August 5, 1900
The noise was deafening. Much different than the sounds usually heard on racing day at the St. Louis Fair Grounds, where thousands of horse-racing fans would fill the grandstands surrounding the half-mile oval that was the site of many of the biggest races of the day, like the St. Louis Derby.
This time fans queued up for a peek at one of the latest curiosities of the modern era — a race between horseless carriages. The contraptions were indeed a novelty at the time, as there were only about 25 of them in the entire city. Five of them were lining up for the race, which Fair Grounds owners hoped would save the foundering operation.
The privately owned Fair Grounds had been around since 1856 and — following a pause during the Civil War that saw 23,000 Union troops take over the grounds and temporarily create “Camp Benton” — even thrived for a while in the 1870s.
The biggest attraction then was a zoo where for a mere two bits per adult or a dime for kids, visitors could gawk at llamas, tapirs. kangaroos and bears. If you were lucky, you might have been there the time a groundskeeper was gored by a buffalo or the time his clothes were ripped by a leopard.
But, attendance waned, the animals were auctioned off (some to the Ringling brothers circus) and buildings started to show the signs of age and neglect. As the new century rolled in, Fair Grounds owners reasoned that perhaps these newfangled horseless carriages could liven things up.
John L. French was hoping the same thing. As the founder and president of the St. Louis Motor Carriage Company, French had already established a reputation as a savvy promoter and skilled driver. Most of the noise at the starting line that day came from French’s car. The belching thunder from his internal combustion engine stood in stark contrast to the quiet whine of electric motors that powered his nearest rivals’ machines.
When the dust cleared one-and-one-half miles later, French had won and electric cars took the next two spots. For French, it was further confirmation that his chosen career path was the right one and his dream that his motor cars might one day be eagerly snatched up by adventurous people from coast to coast was possible.
But French’s ambitions would never be realized and, within three years of his Fair Grounds triumph, he would be dead.
*****
John French was destined for success. His father, Jesse, had emigrated to the U.S. from England as a young boy and quit school in Nashville, Tennessee, to work as a printer’s devil in a printing office. After working up to chief clerk, he took a job as a postal worker. When his parents returned to England to settle an inheritance, young Jesse was left to care for two sisters and a younger brother.
When his parents returned, Jesse headed to college to study business and the law. That led to a job as Assistant Secretary of State for the state of Tennessee. When he ran for the top job in the Tennessee State Department and lost, he tried his hand at private business.
He started by buying a Nashville sheet music company in 1873 and three years later moved into piano sales. By 1885, the Jesse French Piano and Organ Company was worth $500,000 and French operated as many as six branches from his Nashville headquarters, making his company the largest music retailer west of New York City.
French ultimately contracted to have his own line of pianos manufactured in Indiana. Among his roster of more than 100 salesmen was John Stillwell Stark of Sedalia, Mo. Stark, a veteran of the Union army in the Civil War, was eking out a living by farming and selling ice cream on the road from a Conestoga wagon when he joined the French team. Soon he was delivering pianos and organs to Missouri farmers, dropping them off for a trial period then closing the sale on his return.
Missouri was a fertile area for Jesse French. He entered business with a brother-in-law, Oscar Addison Field, in St. Louis in 1883 and later moved the corporate headquarters of the French operation from Nashville to St. Louis.
John French, Jesse’s oldest son, was born in 1872 and studied mechanical engineering at Washington University in St. Louis before returning to Nashville to work for his father. But his interests went well beyond pianos and organs.
He and good friend George Preston Dorris spent many hours of their childhoods cavorting in the Cumberland River before hatching a plan to cash in on their favorite haunt: Why not charge passengers for river cruises?
Soon they had bought a used steam launch and planned to go into business when steamboat inspectors shut them down. You’re too young to operate a steamboat, they were told. But Dorris, who had enrolled as a freshman in Vanderbilt Engineering School’s Manual Training Program, had an idea. I’ll bet I can come up with an alternative in the school’s well-equipped workshop, he reasoned.
