The government stayed out of the highway business at first, but rising car ownership (over registered by 1930) and inconsistent road maintenance from trail to trail quickly changed that. In fact, some trail promoters failed to keep their roads in good condition on purpose, under the assumption that the Feds had plans to turn their route into a national highway.As the Federal Highway Authority explains, businesses along these routes typically paid dues to the trail associations, which meant routes weren’t always laid out to give drivers the quickest route, but instead to collect the most dues. There were over 250 such routes established by the mid-1920s.
As the Federal Highway Authority explains, businesses along these routes typically paid dues to the trail associations, which meant routes weren’t always laid out to give drivers the quickest route, but instead to collect the most dues. There were over 250 such routes established by the mid-1920s. […]
In 1925, the American Association of State Highway and Transportation Officials (AASHO) asked the Secretary of Agriculture to work with states to replace all trail names with a unified highway numbering system. Most of the trail associations disapproved, but after negotiations over which routes got which numbers (for the most part, north-south routes got odd numbers, and east-west routes even numbers), the new system became official a year later. Reduced to nothing but a number and often dependent on government assistance for upkeep, the booster organizations behind the trails quickly became irrelevant.
Ever since then, an iconic black and white shield (modified slightly over the years) has been telling drivers where they are and where they’re going in the simplest way possible. Thirty years later, of course, the Interstate Highway System debuted, meaning not only a whole new set of numbered roads, but much better ones too.
The images above and below—many of them produced for publication in the Los AngelesTimes, Examiner, and Herald Express—reflect the unbound optimism of the time. Sure, the concrete is freshly poured, the landscaping is trimmed, and the shoulders are free of debris, but the photographs themselves represent a deliberate celebration of the freeway. Their composition emphasizes open pavement and gently curving lines, implying speedy and graceful travel. And in many of the images, the freeway lanes fill the frame at the expense of the surrounding landscape—a subtle but reassuring message that these superhighways have conquered the long distances of the famously sprawling region.
Högertrafikomläggningen, as it’s officially known (we’ll just stick with H-Day), took place on September 3, 1967. Besides the obvious danger of people simply forgetting which side of the road they should drive on, planners had to deal with the tricky issues of one-way streets and the relocation of bus stops, not to mention the reversal of some 360,000 signs across the country.
Intersections had to be reconnoitered to allow traffic to merge. The morning of the change, all non-essential traffic was banned from the roads, in some places from 10 am that Saturday until 3 pm on Sunday. Any vehicles that were on the road had to come to a complete stop just before 5 am, and were then guided to the right-hand side of the road to stop again before they were allowed to proceed.