On Better Roads

“I have learned that the swiftest traveler is he who goes afoot,” or so claimed Henry David Thoreau in his book “Walden.” According to Henry David, a friend had to work all day to earn enough money to take a train ride, while if he walked he could enjoy the birds, eat blackberries and arrive at the end of that same day. I’ve heard Thoreau referred to as the first hippy because of his rejection of materialism, his wish to live a simpler life and his deep appreciation of nature. But his was then, and still is, a minority view. Most of us want to get there fast, and this requires roads. Good roads.

Roadways are a part of civilization. And believe it or not, we need to work together to accomplish the things needed to create a functioning society. Not surprisingly. the first roadways through the backwoods of Arkansas followed trails established by Native Americans. These early trails, usually referred to as military roads, were improved in the 1820s by the Army as a means of getting supplies to far-flung western forts. The Southwestern Trail that ran from St. Louis to the Red River across central Arkansas and the later-named Butterfield Trail route from Springfield, Missouri to Fort Smith are examples. 

The Memphis to Little Rock military road was one of the most important early new roads completed prior to statehood. It went through the swampland of the Delta and followed roughly the route of I-40 today. Between the 1830s and 1870, the federal government, to facilitate better mail service and marketing of agricultural goods, spent money on improving and adding what became known as post roads. 

But in the 19th century, most people didn’t go far from home. And if they did, they had only to travel to the nearest train station. Local roads were just that, local. In the territorial days before statehood, county courts were given authority over road construction. If 12 property owners wanted a road, a subset of this group would determine its route. Usually, these roads were farm-to-market roads that went from growing areas to a town or a nearby shipping point. All able-bodied men between ages 16 to 45 were required to work on the road within their township. With statehood, these preexisting roadways were declared public property and the local approach to road building was codified. 

But there was a wee problem. Once a road was built, there was no provision for maintenance. The state’s residents steadfastly refused to pay taxes for road repair because it was usually large land owners who wanted the roads. Even military roads and post roads suffered because the federal government paid for their construction but decreed maintenance was a local responsibility. Arkansas, because of its mountainous and swampy terrain, became known as having some of the worst roads in the nation. 

Then a new fad swept through the land: Bicycling. It was slow to arrive in Arkansas, but by the end of the 19th century, young and boisterous suburbanites wanted better roads on which to ride their new toys. In the early 20th century, this led to the Good Roads Movement, which just happened to coincide with Mr. Ford’s decision to begin mass-producing Model T Fords. Finally, in 1913, the Arkansas Highway Commission was created and established a fledgling statewide system for building and maintaining state roads. 

In the spirit of “keeping roads local,” the state legislature passed legislation in 1915 that allowed local officials to create road improvement districts and finance projects with bond money. In a decade, 527 new districts were created, although many began to fail because they couldn’t pay off the bonds. Two years before the stock market crash, the state passed legislation assuming responsibility for paying off the road improvement bonds. 

It was during the mid-1920s when the federal government became more influential in dictating roadway construction by dangling the promise of more money if their guidelines were followed. Funding for roadway construction and maintenance shifted away from property owners to road users via gasoline tax. I just renewed the tag on my new plugin hybrid car and learned the state adds a $100 surcharge to the price of my car tag because I now burn a lot less gas. 

This week I finished doing my taxes. For one, I don’t really mind paying taxes though it does sting a bit when I have to write out a big check. But, while Mr. Thoreau urged us all to walk, it isn’t going to happen. We humans live in a hive society just like the carpenter ants, nesting in the elm tree by my lawn chairs, who created a nice series of trails leading off in all directions. They did it by working together.