From Buses to Buggies
Frederick Patterson standing beside a bare Patterson-Greenfield automobile chassis. (Courtesy of The Greenfield Historical Society)
The only Black-owned U.S. automaker did what few others dared, and proved to be an industry trailblazer.
ARS TECHNICA | March 10, 2021
It’s September 1915 in Greenfield, Ohio, a small town located on the Paint Creek between Columbus and Cincinnati. At a time of year when summer’s warmth gives way to autumn’s chill, a change of another sort occurs in a small factory on N. Washington St.: the first Patterson-Greenfield Automobile is completed and readied for sale. It’s a major milestone, not just because this vehicle comes from a first-time automaker.
There have been more than 1,900 automobile manufacturers in the United States since the Duryea Motor Wagon Company sold its first automobile in Springfield, Massachussetts in 1896. Yet in the explosion of entrepreneurship that followed, only one American automaker has been founded and run by a Black individual: C.R. Patterson & Sons of Greenfield, Ohio.
In some ways, Patterson’s fate was typical of many small-town, small-time automotive manufacturers—the business found some modicum of success though never rose to the same heights as the auto brands we still know in 2021. Yet, in retrospect this Black-owned business had quite a run. The team behind C.R. Patterson & Sons worked its way through 74 years, three generations, and multiple changes in business strategy at a time of technological change and extreme prejudice, making the company’s story all the more remarkable.
Life before the wheel
Charles Richard Patterson was born into slavery on a Virginia plantation in 1833, the first of 13 children. Little else is known about his life there, and the same goes for how he and his family gained their freedom.
But eventually, around 1850, the Pattersons came to settle in Greenfield, Ohio. The town was already known for its strong abolitionist sympathies thanks to Rev. Samuel Crothers, the founder of the town’s First Presbyterian Church. With First Presbyterian, Crothers established one of Ohio’s—and the nation’s—earliest abolition societies in 1833. And before long, Greenfield became a stop on the Underground Railroad, and a magnet for Black slaves seeking freedom.
Here, the Pattersons eventually worked as blacksmiths, a common skilled trade for former slaves during a period when occupations commonly held by white individuals were closed off. By 1864, Patterson had become successful enough to woo and eventually marry Josephine Outz of Greenfield. Six children followed.
Like many blacksmiths, Patterson’s career led him to work for local carriage-maker Dines & Simpson, where he became foreman, working side by side with white workers and supervising others. But Patterson wanted to start his own business. Looking back, it’s easy to perceive that as an impossible goal with insurmountable hurdles given the lack of financing available to aspiring Black businessmen and the general prejudice behind many policies of the day.
Nevertheless, Patterson ultimately partnered with J.P. Lowe, a white man, and they established J.P. Lowe and Company in 1873. The company soon earned the same reputation Dines & Simpson had enjoyed for constructing high-quality products. Lowe and Company grew a wholesale business supplying carriages to Cincinnati-area retailers and other regional customers.
As the business grew, so did Patterson’s community involvement. He was a trustee of the Greenfield African Methodist Episcopal Church in 1880, where he also taught Sunday school. Patterson was also active in the Cedar Grove Masonic Lodge No. 17 from 1871 through 1899. Patterson filed suit against the local Board of Education when his son was denied admission to the all-white high school, a case he ultimately won.
Given his high profile locally, it’s no surprise that by 1888, the company employed 10 men, according to Ohio’s Bureau of Labor Statistics Report. It was a successful partnership that lasted until 1893, when faraway events would change Patterson’s life.
A not-great depression
The economy had been improving as 1892 ended, a notion reinforced by myriad economic business indicators. Unfortunately, there were signs the party was ending. Monthly indicators, such as building construction and railroad investment, began to decline. In January, the failure of the Philadelphia and Reading Railroad, one of America’s largest employers, ignited panic on Wall Street, causing a run on banks. Needing deposits to feed the run, banks called in business and agricultural loans. But both sectors had become wildly overextended, leading to numerous bankruptcies, a drastic reduction in America’s gold supply on which the dollar was based, and a realignment of America’s political priorities.
The result was a four-year depression: the Panic of 1893. It was one of America’s worst depressions, and businesses in Greenfield, Ohio, were not immune.
“The older firm of Lowe and Patterson, once extensive, dwindled through business depression to such proportions that the formation of the present partnership was opportuned and consummated," Patterson later recalled during a speech at the first meeting of the National Negro Business League in 1900.
