Day 165 - July 26, 1908 - Berlin and Pigeons!
-Crossing into the European continent still meant primitive conditions. Marco Polo had traveled this route and we were driving on what was now known as the Moscow Post tract. There were occasional black and white posts, and some stones set by Polo marking this centuries old road from Peking China across the Gobi Desert through Siberia and Europe.
We passed a number of caravans. These were horse drawn wagons piled high with cargo, often dozens in single file moving slowly with a curious yoke over the horse. Many times the driver would be sleeping and as we passed with the unmuffled exhaust the horses would startle running off the road tipping the wagon. The horses would break free and the driver would awake to a jumbled mess. We did not stop as there were always plenty of men to help straighten things out, and it was best for us to put as much distance as possible between ourselves and the confusion.
We made a repair when the pinion gear again failed near Omsk. As we had no spare parts left, we were forced to employ some Yankee ingenuity and drove screws into the shaft. Miller then filed the screw heads in the shape of the missing gear teeth. This repair worked for several hundred miles, but now the transmission was growling again even in low gear. While climbing a steep grade we heard a cracking noise with it failing a third time. There was nothing to do but for me to climb aboard a horse drawn telega and head for Kasan 215 miles away to pick up a new transmission we had shipped from Buffalo.
We finally found the shipment, but riding nearly 300 miles in the horse drawn wagon. I was exhausted after the back breaking ride much of it soaked to the bone with rain. I started to feel sick with chills racing up and down my spine. I thought about our medicine kit, but that was back at the Flyer still over one hundred miles away. I asked my driver to buy a pint of vodka, and I quickly drained it. I then got out of the telega, running behind it with one hand on the end board. I did this till I was soaking in sweat, then the driver slowed down and I walked till I nearly passed out before getting back into the telega. Taking my seat, I rode the remainder of that night, and I was cured!
At one stop during the wagon trip, I heard a woman shout “Automobile!, Automobile!” I knew it was the Protos, but I was too tired to even go out and wave. The Germans were now ahead.
The Italian Zust was having its share of mechanical hardships. At one point a motor bearing fused together, and the engine came to a halt. With no spare parts, Haaga must make a new one. Scarfoglio recounts the process. From a lump of mud he makes a mold around the bronze skeleton of the bearing. With a file, Haaga smoothes a piece of wood which is to occupy the center. From the lid of a tin box of cough lozenges he cuts small pieces to aid in perfect fusion. And then in an old iron spoon, over a fire of newspapers and pieces of a broken door, he melts half a dozen lead bullets and cuttings from the bottom of a zinc pail. The metal liquefies and the strange mixture is poured into the mold. Then with sharp files he smoothes the casting. The Zust is once again on its way!
I got back to the Flyer four days after leaving, and we installed the new transmission. We were then on our way to Paris again. We come to a river with a quicksand bottom so we hired Buriat and Cossacks to rush us across pulling us with four of their teams. This cost us another ten rubles. We would also hire villagers to pull us from the mud we would find ourselves buried in, using a rope we carried. It looked like a huge tug-of-way with all the villagers against the Flyer. It would be another five to ten rubles for their labor each time this happened.
With the German Protos ahead of us, we decided to drive night and day to overtake them. I sent MacAdam on by train, and Hansen off to see his family. This lightened the Thomas, which was needed as the springs were sagging, and the frame weakened by the terrific pounding. Miller and I would rotate non-stop driving with one sleeping while the other drove. This posed a problem as there were no doors on the Thomas, and the person in the front passenger seat had a tendency to fall out of the car when we would hit a bump or make a sharp turn. To solve this we made first use of what you would call a seat belt. It was simply a man’s belt cut in two pieces and nailed to each side of the rider’s seat. It was not for protection in the event of accident, rather to keep the sleeping passenger from falling out of the Flyer.
We came to Novgorod, and stopped at a hotel for baths, a meal and a little rest. I had not had my clothes or shoes off since leaving Ekaterinburg, thirteen days before. After a few hours, we were once again on our way. The roads were getting a little better, but the Flyer was getting worse. The left rear motor mount was broken, the motor was unbalanced and out of alignment. The clutch was not functioning properly, and the radiator was leaking badly. The frame had been broken, but we reinforced the break with a piece of Trans-Siberia Railway locomotive angle iron. Somehow, we kept going having agreed that our car represented America in the race; the Stars and Stripes floated from a staff on the car, and as long as the car would carry on, we would do our part.
We were approaching Moscow when we came to a flock of pigeons in the middle of the road. Miller who was responsible for clearing animals, people and other obstacles from our path was sleeping. By the time he awoke, it was too late and one of the flock struck our left front headlight breaking the glass. Our Presto-lite tank had been empty for some time making our carbide headlights useless. So for us this accident was only cosmetic, even though it would later come to haunt us. The view of Moscow in the early morning sun was beautiful, one to never be forgotten. Once at our hotel, we started to make repairs. The clutch had become so worn that we finally keyed and pinned it reasoning we were close enough to Paris to never have to remove it again.
We raced on toward Berlin, and could begin to feel the anticipation building within us. We knew the Germans were ahead of us, and reasoned they might arrive in Paris about 4 days ahead of us. We could only hope they would encounter a mechanical breakdown, giving us the chance to sprint ahead of them.
On July 24 the German Protos entered their capitol city of Berlin, a moment Lt. Hans Koeppen had long awaited. He later describes the experience. “We passed the imperial palace along the Linden. Here as well, everywhere endless crowds of people, in many rows up to the houses, and the balconies and windows, wherever you looked, every spot up to the roof taken by waiving, cheering, greeting people of Berlin as well as strangers. It surged around the Kranzler corner like waves surge against soaring cliffs!. a sea of heads, a hurricane of cheers!” The Germans had just recently gained a victory in the French Grand Prix, and now they saw the Protos on the verge of another great triumph.
We entered Berlin on July 26, and were met by jubilant Germans who had seen the Protos ahead of us on their way to Paris, and assumed they would win. They obviously did not know (or care) that the German team had taken the train from Ogden to San Francisco, some 1200 miles and were penalized 15 days. Nor had they gone to Alaska as we did, for an additional 15 day penalty to the Protos. It left an impression of poor sportsmanship when they spoke of us in second place, but was excusable if they were ignorant of what had gone on before.
*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 Gramps 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 © 2007 Jeff Mahl - All Rights Reserved