Those Rush-Hour Blues
(See Cover)
Along the eight-lane highways that stretch forth like tentacles from San Francisco, it was the time of day that tries men's carburetors: the evening rush hour. Everyone wanted to get home at once. Trapped in a snarling, bumper-to-bumper tie-up, Salesman Bink Beckmann reacted with unusual calm; he had a unique way of keeping his blood pressure down. On a tiny slip of paper he scrawled, "Hold dinner; traffic tie-up"; then he reached behind him into a cage, seconds later sent a homing pigeon fluttering out of the car window. A pigeon fancier, Beckmann carries eight pigeons on his daily rides to and from work, keeps his waiting wife informed of delays with pigeon-powered bulletins to their San Rafael home.
On the other coast of the U.S., deep in the tunneled bowels of Manhattan's Grand Central Terminal, Publishing Executive Cal Estes boarded the New Haven railroad's 5:11 to Riverside, Conn. From long experience with the New Haven, he, too, expected trouble. Through his mind flashed the unhappy vision of a late train, of his wife preparing dinner without any warning that he would be late. There was one way to prepare for the worst. With an air of quiet desperation, he went to the bar car, began drinking Scotch on the rocks as the train pulled out. The drinks were not wasted. By the time the 5:11 got to Riverside, it was 40 minutes late on a scheduled 47-minute run.
Bicycles & Kayaks. Beckmann and Estes are resourceful examples of a special and hardy breed of U.S. citizen: the commuter. Like the U.S. postman, the intrepid commuter lets neither howling storms, nor packed trains, nor jammed highways, nor endless delays keep him from the completion of his appointed rounds between work and home. He is willing to endure all the journey's perils for the sake of pursuing success in the city and the good life--or cheaper living--in the suburbs or exurbs.
Out of a U.S. working force of 66 million, commuters make up a scant 10 million. Yet their daily cycle from home to work accounts for a larger volume of passenger traffic than any other type of weekday travel. Six million of them get to work and back home by auto, 450,000 by train, 3,550,000 by bus, subway or rapid transit. Others ingeniously make the trip by airplane, helicopter, bicycle, motor scooter, powerboat and, in the case of one hardy California commuter, by kayak.
The great postwar exodus to Suburbia has scattered commuters through the U.S. countryside surrounding great cities, put a crippling strain on the arteries that feed the metropolises. A few foreign cities also have problems in handling the commuter torrent: London and Paris groan beneath its weight, Tokyo hires students to push commuters tightly into rush-hour trains, and Calcutta's commuter rails are so crowded that people ride prone on the roofs of coaches. But in the U.S., the nationwide flight to the suburbs has created a huge problem for almost every major city. And the problem is due to get worse.
If vast transportation changes are not made, traffic experts predict that by 1970 so many cars will be pouring daily into big cities that the monstrous traffic jam will just about stop all movement. For U.S. commuter railroads, crying out in financial agony, the auto has wiped out much of the balanced, all-day, regular-fare business that once made rail passengers profitable. It has left the rails burdened with the money-losing, morning-evening commuter rush--and even cut heavily into that. The number of passengers commuting by rail annually has dropped from 458 million in 1929 to 224 million in 1959.
Precocious Darling. The commuter is thus a U.S. problem child--but he is also a precocious darling. He is vital to the business life of the big cities, as a group holds more responsible, higher-salaried jobs than his noncommuting brethren. Commuters earn more than $2 billion in New York City, $1.7 billion in San Francisco. The commuter is well-educated, aggressive, articulate--and, as a class, furiously united against everything that threatens to interrupt his daily nest-to-work cycle. To hear him tell it, the trials and tribulations of commuting make Dante's trip through hell seem like a cross-town taxi ride. Items:
P: In Santa Ana, Calif., a dog ran across the Santa Ana freeway during the rush hour, when the road is a bumper-to-bumper torrent moving at 40 m.p.h. Result: 40 cars were wrecked.
P: In Chicago, commuters on the Chicago North Shore & Milwaukee Railway were startled when their engineer dashed toward the rear of the self-propelled train, crying, "Don't panic! Don't panic!" No one panicked, and a second later the train plowed into an empty school bus. Commuters picked themselves up, dusted themselves off. It was just another story to tell at the office.
