Introduction

On Friday, 31 August 1901, Jack Proctor, the General Manager of Dunlop Pneumatic Tyre Co. (Australasia), drove the company's promotional car along Flemington Road , accompanied by Harry James, Dunlop's Advertising Manager.¹ Their destination was the Flemington Showgrounds where the new machine, no doubt, would be a great attraction for Melburnians. Near the racecourse, horses were crossing Epsom Road; in response, Proctor slowed the car to an estimated eight miles per hour (mph), but did not stop. Windsor, a restive and skittish colt, bolted and Proctor desperately, almost aggressively, executed evasive manoeuvres; but the two-and-one-half-horsepower De Dion motor-car was slow to respond. Windsor charged the car, crashed into the vehicle's step and sustained a broken leg. As a result the animal was destroyed.

Samuel Bloomfield, Windsor's owner, sued Dunlop Pneumatic Tyre Co. for damages to the amount of £499 - a large sum of money at the beginning of the twentieth century.² In April 1902, Chief Justice John Madden of Victoria's Supreme Court admitted ignorance - like most Victorians - regarding motor-cars, and requested that the managers give a demonstration on William Street outside the court building. Both ardent motorists, Proctor and James believed that the superior braking, steering and acceleration qualities of the automobile would illustrate that Proctor had done everything expected of a 'reasonable gentleman', and consequently that Dunlop Pneumatic Tyre Co. would succeed in this 'media-charged' civil liability suit. Judge Madden observed the braking distance, the speed and handling capabilities of the new machine; as a result of Proctor's showcased driving performance he ruled in favour of the plaintiff. Bloomfield was awarded £250 in damages. Madden ruled that 'it was plain that the car had travelled at a very rapid speed. The persons driving the car knew they could stop it at any moment, and that it had frightened horses before; yet they did not stop when they saw that the colt was alarmed'.³ The motor-car should have proceeded only after the horses had cleared the thoroughfare.

As this example shows, upper-class and wealthy Victorians who became motorists at the turn of the twentieth century exposed themselves, for the first time ever, to regulation and the police. But unlike Proctor and James, many were able to use their political influence with the authorities; their ability to defend themselves in court also helped to stave off conviction. At this period, most motorists were drawn from the same social class as the parliamentarians who were mandated to create new motor-vehicle legislation. In this article I will explore the intersection between 'automobilism'⁴ and motoring laws and regulations in Victoria between 1900 and 1905, with emphasis on the unsuccessful Motor-Car Bill of 1905. In particular, I shall examine the conflict that resulted between motorists, authorities and other road-users as Melbourne, like other motoring cities, moved towards a highly regulated traffic system.

English Road Laws
Road laws at the beginning of the twentieth century were obfuscated by the myriad of statutes which could be applied to public road spaces and the vehicles that drove on them. In addition to the Locomotives on Highways statutes 1861, 1865 and 1878, Imperial authorities could also rely on the Highways Act 1835, the Hackney and Carriages Act 1843, Vagrancy Laws of 1744, and several others.⁵ England first brought regulation to bear on motorised transport in 1861, under the Imperial Locomotives on Highways Act 1861 - amended 1865 and designed to deal with steam-driven agricultural and industrial traction engines travelling on highways - in which the notorious 'Red Flag' clause stipulated that a person with a red flag must proceed the vehicle at a distance of sixty yards. The original legislation limited steam engines to 12 tons and speeds of 10 mph; the amendments further restricted speeds to 4 mph on rural roads and 2 mph in towns and cities. Further, the steam locomotive was to be operated by a minimum of three people: one to drive the machine, another carrying a red flag to warn horse traffic, a third to assist drivers of horse-drawn vehicles; and a fourth if there were waggons.⁶ The law was again amended in 1878 and granted local councils the option of using the 'Red Flag' as well as reducing its leading distance to a more manageable twenty yards, but few councils chose to abolish it.⁷

In 1896 the Imperial statute was further amended to recognise that locomotives were starting to be used for personal transportation. The Locomotives on Highways Act divided vehicles into two categories: light locomotive or carriages, and those exceeding three tons. Light locomotives were restricted to a speed limit of 14 mph, were to carry a bell, and not emit any visible smoke. Local councils could create by-laws restricting vehicles on bridges to prevent damage, and the Local Government Board 'may prohibit or restrict the use of locomotives' if it deemed them a danger to the public along crowded streets.⁸

The 1896 Act did not repeal other statutes that could also be used to control road space; most statutes that controlled street behaviour effectively controlled working-class street behaviour. On 18 April 1903, for example, the Imperial Hackney and Carriage Act 1843 was utilised in the case of Henry George Allendale when he appeared before Magistrate Mr Curtis Bennett in Marylebone for 'furiously' driving an omnibus. Authorities had previously warned drivers of London Road Car Co., and the rival company London General Omnibus Co., about racing between the suburbs of Kilburn and Fulham. Police set up a special task force after public complaints were received regarding the racing and 'furious' driving. The police constable who testified at the trial stated that Allendale, when overtaking the other bus, was driving 'at least ten mph'.⁹ Because this was Allendale's second offence he was sentenced to one-month's hard labour.¹⁰ On 27 April 1903, General Laurie, during parliamentary debates, questioned the Under Secretary to the Home Office, asking if he was aware of Allendale's sentence, and wanted to know if similar proceedings were being taken against motor-cars. Although he repeated the question, the Home Secretary offered no answer.¹¹ As a bus driver, Allendale was part of the proletariat, unlike most motorists drawn from the upper-classes; he was probably unable to legally defend himself in court, so his deviance was made a public example - thus the severity of his sentence. In 1903, average urban road speeds were approximately 6 to 8 mph; therefore, by exceeding the relative speed limit by a significant margin, Allendale was found to be endangering not only other road-users, but also the passengers on his omnibus.¹²

The Imperial legislation of 1896 became the fundamental statute that formed the basis for subsequent motor-car legislation; however, enforcing speed limits remained problematic. While ostensibly introduced for safety reasons, speed was complicated to measure, often requiring two constables; expensive timepieces were legally required, and professional engineers had to be employed to measure the 220 (1/8 mile) or 440 (1/4 mile) yards.¹³ Moreover, policing speed limits exacerbated class conflict between wealthy motorists and working-class constables; as a result, these were difficult, if not impossible, to enforce and prosecute during the early years of motoring because the motorists were able to exploit their privilege and access to legal resources. As a result, the 1896 legislation was again revised: Section 4, sub-section 1 now read

that a driver of a light locomotive when used on a highway, shall not drive at any speed greater than is reasonable and proper having regard to the traffic on the highway, or so as to endanger the life or limb of any person, or to the common danger of passengers.¹⁴