NEWS ITEM: Along with 500 Michigan law enforcement agencies, the Royal Oak police participated in the national "Click It or Ticket" mobilization from May 23 through June 2.

According to the local weekly "Mirror," our local cops even warned folks where and when they will be enforcing. Motorists - including passengers - caught unbelted faced up to $65 in fines over the holiday weekend. And so it was across the nation in those states having mandatory seatbelt use laws.

It "yoostabee" that this would have been a hopeless task and politically unthinkable, given the once low level of safety sensitivity in the Motoring Public and surveys a generation ago showing scant seatbelt usage. In fact, researchers couldn't count on interviews to determine belt usage, because people would blatantly lie. The only way to obtain believable results was to station researchers on freeway overpasses or similar vantage points, and have them observe cars driving by. This technique didn't meet the usual survey requirements of valid cross-section, repeatability and universality, but it was the best that could be done.

Curious progress

The progression of seatbelts as the most valuable single safety device in vehicles - in the beginning and still today - has included several curious stories.

For example, midst all the concern in more recent years about "smart" airbags - bags which would sense whether the impending target is an unbelted 180-pound male or a "little old lady in tennis shoes" - the story of a relatively simple device that might have resolved belt use reluctance has been lost.

This was the Seat Belt Interlock that somewhat crudely prevented the car from being started unless all front-seat occupants buckled their safety belts first. With only a six-month lead-time, the device was mandated by the National Highway Traffic Safety Administration (NHTSA) for all 1974 model cars.

It was a good idea, in my opinion perhaps even the World's Greatest Safety Device, whose time simply had not come.

Back in the early days of belts - the Fifties and Sixties - it yoostabee there was a persistent mythology about automotive safety which held that you were better off being thrown out of a car in a crash. This had been disproved around 1952 by an Indiana State Police sergeant named Elmer Paul. Sgt. Paul noticed that in a lot of fatal highway crashes, the vehicle really wasn't badly damaged, yet the people were dead. Why?

He discovered such fatalities inevitably resulted when occupants were ejected and crushed either by the vehicle rolling over them or by crashing themselves into a tree, pole, curb or whatever. The laws of physics are irrevocable, stating that a body - human in this case - in motion continues in motion until stopped. You don't get "thrown out;" unbelted, you keep moving when the car stops on impact, and then you "stop" when you also impact something else, whether the instrument panel or, say, through a window or open door against a tree.

Sgt. Paul collected good statistics on Indiana "fatals" showing that ejection was the leading cause of fatal injuries. He got the attention of the National Safety Council, the Automobile Manufacturers Association and the Cornell Aeronautical Laboratory, which had specialized in aircraft safety during World War II but had little to keep busy in the post-war period.

The magic solution

This was when test-track simulated crashes began, using "crash dummies" as surrogates for people. Given the timeframe and cast of characters, it was no surprise that the main solution to the ejection problem came from aircraft: the seatbelt. Seatbelts, of course, were invented to keep airplane pilots from falling out in aerial maneuvers and passengers from being bounced around. They'd been introduced, as I recall, as a "comfort" option in the stubby 1950 Nash Rambler.

Ford introduced - and promoted - a safety package in its 1956 models. The package included outboard front-seat lap belts, improved door latches, a deep-dish steering wheel, and padded dash. Only the first two items, of course, related to the ejection problem; the recessed steering wheel hub and padding were aimed at reducing injuries from impact of the occupants with the car interior. Padding had appeared before, on the 1948 Tucker prototypes and as standard equipment on 1949 Chryslers. The other domestic manufactures quickly duplicated Ford's package, especially the optional belts.

But the Motoring Public of the time couldn't have cared less.

You heard, "Racecar drivers don't wear belts, why should I?" Sad, but true. As a journalist, I covered the '56 Daytona Speed Week, when it was still held on the beach and Florida State Highway 101. Even though the Sports Car Club of America had required aviation-type seatbelts from the time of its 1948 revival of road racing, the Good Ol' Boys of NASCAR thought only sissies wore belts. I believe only Bill Stroppe's superbly prepared Mercurys had belts. Even in 1965, race drivers did not universally accept belts. I witnessed my one and only track fatal at the Riverside track that year when a belt-avoider had his head crushed on the A-pillar as his car hit a retaining wall.

You heard, "if I wear a belt, I'll get trapped in a fire or if the car goes into water," etc. There are so few of those cases, statistically speaking, that they're not worth worrying about, but humans have a natural fear of fire and water. Urban myths die hard.

The law reacts