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Transcript

Hey – who’s up for a road trip?  Most years when I was growing up, my dad would get itchy feet and decide he wanted to take a few days off and drive…somewhere; in retrospect for him I think it was less about the destination than just getting away from his often hard physical work in the local paper products factory.  So around his birthday in August, my parents would pack up me and the station wagon and we’d aim for some local attraction in upstate New York like Corning or Cooperstown or the like.  Dad would drive, my mom would be in charge of figuring out the route and finding us places to stay, and I loved poring over those AAA tour books printed on that thin paper, listing motels and restaurants and sights to see along the way.  We never did get to the Petrified Creatures off Route 20, though, sigh.

That took some planning, naturally, but other than “no vacancy” signs or the occasional thunderstorm we didn’t have much to be concerned about.  Generations earlier, for other travelers, those trips would have been very different if they’d happened at all – until they were made somewhat easier by a little book with a big impact that provided a guide to worlds unimaginable.

A document that changed the world

The Negro Motorist Green Book, compiled and edited by Victor Hugo Green and first published in New York City, 1936

I’m Joe Janes of the University of Washington Information School and yep, unlike the Federal Reserve’s “beige book” or the Kelley Blue Book guide to used car prices and numerous other colorful examples, while the “Green Book” is in fact green, it got its name from the author, not the color of the book.  But color does play a part here, in fact it’s the entire point.  In the early 20^th century, as Jim Crow laws held sway in many parts of the United States, if you were a person of color, especially Black, life was a whole lot more complicated, and dangerous, in many if not most aspects of daily life, not least in travel.  Segregated trains, buses, trolleys, restaurants, hotels, even drinking fountains and bathrooms, made the logistics of getting from point A to point B, with any modicum of dignity, a challenge to say the least. Hence, the appeal of the automobile, for the growing Black middle class who could afford it. In 1920 there were a little over 8 million cars in use in the US; by 1930 there were 23 million and while production slowed during the Depression, there were about 30 million by 1941, with a post-war boom up to 40 million by 1950.  So the road was calling – but if and how you answered still depended in no small part on the color of your skin.

If you were Black, pulling out of the driveway was akin to stepping out into a minefield, in often unfamiliar territory.  Where would you – could you? - eat, sleep, get gas or your car repaired, even go to the bathroom?  At times, the “whites only” signs would make it obvious, but often the discrimination was more subtle – businesses associated with the Klan might have 3 K’s in their names, so keep driving – and more humiliating, being ignored by waitstaff when seated at the same table with whites, petty crap like that.  It could also be a lot less subtle; in the ‘60s, there were an estimated 10,000 “sundown towns” where, if you were Black and it was sundown, you should get the hell out of town or risk expulsion, violence, or worse. And if you’re imagining backwater Podunk places, sure, but the restaurant incident happened in Chicago in 1945, half the incorporated towns in Illinois were sundown towns, and in 1956 only 3 motels in New Hampshire would accommodate African Americans.

This was largely a matter of not knowing what you didn’t know, so people did what they do, and found workarounds:  pack your own meals, carry extra gas, bring a portable toilet or a bucket, arrange to stay with friends of friends or sleep in the car or a hayloft.  And yet they went; a magazine writer in 1933 said, “it’s mighty good to be the skipper for a change…We feel like Vikings…it’s good for the spirit to just give the old railroad Jim Crow the laugh.” 

Enter Victor Hugo Green, born in Manhattan, named for the French 19^th century author, who started a career with the US Post Office in 1913 in New Jersey before marrying Alma Duke and moving to Harlem, then serving in a supply unit in France during World War I.  Well aware of the perils of the road trip, he conceives of a guide, inspired in part by the existing “Jewish Vacation Guide,” to list hospitable places for Black travelers; the first 16-page edition covered just New York City, but quickly expanded nationwide the next year with help from a federal government agency, the US Travel Bureau, eventually extending to Canada, Mexico and Bermuda.  Initially he drew on his own knowledge and that of his co-workers, but it grew due to, effectively, crowdsourcing; he paid readers, and fellow postal workers “asking around,” for useful listings.  His aim was to “give the Negro traveler information that will keep him from running into difficulties, embarrassments and to make his trip more enjoyable.”  Understatements indeed.

The book itself is pretty small; the 1940 edition is only 48 pages, with a green cover, naturally, roughly 5 x 7”. Listings are alphabetical by state, at least those states that had listings, ahem, and then by city, categorized, with basic listings of names and addresses, primarily for lodging and food though also some nightclubs, beauty parlors, barbershops, tailors, and other services.  A few businesses paid for bold-faced listings, or bought small display ads like the Little Belmont, a “first class tourist home” at 2514 Pine St. in Niagara Falls, run by Mrs. M. Bell.  Small spaces got filled up with encouragements to advertise, requests for listings, and a little sardonic folk wisdom, under the heading “How to Keep From Growing Old”: “Always lock your brakes when skidding.  It makes the job more artistic.”  Over the years, they added short pieces on sights and monuments of historical interest to African-Americans.