P: In Los Angeles, a harried commuter found his way home detoured by a stout barricade blocking a road under construction. Angrily he drove through the barricade and over the newly graded roadbed, followed by thousands of other motorists.
P: In Chicago, commuters riding to work on a bus spied a car speeding away from the police. They shouted to the bus driver, who wheeled his vehicle across both lanes of traffic, stopped the fugitives.
P: In Westchester County, N.Y., suspicious railroad police entered a commuter's basement, discovered a printing shop for counterfeiting commutation tickets. The commuter's explanation: he liked to outwit the railroad.
Hardly a week passes but the commuter is besieged by some new peril, lacerated by some angry official, or frightened by some dire warning. Last week was no exception. From the New Haven's president, George Alpert, whose road is the second biggest U.S. commuter line and the one in worst financial shape, came an ominous threat--"The countdown has begun"--to end all passenger service. Alpert applied for a 10% fare hike (which would bring New Haven fare hikes to 57% since 1956), but that was only his opener. Unless the New Haven gets government subsidy and tax relief by June 30, warned Alpert, he will ask for 10% fare hikes every six months until fares are 70% above the present. Alpert called his scheme the "commuter service survival plan." It was greeted by the traditional chorus of jeers from irate commuters, blather from self-seeking local politicians.
This kind of instinctive reaction stirs the ire of railroad officials. "The commuter is a son of a pup," says William R. Main, assistant vice president of the New York Central Railroad. "He is an irrational animal. Unless he gets smart pretty soon, he will be out on the end of a limb. He looks upon the service as a commodity, doesn't give it the thought it deserves, takes the service for granted, but explodes when his train is late, and seems to harbor a latent dislike for railroads."
The commuter, for his part, is sure that the railroads harbor a blatant dislike for him. The Boston and Albany is pushing a petition to drop all of its 39 commuter trains in Massachusetts. The New York, Susquehanna & Western wants to do away with all passenger service--as more than a dozen other U.S. railroads have done since 1950. The New Haven has dropped its Old Colony road to Boston's South Shore and Cape Cod, the Central its Putnam division in Westchester County and West Shore line in New Jersey and New York. Boston and Maine's President Patrick B. McGinnis, who was washed out as boss of the New Haven in 1956 in a torrent of commuter complaint, has not improved his reputation by selling off 69 commuter stations, chopping off 37 trains.
Creature of Habit. The problems that the commuter poses to the nation's cities are great and prickly--but they are not unique. In the 2nd century, the satirist Juvenal graphically described the swarming streets of ancient Rome. They were thick with litter bearers, chariot jams, and furious drivers who knocked people down and ran over them in their haste to get home to dinner. Many a Roman mumbled in his toga: "Quid hercle faciamus de obstructione?"* But it was not until late 19th century London that the commuter appeared as a distinct type. London's rapid growth called for so much space for businesses that citizens were forced out of the center of the metropolis, had to commute to work by horse bus and rail. It was only in the U.S., with its spreading cities and changing population patterns, that the commuter came into his own as a widespread social phenomenon. He got a big boost from the introduction of the cut-fare commutation ticket for those who ride the rails daily.
Just what sort of creature is the modern-day commuter? If he travels by rail, he is a man (few women are commuters) of almost inflexible habits. A slave to the timetable, he is often up before the farmers, and into bed before his teen-age sons.
A single glance at his schedule can make him break off the most scintillating conversation in the city, or leave his wife in the midst of an embrace. He likes to dash for the train with seconds to spare, board it daily at the same precise spot on the platform, sit in the same seat. "You ought to hear the howls we get," says a New Haven trainman, "when the engineer brings the train in a few feet off the usual stopping place." The commuter does not like to talk with strangers (or often with anyone), or wear double-breasted suits, or sit with a woman, or travel without a hat. To preserve his privacy, he uses his newspaper like a shield, or he plays cards with the same partners. If he reads a sexy book or a left-wing newspaper, it is prudently concealed between more respectable pages. Whether he reads or works on the train (some commuters carry pocket-sized gadgets for dictating), drinks in the bar car, or gazes idly at the countryside, he is likely to do the same thing every day.
