The Trailblazing Life of Amy Lyman Phillips
“A painter who lacks skill in mixing his colors spoils many a good canvas. So it is with the concocter of drinks. Be his materials never so numerous and pure, if he lacks skill as a compounder; for he will not only mar good ingredients, but disappoint a company.”
Amy Lyman Phillips, A Bachelor’s Cupboard, 1906
Chapter 3 of my book, The Cocktail Parlor, was one of my favorites to research and write. It covered the early 1900s and a hostess I dubbed, the “Tea Party Hostess”, so named for the tea and cocktail parties she was hosting regularly in her parlor.
The early twentieth century was a fascinating period in the United States characterized by immense social change and rapidly evolving social customs, especially drinking and dining customs. After generations of being confined to the domestic realm, women were bursting into public life with a newfound sense of confidence and determination. And, at the same time as they were fighting for equal access to education, employment, and the polling booth, so were they fighting for the right to eat lunch unchaperoned in restaurants and to order a cocktail or two to go with it.
Across the spectrum of social classes and across the country, women were breaking down barriers in all kinds of ways. Freed from their domestic shackles, women were also turning their home management and entertaining skills into full-time careers in professions such as education, catering, hospitality, and journalism. One such woman doing just that was journalist, author, and publicist, Amy Lyman Phillips, whom I first came across through her book, A Bachelor’s Cupboard: Containing Crumbs Culled From the Cupboards of the Great Unwedded, which she published in 1906. At first, I didn’t realize the author of this book was a woman because the publisher had initialized her first name as A. Lyman Phillips and the book was aimed at men. However, it turns out that Amy was an expert both on the single life and on mixing cocktails. As we’ll come to see, she was also blazing a trail in other fields, as well.
Here’s more of what I was able to find out about Amy’s fascinating life!
A young Amy Lyman Phillips, c. 1901
Source: Boston Globe
Early Life in Journalism
Amy Lyman Phillips was born on April 1st, 1876 in the small town of Colebrook, New Hampshire. According to census records her father, William T Phillips (1854-1922), was a painter who was originally from Boston. Although William’s work as an artist does not seem to be well known today, it appears he was part of a large cohort of landscape painters and artists who congregated in the spectacular White Mountain region of New Hampshire around the late nineteenth century. Amy’s mother, Ida C Lyman (1854-1923), was a homemaker. The couple were married in 1875, and Amy was joined by one younger sister, Getrude Buffington Phillips, in 1886. Growing up, Amy and her family lived with Ida’s widowed mother, Delia Lyman (1824-1908), who had the reputation locally as a talented pastry cook[1].
Surrounded by good food and art in her home, it is likely that Amy became enamored with the culture of hospitality from an early age. At the time she was growing up, the White Mountains were exploding as a tourist destination due to the expansion of the railroads to New Hampshire in the mid-1800s. Every summer wealthy visitors from Boston and New York would flood into the region taking up residence in its newly built luxury resorts and hotels. At the age of 17, Amy began writing tourist guides to the area and even wrote and published her own circular, The Coos County Tourist[2].
By the turn of the century, Amy’s publicity and writing services were in high demand. She began taking on high profile hospitality clients such as the Mount Pleasant House and Mount Washington resorts, while contributing hotel reviews and other articles on hospitality to such outlets as Town and Country and Good Housekeeping.
A postcard of Mount Pleasant House, New Hampshire in the early 1900s.
Amy was responsible for the hotel’s publicity.
She was also an adventurous traveler first visiting Paris in 1906 and returning multiple times to France, Italy, England, and Belgium from where she reported back on European hospitality trends, foreign menus, and the expatriate lifestyles of America’s rich and famous. A woman after my own heart, it was said she was also an avid collector of food and drink writing and apparently amassed a large library of foreign cookbooks and menu cards from famous hotels and restaurants during her travels.
Such was Amy’s influence and notoriety in the hospitality world that in 1909 Good Housekeeping magazine commissioned her to take the lead on an in-depth review of the top restaurants in North America. Her authoritative list of “Famous American Restaurants and Some of the Delicacies for which they are Noted” covered such New York City hot spots as Delmonico’s, Sherry’s, Martin’s, Café Lafayette, Café des Beaux Arts and many more, as well as such places as The Bell in Hand and Marilaves in Boston, Martinelli’s and Coppa’s in San Franciso, and Begué’s and Antoine’s in New Orleans – some of which are still around today.
