The Band on the Bus

                              Aug. 22, 1908
Dear Sis,

   Rec'd your postal last week. Everyone is well here. The corn's now higher than me and Pop says it'll be a good season if it stays dry. Decided to type you a letter rather than stuff it all onto the back of this postcard of our band. Need the practice before I go off to Valparaiso next month. 

   I guess you know most everyone except a few of the fellas riding up front. The big man is Congressman Crumpacker. He gave a speech at the park about tariffs and the Philippines and a lot more. Behind him is his son who also made a speech. Didn't say much of nothing, but sure used a lot of big words to do it. Mr. Bowman loaned us the motor bus from his new automobile shop and had Jake drive us. He sends his regards.

   I suppose you think the boys in the band look kind of worried. We'd just played down at the station when Congressman Crumpacker arrived on the train, and we expected everyone would just march up to the park. But I guess the Con'man don't walk much and Mr. Bowman wanted to show off his new motor bus, so we hitched a ride with him. Seems Prof. Clay had an idea we could play some tunes as we went along, but when Albert started on his cornet fanfare, the Con'man put a stop to that.

   The new uniforms are swell but as you can see I'm not wearing one. When Prof. Clay opened up the box from the Chicago music store, there was only three suits in the large size. We drew straws and I lost. I sat at the back with Walter and his piccolo. There wasn't much room for my bass drum so I had to stand. When Jake fired up the motor the wagon took a jolt and I lost hold of the cymbals. You should have seen everyone jump! The Con'man's son lost his hat too.

  In a few weeks Mama and Pop will ship me off. I don't know yet if I can get in the band at college, but I thought I'd try out for the b'ball team. I suppose we'll see you and Charlie at Thanksgiving. Give little Ella a kiss for me. Tell her the tooth fairy teaches a course at my dental school.

   Your brother, (uncle) — Tom

This invented letter is inspired by a wonderful photo postcard that has no clues for names, place, or time. The ten boys in the band, along with their bandleader and five men, posed for the camera seated on an unusual early omnibus which has  five open benches for 15 passengers. On the radiator is a badge for The Overland Automobile Company, which manufactured automobiles in Indianapolis from 1903 to 1912, when it was acquired by John North Willys who renamed the company Willys-Overland. That automotive brand folded in 1926.

The Overland Automobile Co. logo, 1909

I've been unable to find any history on when the Overland Automobile Co. produced this kind of tourist auto. But in January 2014 I featured another postcard of The Mason City Band riding a smaller 12 passenger model made by Overland. This band would have enjoyed having an extra bench.

The postmark date on that postcard was October 1910, so I can presume my unknown boys band comes from roughly 1908-1912. Since the motor bus was built in Indianapolis, I chose the name of a real Indiana congressman from this era to use in my fictional letter. Congressman Edgar Dean Crumpacker (1851 – 1920), Republican, represented Indiana's 10th congressional district for seven terms from 1897 to 1913.  Surprisingly he resembles the big man riding in the motor bus, though that is surely just a coincidence. 

Edgar Dean Crumpacker
(May 27, 1851 – May 19, 1920)

But the real mystery
is a ghostly image
on the pavement beside the bus.
It this the notorious missing limb
when people say
a politician doesn't have a leg to stand on?

This is my contribution to Sepia Saturday
where everyone is getting tired
waiting for the No. 53.