Slide Sets

“Going Places?” asks a 1936 Deep Rock Oil Companies road map. Gasoline company road maps, the classic essential of 20th century automobile travel, served two masters: drivers who needed road information and the sponsoring oil companies who sought publicity. Using stylish commercial art, road maps advertised the petroleum companies and the automobile lifestyle through carefully constructed images of the companies, their products, and their perceived patrons. Road map art offered visual guidance on what it meant to be an American driver—how to look and how to act as you were “going places.” Of particular interest to this slide set are how these images mediated gender roles through their depiction of men and women as drivers, map users, and consumers. Taken together, these images portray the inherent tensions in women’s lives in the automobile age: although American women appeared to be “going places,” to be free and spatially unconstrained like the stylish driver of the Deep Rock map, they were still largely tied to domestic landscapes.

Road map production was initially done by a range of printing and cartographic companies, from small local to large national firms. Smaller competitors were soon weeded out, leaving giants such as Rand McNally, General Drafting and H.M. Goushá, who contracted with gasoline corporations to produce road maps in large numbers (Ristow 1946, 405). The maps produced by these firms were remarkably similar, relying on line color and widths to convey the types of roads and their conditions, yet without standardized symbols (Ristow 1964, 636). The art used to decorate the covers and side panels of the maps, however, varied tremendously, ranging from full-color art to black and white photographs. While the maps were offered free to customers as a service, they were also a strong advertising ploy. Road map covers were a way of catching the eye, drawing viewers into the map and its text, which included a considerable amount of advertising rhetoric. Front covers, back covers, and map margins were utilized to make the public aware of the services and products offered by the companies. But, “packaged” along with the map was automobile culture itself and the apparent ease and enjoyment of motoring. As more people were “lured” into the pleasures of motoring, the petroleum companies presumed, the more they would need the products and services of the companies (Yorke and Margolies 1996, 6).

Road map art constructed a world of drivers, map readers, and service stations inflected by gender. The slides in this set were selected to capture some of the main features of this world. Between the appearance of women on maps and subject matter organized toward women, it is apparent that women were part of the anticipated map-reading audience. Yet, there is a domestic tone underlying the appearance of women in road map art that suggests a reinforcement of certain cultural stereotypes. Through road map art, distinct masculine and feminine spheres were being established at various scales, from the microcosm of the car interior to the macrocosm of geographic knowledge.

The heyday of the gasoline station road map has passed. Both Gulf and Chevron no longer offer free road maps at their stations.¹ Many gasoline companies still offer travel services, as does the Rand McNally Company and the Automobile Association of America (AAA), but now also online. Rand McNally maps can still be found at convenience stores, but in a map stand with an authoritative gray cover, and at a price. Road maps, which once packed glove boxes across America, have become a fossil of a passed era. And we no longer wonder if women drivers are “going places?”—we just wish them “Happy Motoring!” as they plan their next adventure.

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¹Author's personal correspondence with both corporations, 6 November 2001.

We are unable to reproduce this image on the Web.

In this slide, the title, “‘Going Places?’ Depend Upon Deep Rock Motor Oils” flies over the head of a stylish woman driving a red convertible, her scarf and hair flying. Our driver is obviously “going places” in this 1936 Deep Rock Oil road map. Alone, distinctly independent, she seems assured at the wheel. And where is she going? The text block to the left and ahead of her lets us know where she is headed—“Clean Rest Rooms.” The bold colors and stylish feminine figure promotes a glamorous image of 1930s automobile culture that stands in stark contrast to the economic depression being experienced over much of the United States.

In the text headed “Clean Rest Rooms,” our single woman driver is “assured” of more than just “clean rest rooms.” A phrase usually used to describe a woman-"good housekeeper"-is used here to describe "Servicemen and Dealers," implying that the whole station will be neat and tidy, just like a good home. The final sentence, "They strive to make motoring safe and pleasant," carries the domestic theme a step further. A woman alone might worry about her safety as she traveled, particularly as she entered the male realm of the service station. This passage assures women drivers that Deep Rock Servicemen and Dealers could be trusted to make their motoring experience, including visits to the gas station, as clean, pleasant, and safe as their own homes.

