THE STORY OF A ROAD
As the Indian read in the signs of the trail--the depth of a moccasin
print or the direction of a broken twig--the story of those who had
journeyed over the path before him, so we can find in the tale of
successive kinds of roads the record of the advance of the white man
into the West. For roads the French traders used those of the original
occupants of the land,--the buffalo tracks and the Indian trails.
English-speaking settlers, coming from the Atlantic seacoast, used two
main routes. They came either by river and portage up the Ohio and its
various tributaries to Presque Isle on Lake Erie, or from Albany across
western New York to Niagara. The story of early voyages and of the
founding and life of Detroit gives a picture of French exploration and
settlement; in like manner there is written in the rapid change of the
land and water thoroughfares across New York State, from Indian trail
and river course to turnpike, canal, and railroad, the tale of the
settlement of the lake region, and of the change from a wilderness to a
thickly populated country.
As soon as the explorer landed on the southern shores of Lake Erie,
Lake Michigan, and Lake Superior, he came upon buffalo roads or
“traces.” Sometimes these were narrow ditches, a foot wide and from six
inches to two feet deep, trodden down by the impact of thousands of
hoofs as herd after herd of buffaloes had stamped along in single file
behind their leaders. When the first path became too deep for comfort
because of repeated travel, the buffaloes would abandon it and begin a
second path alongside the first, and thus the frequented traces would
be gradually widened. Again an immense herd of these heavy animals
would crash through the forest, breaking in their rapid progress a
broad, deep road from one feeding-ground to another. As this route
would be followed again and again by this and other herds, it would
become level and hard as rock, so that there was great rejoicing in
pioneer settlements when the weary road-makers, struggling with log
causeways and swampy hollows, came upon a firm, solid buffalo trace.
Nor was this an uncommon experience. The line of many of these roads
is followed to-day by our railroads and canals as it was followed
in the middle period by log roads and turnpikes. The buffalo was a
good surveyor. He did not reason out why he should go in a certain
direction, but his sure instinct took him by the easiest and most
direct paths over high lands and low to the salt licks and watercourses
which were his goal. Indeed, he observed precisely the principles which
govern to-day the civil engineer. He followed the level of the valley;
he swerved around high points wherever it was possible, crossing the
ridges and watersheds at the best natural divides and gorges; and he
crossed from one side of a stream of water to the other repeatedly in
order to avoid climbing up from the level, after the fashion of our
modern loop railways.
Not so conspicuous, but more numerous, were the Indian trails. Where
their destination was the same the Indians used the buffalo roads, but
their own paths were quite distinct. These were narrow foot-paths,
usually from twelve to eighteen inches wide, through which the Indians
travelled single file. Three things were necessary for an Indian trail:
it must be secluded, hidden if possible from hostile eyes; it must
be direct; and it must be dry. Over these narrow lanes the trees and
bushes interlaced so closely that it was impossible to see more than a
rod or two ahead, and a neglected path soon became impassable. To know
which paths could be traversed at each season of the year, and where
storm, flood, or fire were likely to have had the least effect, and to
be able to follow the forkings and windings of these forest routes, was
to be skilled in the art of the woodsman and to be valuable as a guide.
Like the buffalo traces the Indian paths were often worn deep, almost
always six inches and sometimes a foot. So well-travelled was the
Indian trail of our story, the Iroquois trail across New York, that
it was called by the Jesuit fathers “The Beaten Road.” That buffalo
came as far east as the present city of Buffalo, New York, is beyond
question. Whether they penetrated farther into the interior of the
state is not known, but in every other respect this region had each
kind of road in turn. It is not only one of the main thoroughfares
of travel, but is also a typical scene of pioneer adventure and
achievement.
The main Iroquois trail led from Albany, the eastern door of the
“Long House,” to Niagara, the western door. It followed the natural
geographical route along the Mohawk Valley to Schenectady, Utica, and
Rome, where stood the great Mohawk “castles,” and turned from this
point south to Onondaga (Syracuse), the centre of the confederacy, and
westward by the heads of Lake Seneca and Canandaigua to Lewiston and
Niagara. It is unusual among Indian trails because it was notably a
peace-path. The Six Nations rarely quarrelled among themselves, but
kept up an interchange of goods and gossip that was remarkable among
savages. Runners were trained to carry summonses to councils and to
spread the news. It was said that it took only three days and three
runners to send a message from one door of the “Long House” to the
other, from Albany to Niagara, a distance of three hundred miles, each
Indian being expected to make in a day his “century run.”