Her article also included recipes for some of the restaurants’ signature dishes, their ideal drink pairings, as well as commentary on the ambience and clientele to be found there, such as the “ultra conservative New York people” of Delmonico’s in Manhattan, the “the younger and smarter set” at archrival Sherry’s, and the “loyal and liberal patronage” of the bohemian Café des Beaux Arts, among others[3].
A Bachelor’s Cupboard
It is most likely that it was Amy’s finger on the epicurean pulse that first brought her to the attention of publisher, John W. Luce & Company of Boston, who commissioned her to write a guide for the young man about town under the title, A Bachelor’s Cupboard: Containing Crumbs Culled from the Cupboards of the Great Unwedded. The book, which was published in 1906, was described as the definitive lifestyle guide for the helpless single man living without the female assistance of a maid or wife. It offered comprehensive direction on how to make a bed, set up and clean an apartment, stock a pantry, mix and serve drinks, and entertain both gentlemen and lady friends[4]. Reviewers described it as a “compendium of comfort for the unfortunate male person denied the protection of womankind”[5]. Going beyond bachelors, the book was also said to “appeal to spinsters, matrons and married men who like good things to eat” and, as such, was an essential guide “to every hospitable soul who entertains daily or occasionally.”[6]
A Bachelor’s Cupboard by Amy Lyman Phillips published in 1906
That turn-of-the-century men were increasingly spending more time living alone was a reflection of the changing social times and a direct result of women’s desire to enjoy a financially independent life before settling down into domestic duties. As Amy points out, “Possibly it may be the invasion of woman into all the trades and professions of men that accounts for this dollarless portion of many young men”. Indeed, in many cases men were finding themselves being bettered by women in the workforce, as Amy continues (with more than just a hint of feminist schadenfreude):
“Where once [men] reigned supreme they are now dethroned and doomed to grow round shouldered over a ledger at twelve dollars a week, while a gay, irresponsible miss of seventeen fresh from the Business College runs everything in the office from the temperature to “The Boss”, and draws eighteen or twenty dollars from its coffers every Saturday night.”
Ironically, it would be mastering the art of the domestic that, according to Amy, would be the bachelor’s salvation. Simply put, if men only learned to help themselves they would not only live a more pleasant and rewarding life at home, but would in consequence also become infinitely more attractive to women. Modern ladies, Amy observed, were particularly curious of and impressed by men who knew how to entertain. As she went on: “What woman ever refuses an opportunity to chaperon at a bachelor dinner or studio tea? What debutante does not feel secretly ecstatic at the very idea of looking behind the scenes and peeping into the corners of some famous bachelor menage?”.
At the turn-of-the century, knowing how to host a lady was not only expected, but indeed, a prerequisite to a bachelor’s social duties. As Amy observed, “it is quite fashion nowadays for the well-to-do bachelor, even if he has no near women relatives to assist him, to entertain his women friends in his own apartments, at his club, or at a hotel.” This was quite a change from just a few decades before when single men and women had to be carefully chaperoned by an older matron whenever they wanted to meet in public or in private.
Drinks, of course, were central to the new bachelor entertainment, and Amy prefaced her chapter titled “A Dissertation on Drinks” with a serious message about the perils of a gentleman underperforming on this task, writing:
“A painter who lacks skill in mixing his colors spoils many a good canvas. So it is with the concocter of drinks. Be his materials never so numerous and pure, if he lacks skill as a compounder; for he will not only mar good ingredients, but disappoint a company.”
The chapter includes some 40 cocktail recipes collected from Amy’s explorations within the hospitality world. Drinks range from the traditional wassail, such as the Lambs Wool (“a prime nightcap”) to the crowd pleasing Champagne Cobbler (“a ladylike beverage indeed… sure to make a hit with the “younger sister””), to the drink of the moment, the so-called Perfect Cocktail made with equal parts gin, sweet, and dry vermouth (“a new cocktail served in New York at Sherry’s and Martin’s and the Café des Ambassadeurs”).
Interspersed between recipes are drinking quotes from the likes of Shakespeare, Byron, Tennyson, and Burns, plus tips on how to stock the “Bachelor’s Cabinet” – an essential piece of fin-de-siècle furniture specially designed to house “decanters, mixing glasses, tiny ice-box, and all the requisites for a convivial evening at home”. Amy described A Bachelor’s Cupboard as the “complete compendium for the ambitious bachelor who wishes to become bon vivant, epicure, “connoisseur de vins” and “up” on all the little things that combine to make him an authority on the things of single men of the world.”