One Chicago commuter, accustomed to finding his grey Volkswagen in the same spot at the station every evening, hopped off the 6:28 one day, slipped behind the wheel of the car. He gave a cursory nod to the kids in the rear, leaned over to kiss his wife--and discovered to his horror that both she and the kids were total strangers. Retreating hastily, he hid behind a telephone pole until his wife showed up.
Some commuters insist that they undergo the daily trip to the big city and back for the sake of the wife and kiddies. There also are Freudian explanations. Says New York Psychiatrist Dr. Jose Barchilon, himself a commuter: "The twice-daily sacrifice of the commuter to the indignities of transportation satisfies something deep within the husband's psyche.
In modern society there are few opportunities for the breadwinner to endure personal hardship in earning the family living, such as clearing the forest or shooting a bear. For some husbands who spend their day in plush offices, the discomforts of commuting help alleviate feelings of guilt or envy that their wives are closer to primary hardships, e.g., cooking, minding the children." Many rail commuters welcome the trip as an hour of respite between frustrating tensions at the office and petty annoyances at home. Says a Stony Brook, L.I.-Manhattan commuter: "I commute to get a little peace and quiet each day. I have five kids."
Road Trap. The man who drives his auto to work, on the other hand, can rarely relax. He prizes the independence the auto gives him, but he pays for it dearly. With one foot on the brake and the other on the accelerator, he braves traffic jams so packed that, so the story goes, a Los Angeles driver was carried along for ten miles after he ran out of gas. He can expect no quarter from his own. A motorist lost on the Santa Ana freeway recently pulled his car onto the center island to take his bearings. Three hours later he was still there, trapped by a whizzing flow of motorists who refused to slow down enough to let him get back on the road.
The total of U.S. cars is now 62 million, and it is growing faster than the population. Billions of dollars are being spent to build new roads and expressways that sometimes cost up to $30 million a mile. Los Angeles has spent $800 million in the last decade, Detroit $76.8 million since 1955, and Boston $125 million for a three-mile central artery. For every acre of floor space constructed, suburban plants now need two acres of space for their commuting workers' cars. Some cities, notably Los Angeles and Detroit, devote up to two-thirds of their downtown areas to streets and parking areas.
"What a Waste." Despite the auto's onward rush, the core of the commuter problem is still the railroads, the most efficient of the facilities for moving people in and out of big cities. A double-track commuter line can carry five times as many people per hour as a four-lane superhighway. To build enough highways for the 30,000 commuters who travel into Philadelphia on the Pennsylvania Railroad would cost $611 million. If everyone who now rides the trains into New York decided to drive, a third of Manhattan would be needed just for parking space. The auto is an inefficient commuter tool, carries only an average 1.7 commuters. Soviet Premier Khrushchev, inspecting crowded San Francisco highways, exclaimed what every American knows: "What a waste." But if commuters need the railroads, most railroad men are sure that they can do without the commuter. Well over half of the 360 million people who ride trains each year are commuters, yet they contribute only 20% of all passenger fares. Railroad men complain that for every $1 they get from the commuter, the road must spend up to $1.50 just to keep him moving. Many commuters are convinced that the bookkeeping is tricky, that the roads charge too big a share of passenger expenses to them. But the roads only conform to Interstate Commerce Commission bookkeeping regulations. The New Haven claims it lost $8,400,000 on New York commuters last year. The New York Central lost $4,500,000 on commuters, the Pennsylvania $10 million, the Southern Pacific $1,000,000, the Milwaukee $320,000.
Railroads try to face up to the problem in different ways. On some, where the passenger is a small part of traffic, the management goes along with the loss; it can make it up in freight profits. But on a few roads such as the New Haven, where passenger revenue makes up 47% of the total, freight income is not enough.
Largely because of its commuter deficit, the New Haven lost $4.3 million in 1958, another $10 million in 1959. As a result, President Alpert frankly admits that the road has gone steadily downhill. Service has deteriorated: cars are often dirty, broken seats go unrepaired, and commuters joke that management plays a game called "hide the locomotive," as they wait in the station for an engine to pull the train out.
