Trolley Tuesday 10/5/21 - National City Lines (and the Great American Streetcar Scandal)

BOO!

Welcome back to a spooky month of October trolleyposts, dear riders! As befitting the scariest month of all (and considering I am a cowardly jackass when it comes to jumpscares), we will be looking at some famous streetcar and rapid transit disasters all through this month! Today's disaster is the most infamous for traction enthusiasts and public transit advocates, as without them, we would still have our famous street railways operating today and without the need to rebuild them from the ground up. Taking advantage of the nation's need for automobiles during and after World War II, the infamous National City Lines (NCL) stands as the biggest rapid transit disaster we have yet to recover from. And you'll find out about it, and more, on today's Trolley Tuesday.

Start of Darkness

E. Roy Fitzgerald's obituary picture, June 15, 1957.
(Desert Sun)

Our story begins in Minnesota, with a former farm boy named E. Roy Fitzgerald. Together with his brother, they began a small two-bus operation hauling miners and schoolchildren in 1920, with no national aspirations to consider. However, deep within the hellish streetcar Mordor of Detroit, Michigan, there was a problem. General Motors (GM) saw the rising trend in automobiles and met it handily through increased production, but considered the still-existent streetcars as a menace that was harming their sales of their own "Yellow Coach" brand, which was hemorrhaging money into 1935. Popular sentiments at the time had also turned in favor of the streetcars, which were seen as "quiet, clean, and romantic", instead of a "dirty, noisy, smelly" diesel bus. Interurban railways also had their own right of way, which eliminated the struggle of inching through gridlocked street traffic. It was clear to GM that in order to increase their bus sales, they would have to do it in a very underhanded way, and once they learned of a small Minnesotan bus operation in 1936, they had their fall guy.

A 1931 Yellow Coach Model Z of the Fifth Avenue Coach Company, now
restored and operating under the New York Transit Museum.
(A.E. Moreira)

The Allure of the Big Time

A 1936 National City Lines ticket book from Tulsa, Oklahoma.
(Unknown Author)

The official logo of National City Lines, which was adapted
to suit the different city transits they owned.
(Unknown Author)

By the time E. Roy Fitzgerald was discovered by GM in the mid-1930s, his local bus line had grown into a major intercity shaker. GM had tried, in 1930, to force Portland, OR, to switch out its trolley operations for buses, but this failed (along with Robert Moses' later attempt to put freeways through the city) despite the downward trend of street railways across the United States. It was clear to GM's executives and bean counters that, in order to force more bus sales, they would need to buy out the street railways themselves instead of forcing them to switch; that way, it was cheaper to implement the buses and they did not have to beg for approval from local city governments. In 1936, Fitzgerald's little bus company was reorganized into a holding company named National City Lines (NCL), with Fitzgerald at the helm. Before the self-professed "farm boy" was now an army of fedoras with briefcases full of money, eager to do the dirty work GM wanted, and they proved to be unstoppable.

It's the Art of the Deal, after all.
(Hennepin County Library, Minnesota)

A Double-Birney of the Tulsa-Sapulpa Union Railway,
which National City Lines purchased in 1936.
(Tulsa County Library)

Their process was a simple and insidious one, as former Los Angeles Railway (LARy) worker Jim Holzer explained in a 1996 PBS Documentary titled "Taken for a Ride":

"All of a sudden you get these fellows with fedora hats, the spats (I'm not making that up), the two-toned shoes, the broad ties, the black shirts, the white Panamas. All of a sudden they show up and of course the word goes out: `Hey, we're being bought.'"

Through direct buy-out of then-private street railways, NCL worked fast to buy out every single small-town streetcar they could by the end of their first operating year, purchasing thirteen transit companies within Minnesota, Illinois, and Oklahoma. 

On the corner of Eagle Rock and Colorado on the LATL 5 Line,
a GM "Old Look" bus prowls after a LARy H-Type's work in the 1940s.
(Metro Library & Archive)

Normal commuters, the poor
victims of this vile scheme.
(Vintage Everyday)

When these systems were purchased, NCL's first order of business was taking a hatchet to the schedules and services. Former NCL Operations Manager Barney Larrick bragged, "Well, after I got done chopping their heads off we made money. Cut the miles down. Sell off the properties. Pull the company down." Fitzgerald himself said of their process, "We never done anything about the streetcars. They discontinued operating [...] in the city one night, and we started operating modern buses...the next day." Holzer also elaborated: 

"They don't take the service out, they just cut it back. They'll take and cut it from 10 minutes to 12 minutes, from 12 to 15, from 15 to 20, from 20 to 30. So they reduce the service.