An example of an Art Nouveau “Bachelor’s Cabinet” from the early 1900s,
an essential piece of parlor furniture for the gentleman host
Evidently, it was Amy’s own lifestyle that informed the writing of A Bachelor’s Cupboard, since she herself was happily single and living her best life at the time. But it was not only drinking and hosting where Amy was leading the way, she also was setting out on other bold adventures, too.
A Need for Speed
In spring 1904, two years before writing A Bachelor’s Cupboard, Amy travelled down to Florida to watch the very first annual speedway race trials on the sands of Daytona Beach. It was here that she ran into legendary racecar driver Barney “Speed King” Oldfield. Barney was the most famous racecar driver in the country who held every mile track record from 1 to 50 miles that year. He was also a flamboyant showman who loved nothing more than to entertain a crowd with bold displays of auto daredevilry. Sensing another potential record-breaking opportunity, one morning he invited Amy to join him in the passenger seat of his Bullet racecar for a spin on the sand.
Barney Oldfield behind the wheel of The Bullet, Daytona Beach, Florida, 1904.
Source: Mark Dill / firstsuperspeedway.com
Never one to shy away from a challenge, Amy enthusiastically agreed. As she later recalled to a reporter from the Boston Journal:
“I happened down at the beach quite early one morning, as they were about to make the speed trials, and hearing me express a desire to ride in a racer, Mr. Oldfield asked whether I really cared to try the experience. “You’ll have to hang on very tight”, he said, “and if you haven’t good control over your nerves, you’d better not go.” My nerves never have given me any trouble, and that really made me rather curious to know whether such a spin would upset them.”
However, finding herself somewhat unprepared for the trip, she continued:
“Someone loaned me a cap, for it was windy as a mountain top. Someone else contributed a pair of goggles, and with a rain-coat buttoned tightly about my skirts, I think it was more picturesque than beautiful when we started. We made a run up the beach 300 yards to the starting point. Then as we turned, Mr Oldfield shouted a last warning: “Grip tight! Bend your head low and keep your mouth shut”. The latter was the hardest thing for me, as a woman, to do; but I did it” [7]
Headline from the Boston Journal, March 13th, 1904 when Amy Lyman Phillips rode shotgun with the fastest racecar driver in the country, Barney “Speed King” Oldfield. Source: Boston Journal
With Amy’s mouth firmly shut, the pair reportedly covered a mile in 46 2-5 seconds that day, making her the fastest woman to ride a mile in a motorcar at the time. The experience clearly had a profound effect on her. As she told the Boston Journal, “I shall never forget the exhilaration, the feeling of the wind whistling through my ears, the roaring of the surf… like the skimming of a bird through the air”. Indeed, such was the thrill, she confessed, the experience “spoiled me for ordinary touring in motors. The germ of speed is so fully implanted in my brain”.
However, despite insisting that her “motoring days are over”, a far greater motoring achievement was still to come. For just six years later, Amy would be on the road again - this time swapping the thrill of speed on the sand for the exhilaration of endurance on the open road.
The Car, The Girl, and the Wide Wide World
On May 16th, 1910 Amy was photographed stepping into the passenger seat of a white Overland 38 roadster parked outside City Hall in New York City. The person in the driver’s seat was her friend Blanche Stuart Scott, and the two were about to embark on a historic journey from New York to San Francisco to become only the second women in history to drive solo across the United States and the first to do so from East to West.
Amy Lyman Phillips (right) and Blanche Stuart Scott (left) at the wheel of the “Lady Overland” car, New York City, May 16th, 1910.
Source: Detroit Public Library Digital Collections
The trip was the brainchild of Willys-Overland, a Ohio auto company (and later developers of the “Jeep”) as part of a marketing effort to sell more cars to women. For Blanche Stuart Scott and Amy Lyman Phillips, however, the trip was also a demonstration of female empowerment. As Blanche explained to the New York Times shortly before the trip, “It is my belief that touring, especially some distance, has never been indulged in by the different lady motorists largely on account of their extreme modesty or self-depreciation rather than on account of physical unfitness or inability on their part” and it was her mission to show other women “the pure enjoyment of the sport with its wide range of possibilities in the quest of pleasure, travel, and experience.”[8]
The trip was widely publicized. As the two women set off from City Hall in New York City, starting their journey up Broadway towards Times Square, they were joined by a fanfare of press, police escorts, and a parade of 40 other female motorists. After a quick stop for lunch with reporters at The Claremont on Riverside Drive, the ladies were on their way.