The New Haven has one of the worst on-time records (82.8%) of any U.S. road, suffers from a fantastically high breakdown record. Alpert has cut maintenance costs drastically--although, quips one sardonic commuter, "It's not quite come to the point where your wife kisses you goodbye every morning thinking it's the last time." He has also needled commuters with such niggling little gestures as the removal of the nightly express "theater" train to the suburbs--as has the New York Central. "Riding the New Haven," says a Wall Street commuter, "is the most vicious form of travel known to man." Cheaper Than Cars. One key to the railroads' financial plight is the commuter fare. Despite hefty hikes in the last few years, it is still one of the biggest bargains in the U.S. For example, a commuter can ride on the New Haven between Manhattan and Larchmont, N.Y., a commuter bedroom 19 miles from the city, for 50-c- a ride on a 46-ride commutation ticket--one-fourth or less of what it would cost to drive his car, not counting parking fees. One reason for the low fares is that U.S. railroads still suffer from the bad reputation earned in the days of the Robber Barons, when, as a monopoly, they often gouged the public. Now, though they are far from monopoly, they find it tough to get permission from the ICC and state utility commissions for fare increases. The Long Island Rail Road, biggest U.S. commuter line, was unable to get a fare hike from 1918 to 1947, despite repeated requests. Other railroads waited too long to press for hikes, let fares over the years fall far behind rising costs. Most claim that they now need 50% to 70% higher fares just to break even on the commuter.
"The commuter pays only a fraction of the cost," says the Central's Main, "and he doesn't see why he should pay more." But the commuter may soon have to change his thinking. The longer he resists fare hikes, the worse his lot may become.
Any intelligent New Haven rider, for instance, knows that if the road cannot make money, it will go bust--and he will have to find another, more expensive way to work. Many roads fear that raising fares much more will drive more commuters to the auto. But the sturdy rail commuters still left have little taste for exchanging their lot for traffic chaos. The Long Island has raised fares four times since 1956, yet has never lost more than 1% of its commuters after any hike.
Milk the Cow. Higher fares do not make the entire answer to the railroads' problems. The very nature of the commuter business--running at a peak for only four hours daily--means that roads must keep expensive equipment and labor idle for most of the day. "You couldn't profitably run a shoe factory or a bean cannery on such a schedule." says the Long Island's president, Thomas Goodfellow.
"You can't profitably run a railroad that way either." Railroads are also hobbled by books full of outdated and unnecessary regulations. Last week ICC Member Anthony F. Arpaia, who should know, called the commission "an organizational monstrosity." Both the ICC and state commissions require months or years of hearings before railroads may drop obsolete runs. The New York Central struggled for five years to drop its West Shore line. It was losing $3,000,000 annually--enough, said the Central's president, Alfred Permian, "to have provided a Chevrolet, if not a Cadillac, for each of the less than 4,000 commuters using the service." Railroad unions also add to costs by featherbedding, and full-crew laws in 16 states force the roads to employ men they consider unnecessary, last year cost the Central $5,000,000 in New York State alone.
For years the railroads have been hit for hefty taxes by every little town they pass through. They are also prime targets for states such as New Jersey, which, says the ICC, assesses rail property at 100% of value while setting a lower base for other taxpayers. When a railroad repairs a bridge or improves a parking lot, it is not praised, but taxed more heavily. New York City forced the Central to build a new $23 million bridge over the Harlem River in such a way that a new highway could pass under it, then upped taxes on the bridge from $70,000 to $500,000 a year. Says the Central's solicitor, Robert D. Brooks: "Everyone wants to milk the cow, but no one wants to feed it."
Help for Ceylon. The New Haven's Alpert thinks the solution to such problems is an all-out campaign for Government subsidies. He charges that the railroads are slowly being crushed by subsidized competition. Says he: "Subsidy is a common practice today, particularly in the field of transportation. Billions have been spent in the construction of airports for the use of the airlines. This is a subsidy. Hundreds of millions have been spent to maintain the merchant fleet, privately owned. This is a subsidy. For the benefit of the automobile and truck user, $93 billion has been spent on the highways, of which only $45 billion has come back in user charges. The balance is subsidy."
