Philadelphia, April 12, 1905
Senator Boise Penrose was already seated at a small table and sipping a cup of coffee when AJ Cassatt arrived at the Horn and Hardt on Chestnut street. He waved AJ over to his table. “AJ, it’s good to see you again. Have you had lunch?”
“No, but I’m starving. I’ve never been here before – where is the waiter? I’d like to look over the menu.”
“There’s no menu, AJ,” Boies chuckled. “No menu, no waiters. Haven’t you heard about this place?”
“I have, in passing. Horn and Hardart Bakery opened it, what, two years ago? Some sort of German restaurant?”
“It’s a German idea, I guess, but the food is all-American. Look, you just grab a tray and walk down that line of little glass doors. See something you like, drop a nickel in the slot, open the door and put it on your tray. Let’s go grab a bite to eat.” With that, Boies stood up and began making his way towards the line. AJ followed behind, and followed the Senator’s lead.
AJ was pleasantly surprised. The food wasn’t fancy – but it looked good sitting encased in the little compartment behind the spotless glass doors of the Automat. Some of the compartements were heated, he noticed, and some were chilled. The mechanics of this were not visible to the diner outside. Nor was any of kitchen staff. He could tell that somewhere, unseen behind the wall of windows was a small army of cooks that methodically maintained the inventory of the compartments. But beyond catching a glimpse of hand as a ham-steak was replaced as he walked past a window nothing could be seen. AJ ended up with a club sandwich and a cup of chicken soup. He and Boies returned to the table and sat.
“Interesting place, Boies. Not exactly Delmonico’s, is it?” AJ stirred his soup a bit to let it cool.
Senator Penrose looked down at his lunch – a hamburger steak, slathered in gravy, with smashed potatoes and peas – and chuckled. “No, it’s not. Not even the Bellevue-Stratford. But look around the place, AJ. Who do you see here? “
AJ looked around. He saw a table with three women, shop-girls by the look of their attire, chatting over slices of pie. At the next table were four carpenters, surrounded by an enormous pile of empty dishes. A couple cops were having coffee. Businessmen, tradesmen, young kids and old women. Boies followed his gaze around the room, then said “Now, who don’t you see here?”
AJ looked back at him, wincing a bit as he turned his neck. It was better now, but still a bit tender. “Well, it certainly isn’t the social setting I’m used to.” A flicker of comprehension flickered over his face. “Ah, anonymity. What better way to keep a meeting discrete than to have it out in public – and this is as public as we can get, eh?”
Boies nodded. “Your letter implied a desire for some amount of discretion. By the way, I heard about your accident.” AJ wasn’t surprised. Boies took a sip of coffee and continued, “ Damned motor-cars are a menace sometimes.”
“Well, little harm done. The carriage can be replaced. The young hellion driving the motor-car was shook up pretty badly, but no permanent harm. I’d file suit against him, but he is from a fairly prominent family, and all parties agreed to keep things out of the press.”
“Good idea,” Boies said around a mouthful of peas.
AJ took a bite of his sandwich and chewed for a while. It was a good sandwich, he thought. Not great, but the bread was fresh, the chicken sliced thickly. He swallowed, then took a sip of his coffee - which was suprisingly good. “Actually, Boies, I wanted to meet so we could talk about motor-cars.”
An hour and a half later, the sandwiches and soup and hamburger were gone but AJ and Boies remained at their table. They had covered a lot of ground in that time. It was easy enough to convince Boies that the safety of the new machines was suspect. “I receive letters from angry constituents every month, the senator said. “Quite a few accidents happening, both here and out in the rest of the state. A lot of them are far worse than yours. Kids killed. Mothers maimed. “
“So, what can you do?” AJ prompted.
“Me, personally, or me as a representative of the Federal Government?”
“What can Senator Boies Penrose of Pennsylvania do about this?”
“Nothing.”
AJ looked incredulous. “What do you mean, nothing?”
Boies sighed and continued “The Federal government is really powerless in this matter. It’s an issue for the States. The crackers and rubes get their hackles up when the Federal government gets involved in anything. Especially business.”
“Don’t give me that nonsense. The Interstate Commerce Act has been throttling my business for nearly 20 years. That Elkins Act business dictates what workers I can and can’t negotiate with. Ten years ago Congress mandated a whole series of safety regulations for the railroads. Boies, if Congress can dictate the safety of my trains and my tracks, why can’t it dictate the safety of motor-cars and roads?”
Boies turned and looked out the window for a good while. “You bring up good points, AJ. Applying the precidents that the railroads operate under now to motor-cars would be a hard sell, though. The states are not going to happily go along with standardizing roads and signage. That would cost money, which nobody ever wants to spend, and more would buck just on principal."
"Why not fund the states from the Federal Budget?"
"Because the penny-pinchers won't give up one dime right now, especially for something they're going to view as interfering with states rights."
"But if there money to fund the roads and signage, would the states take the money?"
"Would they? For as much lip-service the states give to sovereignty, they scratch like barnyard chickens as soon a dime gets tossed their way. Doesn't matter whether it comes from Washington or not."
"Boies, the Revenue Service collects a lot of money from custom duties and tariffs. And the Federal Government seems willing to slap an excise tax on anything that moves or can be drank whenever they feel the pinch - which hasn't stopped people from buying whiskey or cigars, I should add. The motor-car is a toy of the weathy - I'm not going to blink at paying a bit more because of a modest tax, and not many other people who can afford one will either. Slap an excise tax on the machine itself at it's sale, slap an excise tax on gasoline and watch the money roll in."
Boies stared out the window for a bit longer. A motor-car - a big Winton - chuffed by, two men and two women in driving gear, smiling as they sped down the crowded street. Without looking away, he asked "So what's the real reason, AJ? This safety push is all well and good, and might even play well in the papers. But," he said as he turned back to look at AJ, "we both know that it is altruistic hogwash. What's the real reason?"
AJ looked towards the receding Winton, nodded his head and said "Right there are four people who are headed somewhere - maybe to the Jersey shore, maybe up to Valley Forge - who didn't buy a train ticket. Let the damn things get a toehold there will be a lot more of that -" he pointed out the window, though the Winton was long gone, " - and a lot fewer train tickets end up being sold."
Senator Boies Penrose nodded. "And that is bad for business."
"Exactly."
"And impeding the spread - no, wait, guiding the spread - and acceptance of cars will buy the railroads, what, ten years? It makes no sense - how can building more roads benefit you?"
"A tax on the machines might not affect my set, but for a country doctor or small-town lawyer another hundred dollars might delay the purchase for a year. If the gasoline costs a bit more, people with cars might do a little more calculating before trying to drive to Jersey or up north." AJ paused, sipped the last of his coffee and smiled a conspiratorial grin. "Finally, if our interests," AJ continued, indicating himself and Boies with his index finger, "improve the roads that benefit us first, and delay work on the ones that would cause harm..." He let the thought trail off.
"Our interests?" Boies asked.
"Well, Senator, there is an election coming up in November, with plenty of your associates are on the ballot. I imagine a lot of railroad men - management and workers - would appreciate a gesture towards their long-term well-being. And your associates would no doubt welcome their - and my - generous support in return."
"AJ, now you are talking my language." Boies said, smiling.
Or at least that it was a Corvair that hit him.