[Illustration: Map: “By trail and turnpike to Lake Erie” depicting the
area between Niagara Falls and Albany]
Along the line of this trail the American pioneer built, in the twenty
years from 1785 to 1815, his log roads and turnpikes. They were crude,
rough affairs, “very grievous to the limbs,” and called forth the
maledictions of the travellers who ventured off the usual routes into
the outskirts of civilization. As the district grew more populous the
roads came gradually under state control. Commissioners and improvement
companies connected and made better the separate stretches of highway.
In 1794 the legislature passed a law, directing the state road to be
extended from Fort Schuyler (Utica) to the Genesee River, and four
years later it was voted to extend it “westward to the extremity of the
state.” This western end of the road, from the Mohawk River to Lake
Erie, was, as it happened, incorporated by the state under the name of
“The Genesee Turnpike” in 1800 before that from Albany to the Mohawk
was given formal recognition. We have thus the unusual spectacle of
a road established in the remote sections of the country before the
connecting road to the nearest city is completed. To raise money for
its construction all kinds of methods had been used, from government
appropriations to lotteries.
The method of road-building in the pioneer settlements was one that
developed throughout the colonies, as here in New York, into the
establishment of turnpike roads. At first the local governments, the
townships, or counties, built the roads. As these became inadequate,
corporations of individuals were given permission to build roads and
charge tolls for their use. The name of turnpike was given to these
private highways because at the place where toll was to be collected
there was placed a gate hung in such a way as to turn on a post. This
gate was made of a long pole and could be swung across the road to stop
carriages, animals, and people till the toll fees had been collected.
When a corporation was given a charter, the legislature prescribed the
number of toll-gates to be set up on the given length of road, and gave
the usual form for tolls. The directors were left to fill in the fees
in each case. This accepted table of tolls shows the kind of vehicles
in use in New York at this time. A one-horse two-wheeled carriage was
called a sulky, chair, or chaise. A chariot, coach, coachee, or phaeton
might be drawn by one horse, but was more commonly specified to have
two. Stage-wagons, stages, and other four-wheeled carriages drawn by
two horses had their separate fee. Just as our highway commissioners of
to-day encourage wide tires because they put less wear on the road, so
in these days there was a rule that carriages with tires twelve inches
wide should pay no tolls, nine-inch tires should exempt the vehicle
from three-quarters of the tolls, and six-inch from one-half. It was
required that the table of tolls be posted in a conspicuous place over
the gate.
In March, 1813, Nathaniel Rochester and other gentlemen were given
permission to form a turnpike company for a road from Canandaigua
to the falls of the Genesee River. As this was not a thickly
settled region the table of tolls is a simple one without elaborate
specifications as to the kinds of carriages and with only two
toll-gates, but as part of our historic road it is of special interest.
_Table of Tolls of Rochester Turnpike Company, March 31, 1813_
CENTS
For every cart, wagon, or other wheeled carriage, drawn
by 2 horses, mules, or oxen 12-1/2
And for each additional horse, mule, or ox 6
For every cart, wagon, or other two-wheeled carriage
drawn by 1 horse or mule 9
For every horse rode, led, or driven 6
For every four-wheeled pleasure carriage or wagon
drawn by 2 horses 25
And for each additional horse 6
For every sleigh or sled drawn by 1 horse, mule, or ox 6
And for every additional horse, mule, or ox 6
For every score of horses, mules, or cattle 20
And in like proportion for a greater or less number
For every score of sheep or hogs 8
And in like proportion for a greater or less number
In the next chapter the experiences of two travellers are given,
the first in 1796, the second in 1811. The two accounts of their
journeys show the wonderful transformation wrought along the line
of this highway in fifteen years. By the end of the first decade of
the nineteenth century New York State had one hundred and thirty-one
turnpikes, and our second traveller was constantly hearing discussion
of a new project to which the enterprising leaders of the state were
turning their attention. For purposes of trade the new land route had
never supplanted the old waterways. With the rapid occupation of the
region of the Great Lakes this trade was increasing at a surprising
rate, and much of it was being diverted to the English merchants of
the St. Lawrence River, because of the greater facility of the route
to Montreal over that to New York. It cost only a dollar and a half to
send a barrel of flour from Cayuga in western New York to Montreal,
while it took at least two dollars and a half to get the same barrel
from Cayuga only as far as Albany. If this were true of western New
York, it was even more true of the southern shores of the Great Lakes.