Alpert is particularly galled that the Government gave more than $2,000,000 in 1958 subsidies to New York Airways' helicopter service, which carried fewer passengers all year (91,000) than the New Haven carries in a day. The Government has given loans and grants of more than $1 billion to aid foreign railroads, including one chunk for improving commuter service in Colombo, Ceylon.
Says Alpert: "There would seem to be very little reason why some slight recognition should not be given by our Government to the railroads that are struggling for survival here in the U.S."
Most of Alpert's fellow railroad men look on his plea for subsidy with the same disapproval they show of kids who throw rocks at trains. What they do want is equal treatment with all other forms of transportation, including tax equality or outright tax relief. In this, they have a shining example to encourage them: the Long Island Rail Road, which once vied with the New Haven in the race to ruin, now enjoys a reputation as the best New York commuter railroad.
What happened on the Long Island? Losses ran so high that its owner, the Pennsylvania Railroad, had the road thrown into bankruptcy. Even that brought no outside help. Not until two accidents in a year (1950) killed 109 commuters did New York State decree a twelve-year, $65 million rebuilding program. To give the road money for new equipment and better service, it excused it from all state taxes, many local taxes, allowed it to raise fares at will. The Pennsy agreed to give up for twelve years payments due it on $62 million in Long Island indebtedness. The plan halved the Long Island's tax bill, saves the road $2.3 million a year. President Goodfellow points out that the sum "is almost, but not quite, enough to build one mile of a six-lane expressway on Long Island." Encouraged by such success, New York State is trying partial tax forgiveness for other roads, to the tune of $1.5 million a year.
Break with Tradition. Even given higher fares and tax relief, most U.S. railroads have yet to learn one basic lesson. It is that the transportation industry, in the words of Keneth M. Hoover, chief engineer of the San Francisco's Bay Area Rapid Transit District, "is in the business of selling rides, just as the corn flake business is in the business of selling corn flakes." One man who has learned this lesson well is Ben Heineman, the lawyer turned railroader who is chairman of the Chicago and North Western Railway. Heineman took over a $2 million-to $3 million-a-year money loser in 1956. For the commuter, fares went up, but Heineman gave him better service, more modern equipment. Last year the North Western made about $40,000 profit on commuters, has the healthiest and most promising commuter operation in the U.S.
Last week Heineman announced another step forward: the road will borrow $21 million to replace all the road's remaining obsolete equipment with the most modern equipment available. Says he: "We refused to believe, that the North Western, with the exercise of imagination, couldn't lick this commuting problem. It is our obligation to perform this social function, but just staying in it wasn't enough. We have broken a vicious circle by breaking with tradition." But not even Ben Heineman has been spared the commuter's fondness for taking out all his ills--from a bad breakfast to a grouchy boss--on the railroads. Three months ago, commuters waiting at the North Western's Fort Sheridan station were speechless when a brand-new commuter train pulled in. Like urchins examining a Cadillac, they climbed aboard, bounced on the soft seats, gazed in wonder at the fluorescent lighting. Then the train started, and they noticed that the new type of brake, while safer, had an unfamiliar squeak. Muttered one: "You'd think that they'd have brakes that didn't squeak on equipment as expensive as this." Said another, "Yeah--is that what our last fare increase went for? It's a helluva way to run a railroad." Some roads have actually found that the heart of the commuter can be touched.
Chicago's Burlington railroad, rich from freight, modernized its passenger trains in 1948, then asked for a fare hike. Commuters were so pleased by the improvements that they even wrote letters to the Illinois Commerce Commission backing the request. Four more increases also went through smoothly. The Burlington hopes to slip into the black on commuters this year. Even if it fails, it feels that its commuter losses add up to a modest price to pay for the public's good will. Says the Burlington's president, Harry Murphy: "We've got to serve the commuters, so I believe we should give them the best service we can possibly afford." Quiet, Please. Because they have to serve the commuter--like it or not--other railroads and transit systems, along with cities, are also trying to find ways to do the job right. The Pennsylvania and Reading railroads and the city of Philadelphia are cooperating in "Operation Northwest," in which the railroads have stepped up service and lowered fares, and issue transfers for the city's transit system in return for a $320,000 grant to help cover extra costs. The plan has not cut commuter losses, but it has proved that the commuter can be won away from the auto: the Pennsy's passenger load has jumped 17%, the Reading's 29.5%.