The result was a gasoline engine that passed inspection and French and Dorris were back in business.
Their operation soon hit a snag, however. When delivering fuel to the engine while bobbing on water proved to be an issue, Dorris developed a free-float carburetor that solved the problem.
The pair operated their cruise business for three years, until French moved to St. Louis in 1895 to join his family. Dorris kept the boat running for a while, but had other ideas. Using the boat engine as a template, Dorris started working on building an automobile. By 1897, he had an eight-horsepower, two-cylinder automobile capable of making a 60-mile trip.
Meanwhile, in St. Louis, French’s mother had bought a car of her own, a Winton. French thought it was a fine machine, but could be made better. He contacted Dorris in Nashville: Hey. How about coming up to St. Louis? I have an idea. Oh, and bring your car with you.
*****
John French was doing well in the family business, having risen to the position of secretary, but set his sights elsewhere.The horseless carriage was popping up everywhere. The first electric one hit the streets of St. Louis in 1893 and by 1895 Chicago was even holding races for them. Why not build them in St. Louis?
French approached his father about investing in the proposed company.
Jesse French was busy himself. Through salesman Stark, he’d been introduced to ragtime, an exciting new form of music that held great promise for his sheet music and piano businesses. Stark had helped fuel the ragtime rage by discovering a young ragtime phenom named Scott Joplin in Sedalia, Mo. But, yes, Jesse French told his son, I’ll invest in your venture if you can prove to me that your horseless carriage is reliable enough to safely haul a piano all the way across St. Louis.
When John French approached Dorris with his father’s conditions, Dorris had a quick response: No problem.
Dorris dismantled his hand-crafted automobile and transformed it into St. Louis’ first truck. The condition was met.
Dorris and French formed the St. Louis Motor Carriage Company in 1898 and set up shop at 1211 North Vandeventer Avenue, creating the first car manufacturing facility west of the Mississippi. John French installed himself as president in charge of marketing and Dorris as vice president in charge of engineering and production at a salary of $75 a month.
Thus, with two second-hand lathes and a drill press, French and Dorris got down to the business of making cars.
In 1899, they built their first two cars and placed their first advertisement, in the Aug. 30, 1899, edition of Horseless Age. Two months later, one of their cars was loaded onto a rail car, headed for Texas. Dorris went, too, first teaching new owner Edward H.R. Green how to drive the contraption, then taking him on the state’s first automobile road trip from Terrell, Texas, to Dallas.
Cars were such a novelty in those days, manufacturers were obliged to personally deliver the cars and give instruction to the new owners. They were also always looking for opportunities to prove their car’s reliability and abilities to make it through muddy roads and up steep hills.
As marketing director, that was largely French’s role. Following that August 1900 race in St. Louis, French took to the road, driving one of the company’s cars 450 miles from St. Louis to Chicago in 36 hours without incident to compete in the first Chicago Inter-Ocean Automobile Exhibition. French picked up three trophies in Chicago and sales improved to 30 cars in 1900.
The company quickly expanded into adjacent properties and sales continued to rise as the company incorporated new Dorris innovations into its machines. Besides the unique carburetor, St. Louis cars had a sliding gear transmission and three-point engine mounting that allowed the engine to flex slightly while the rest of the car remained stable. And, while most cars of the era had tiller steering — similar to holding the reins of a horse — the Dorris car had switched to a steering wheel. French also adopted a bold advertising slogan — “Rigs that run” — to tout their cars’ reliability.
In the fall of 1901, French took one the toughest challenges to date, a race from New York City to Buffalo as part of the Pan-American Exposition in Buffalo. Although President William McKinley was shot a few days before the start of the race, it went on with 80 vehicles — 54 powered by gasoline and 26 powered by steam. The race was halted in Rochester after McKinley died on Oct. 14, with French in the middle of the pack with an average cumulative speed of 10 miles per hour over the often rough and muddy roads.
Undeterred, French moved on to New England, spending some time in the Boston area where his efforts resulted in the sale of 65 cars.