Blanche Stuart Scott and Amy Lyman Phillips leave New York City amid a procession of female motorists, 1910.
Source: Detroit Public Library Digital Collections
The next few weeks would see them navigate inclement weather, mud slides, emergency roadside repairs, and many wrong turns. Blanche handled many of the repairs herself and the two women also stopped at Overland dealership en route for scheduled maintenance checks and, of course, more photo opportunities. The $1,000 white “Lady Overland” car had been modified specially for the trip. It reportedly had a lavatory in the back and enough trunk space to fit three suitcases. According to reports, the ladies’ packing list included an essential travel wardrobe that included a “traveling costume consisting of khaki divided riding skirts, army shirts of olive drab and high-laced boots”, dinner gowns, as well as such everyday essentials as “thermos bottles, field glasses, rubber cushions, rubber ponch[os] for rainy weather, a camera and an automatic revolver”[9].
It was Amy’s responsibility to host refreshments for the women at their rest stops. I wonder what might have been in that thermos?
Source: Detroit Public Library Digital Collections
Amy’s job was to keep the women fed and watered while also feeding stories about the trip to the press. Given her vast hospitality network, she also ensured that they were well taken care of at every hotel they stopped at with nightly celebratory dinners held in their honor. The women also attended several publicity events along their journey. One of the highlights was in Indianapolis, Indiana where they attended the Indianapolis Motor Speedway Races and reconnected with Amy’s old friend, Barney “Speed King” Oldfield. Never one to miss a publicity opportunity, Barney invited Blanche to take his Green Dragon car out on the racetrack in front of the assembled crowd. Blanche obliged, pushing the racecar to a top speed of 80 miles per hour. Clearly exhilarated by the experience (and by the crowd’s applause), she later recalled “I felt I was somebody. I sailed all that day on Cloud Nine.” That weekend the women watched as Barney set yet another American speedway record completing a mile in 35.6 seconds in front of a record crowd.
After Indianapolis, Blanche and Amy drove on to Toledo, Ohio to the Willy-Overland headquarters where Amy switched places with her younger sister Gertrude who was to take over press duties for the remainder of the trip. Blanche and Getrude arrived in San Franciso on Saturday July 23rd, 1910, after 5,200 miles and a total of 41 days behind the wheel. The women were declared national heroes and a book of their adventures, “5000 Miles Overland”, based on Amy and Gertrude’s reports was published by the car manufacturer as part of publicity for the car.
Despite encountering all sorts of obstacles, Blanche and Amy kept their spirits high on their journey.
Source: Detroit Public Library Digital Collections
Buoyed by her achievement and inspired by an aerial demonstration by Wilbur Wright (of Wright Brothers fame) she had seen at the Indianapolis Speedway, Blanche would go on to break a second record that year by becoming the first woman to fly an airplane in the United States. This then kicked off a glittering career for her as a stunt pilot and later Hollywood screenwriter. To this day, Blanche Stuart Scott is celebrated as one of the most important women in automotive and aviation history - and it all started with her road trip with Amy.
It Started with a Loaf of Bread and a Pound of Tea
Just as Blanche Stuart Scott’s career was taking off, so Amy’s also soared to new heights. The road trip had also opened her eyes to the world of the possibilities that a car could offer the adventurous female traveler. As more and more women were getting behind the wheel, she recognized the need for more female-friendly hospitality services that would offer more comfortable alternatives to the typical gas stations and motels that dotted the early tourist routes. So, she headed back to her childhood town of Colebrook, NH and promptly opened a tearoom.
During the 1910s, women-owned tearooms exploded in towns and cities across the United States as Tea Party Hostesses sought safe affordable places to eat out, as well as opportunities to earn their own living. The trend radically shifted the landscape of hospitality from the male-dominated restaurants and private clubs of the late nineteenth century where women had been expected to be chaperoned at all times, to more casual and female-centric dining options like tearooms where they could dine at their leisure. Some of these tearooms even served alcohol and through Prohibition became popular hangouts for covert cocktails.
