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NEW 5-14-24: Motor Camping in olden timesxxxxxxx
For reasons of preference or economy, a number of we railfans resort to overnight camping during train chasing expeditions. Of course, these days "camping" means lounging in your REI trousseau inside an air conditioned Airstream at the KOA whilst watching train videos on a 72" flatscreen TV. Anything less is "roughing it". Extremist roughing it - backpacking - is omitted from this discussion because I have previously found that lugging a 50 pound backpack places severe limitations upon one's ability to pace trains.

A hundred years ago, roughing it was the norm, since nobody had as yet come up with anything much better. Auto or motor camping it was then called, and this was the only realistic option for travelers who could not afford to stay in full blown hotels. Only a few dozen roadside auto courts featuring individual bungalows were in existence nationally in the early 1920's, while the first motel, reputedly the Milestone Mo-Tel in San Luis Obispo, did not appear until 1925.

The only common overnight venues to be found were public and private auto camps. By then, they were nearly ubiquitous in small and medium size towns' city parks, and they were well attended, given the paucity of alternatives.

This brings us to Motor Camping (click on title for a 34mb PDF), a 340 page tome devoted to the minutest details of the auto camping art as things stood in 1923. It covers the whole gamut of camping options from economy to deluxe (such as it was), and offers considerable practical wisdom to novices. For example, the authors devote a fair amount of verbiage to "Poison Antidotes", where they advise that, "It is the children that most frequently get poisoned…" Cleanliness is offered as a fundamental preventative, and to this end they offer up their own custom cleaning tonic composed of carbon tetrachloride, chloroform and gasoline, but they fail to include an antidote to the deadly concoction, probably because when ingested, death likely was instantaneous.
The book's version of 'roughing it" was pretty literal: plant your sleeping bag next to your car, and should rain develop, simply roll underneath. (My advice: don't attempt this with your '93 Toyota Corolla.) In this regard, some of the coziest sleeping bags to be had were insulated with asbestos

Moving up the food chain a bit, the book discloses a minimalist kitchen arrangement (above right) along with an all-encompassing setup that was "sufficient" to serve the needs of an Iowa farmer, his wife and three children for a 1700 mile trip (left). Although farmers had a reputation for plain living, this sparse arrangement likely came out of necessity, for the family would have occupied the entirety of the interior space in their (presumed) Model T, meaning that the gear was stowed on the running boards. The resultant overloading would have set up a delicate balancing act that required serious study of passenger and gear placement in order to avoid overturning the high centered, crudely suspended cars of the day.

People of greater means by then were towing what was called a motor bungalow - a pop-up tent on a trailer. From right top to bottom, these could range from the no frills Motorbungalow Jr. to the two bedroom Chenango to the rather involved Auto-Kamp. The letter "K" commanded some popularity, another example being the Kampkook gasoline stove (similar to later Coleman Stove).
The ultimate pop-up may have been the Motorbungalow, the big brother of Jr. It featured a 4'x7' floor space, 9'x12' room containing a kitchenette with icebox, loads of shelves and an emergency water tank

Even more upscale was a class of custom built bungalows that were the primeval equivalent of today's Sprinter van. At left is one built atop a REO chassis in the "Pullman" style.

Another popular arrangement was the "Foldaway Bed for Ford [Model T] Sedans" (right). Beyond functioning as a bedroom, it could also be utilized as a dressing room and primping parlour.
This all resonates with me, because I am elderly enough to have experienced the tail end of the golden age of auto camping. In the 1950's my family held its annual vacations in the Sierra Nevada at a campground still frequented by motor bungalows (not a house trailer to be seen!), although our means were so modest that our experience verged on "roughing it". First, my father would spend two days rearranging items in the trunk of our '48 Pontiac sufficiently to allow a mightily slammed trunk lid to latch. Then, unable to contain his excitement, he would roust the family at 3:30 am for the four hour journey to the mountains, with our nighttime goings marked by overload-induced sparks periodically emanating from the dragging rear bumper. The folks slept under a tarp roped to the car, while I slept on the ample shelf behind the Pontiac's rear seats. Later, when times were more flush, my father invested in a tattered, olive green war surplus army tent which must have weighed a hundred pounds. This pretty well finished off the Pontiac's rear suspension.

Those were great times, but these days I am quite content to confine my overnight stays to mo-tels. - EO