Bangor was considered “a poor automobile town” a century ago because people were still attached to their horses. Only 28 automobiles were registered to Bangor residents as of Feb. 28, 1906, according to the Bangor Daily Commercial. That’s out of a total of about 800 statewide. But things would change soon, promised the Commercial.

After attending auto shows in Portland and Boston, several individuals said they would be adding to the city’s growing fleet of horseless carriages. Tabor D. Bailey Esq. had ordered a fine new White Steamer, “a large two-seated touring car on the latest approved pattern of 18 h.p.,” the Commercial told readers on March 16. It was fitted with a canopy and curtains for stormy weather. Other Bangoreans expected to join the automobile craze that spring were Walter L. Morse, “who will have a Cadillac machine,” and Dr. J.F. Starrett, “who will probably have a runabout such as many doctors have adopted instead of making calls with a team.”

The Commercial wasn’t certain why so few Bangor residents were buying automobiles, but a real deterrent occurred in the spring when the frost came out of the ground and the roads turned to mud. The result was a disaster for transportation, whether gasoline-powered or horse-drawn. The Bangor newspapers documented the mess for weeks in 1906 beginning in April.

“At the present time many parts of the roads leading out of Bangor are almost impassable. On some of the roads on the lower levels the wheels of the delivery teams go way to the hub and the horses slump to their knees frequently,” reported the Commercial on April 12 in a piece on the difficulties faced by rural mailmen.

After it rained later in the month, the Bangor Daily News complained that “as far as one could see there were ‘honey pots’ and ‘quags’ and great ovens of quivering mud in all the clay roads.” It related how a teamster carrying a heavy load of green wood worth $6 had destroyed sections of a road that cost $200 to construct.

Conditions were dangerous by early May. “Farmers who tried to haul out dressing to their land were obliged to dump their loads into ditches by the wayside. There were broken carts and wagons dotted along the course of every road for miles. Men stood on the soggy banks and said things that are not fit to print. Doctors were very reluctant to respond to the calls of those who were sick. Every country dweller was as much isolated from his neighbors as if he had been dwelling upon a remote island,” declared the BDN on May 10.

Road construction and maintenance was still a primitive science. Huge amounts of money were being spent on railroad and steamship facilities, but relatively little on highways. Maine’s “road system” consisted mainly of 22,000 miles of dirt. A headline in the Portland Evening Express in February had summed up the lamentable situation: “Maine People Put Million a Year Into Mud Roads.”

Trained men and a system were what was needed, said Maine’s first highway commissioner, who had assumed his job the year before. “Let us hope that the day is not far distant when trained men will have charge of road work and it will be done according to some systematic plan, in place of our present method of working a section here and a section there when we can find nothing better to do and letting the most of it go uncared for practically all the time,” said Paul D. Sargent, a graduate of the University of Maine’s civil engineering program, in his first report.

In the spring of 1906, Bangor was improving its roads with crushed stone. A new rock crusher was on order, and bins for crushed stone were being built at High Head to turn out “road metal.” “Macadamizing” was planned on Main, Essex, York and other streets. “If the plans … are fully carried out, some four or five miles of roadway will be metalled,” said the Commercial on May 21.

Of course, better roads would encourage a few more automobilists, thus aggravating yet another growing problem – speeding. There was already a state speed limit – drivers weren’t supposed to go faster than 5 mph in built-up areas or 15 mph in the countryside – but many municipalities were passing their own ordinances.

“Every driver who is convicted of having exceeded the speed limit should have his license revoked for one year. If convicted again, he should be sent to jail for six months,” declared a BDN editorial writer on April 12, urging a city ordinance.

In early May, the Commercial predicted the City Council would be taking up a local speed limit soon. “Bangor has been fortunate in not having any serious automobile accidents, … but with the speed that some automobilists use in going down Main and Hammond streets in going through West Market Square there is liable to be a serious accident almost any day,” predicted the newspaper.

Chief of Police White said he was all in favor of a city ordinance. The only trouble was nobody on the police force knew how to use a stopwatch. A plan had been raised “to have Main and Exchange streets marked off in certain distances so that Chief White and Deputy Chief O’Donohue may from elevated positions hold the watch on a few of those who are wont to run faster through the town than is good for the public safety.”

Chief White feared he did not have much expertise with a stopwatch. Nor did O’Donohue consider himself a stopwatch expert, “but from his long experience on the baseball field and from being accustomed to making close decisions on the bases it is thought he will be able to tell the difference between a speed of four and 16 miles an hour,” concluded the Commercial’s reporter.

Another problem, of course, was that the police had no automobiles to pursue lawbreakers even if they had an accurate way to spot them.

Wayne E. Reilly can be reached at wreilly@bangordailynews.net.