Amy was one of a number of enterprising women who plucked up the courage to start their own tearoom business during this time. Her tearoom, which she named Polly’s Place after a childhood nickname, quickly became a roaring success. So much so that in 1922 she was invited by Woman’s Home Companion magazine to write a feature article containing her best advice to other women who wanted to get started in the business.
The first step, Amy stressed, was to keep things simple, writing “A pound of the best Orange Pekoe, a loaf of bread, a jar of honey, and some golden Jersey butter and cream were the first investments”, and she began by serving her simple teas in tea sets that she had collected from her many European travels.
Polly’s Place on South Main Street, Colebrook, NH c. 1920s.
Amy drew from her extensive collection of vintage tea sets to furnish the tearoom.
Later, as the business took off, she expanded into other services, first adding a full dining room and then renovating the upstairs of the property to provide bed-and-breakfast accommodation. “In six years”, she wrote, “it grew from a tea-and-toast shop to a little European Pleasant Inn, catering to motorists and to people who seek a quiet, homelike refuge after a steady diet of hotels.” The expansion was both a response to the high demand, and a shrewd commercial decision on Amy’s part. As she went on to explain, “unless served in very large numbers, there is not much money in teas. The tea house which will also serve other meals, either table d’hôte or à la carte will ultimately make more money; but the one which can grow into a small inn and realize also from the rental of rooms is the one which has most successfully solved the problem.”[10]
Amy’s approach was smart, strategic, and extremely ahead of her time. In fact, much of the business advice she offered entrepreneurs over a century ago is just as relevant to anyone getting started in hospitality today. Her thoughts on marketing were especially prescient. For example, long before the make-or-break power of the online Yelp review, she recognized the value in word-of-mouth marketing and gave out free postcards of the tearoom to all her guests. As she explained, “every satisfied patron is likely, on this selfsame post card, to recommend it to his friends, and there soon develops a highly specialized system of advertising carried on by patrons of the place”.
Similarly, she devised a clever loyalty program for her local customers - “a small discount upon current prices given to the people of the town in which the tea house is located is still another form of advertising not to be overlooked” – and supplied free tea to chauffeurs waiting outside the inn. She also understood the power of going the extra mile and used simple acts of surprise-and-delight to wow her customers. “Give something away now and then”, she wrote, using the example of a basket of apples, the aforementioned postcards, a special cake, or free cookies for the kids, and “the value of this in advertising is inestimable.”
These policies generated a great deal of goodwill, more-or-less guaranteeing Polly’s Place repeat business. Combining insights from her road trip with her years of experience in hospitality and publicity gave Amy the entrepreneurial edge that ensured Polly’s Place was not only a commercial success, but a destination that was sought out from miles around.
Mistress Samuel Pepys
During the 1920s, while running her tearoom business on the side, Amy’s publicity services continued to be in high demand. During this time, she was retained by luxury hotels up and down the Eastern seaboard from The Plaza and Gotham in New York City, to The Plaza in Boston, the Chateau Frontenac and the Chateau Laurier in Quebec, Canada, and The Greenbriar resort in White Sulphur Springs, West Virginia. For two decades she hopped from one luxury suite to another, churning out puff pieces while attending all of the celebrity parties. Meanwhile, she continued to contribute serious journalistic articles to national newspapers and trade outlets on topics ranging from the business of hospitality, to hotel and restaurant design, to the elements of great guest service.
Amy posing for her passport photo c.1920,
During this period, she also began taking regular trips to West Palm Beach, Florida just as the city was establishing itself as the winter playground for the rich and famous. On a retainer from Vogue magazine, she first took up residence in The Poinciana hotel, followed later by The Royal Palm and The Breakers, and over the next forty years established herself as the go-to reporter for the city’s burgeoning social scene. From 1921 to 1927, she penned a gossip column for The Palm Beach Post under the alter ego, Mistress Samuel Pepys, in which she revealed celebrity comings and goings, gave commentary on the season’s must-have swimwear, and shared leads on where to find a good cocktail during Prohibition.
At some point, Amy decided to settle permanently in West Palm Beach and was joined by her sister, Gertrude, following the death of Gertrude’s husband, the ceramicist and modernist painter, Edward Middleton Manigault in 1922. Highly active in the community, in 1924 Amy co-founded the city’s first animal shelter after observing the surge in homeless pets that happened at the end of every social season.