Women appeared on road maps as automobile drivers, usually alone, beginning in the late 1920s. In the 1930s and 1940s, women drivers were depicted, like our lovely lady here, as glamorous and beautiful. In the 1950s and 1960s, women were portrayed in more casual dress, and more often with their families. The 20th century was a period of growing geographical mobility for women: road map art reflects this growing mobility, portraying women as both drivers and map users, while still connecting them to domestic concerns.

In general, there was no mention of “getting lost” on road maps. Instead there was ample rhetoric explaining how attendants could help with the shortest routes, the best roads, and where to stay. This small side panel from a 1939 Texaco map warns of the dangers of neglecting to consult with the Texaco Touring Service—“...Saves time and trouble Texaco Touring Service.” A small drawing depicts a man standing beside his car, a sign in the background reading “Road Closed.” He has his jacket off, his hat pushed back, appearing hot and bothered, and seems about to wave a red flag for assistance. A corn-cob pipe projects from his clenched teeth. The text below reads:

Tell any Texaco dealer where you wish to go...what you wish to see. He has at his command experts who will chart your route over the best roads...send you immediately simple, easy-to-follow routings showing the pleasantest, most economical way to your destination. Our up-to-the-minute road information spares you rough roads and detours...keeps you certain of your way. Use this service next time you plan a trip in your car.

The consequences of failing to consult the Texaco Touring Service are obvious. You will literally “lose your cool” and go from being a dapper driver to one who seems to resemble more a supporting character than a leading man. Despite the obvious warning, the design is kept small and on an interior panel. Texaco here walks a fine line between wanting to encourage drivers to rely on Texaco for travel information and frightening them into not driving at all.

We are unable to reproduce this image on the Web.

In the 1930s and 1940s, as in this 1947 Metropolitan New Orleans map, motorists were typically stylishly dressed: the male drivers nattily attired in suits with a hat, the women in glamorous suits, often also with a hat (except when left bare-headed so their hair could blow in the breeze). These stylish drivers and couples associate high socio-economic status with automobile ownership. Early automobiles were expensive and symbols of an upper class that had the finances and free-time to pursue these new material possessions. As the number of automobiles grew, as they became more affordable and attainable, they shifted from being a mere toy of the upper class to a popular mode of transportation, yet they remained a symbol of financial success and spatial freedom. Seldom were there “working men” shown consulting a map, or even a working-class family. Even in the 1950s, when the focus was on family travel, map art showed decidedly prosperous, if middle class, families exploring the national landscape.

The cover art for this Gulf road map of New Orleans depicts a French Quarter scene featuring exotic-looking Creole women with headscarves. Between the Creole women and the architecture, the viewer is given a glimpse into the regional personality of the French Quarter. The darkened sky and the architecture create and atmosphere of mystery and exoticness to the scene. In the world constructed through road map art, the stylish drivers and their passengers were white and middle- to upper-class. Only occasionally was anyone of color portrayed on a road map, and when they did appear, it was often in ways that we today recognize as racist. For example, a limited number of maps of the South had cover art depicting Black Americans picking cotton (such as a Loreco map of Arkansas dated 1931). In this image, the Creole women embody the “exotic” culture of New Orleans, illustrating a landscape that is both American and yet not America, an “other” landscape that Americans could safely visit.