In 1902, sales continued to rise and French kept busy building on his reputation as a skilled “chauffeur,” as drivers of that era were called. He found time to take a wife, Elizabeth Penny of St. Louis, before heading east again, this time to Pittsburgh, Pennsylvania.
*****
The St. Louis Motor Carriage Company was expanding rapidly as John French checked into an apartment at the Dorset Hotel on Pittsburgh’s East End in August 1902. Parked outside was one of the most popular models of the St. Louis Motor Carriage Company, the aptly named St. Louis. It was the first car model made in the U.S. that had the engine, clutch and transmission built as a single unit and became the first police car in America when the St. Louis Police Department adopted the car for the “Scorching Squad,” its motorized traffic unit.
French hoped to sell a few of the cars during his Pittsburgh trip and took a prospective customer out for a spin in the afternoon of August 11.
Cyrus Dauler had recently returned from duty in the Phillipines with the U.S. Signal Corp when he clambered into the passenger seat of French’s car. Dauler, the 20-year-old brother-in-law of Common Pleas Court Judge Elliot Rodgers, was just starting a career with the Pennsylvania Tube Company.
As French was chatting up the benefits of his machine, a slow-moving wagon gave him the chance to show the vehicle’s passing ability. But French failed to notice an approaching trolley that was gathering speed on a downhill incline. Motorman H.H. Fay quickly applied the brakes on the trolley, but it was too late.
The collision sent French’s car hurtling through the air “and crushing it to splinters.”[1]
French and Dauler were tossed about 30 feet. French lay motionless after landing on his head and shoulders; Dauler was unconscious on the pavement, blood gushing from his nose and ears. Both men were carried to the nearby office of Dr. B.B. Wood, who stitched up a nasty cut on French’s scalp and revived both men. Dr. Wood assessed French’s shoulder and other body bruises and determined that he should be returned to his apartment at the Dorset to recover. Dauler had similar, but less serious injuries, and was sent to the home he shared with his mother.
After French sent a telegram to his family, his father and new wife headed to Pittsburgh. French spent several days recuperating in the hotel before Dr. Wood determined there were no internal injuries. French returned to St. Louis to continue his recovery.
The healing went slow. As winter approached, French thought the warmth of the Florida sun might do some good. He and his wife planned an ambitious drive to the Sunshine State. Outside of big cities, paved roads were scarce. Nor were there road signs or reliable maps to plan such a trip.
Nevertheless, French and his wife left St. Louis on Nov. 3, destined for Ocala, Fla., where they would meet up with old friends and spend a leisurely winter. They spent a few days visiting French’s uncle Henry French in Nashville before pressing on through Chattanooga, Atlanta and Macon, Ga., en route to his destination.
He made good time in his 8 horsepower machine, reaching speeds up to 30 miles per hour on the good roads, but just 8-10 mph on the sandy roads of Georgia and Florida.
French’s recovery did not go well. The Pittsburgh accident had lingering effects and his internal injuries caused serious hemorrhaging. He returned to St. Louis in early spring and died on May 23, 1903. He was 30 years old.
His brother, Jesse French Jr., took over as president of the St. Louis Motor Carriage Company, which moved to Peoria, Ill., in 1905 and, without its star promotion man, operated for just a few more years. George Dorris stayed behind in St. Louis and started his own Dorris Motor Car Company in the same building on North Vandeventer Street.. He stayed in business until 1926.
Jesse French continued in the piano and sheet music business, capitalizing big-time on the ragtime music that dominated the first two decades of the 20th century. One of his top piano tuners, Charles Hunter, was born blind and taught himself to play ragtime while doing duty for French in Nashville and St. Louis. Hunter was an influential ragtime composer before dying of tuberculosis before his 30th birthday in 1906.

[1] St. Louis Republic, Aug. 12, 1902
John S. French, automobile pioneer
Born: Nov. 10, 1872
Died: May 23, 1903 (age 30)
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