Only an artificial canal could overcome the natural obstacles to water
transportation, and this the leading men of New York were urging with
all their power. Since 1792 the Western Inland Lock Navigation Company
had been seeking systematically to improve the existing water route
by building canals around the worst obstructions to navigation, the
various falls and rapids of the Mohawk River. From the success of these
small ventures and the no less convincing evidence of the ability of
the canal to solve the whole problem, came in the minds of Gouverneur
Morris, Jesse Hawley, and others the plan to connect the Atlantic
with the lakes by an artificial waterway. To Governor De Witt Clinton
and his associates belongs the credit of working out this stupendous
undertaking. The story of its progress and achievement is too long a
tale to be summarized here, but must be reserved for another chapter.
In 1825 the Erie Canal of three hundred and sixty-three miles was
completed and opened with appropriate ceremonies.
The turnpike had followed the line of the old Iroquois trail. The
canal had followed it in certain sections but had swerved off and
gone northward along a minor Indian trail which passed over a natural
highway formed by a wide ridge from four to six miles inland from
the shores of Lake Ontario. This was what was called by the pioneers
the Ridge Road from Lewiston to Rochester. One more kind of road was
destined to cross the state, supplanting the lumbering stage-wagon
and the slow canal-boat for the purposes of travel, and even as time
went on for the carrying of freight. The first piece of railroad to be
built in New York State, and one of the oldest in the United States,
was the Mohawk and Hudson. It was chartered in 1826, the year after
the completion of the Erie Canal, and work was begun upon it in 1830.
Seventeen miles of this road, connecting Albany and Schenectady, were
opened in 1831; the remaining part from Schenectady to Utica five
years later. Horses were used when the road was put into operation,
so that it was in reality little more than a tramway, but locomotives
were soon substituted. The third engine built in the United States was
sent from the West Point Foundry Works to this little piece of road.
It was called the De Witt Clinton, and was built in 1831. It weighed
three and a half tons where now two hundred tons is not considered
especially heavy for an engine, and was fed by anthracite coal. Mr.
William H. Brown, who was one of the passengers on the first trip,
was so impressed by the appearance of this “singular-looking affair
and its equally singular-looking appendages,” that he sketched on the
back of a letter a drawing of the engine and the passenger-cars, with
correct likenesses, which he afterwards enlarged to a picture six
feet long which was cut out of black paper in silhouette fashion and
is in possession of the Connecticut Historical Society. Reproductions
of this picture give a good idea of the first locomotive and train of
passenger-cars ever run in the state of New York. The cars are those
which had been used for a year with horses on this same route.
A great crowd assembled on August 9, 1831, to see the train start. The
fortunate guests of the road climbed into their seats, the engineer
took his place on the tender, a tin horn was sounded, and the train
with its five passenger-coaches started off. The outside passengers
had no awning or roof to protect them, and as the sparks and smoke
were blown back they began to fear for their combustible straw hats
and summer garments; but no accident happened. The passengers had
hardly had time to adjust their high beavers and settle themselves
after the shock of starting, which had been with such a jerk that they
had been knocked into each other and against the low roof, when the
train stopped abruptly at the first water station on the road. Here a
halt was made and an experiment tried to avoid these unpleasant jerks.
The links in the couplings of the cars were stretched to their utmost
length, and rails, borrowed unceremoniously from a neighboring fence,
were bound to these couplings, one between each pair of cars, to hold
the coaches steady. This arrangement worked well, and in a short time
the train pulled into Schenectady, where thousands of people were lined
up to await its coming.
As in the case of the canal and the turnpike, small sections of the
railroad were built first, and finally joined into one long highway.
Eight short lines were built in New York along the line of the road to
Lake Erie and were put in operation at different times. These lines
were owned in 1842 by eleven companies. The tendency to consolidation
reduced the number to seven by 1850, and then the great era of
concentration brought them all under the New York Central management.
From the leaf-strewn path for the moccasined Indian the road of our
story has become a part of a system of seventy thousand miles of
highway which replace the turnpikes in connecting the towns of New
York State. Its turbulent streams have become the feeders for a great
artificial waterway, and an iron-railed road-bed stretches along its
route, over which flies a limited train at the rate of seventy miles
an hour. The lumbering stage-wagon has given way to the smooth-running
drawing-room car. The rivers and swamps are spanned by fine bridges.
The story of the road has been one of swift change and rapid advance.