart driver saying it was the motorist in the New York to Paris race that killed the boy. For three days Scarfoglio and Haaga found themselves in a Russian jail cell surrounded by fourteen other prisoners while the investigation of the incident continued. Much of their time was spent on a wooden bench in the cell corner, never speaking a word. Finally, on the fourth day they were released with the apologies of the Pristaff (Police Chief).

It would not be until September 17, 1908 that the Italians would get to see the Tower they had so desperately sought. Scarfoglio ponders the effort. “Have we done all this? Have we brought this gigantic enterprise to a close – we, two inexperienced men, almost boys? In America when the Zust came to the starting-line people smiled. They called it “the children’s car”, and asked us if we thought we would find oranges on the slopes of the Rocky Mountains. Today Paris appears, smiling in a brilliant sunset. Is it finished? Has the ”Children’s Car” arrived? I can hardly persuade myself that it has.”

For the Thomas crew, our official US homecoming on August 17 was overwhelming. From the New York pier, a long procession was formed taking us down a “ticker tape” parade route by way of Wall Street, the Stock Exchange, and Lower Broadway to City Hall. Acting Mayor McGowan gave me the keys to the City of New York. We continued up Broadway to Henry Houpt’s garage near Central Park, and then returned to the New York Times Building where the Flyer was placed on display. Thousands of people stood in line to see it. “THOMAS RACER HERE IN TRIUMPH” read the Times headline Tuesday morning. We received a silver trophy from the Times for leading the way to San Francisco and becoming the first automobile to ever cross the United States in winter. There were banquets and numerous other honors.

We then received word that the President wanted to see the Flyer! Teddy Roosevelt was the first President to learn to drive an automobile. On Thursday August 20, 1908 Monty Roberts, George Miller, with myself at the wheel drove the Flyer from the NY Times building to the 34th Street ferry, and then on towards Long Island City. The President was at his summer “White House” in Sagamore Hill, a beautiful estate on the north shore of Long Island overlooking Oyster Bay.

We picked up James Sloan, chief of the Secret Service detail guarding the President, and dressed just as we were during the Race drove up in the front of his three-story twenty-three room home. I remember that Teddy was in a white shirt and knickers, playing tennis with his son Kermit and the Postmaster General, George Meyer.

The President invited us to join him in the library, and one of his early questions “Were you well armed, Mr. Schuster?” As a butler passed cigars, cigarettes, and brandy I replied “Yes, Mr. President, we had rifles, colt revolvers and shotguns”. Teddy replied “Sounds like my African trip!” The trophy room was surrounded by stag and bear mounts, boar and elephant tusks, flags from his Rough Rider days, and a photograph sent of Pope Pius X.

Monty recalled that he had delivered a Thomas Flyer purchased by the President’s cousin in Hyde Park, teaching the younger Franklin D. Roosevelt how to drive it in 1904. The President replied “They didn’t make a mistake did they?” which brought a laugh to all of us.

We walked back out to the Flyer, and the President studied it intently. The Americans had won many medals in the recently completed Olympic Games in London, and now we had won the around-the-world automobile race. He termed it “a remarkable performance and a great achievement for the American boys and the American car.”

“I admire,” he said, “Americans who do things, whether it is going up in a balloon, or down in a submarine, or driving an automobile around the world – and I will always give them a helping hand. I do not admire the timid good man who does not have the courage of his convictions.”

The Flyer performed perfectly that memorable day. Miller and I drove the Thomas at a leisurely pace back to Buffalo. On September 6, a parade of cars a mile long met us at the Buffalo City limits, and the 74th Regiment Band escorted us to Lafayette Square. That evening, we were guests of honor at a dinner of 1,000 men at the Ellicott Club.

“Buffalo is proud of you,” said acting Mayor Louis P. Fuhrman. William H. Hotchkiss, President of the Automobile Club of America also praised us. “Five years ago any man who said it was possible for an American car to perform this feat would have been declared crazy. This car can now go back and beat any French car that was ever made.”