Now sole proprietor of the renamed C.R. Patterson & Sons, Patterson would soon bring his sons into the business. According to Christopher Nelson’s history of the family, The C.R. Patterson and Sons Company: Black Pioneers in the Vehicle Building Industry, 1865–1939, Frederick would graduate high school as a valedictorian, entering The Ohio State University in 1889. (He became the first Black player on The Ohio State University football team and served as class president in 1893.) He quickly joined the company beside his brother Samuel and their father before a few years of major family events changed things for Frederick. In 1899, Samuel died unexpectedly. Two years later, the younger Patterson married Betty Estelline Postell, and the couple would have two children who would also become part of the Patterson & Sons company: Frederick Jr. and Postell.
An advertisement for C.R. Patterson & Sons from The Greenfield Republican 1902 Holiday Edition. (Courtesy of The Greenfield Historical Society)
Victorian state-of-the-art
By the turn of the century, Patterson’s integrated workforce averaged some 35- to 50-employees strong. They produced 28 carriage models priced from $120 to $150 and also made specialty vehicles, such as the Mail Delivery Buggy and the School Wagon. However, their most popular offering was the Doctor’s Buggy—hardly surprising given the company’s targeted advertising strategy. Aside from appearing in their local newspaper, ads for Patterson buggies regularly appeared in “The Journal of the National Medical Association,” select Black magazines including “Alexander’s,” and “The Crisis,” and a regional agricultural publication called “The Ohio Farmer.”
Patterson did not consider his shop one that merely assembled parts built by other companies. At the same time, Patterson & Sons was not large enough to mass-produce carriages, like Studebaker had done for most of the 19th century. No, this was a custom shop where craftsmanship was good enough for the company to offer a two-year warranty on its vehicles.
Among some of Patterson & Sons’ details: the wood used was seasoned for three years in the company’s yards, with ash frames and poplar panels. Bodies weighed as little as 30 pounds, yet boasted a 600-pound payload. Shafts were constructed from black hickory, and the wheels came from elm and white hickory. Rubber tires could be ordered to replace the steel rims commonly used.
The quality of the company’s products sustained business even after the initial arrival of the automobile. In fact, it took a full decade into the 20th century before Patterson & Sons felt any economic impact. The year 1910 proved to be a turning point—C.R. Patterson died. Frederick, already heavily involved with the designing and building of their products, took over management of the firm.
Unlike today, where there are 1.88 vehicles per household, according to the US Department of Transportation, at this point in the US there was one car for every 800 people; that’s up from one car for every 65,000 people eight years before. During that time, Patterson & Sons had already built up a side business of servicing automobiles—something that wasn’t unusual in the early days of motoring. Initially, this involved restoring paint and upholstery, but eventually the work included electrical and mechanical jobs. Frederick Patterson knew that the time had come for his carriage company to do what so many others had already done—build a horseless carriage.
Welcome to the 20th century
Automobiles were initially called horseless carriages for a reason: that’s exactly what they were. The driveline components were placed beneath the carriage body itself. And these new vehicles were built the way carriages had always been built. It’s no surprise that many early automakers started out as machine shops or carriage builders.
For his car, Frederick wanted something large enough to hold a family, but not too large. And ultimately the first Patterson & Sons’ vehicle had to be affordably priced. Eventually dubbed the Patterson-Greenfield, the resulting automobile debuted in 1916 as a closed touring car or open roadster, with prices ranging from $685 to $850, or $17,741 to $22,014, adjusted for inflation. Patterson stated in advertisements that “there is absolutely nothing shoddy about it. Nothing skimp and stingy.”
Estimates vary as to how many cars were produced, somewhere between 30 and 150 vehicles. The former is most likely closer to the truth, as no Greenfield-Pattersons are known to have survived. Even with renewed interest in Patterson & Sons over the years, many of the car’s details remain unknown.
What we do know is largely gleaned from its advertising. Like many early automakers, the Patterson-Greenfield consisted of off-the-shelf parts. Its components—cantilever springs, full-floating rear axle, demountable rims, lighting, and ventilated windshield were off-the-shelf parts—were sourced from other manufacturers. The car had a 108-inch wheelbase, and its steering wheel was on the left rather than on the right (that was still a normal feature on some cars of the time, including Pierce-Arrow). The company purchased the car’s metal frames, but being a carriage maker, Patterson & Sons completed the wood-framed bodies in-house, according to Christopher Nelson’s history of the family.
While some sources say that Greenfield-Patterson was powered by a 30-horsepower four-cylinder Continental engine, company ads showcase engines made by Golden, Belknap, & Swartz (G.B. & S.), a Detroit manufacturer of engines for smaller automakers from 1910 through 1924. That company’s ads stated proudly that they built exactly one engine: a four-cylinder L-head with a bore of 3.75 inches and a stroke of 4.25 inches, according to an ad in an early automotive industry magazine. Producing 22.5 horsepower (slightly more than a Ford Model T), the engine was mated to a three-speed manual transmission with reverse. Ads state that the car weighed less than 2,000 pounds, delivered good gas mileage, and came fully equipped. While there were no explicitly advertised options, customers could request customized design.
