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The New York cabby is the most slovenly in the world. Photo by Arthur Hewitt.

Actually the drivers in these photos, with their top hats, white shirts and ties don't look very slovenly. But maybe they didn't stand up to close inspection.

Source:
Outing magazine, vol. XLIX no. 2, November, 1906, p. 134.

Vance Thompson's Cab Drivers / 33

The New York Cab Driver and his Cab / 5

Personally I am on the side of the cabmen. I know scores of them – Flynn and Gould and many another good man – and I think they act as fairly as they can under the bad existing circumstances. Probably the majority of them are as clean as that hound's tooth which has got itself into politics. Now and then you get into the hands of a wrong 'un –

It was only the other day –

I wonder whether the sun will ever shine so brightly, or so golden-brown a girl – for the hair and the eyes and the hat and the gown and the shoes and the gloves were golden-brown – express a wish to drink tea in the Casino of Central Park. Anyway, that is where he drove us from lower Fifth Avenue, the cabby; he was wise and not unkind, for he drove slowly and found a circling way through the Park. Handing the golden-brown thing out, I asked: "How much?"

"Ten dollars," said the cabby.

"It was worth twenty," I said.

He went away like the young man in the parable; at night, I think he wakes with a bitter and strong cry, cursing that time he dared not ask enough. I told this anecdote to Flynn over in First Avenue, there by Sixty-third Street, where the little Italiany children wallow in the gutters. I told it because we were talking cabs and also because I like to tell it as often as I can – a pleasant memory cannot be too often recalled.

"That was all your fault," said Mr. Flynn – he is gray-eyed and determined, and he said it as though he meant it – "all your fault. Why did you ask him what the fare was? You knew well enough. There should be a law passed making it an indictable offense for a man to ask what the fare is. It is putting temptation in the driver's way. Do you think you could resist that kind of thing yourself? You get into a licensed cab – the fares are posted up in front of you – and you get out and ask the driver, 'How much?' What do you expect the driver to say? Naturally he will look you over and decide that you are the kind of fool he can part from ten dollars of your fool money. Don't blame him. It is your fault. And you are simply educating him to be a robber."