And every time you reduce the service you make it less attractive. And the less attractive the fewer riders. And then they say, `Well see, we can't make any money.' So they abandon it."

A 1948 GM "Old Look" bus of the Omnibus Corporation.
(A.E. Moreira)

Needless to say, this "Boss Hoggery" went mostly unnoticed by major city governments, who saw the bustitution of streetcar lines as a "sign of modernity" rather than a cause for concern, but the citizens who depended on street railways (even if they were sucking into the 1930s) could see what was really going on: the automotive industry was coming in, looking to dictate their lives and end their jobs and way of life. GM had already proved that was true in 1935, when they tore up 92 miles of New York City streetcar track through the Omnibus Corporation of America (a local bus line) and touted the might of their hundred-something "superior" Yellow Coaches. After all, nothing was too underhanded for them.

Taking Over America

A political cartoon of Samuel Insull's mighty utility empire by the 1930s.
(Chicago Tribune) 

A 1935 Yellow Coach of the Los Angeles Motor Coach Co.
(WheelsAge.org)

If you're by now wondering how GM was able to do this underneath all of the national, state, and local governments, it is thanks to the implementation of 1935's "Public Utilities Holding Act" (or PUHA). Passed in response to the major break up of Samuel Insull's interurban and electrical utilities holdings due to their collapse in the Great Depression, the PUHA stated clearly that no one private electric interest (like streetcar manufacturers, electric motor manufacturers, or power suppliers) could monopolize public transit across the United States. While this wording looked good on paper to prevent any one electrical company from holding a regional monopoly, the wording within said nothing about automobile companies doing the same thing. Thus, it was easy for NCL, whose only purchased Yellow Coaches but otherwise had nothing on the outside linking them to GM, to come in and do their dirty work, with only the occasional regulatory approval request getting in the way (and even then, by the time they got approved, the trolleys were gone anyway).

A political cartoon from 1900 shows the terror of electric and traction monopolies.
Of course, give it about fifty years and people would change their tune.
(Public Domain)

Oil Wells on Atlantic Avenue in Long Beach, 1948.
(LIFE Magazine)

By the end of the 1930s, three more companies had joined the mighty conspiracy to further their business interests. First tapped was Standard Oil of California (now Chevron), where Getty money (and gasoline) was used to fuel all of NCL's buses (along with Phillips Petroleum later); then, Firestone Tires came along and shod all buses to boost their tire sales; finally, Mack Trucks came in to build beefier bus chassis and engines, able to keep up with Yellow Coach's manufacturing and then some. At this point in time, Butte, Montana, had its streetcar system sent out to pasture and Alabama, Indiana, and Ohio saw most of their streetcar systems removed (even the famous Shaker Heights Rapid Transit). By this point, NCL saw its peak as it now owned 29 local operating companies in 27 cities, all within 10 states, and the Octopus seemed primed to only get started. However, all it took was one man to ruin their public goodwill and get the Feds to do something about it.

The Great American Streetcar Conspiracy

Edwin J. Quinby, as seen in the 1960s.
(Arthur Goldwag)

Edwin J. Quinby (1895-1981) was, to put it mildly, a traction foamer. Specifically, he was the end-all-and-be-all of traction foamers, founding the Electric Railway Association in 1934 (back when it was a pro-transit lobby group and not an enthusiast group like it is today) after working for the North Jersey Rapid Transit (out of New York City). Clad in a top hat, leopard-print waistcoat, and with a cane, Quinby regularly used the power and privilege of the free press to regularly scream "ARMAGEDDON" on behalf of his beloved streetcars, as he did in 1946: 

"The plan is to destroy public utilities, which you'll find impractical to replace after you discover your mistake. Who are the corporations behind this? Why are they permitted to destroy valuable electric railways?"

In his day, Quinby was treated as a crackpot, much like Emperor Joshua Norton I of the United States of America (and Protectorate of Mexico) was treated in the late 1800s; unlike Norton I, who spent most of his famous life destitute, Quinby had means but was more known for being a rampant conspiracy theorist. In his view, the destruction of public utilities was completely unnatural, and someone had to bring those responsible to justice, as well as repeal the 1935 Public Utilities Act that was enabling anti-rail forces to destroy the streetcars. Unlike most conspiracy theorists, however, Quinby's grandstanding was so great and so supported by the eager public that read his book that, in 1946, the Justice Department of the United States peeked into National City Lines to check for any antitrust violations.

And they found Quinby was right...