The panel to the left is headed “Make the Good Gulf Station Your Motoring Headquarters” and goes on to discuss all the things that Gulf can do for you. Ironically it does not mention maps or providing directions. The artwork features a “dapper dan” discussing his route or getting directions from an attendant. The attendant is pointing off in a direction, while “dapper dan” is holding a map and looking where the attendant is pointing. Three other attendants work on a single car: one fills it up, one puts air in the tires, another cleans the windshield. The uniformed and booted attendants add a military flavor to this panel, brought out by the word “headquarters” above. World War II had been over a mere two years at this point and we are left wondering if our “dapper dan” or the busy attendants were veterans. A woman can be seen in the car, looking out the windshield, almost as if into space: a passive, disengaged passenger. On this particular road map, women, both the Creole “other” and the female passenger, are presented as passive objects for the male gaze.

We are unable to reproduce this image on the Web.

Men dominate the landscape in road map art, occupying a privileged position as the most mobile population. Men also appear to dominate geographical knowledge, through their positioning as the sources of local geographic knowledge. Men have long been associated with “knowing the lay of the land,” with both geographic and sexual undertones. The station attendants were positioned (literally) in control. Over and over again, the text on the maps touts the attendant’s knowledge of routes and roads. Motorists were directed to “Ask the Gulf Man!” on a 1933 Gulf United States map:

STOP!...Where you see the [Gulf orange disc], you will find courteous attendants and friendly, helpful service. The GULF man knows the roads...and the city streets...He will gladly give you whatever information about them you require. When you approach a city ‘in a hurry,’ and you want to know the shortest route through it...Ask the Gulf Man! If you are tired and want to know the names and locations of the hotels or private homes where you can find tourist accommodations...Ask the Gulf Man! If you seek entertainment or recreation...if you care to hunt, to fish, to swim, or to play golf...Ask the Gulf Man!

[In smaller type] He may not have the answers to ALL your questions, but he will gladly give you the benefit of his knowledge and experience. He is trustworthy, competent, and offers you the best of service. Don’t hesitate to ask for directions and recommendations... Ask the Gulf Man!

A 1937 Texaco Touring Map for Idaho, Montana, Wyoming, and North & South Dakota tells the reader that “You’ve on the Right Road When Texaco Tells You the Way.” While men were the primary drivers, and the primary requesters of information, they were also positioned as the sources of geographical knowledge. At times, the attendants were seen as being more informative and dependable than a map, in cover art that has made attendants in conversation with the drivers and gesturing off in a direction, as if providing directions. It is not unusual on these covers for a map to be a part of the picture, but held slackly off to the side, secondary to the information being provided by the all-knowledgeable attendant who is gesturing off in a direction, as if pointing the way.

In this image from a 1948 Tide Water Associated Oil Company map, a giant attendant dominates an aerial view of a gas station. He smiles and holds out a map to the viewer in an open/giving gesture. The station below is buzzing with activity, the white uniformed attendants drawing the viewer’s eye down from the giant attendant. Attendants fill one car up, work on another, while the one before us offers us a map. The map held out to the viewer is right on the gleaming white highway, highlighting the map (lest it get lost in the landscape below). From the “giant’s” perspective, he can see all that goes on, coming and going, and provide the “associated” drivers with their omniscient knowledge.

While some of the most notable road map art appears on the outer cover, art appears throughout the map layout, advertising the products and services of the company. The subject matter offers insights into their designated audiences—such as the women who appear on two panels from a 1937 Gulf road map. Illustrations in the left panel, “Free Gulf Services,” depict the services available at Gulf Stations while the text provides information about why these services are important, emphasizing the driver’s safety. Women appear in the small images illustrating the services, as in the top image of a woman driver with a male passenger and in the bottom image of a woman and a girl standing in a rest room. The text accompanying the rest room image reads: “Tired? Stop and relax at the ‘Sign of the Orange Disc.’ It’s dangerous to drive while fatigued. Many conveniences have been provided for your comfort. Clean sanitary rest rooms are an important part of every Gulf Service Station. Stop in.” Early drivers had to rely on shielding bushes or trees to take care of toilet breaks or find a local outhouse. The availability of restrooms was an additional reason to stop at the gasoline stations. References to restrooms began to appear on road maps in the early 1930s, emphasizing their cleanliness. When a figure appeared in conjunction with the restroom, it was invariably a woman. These images changed over time. In the early 1930s, at the peak of the glamorous women drivers, glamorous women appeared in the rest rooms. Beginning in the late 1930s and through the 1950s, women and restrooms were more often connected with children, with the women portrayed as “less glamorous” and more practical (respectable married women now, with children, as it were). By the late 1950s, restrooms were no longer mentioned on road maps: it was an expected public facility at service stations.