My south Buffalo neighbors also gave me another welcome at Cazenovia Park the next day. There were 10,000 cheering as I accepted a silver cup during the celebration.

At last, I was home….

 *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 Previous BLOG entries dating back to 13 February 2007 can be found by clicking: Monthly DIARY Archive

Copyright © 2008 Jeff Mahl - All Rights Reserved

This entry was posted on Friday, February 22nd, 2008 at 5:47 am and is filed under Uncategorized. You can follow any responses to this entry through the RSS 2.0 feed. You can leave a response, or trackback from your own site.

We left Berlin at noon on July 27, knowing that the German Protos had arrived in Paris the day prior.  We had been told by Lt. Koeppen’s father, a white haired retired German army Colonel and others who had greeted us earlier in the day.  Lt. Koeppen of the German Protos recounted his final miles.  “Proud palaces of the French aristocracy and the Belgian industrialists shine from the tops, splendid gardens caress us with the tender fragrances of flowers, rich villages and flaming forges boarder the river which hurriedly wreathes itself through the mountains, while church bells ring to morning mass…”

At one point the Germans are told of a passing of another car one half hour ahead of them with the inscription “New York-Paris”, could this be the Americans??  “We believe nothing else than that our worst fears had become really true, and rushed forward as if it was a matter of snatching away a few souls from the devil!”  They soon caught up with the source of their fear.   It turned out to be friends with an accompanying German automobile.

 Koeppen continued to expect a failure at any moment as they approached the City of Paris, but nothing happened.  The Dunlop tires mounted in Berlin stayed the course and the 4 cylinder 60 HP engine remained steady.  The streets of Paris were crowded with people, who came running to the Protos with the unexpected spectacle of their arrival.

 Koeppen remembers, “At half past 6 in the evening we stopped in front of the  building of the “Matin” (the Parisian newspaper which co-sponsor of the Race) in the Rue des Poissonnieres.  We had made it, we were there!”

 From our American perspective, the Protos would have to win by 30 days so we knew (barring a catastrophe), victory would be ours!  We drove the Flyer on to Hanover and as it was late, we decided to stop over for the night.

 The next day, the Flyer was rolling along a perfectly smooth road when we noticed that the car’s speed was not in accord with the engine’s speed, and the car gradually coasted to a stop. We tried to drive to the roadside; the motor was running, but it would not pull the car. So we dismounted and pushed the car to the side of the road.  We looked for the trouble, and found the clutch was rotating freely on the clutch-shaft, as the corners of the squared clutch-shaft had worn away. When in Moscow we made a repair to the clutch, and we had noticed the wear at this, point but had never anticipated total failure. We also had keyed and pined the various parts of the assembly to hold permanently, and we had not thought of our having to take it apart again. The disassembly took hours of time, and I then hand carried its thirty pounds of weight to a railway station three miles distant.

 There seemed to be a scarcity of horses here – peasants were driving dogs harnessed to wagons, and there was apparently very little traffic. I purchased a ticket to Hanover from the railway stationmaster.  While we were conversing I told him our mishap, and he remarked that there was a machine shop close by where possibly the necessary work could be done.  I hurried there, and the owner assured me he could make the repair. To make a new shaft would require special material which was not available, so we improvised and after three hours of machine work completed the repair.  I returned to the disabled Flyer and once again we were rolling toward Paris.

 The skies cleared, we encountered good roads, troops marching somewhere, cavalry mounted on spirited horses – the men in resplendent uniforms, military bands playing while on the march – this was Germany!  Growing fields, forests clear of all underbrush, everything tidy.