MCL No. 5160 (originally PE No. 710) cruises down Glenoaks Blvd on the
Glendale-Burbank Line, with Mayor John M. Lawson at the controls, 1954.
(Metro Library and Archives)

A crowd of people gather to witness the end of the
Seattle-Everett interurban service, 1939.
(Shoreline Area News)

On April 9, 1947, nine companies (including the aforementioned GM, Firestone, Standard Oil, Mack, and Phillips) and seven individuals (company officers and executives from all, including Fitzgerald) were formally indicted in the Federal District Court of Southern California for "conspiring to acquire control of a number of transit companies, forming a transportation monopoly" and "conspiring to monopolize sales of buses and supplies to companies owned by National City Lines". The jig, it seemed, was up. People all over the country tuned in as the venue moved from Southern California to Illinois for a national "trial of the century", eager to see these charlatans stripped of their rights and forced to return their streetcars. 

Unfortunately, that was far from the case. Despite the overwhelming evidence on both conspiracy and sales monopoly, the consortium was only found guilty of the latter. GM was the only one to pony up any money, about $5000 (or $55,161 in 2020 dollars) and GM Treasurer H.C. Grossman was fined but $1. They were acquitted on the conspiracy to form a transportation monopoly. Of course, Quinby and the collective might of the American people called "bullshit" on this decision, but there was nothing that could be done. NCL continued its operations, spinning off its 1946 purchase of the San Diego Electric Railway and its controlling share of Oakland's Key System to Jesse Haugh's Western Transit Company (WTC) by the end of the 1940s. 

The Key System in 1958, the final year of operation.
(Robert Gadsdon)

Wrath of the Yellow Car

LATL Division 4 on March 8, 1956, with all streetcars pictured painted in NCL's
"Salad Bowl" corporate scheme. This site is now the Los Angeles Convention Center.
(L. Swanson, Andy Goddard, PERYHS)

Not only did LATL close many trolley lines, they also replaced
some with trolley-coach lines for a never-realized expansion.
(Bill Volkmer)

By far, the most famous event when it comes to discussing the Great American Streetcar Scandal is what happened in Los Angeles from 1944 to 1963, when 1,200 collective miles of streetcars and interurbans simply... vanished. National City Lines purchased the LARy from the Henry Huntington Estate in 1944, giving them reach into the largest "streetcar city" on the West Coast. Under NCL, the LARy was renamed "Los Angeles Transit Lines" (LATL) and many legacy lines and old streetcars were destroyed in the name of progress, aided and abetted by the development of new freeways sponsored by the Automobile Club of Southern California (yes, that Auto Club/AAA). However, by the 1950s, Angelenos had caught on to NCL's dirty dealings and demanded their city take control to avoid their public transit being destroyed. The city complied, but not in the way that citizens desired, nor approved of.

LAMTA No. 1543 (originally PE No. 435), otherwise known as the "Vichy Blimp",
in the new corporate colors to advertise a non-existent continuation of Long Beach Line service.
(Metro Library and Archive)

LAMTA P-3 PCC No. 3165, the last streetcar purchased by
the city of Los Angeles, beckons you aboard with the  logo on the side.
(Salaam Allah)

In 1953, the Los Angeles Metropolitan Transit Authority (LAMTA, no relation to the modern Metro) was formed as a city governing body to take over all control and ownership of LA's streetcars. Pacific Electric and the LATL alike were rebranded with the new two-tone green roundel, and some LATL cars shed their "Salad Bowl" paint schemes for two-tone Northern Pacific green. However, the LAMTA was merely a mask for NCL and Metropolitan Coach Lines (MCL, WTC's Los Angeles operating wing) to continue running the LATL and PE trains (respectively) on behalf of the city, which they did as the city took the fall for eliminating the once-cherished Yellow and Red Cars. The same was happening in Oakland, California, where Pacific City Lines (an NCL subsidiary from 1937, merged in 1948) had snapped up Francis "Borax" Smith's Key System and also ran it into the ground by April 1958. 

The infamous photo of Hollywood Cars piled one-atop-the-other at National Steel & Metal
on Terminal Island in the Port of Los Angeles. This is the legacy of National City Lines.
(Unknown Author)

In the film "Who Framed Roger Rabbit", the fictional
Sunset Blvd. Terminal proudly declares that Pacific Electric
is now a "Cloverleaf Industry", referring to
the shape of a freeway interchange.
(Touchstone Pictures)

By April 1, 1963, the conspiracy had won. Angelenos watched in horror and sadness as their once-great streetcars were reduced to scrap metal and the smelly, noisy diesel buses had won. Over time, the myth of the "Great American Streetcar Conspiracy" took hold in the annals of city history, where the dying trolleys were deified and the freeways and bus companies were looked upon with disdain. This narrative only intensified with time, as it became the driving plot behind Robert Zemeckis' famous 1988 film, "Who Framed Roger Rabbit", only with toons in place of trolleys. To this day, many old folks who can still remember when trolleys roamed Los Angeles regard the name "National City Lines" with disdain, while those who remember the past are working hard to not repeat it again.