San Francisco has formed the Bay Area Rapid Transit District to set up a regional network of 70 m.p.h. rapid-transit trains that, when completed in 1965, will get commuters from any one station to any other in less than an hour. What spurred it on was a voter outcry against the blight on the city's beauty caused by superhighways. The state legislature decided that the motorist must help pay for the new system, will nick him for $115 million in traffic tolls to construct a rapid-transit tube under San Francisco Bay.
Atlanta Transit System switched from corner-to-corner bus lines to fast, limited runs, last year netted $87,197 in profits.
Los Angeles Metropolitan Transit Authority went after business' by labeling buses formerly marked "P" and "M" with such snappy names as "The Freeway Flyer" and "The Zephyr." They carry signs for the benefit of frazzled motorists: "Quiet, please. Our passengers are resting." Says a company official: "Same bus. You just snap a little life into the system and people will buy." To the Moon. The penalty for failing to snap life into the nation's public transportation is to see many U.S. cities share the fate of Los Angeles. The rail commuter system that once operated 6,200 electric trains daily over 1,061 miles of track was a hit-and-run victim of cars. Since then, at a cost of $1.6 billion, the city has built 271 miles of freeways and 266 miles of expressways to accommodate some 2,000,000 motorists--and is furiously working on 107 more. But, says Edward T. Telford, engineer in charge of construction, "it will be years before we can catch up to the need"-- if we ever can." Taken as a composite, the Los Angeles commuter reels off some 39,330,000 miles a day just going to and from his job, the equivalent of 165 trips to the moon and back. Each day he generates 5.6 billion cu. ft. of auto smog that has created a new problem for the city. If a car stalls for two minutes on a Los Angeles freeway, at least 30 minutes is needed to untangle the traffic jam. Says Sam Taylor, boss of the Los Angeles traffic department: "We talk casually about moving a man to the moon and back; yet we can't move the man to work and back so he can build the missile to take the man to the moon and back."
One Egg Basket. Behind the nation's commuter problem lies a woeful lack of public planning. Many new roads, good in themselves, have been built to dump autos on the city without providing tie-ins with transit systems that could ease downtown traffic congestion. By failing to coordinate Boston's new half-billion-dollar express-road system with the city's ailing Metropolitan Transit Authority, officials left no feeder roads where the M.T.A. could pick up passengers, helped accelerate the M.T.A. decline. Railroad lines and rapid-transit systems, which can often complement each other, frequently compete with each other -- and the auto -- be cause of lack of central planning.
"We're in trouble today," says San Francisco's Hoover, "because for the last 20 years we have been putting our transportation eggs into one basket -- the development of facilities for the private automobile to the virtual exclusion of every other form of transportation." The answer to the problem, most experts agree, is neither to outlaw the auto mobile in cities, nor abandon the commuter to his fate, nor adopt such oft-suggested schemes as the monorail or the far-fetched "pneumatic tube for people." What the nation's big cities need, if they are not to become monstrous masses of immovable autos, is better, more efficient public transportation. Traffic experts want to see the train, the bus and the rapid-transit system take their rightful place alongside the auto as part of a coordinated transportation system. In order to compete effectively, the railroads need tax equality and freedom from excessive regulation. The ICC has already come out in favor of tax relief, and Congress recently made it easier for the rails to discontinue service that is no longer needed. Once these preliminaries are over, it is up to the railroads--and to the auto's other rivals --to win the commuter's hand by fervent wooing. The best suitor will win, but there are plenty of commuters to go around. Like all who feel underprivileged, put upon, unwanted and besieged, the U.S. commuter has a secret desire: he wants to be loved--and to get there on time.
* "What the hell are we going to do about this congestion?"
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