The right panel suggests Gulf products under the heading “Have You Tried...?,” as if recommending them to a friend. Products displayed include: Gulfspray (“Insect Killer”), Gulf Auto Cleaner/Gulf Auto Wax, Gulf Electric Motor Oil and Gulf Spot Remover-Lighter Fluid. Women are depicted in a majority of the images concerned with the care of the household, spraying the insecticide on clothes, applying motor oil to a household appliance, and administering the spot remover to a child’s outfit, in the top, third, and bottom panels. Men are depicted with products in the presumed masculine realms of the automobile and the outdoors: the auto cleaner and cigarette lighter fluid. Ironically, the Spot Remover and Lighter Fluid are not only the same solution but the very same container, “one can—two important uses” reads the text, but the advertisement clearly depicts gendered usage. Gulf household products are targeting a domestic feminine audience, emphasizing odors, stains, and the maintenance of household equipment. Maintenance of the automobile and cigarette lighter are clearly in the male realm. While automobiles and service stations are seen as belonging in the “male realm,” these panels suggest a place for women in the “interior spaces.”

We are unable to reproduce this image on the Web.

Women map readers appear in road map art, though less often than men, either thoughtfully gazing at a map alone or obtaining directions with a male companion from a station attendant. While women were definitely depicted as map readers and consumers, their roles in map art were otherwise more limited than those of men. The world of service stations has long been a masculine realm, with women who ventured into this realm being marked exceptions. In the art I examined, there were no women attendants depicted on the maps, save a small image of a lone uniformed woman serving coffee at a station in the late 1960s.

Over the 20th century, women are portrayed in road map art as an increasingly mobile population, still tied to family and home, but growing in independence. This is not altogether unexpected, given the American social landscape of the early and mid-20th century. As their sphere expanded beyond the home, it is not surprising that they would appear using maps in road art. The cover art for this 1971 Esso/Humble Oil road map of New York captures a classic family shot of a happy family out motoring. The background is a generic service station—it appears to be a “no place”/“anyplace” stop on the way to “somewhere.” At the bottom, the company wishes us “Happy Motoring!” The woman/mother is closest to us, being offered to our gaze. Her yellow outfit draws the viewer’s eye to her, to look at her as she looks at her map. Finger to her cheek in thought, a soft smile on her face, she seems oblivious to all about her-the jovial conversation between the male/father-driver and the attendant, the children playing with the dog in the backseat, the viewer’s eye watching her. The dog and boy look over the backseat at her, an uncertain expression on the boy’s face. Is he wondering, as we wonder, what is she thinking so deeply about? Why is she smiling? Where does she want to go? What would happy motoring mean to her? And is she thinking about “going places?”

1. Cover from Arkansas, Louisiana, Mississippi Road Map, Rand McNally Co. for Deep Rock, 1936.
2. Detail from Texaco Touring Map, South Dakota, Rand McNally Co. for Texaco, 1939.
3. Detail from Metropolitan New Orleans Info-Map, Rand McNally Co. for Gulf, 1947.
4. Cover from Tide Water Associated Oil Company Map of Oregon Idaho Montana, Tide Water Associated Oil Company, 1948.
5. Two details from Arkansas, Louisiana, Mississippi Sinclair Road Map, Rand McNally Co. for Gulf, 1937.
6. Cover from New York, General Drafting Co. for Humble Oil & Refining Co., 1971.

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