Quiet Ends

Barney Larrick, NCL ops manager, conspiring
to replace the Twin Cities streetcars with a bus.
(Dead Trams Rolling)

A Seattle Municipal Railway Token, proudly
declaring their independence from private ruin.
(Unknown Author)

If there were two victories the public transit world could claim against National City Lines, it was that they never thought to alter other cities with robust municipal transit networks like New Orleans, Seattle, San Francisco, and Boston. Despite their own internal turmoils, all four cities maintained a tight grip on their streetcar lines, free from any outside influence that would have driven them to destruction. Another victory came in the form of the "Twin Cities Mire", where former operations manager Barney Larrick and local lawyer Fred Ossanna were convicted on thirteen counts of wire fraud and conspiracy for converting the Twin Cities streetcar system to buses in 1960, with all the money going to General Motors. GM at that point was the dominant bus-maker for the entire country, having eliminated their "Yellow Coach" brand in favor of producing their "Old Look" and "New Look" coaches for the new trend of public, regional transit agencies. 

A 1965 Santa Monica Municipal Bus Line coach from GMC.
(PatricksMercy)

"Happy Holidays" wishes LAX in this 1980 photo,
taken during the height of the LA Smog.
(California Sun)

However, GM's dominance soon came under scrutiny by the same antitrust forces that exposed its streetcar conspiracy twenty years earlier. In 1965, GM (under a consent decree) was forced to license all of its technology and manufacturing to other companies and break itself up. By the 1970s, the market had turned against GM's standardized buses and looked to new manufacturers, further tanking its sales. By 1979, nobody wanted a GM bus anymore and the last intercity bus rolled off the production line. In 1987, all bus production shut down, closing the book on GM's domination. So, too, did National City Lines finally come to an end, as it was purchased by trucking company Los Angeles-Seattle Motor Express in 1959. In 1978, NCL finally sold its transportation management division (after all of its former assets were sold to regional transit authorities) and remained an in-name only company under Contran from 1981 to 2007, when it was finally dissolved. Where was E. Roy Fitzgerald in all of this? Dead on June 15, 1957, and knowing full well of the damage he wreaked upon the American civic landscape.

The Consequences Left Behind

The George Benson Waterfront Streetcar, the pride
of many heritage streetcar lines, now sadly gone.
(Chris Fussell)

It is worth noting, rather positively, that by the time GM closed its bus factory and NCL was effectively neutered, America was falling back in love with its streetcars. American pride during the 1976 Bicentennial saw a wave of heritage streetcar lines pop up all over the United States, giving old folks who once rode them for business an opportunity to now ride them for pleasure. New light rail lines were also beginning to gain hold, bucking the "car-focused city" concept sold by GM and zealous highway developers and forcing freeway zealots to see the value of light rail. Despite continued pushback from other troublesome entities like local NIMBYs (Not In My Back-Yard) or the national might of the anti-rail Koch Foundation, light rail continues to prove something hard to kill, especially in cities that never had NCL influence like San Francisco, Seattle, New Orleans, and Boston.

An LA Metro Gold Line train on the 1st Street viaduct, heading east.
(Curbed LA)

Today, we are still cleaning up the damage left behind by NCL, with San Diego, Los Angeles, Phoenix, El Paso, and Cleveland all restoring light rail in some form or another. One can only hope that this trend continues and the damage done will seem negligible by comparison, but we are still a long way away. That's why I appeal to all of my riders to please support your local public transit, even if it sucks, because the unfortunate alternative will be a return to unchecked service shutdowns, longer traffic jams on crumbling highways, and the lingering regret of not caring about what we take for granted today. 

   

Thank you for reading today's Trolley post, and watch your step as you alight on the platform. My resources today included the Southern California Electric Railway Association's history of National City Lines, a transcript of the PBS documentary, "Taken for a Ride", the US Court of Appeals transcript of the 1951 "Streetcar Conspiracy" trial, and the photo credits listed in each caption. The trolley gifs in our posts are made by myself and can be found under “Motorman Reymond’s Railroad Gif Carhouse”. On Thursday, we go to Boston to start our streetcar disaster month out properly! For now, you can follow myself or my editor on Twitter, buy a shirt or sticker from our Redbubble stand, or purchase my editor's self-developed board game! It's like Ticket to Ride, but cooler! (and you get to support him through it!) Until next time, ride safe!