 About the same time, the Italian Zust is trailing, and well back of us.  They were still in Siberia, stalled at Omsk.  Antonio Scarfoglio aboard the Zust recounts, “We are held up at Omsk with all our springs broken, and held up – which is worse – in a Siberian hotel.”   The hotel bill came to 30 roubles, which you pay without asking any questions:

 Boot-cleaning for three days    R.1.80  One sheet of fly-paper                   .80

 Without insisting upon anything in terror lest you see at the bottom of the list “For various alms to the poor in the town in the name of your excellency, R.30”  At one point the two Italians aboard the Zust found themselves nearly arrested for espionage.  The Russian Cossacks thought they were foreign spies, adding to their string of misfortunes.

 The Thomas crossed the boarder into the Belgium frontier and then into France.  We drove on to Rheims, with our route running by the famous cathedral there; then past Chateau-Thierry and on over miles of cobble paved road.  We were near Paris which could not be more than a dozen miles on. We would win the race by a big margin.  Strangely, we were not joyful, but rather we were content.  Perhaps our car, if it had the faculty of thought, would agree that we all had carried on – we had done our duty to those whom we represented.  No honor or reward was greater than that conviction.

Finally we came to the gates of Paris.  A gasoline tax halted us!  Luckily, our gasoline tanks were nearly empty, so it amounted to only a few francs and centimes.  However, as we paused for collection of the tax a nearby Parisian Gendarme (police) walked over and slowly circled the Flyer.  When he came to the front, he stopped focusing on our left headlight.  He then raised his head, turned in my direction and stated “no entrée ”.  I asked why, and he reported that no automobile was allowed in Paris without two operating headlights.  Now that carbide headlight had been broken since an unfortunate pigeon struck it just outside of Moscow, and we were now standing in a Parisian boulevard in the middle of the afternoon!  I explained to him that we had come 22,000 miles in the last 169 days, with the finish line a few meters away.  His response in a bureaucratic tone, “no entrée”.

 I controlled my rage, and a Parisian bicyclist overhearing our plight stepped forward from the crowd.  “Messieurs, you can use the lamp on my cycle to meet the requirement”.  I grabbed my wrench and quickly tried to remove it, but could not do so without damaging his cycle.  So we hoisted the lamp with its attached bicycle on the Flyer.  The Gendarme gave me a quizzical look, then nodded and announced “entrer”.  The Thomas Flyer entered Paris the “City of Light”, crossing the finish line with a bicycle on its hood!  The boulevard was packed with thousands of enthusiastic Parisians cheering “Vive la voiture Américaine!”.   A reception – champagne – and more champagne!  Entertainment!  Then we drove to the office of Le Matin.  We arrived there at six o’clock on July 30^th and the longest automobile race in history was officially over for us. We just wanted sleep – and drove on to the hotel.  The report of the committee was that we had won the race by twenty-six days!

 Starting on February 12 at Times Square in New York, many including our own company President, E.R. Thomas thought none of the competitors would get past Chicago.  No one had ever done it, and Paris… in the dead of winter… that was absurd!  The Thomas Flyer became the first automobile to ever cross the United States in the winter, and I had become the first person to accomplish that feat by automobile in an amazing 42 days.

 Arriving in Paris , we had covered the approximate 22,000 miles in 169 days (loosing one to the calendar count when we crossed the International dateline).  Our total run time was 88 days, with a daily average of 152 miles per day.  Our longest days run was 420 miles, with 13,341 miles on land under our own power.  We covered 2,385 more land miles and 3,246 more water miles than our nearest competitor the German Protos.

 We had little notion of the impact this victory would have, not only on the automobile but on worldwide transportation.  We began to get a sense of things to come when we returned to a hero’s welcome in the United States…

*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 Previous BLOG entries dating back to 13 February 2007 can be found by clicking: BLOG Archive

Copyright © 2008 Jeff Mahl - All Rights Reserved

This entry was posted on Wednesday, January 16th, 2008 at 7:38 am and is filed under Uncategorized. You can follow any responses to this entry through the RSS 2.0 feed. You can leave a response, or trackback from your own site.