Amy and Gertrude lived through their senior years in West Palm Beach, Gertrude passing away in 1958 at the age of 71, and Amy on June 29th, 1962 at the age of 86. She is buried in the Colebrook Village Cemetery in her hometown of Colebrook, New Hampshire.
Cocktail Legacy
A larger-than-life character who was widely admired by her fellow writers for her “wit and keen sense of humor”[11], Amy Lyman Phillips lived her life to the full with a fearlessness that I can only marvel at today. Over a century ago she was writing about the single life, taking off on cross-country road trips, and sharing tips about cocktail-making long before it was socially acceptable for women to be doing any of these things, let alone all three at the same time.
However, while Amy is little known in the history of the cocktail, it is my belief that she she earned an important place, especially because A Bachelor’s Cupboard is one of the first examples of a female expert writing about cocktails for a male audience. In her book, she does not simply replicate recipes from old household management guides or from bartending manuals, but drew on her own extensive knowledge of hospitality gleaned from her personal collection of menus and through interviews with well-known imbibers and bartenders.
According to cocktail historian David Wondrich, A Bachelor’s Cupboard is also one of the first printed sources for the famous Ward 8 cocktail and, more specifically, for the use of grenadine as one of its main ingredients.[12] In addition, her recipe for the ultra-trendy turn-of-the-century tipple, the Perfect Cocktail, I believe pre-dates its inclusion in most other bartending guides by several years (read more about the Perfect Cocktail here).
After learning more about Amy’s life and achievements, she definitely makes my list of “Top 10 People I’d Most Like to Invite To A Dinner Party”. If I had the privilege to host her on such an occasion, I think I would serve her the Perfect Cocktail and I would raise a glass to her a toast that she wrote, such as this one which was published in the Buffalo Evening News in 1901[13].
Sweet Pirates
Here’s to a pair of sunny eyes
That laugh as I go by,
Yet when I try to look in them,
Hide behind lashes shy
But ah! they’re thieves. I saw them steal
Their blue from yonder sky.
Here’s to a pair of tiny ears
As pink as any rose,
Or like the lining of a shell:
But what do you suppose?
They stole my secret yesterday;
Now everybody knows.
Here’s to a pair of cherry lips
That smile in roguish glee.
Then when I come, do swiftly pout,
But, oh so temptingly.
They, too, are thieves, for, do you know?
They stole a kiss from me.
Cheers!
Girl in costume with bowl, by Edward Middleton Manigault, 1918.
Donated by Amy Lyman Phillips to the Gibbes Museum of Art in 1959.
Sources:
[1] The Boston Globe (Boston, MA); Sun, May 31, 1908; Page 60
[2] “Famous American Restaurants and Some of the Delicacies for which they are Noted”; Good Housekeeping (New York, NY); Jan 1909
[3] Profitable Advertising (Boston, Massachusetts); Jun 15, 1898; Page 559
[4] Phillips, Amy Lyman; A Bachelors Cupboard: Containing Crumbs Culled from the Cupboards of the Great Unwedded; John W. Luce & Company (Boston, MA); 1906
[5] The Boston Globe (Boston, MA); Sat Dec 29, 1906; Page 5
[6] Boston Evening Transcript (Boston, MA); Wed Jan 2, 1907; Page 19
[7] “No Woman Ever Rode So Fast in An Auto As This Boston Girl”; Boston Journal (Boston, MA); Mar 13, 1904
[8] “Woman to Drive Auto to Frisco”, The New York Times (New York, NY), May 15, 1910
[9] “Overland Girls Arrive in Town After Tiring Trip”; Toledo Daily Blade (Toledo, OH), June 3, 1910
[10] “Polly’s Place – and How It Grew”; Woman’s Home Companion; The Crowell-Collier Publishing Company (Springfield, Ohio); January, 1922
[11] “Death of Miss Phillips Echoes End of Era”; The Palm Beach Post (West Palm Beach, FL); June 30, 1962; Page 5
[12] “The Ward Eight Cocktail History” by David Wondrich; Imbibe online; December 13, 2012
[13] Buffalo Evening News (Buffalo, NY); Fri April 5, 1901; Page 3
Further Reading:
McConnel, Curt; A Reliable Car and a Woman Who Knows It: The First Coast-to-Coast Auto Trips by Women, 1899–1916; McFarland & Company; 2000