It was published annually, in April, about 15,000 copies a year, starting at a quarter and rising to $1.25 by 1957, and distributed by mail order, and through churches, businesses and, surprisingly, Esso gas stations, a precursor to today’s Exxon/Mobil; a third of whose franchisees were Black, and which had a specifically focused marketing division. There was an earlier guide in 1930, the Hotel and Apartment Guide for Colored Travelers, and another more upscale effort published for a decade from 1947 rather pointedly but aptly called the Travelguide:  Vacation and Recreation without Humiliation. Nonetheless, most Black motorists heeded the motto on the cover:  “Carry your Green Book with you – you might need it.”  Green set up his own printing business in Harlem, and in 1947, opened a travel bureau, as the book continued to expand.  Alma helped with editing in later years and took over publication when Victor died in 1960, and both were inducted into the Automotive Hall of Fame in 2022. 

Travel guides, predictably, are old; from the ancient Greek periplus listing landmarks along seacoasts to the Roman itinerarium for road stops, medieval European pilgrimage guides, Arabic guides to treasure and artifacts, travel narratives in Song Dynasty China, through to the Grand Tour literature of the 19^th century, Baedeker guides, Michelin guides, reams of travel books of all shapes and sizes including for specialized audiences: the Jewish Vacation Guide started in 1916, the Spartacus guide for gay travelers in 1970, and on and on, usually mirroring the times and purposes for travel. Then followed short subject travelogue movies, television shows, and now online; if Victor Green was around today, this would be a subreddit – in fact, there is one, amid a great many other specialized online sites for Black travelers, which is either great or sad, or perhaps both.

Beyond the obvious individual and family impacts, the Green Books also promoted Black-owned and women-owned businesses, encouraging businesses in 1951 to raise their standards, and helped to facilitate the flow of money in and around the community, as well as introducing financial pressure on white-owned businesses to open their doors more widely for an emerging market.  The reach even extended to Senate hearings on the Civil Rights Act of 1964 where it was described as providing “dramatic testimony to the difficulties” of Black travelers and impediments on interstate travel and commerce – and also to the Supreme Court.  In their decision upholding Title II of the Act in Heart of Atlanta Motel v. United States, the Court said the mere existence of the Green Book demonstrated that discrimination “had become so acute as to require the listing of available lodging…in a special guidebook.” 

Ultimately, the civil rights movement and legislation largely spelled the end of the need for the Green Book, and it ceased publication in 1967.  Green himself foresaw and even wanted that; in 1948 he wrote, “There will be a day sometime in the near future when this guide will not have to be published… when we as a race will have equal opportunities and privileges in the United States. It will be a great day for us to suspend this publication for then we can go wherever we please, and without embarrassment.” 

Roads are everywhere, likely beginning with people following animal pathways, and some are evocative indeed:  the Appian Way, the Silk Road, the Autobahn, Route 66. The road trip and the “open road” are important parts of the American psyche and mythos – get in the car and go, an enticing idea, if you don’t have to pack your own food, use a bucket and sleep in the car.  The Green Book was a guide not only to restaurants and lodging – desperately needed though that was – it was a guide to a way of travel, a way of thinking about a way of life, previously unavailable and inconceivable; in a sense, almost a parallel universe where doors and hearts were open and ready to receive.  I couldn’t help but think of another specialized travel book, the Hitchhiker’s Guide to the Galaxy, which, though much less thoroughly vetted, did famously feature on its cover, in “large, friendly letters” two words: Don’t Panic.  That kind of reassurance, even on a less-than-cosmic scale, must have been treasured by folks who just wanted to get out and drive the “open road” to see where it would lead and hope for a better day tomorrow.

References

» Victor Green | Automotive Hall of Fame. . Accessed 25 Jul. 2025.

An Atlas of Self-Reliance: The Negro Motorist’s Green Book (1937-1964). 29 Jul. 2015, .

Foster, Mark S. “In the Face of ‘Jim Crow’: Prosperous Blacks and Vacations, Travel and Outdoor Leisure, 1890-1945.” The Journal of Negro History, vol. 84, no. 2, Apr. 1999, pp. 130–49. journals.uchicago.edu (Atypon), .

“Guide Book.” Wikipedia, 30 Jun. 2025. Wikipedia, .

“History’s Oldest Roads Shaped Civilizations Since 4000 B.C.” Discover Magazine, . Accessed 25 Jul. 2025.

Homepage - Negro Motorist Green Book. . Accessed 25 Jul. 2025.

Monahan, Meagan K. “The Green Book: Safely Navigating Jim Crow America.” The Green Bag, vol. 20, Autumn 2016, pp. 43–49.

The Green Book - NYPL Digital Collections. . Accessed 25 Jul. 2025.

“The Green Book:  The Forgotten Story of One Carrier’s Legacy Helping Others Navigate Jim Crow’s Highways.” The Postal Record (National Association of Letter Carriers), Sep. 2013, pp. 22–25.

“The Negro Motorist Green Book.” Wikipedia, 18 Jul. 2025. Wikipedia, .

Travelguide: Vacation and Recreation Without Humiliation | National Trust for Historic Preservation. . Accessed 25 Jul. 2025.

“United States: Motor Vehicles in Use 1900-1988.” Statista, . Accessed 25 Jul. 2025.

“Victor Hugo Green.” Wikipedia, 8 Jun. 2025. Wikipedia, .

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