A strange craft is likely to invade the leading towns and cities of the United States within the next few months. The people of Philadelphia, New York, Chicago, Cincinnati, St. Louis and Pittsburg, and even San Francisco need not be at all unsurprised if they see, some fine morning, big cruiser plowing through the air, down the principal street. It will be the trolley man-of-war that furnishes this strange sight, one of the most unique objects that was ever put on wheels.
    This pioneer of all land craft is not to be despised when it comes to a question of force. Dainty “barkers” peep out through the portholes, prototypes of the smiling faces that gleam from the sides of the flag-ship New York. This trolley man-of-war, or white cruiser on wheels, has been dignified with the name of the next President, Mr. McKinley. While her mission is not that of protection so far, she is quite likely to exercise a rather patriotic influence among at least the younger generation in the days that are to come.
    It is designed to run on electric roads of standard charge, and as all electric roads are of that gauge, it is very likely the queer craft will have many imitations before long. She is in appearance a miniature, to great extent, of the big cruisers hat have followed Admiral Bunce’s flag for so many months. Her superstructure is painted green, her hull and sponsons white, her guns and ironwork black. She carries 100 men, officers and crew, and is 17 feet long, 9 feet wide, 12 feet high. The lines on which she was constructed were taken from the model of the battle-ship Brooklyn by Naval Architect Henry P. Lapointe.
    Originally the McKinley was a flatcar, and she was extended fore and aft so that finally her length from stern to stern was 37 feet. She had a double row of portholes on each side, and as she advances toward you you see the sullen countenance of two grim six-pounders, while peeping from the tiny turret on the gun deck is a ferocious-looking 18-pounder. The quarterdeck is rather small. In fact, the officer of the day has hard work to make his rounds, owing to the confusion that numbers always occasion. Another odd feature is that Jack Tar and his officers are on the best of terms and all hands mess in the wardroom.
    Here is the gallant complement of the trolley man-of-war : Captain, Major Charles K. Darling; lieutenant-commander and executive officer, Walter L. Emory ; adjutant, W. P. Hall; paymaster, E. E. Dennett; surgeon, Dr. Sawyer; equipment officer, W. W. Lapointe; navigator, H. E. Jennison; chief engineer, Kendall F. Crocker; lieutenant of marines, Walter Hardy; second lieutenant of marines, L. A. Scannell; captain first company of tars, W. K. Jewett; lieutenant, H. K. Bennett; captain and lieutenant of second company of tars, Messrs. Dillon and Page; drum major, Judge Charles H. Blood. They are all among the leading business and professional men of Fitchburg, Mass.
    What would a man-of-war be without lifeboats? Though the McKinley is small, she is fully equipped, and two staunch jolly-boats bang to the davits just abaft and on either side of the bridge, while a dingy graces the stern. All are kept fully provisioned and ready for immediate use in case the anchor chains should become toggled and all hands be required to splice the main brace.
    If it should become necessary at any time to castanchor the requisite apparatus is at hand and its flukes will be sure to catch in some convenient paving stone. In fact, the McKinley compares favorably with almost any war vessel except in size, construction and equipment. The hull is of the finest quality of duck. The smoke-stacks are genuine, however, and if it is desired to create a sensation red fire can be burned in them. The interior of the cruiser is by no means commodious, but atones in point of luxury for what it lacks in the matter of size.
    Naturally in a boat 37 feet long, 9 feet wide and 12 feet high there are not accommodations for either officers or crew, that is, so far as the interior of the hull is concerned. So there has been a compromise on board the McKinley, and the space below decks from stem to keelson is devoted to culinary and gastronomic purposes. For the McKinley has a cook. Like the mariner of song, he is just now “the cook and the captain bold and the mate of the Nancy brig; the bos’n tight and the midshipmite, and the crew of the captain’s gig,” for the McKinley lies at anchor in the shops of the Fitchburg and Leominster Street Railway Company at Fitchburg, Mass.
    This trolley man-of-war is really the pioneer in an entirely new feature of trolley, or rather electric railroad. For, though built for the dual purpose of pleasure and demonstrating the practicability of a unique idea, it has really become a valuable suggestion. It depends upon no trolley wire for its motive power, for it is equipped with two 30-horsepower electric motors and a Bemis truck. Thus, while nominally it is supposed to operate solely on electric roads, it can in reality be taken over almost any sort of a railroad of the right gauge, as it drives its own wheels.
    It demonstrates the fact that it is possible to construct a car for operation on street railroads in cities that would be of infinite use in case of riot. It is not beyond the range of the ability of modern mechanics to build a car that would be bullet-proof and really constitute a traveling fort. It would be possible to carry on such a car several pieces of artillery, or, better still, equip it with the light guns that are used in the navy, the recoil of which would not be sufficient to damage the fort on wheels in any way.
    Indeed, it is believed that a car constructed on the same model as the McKinley, only of course of substantial material, would form a very effective protection for a company of men whom it was necessary to move from one part of the city to another. Certainly it would be very much easier to transport guns and men in this fashion in case of riot than in the ordinary way, and it is also true that movements could be made from one point to another with far greater celerity. Therefore it is plain to be seen that the McKinley is really the representative of an idea of exceeding, practicability. It is certainly a fact that a trolley man-of-war like her, made of the real stuff and carrying her equipment—four guns in sponsons and two in the deck turret”would be a rather formidable engine of war.
    The accompanying illustrations give a very excellent idea of the appearance of the McKinley, although they do not show her at her very best, because it is impossible for even the advanced art of the photographer to secure the transmission from life to paper of anything that breathes so pronounced a spirit as the McKinley. She is really much more of an affair than she looks to be, and to see her quietly gliding down the street, with colors flying, the captain on the bridge, and the dark mouths of the guns frowning silently front, sides and rear, gives one the impression that surely things are seldom what, they seem.

From—The San Francisco Call. (San Francisco [Calif.]), 22 Nov. 1896. Chronicling America: Historic American Newspapers. Lib. of Congress.