Postell Patterson, F. D. Patterson’s son, on the running board of a Greenfield-Patterson Roadster as introduced in 1915 in front of the Patterson showroom. (Courtesy of The Greenfield Historical Society)
Unlike modern advertising, Patterson’s advertising went into great detail about the car’s mechanical make-up. An ad in The Greenfield Republican on September 23, 1915 stated that the car had "easy riding cantilever springs – ample, dependable and powerful motor – full floating rear axle - three speeds forward and one reverse – demountable rims – worm drive – electrically lighted – electrically started – electric horn – 108 inch wheelbase – pockets on all doors – elegant one-man pantasote top – top tank in cowl – stream line body – curtains, bell hideaway style – in fact a perfectly car of ample proportions at a very reasonable price."
But whatever hope of long-term success initially existed, it proved fleeting for Patterson & Sons.
While Frederick had the right idea, small firms like his own couldn’t compete for long with the mass-manufacturing might, and daily production capacity, of far larger automakers like Ford, General Motors, Willys, Studebaker, and others. Ford alone was building 10,000 cars a day, a number Patterson couldn’t begin to match.
Beyond sheer manufacturing scale, Patterson also lacked the engineering and design resources of these large concerns. Considering the time frame, that was no doubt due to the fact that, as the company’s own ads state, they were “the only Negro Automobile Manufacturing Concern in the United States.” Systemic racism and prejudice of the time made it difficult for Patterson & Sons to attract the financing necessary to compete. And on top of that, they were a decade too late. If automaking had been undertaken a decade sooner, it’s possible that Patterson & Sons might have grown along with the industry into a larger manufacturer rather than remaining a small-time assembler—something the company never was as a carriage builder.
By 1917, with a world war raging and raw material costs rising, Frederick Patterson threw in the towel. But that didn’t spell the end of the company’s presence in the automotive industry. Maybe they couldn’t manufacture cars, but their skill as carriagemakers meant they still knew how to build bodies and body parts.
Retreating to what they know
Even as Patterson & Sons was building the Patterson-Greenfield, the company continued its automotive repair business. It also offered sedan tops that transformed an open car into a closed one for winter use, priced at $62.50 to $125. But by the early 1920s, these side businesses faded as closed cars became more common and less expensive.
If the company was to survive, it would need a new venture, one that would prove more successful than automobile manufacturing.
So Patterson turned to producing custom bodies for commercial vehicles, with design work handled by Frederick Jr., the third-generation Patterson in the family business. The firm would continue to use the Patterson-Greenfield name up until 1921, when the firm was reorganized as the Greenfield Bus Body Company.
Primarily, the company manufactured school bus bodies bought by school boards in Southern Ohio, West Virginia, and Kentucky. It also sold transit bus bodies to the Ohio Transit Company and the first transit buses used in Cincinnati and Cleveland. Greenfield Bus Body Company even constructed custom commercial bodies for regional businesses, including insulated cargo trucks, hearses, moving vans, ice, bakery and milk trucks using Chevrolet, Dodge, Ford, Graham, Reo, and International chassis.
Despite the onset of the Great Depression, the company maintained a good revenue stream—even in hard times, school boards still bought buses. But much as his father’s death became an inflection point for the company, the death of Frederick Patterson in 1932 proved to be a turning point as well. His sons, Frederick Jr. and Postell, took over the business. And despite the third generation closely following in their father’s footsteps—schooled at The Ohio State, with Fred Jr. studying mechanical engineering—the firm began to flounder.
At this point, nearly four decades removed from the original Patterson & Sons carriage business, the family business lacked the financing needed to sustain itself. The Pattersons turned to mortgaging properties to survive. The introduction of statewide school bus safety standards in 1935 placed a further burden on operations, as the shop had to be reoutfitted. The company also faced competition from larger, better-funded companies that could easily adapt to the changes taking place in vehicle styling.
In a last-ditch effort to survive, the company moved east to Gallipolis, Ohio, on the West Virginia border, and it reorganized under the name Gallia Body Company. The move extended the operation for a few more years, but ultimately the company closed permanently in 1939.
While a handful of carriages exist in the hands of collectors, none of the Pattersons’ cars, buses, or trucks are known to survive. The same is true of the company’s workshops. Frankly, very few firsthand materials from C.R. Patterson & Sons have endured through the decades since, meaning the work of archivists to preserve images and ads (like the Greenfield Historical Society) or of historians and writers to document and uncover what is known has been crucial. Even if the product itself may not be rampant in US museums, the legacy of this Black family’s achievements—building their small business into stalwarts of a new, country-shaping industry at a time of widespread racism and prejudice—is a legacy worth remembering.