Building the Aerial Transfer Bridge
From Crossing the Canal: An Illustrated History of Duluth’s Aerial Bridge, copyright © 2008, Zenith City Press, Duluth, Minnesota
1904: The Building Finally Begins
The deadline for bids came and went with no other submissions, but a contract with MSS wasn’t signed until July 20. Not that that had slowed work. During the entire time the contract was under negotiation, Turner worked with MSS to refine the bridge plans. Matters arose over the type and horsepower of the electric motors, load specifications, wind pressure, a housing for the roller-bearing trucks, even the number of rivets used per foot. It wasn’t always the smoothest of processes, as Turner tenaciously fought to hold MSS to his ideas.
In January 1904 Turner noted that MSS had changed some of his plans for the ferry car, using a cheaper wood than the mahogany he had specified and leaving out the rubber tile floor his plans called for. So he wrote to assistant engineer E. R. Coe in Duluth’s City Engineering Department urging him to “be stiff with these people” about the plans and that he was worried MSS was “trying to skin C.A.P.T. and the city.” He all but scolded Coe: “Will say frankly that if under the conditions your department does not succeed in getting that car finished right you are not onto your job as far as looking after the city is concerned.” Tough as he sounds, Turner’s letter also expressed he felt Coe was up to the task and then asked after McGilvray in a postscript that read, “Trust this finds friend McG in better health.”
Whatever McGilvray may have been suffering from, he soon recovered: on March 26 he took over Patton’s position as City Engineer, allowing the man who brought the ferry bridge idea to Duluth to see the project through to its completion. Although Marcus B. Cullum had replaced Hugo as mayor in 1904, McGilvray’s return may have been more than Duluth politics. Weeks before McGilvray reentered the City Engineer’s office, Turner had become frustrated with Patton. In a letter dated March 10, Turner eloquently addresses trouble between them: “As a personal matter between men having full respect for the honesty and frankness of each other I think the disquisition rag will bear a little further chewing between us to our mutual advantage and better understanding.”
The letter indicates that Patton had initiated some design changes contrary to what he and Turner (and MSS) had previously agreed on, suggesting that the sway system Turner had specified wasn’t sufficiently strong and needed bolstering. But Patton and his assistants had misread the specifications upon which they based their calculations, and Turner was angry about the time and expense needed to create “an exact diagram that good-naturedly explained [Patton’s] erroneous method” when, with a little courtesy on Patton’s part, the whole matter could have been explained in fifteen minutes. Turner then pointed out that while Patton’s salary was guaranteed by his position with the city, Turner himself was “forced to accomplish results in securing his bread and butter.” Patton should be more considerate of his time, Turner implied, because Turner had to actually work to earn his money.
After receiving Patton’s conciliatory reply, Turner told the City Engineer that he was “glad to see you recognize that our interests should be identical” and then praised Patton’s “good judgment” in abandoning his own proposed changes and staying with Turner’s plan. But once he took these small jabs, Turner turned his full focus once again to the bridge.
Meanwhile MSS worked without a contract, urging approval of the tower plans by March 11 so the company could immediately start building them. W. H. Hoyt, an engineer with the Duluth, Missabe and Northern Railway (DM&N), inspected and approved the steel for the towers and, later, the roller bearings. He expressed concern over the housing for the roller bearings, seeing no protection from “blocking up with sand in the summer and snow and ice in the winter.” These “roller nests” and the bearings they held were the key to the bridge’s smooth operation, and time would prove that protecting them from the elements wouldn’t be their only problem.
On July 20, officials from the city and MSS finally signed a contract. Two days later the first carload of steel arrived at the piers. The testing laboratories had found the metal work excellent, with all parts “fitting perfectly, without reaming or drifting.” On August 1, workers had the leg of one of the towers in position. By October work was well underway, and other than a reminder from the head of the Corps of Engineers to be more careful to protect the government’s piers—on October 10 builders had accidentally broken off a lamp post on the North Pier—it was progressing smoothly.
In mid November both towers stood in place, but workers had to wait for the shipping season to end before putting up the “false” wooden supports needed to bolster the towers as the truss was built piece-by-piece to connect them. MSS had, according to McGilvray’s annual report, worked with the engineer’s office “with the utmost courtesy, and has promptly attended to everything pertaining to the safety of the public.” McGilvray even expected the company to turn the bridge over to Duluth before April 1, 1905.
1905: A New Era Begins
In the early days of 1905, the bridge was progressing nicely. The towers and false supports were in place, and the truss was beginning to take shape, with metal work reaching from both towers toward the center. McGilvray brought up a matter previously overlooked: small stations to keep passengers warm and dry while waiting their turn to cross. Railroad engineer James H. Marcy wrote McGilvray offering to build the structures at his own cost if he were given the land and a license to operate a “cigar, stationery, and confectionary store” in each of the buildings for five years; after that, the city could extend the license or purchase the buildings from Marcy and lease the buildings to another party.
For these small structures, McGilvray turned to prominent Duluth architects German & Lignell. Major Charles L. Potter of the Corps of Engineers, Gaillard’s replacement, approved the plans, which called for concrete block structures capped with ornamental red roofs estimated to cost $1,450 each.
By February the bridge was near completion, and later that month McGilvray invited two hundred people to witness the ferry car’s first crossing. He included local dignitaries to take the ferry’s first ride: Mayor Cullum; Common Council President Roland D. Haven; aldermen Thomas F. Trevillion, Benjamin K. Walker, and Lucien A. Barnes; A. B. Wolvin; Judge W. A. Cant; J. P. Johnson; Colonel Hubert Evra; attorney Frank Crassweller; W. A. Culkin; Chief of Police Chauncy H. Troyer; police captain Frederick E. Resche; Cameron Hewitt; D. G. Cash; C. C. Cokefair; J. B. Darling; C. A. Coleman; J. L. Owens; former City Engineer Patton; City Attorney Bert Fesler; County Surveyor W. H. Wadsworth; Chief Engineer Herman L. Dresser and William Hoyt of the DM&N; John H. Dwight and W. S. Bishop of the First National Bank; Clyde Iron Works manager C. A. Lester; and members of McGilvray’s staff, including Axel Wilson, E. R. Coe, Charles Drew, and J. Neff.
Representatives of MSS also got on board for the first crossing, including treasurer J. K. Lowry, foreman D. M. Carr, and electrical engineer Charles Adrian, as well as the structural steel workers, the men who actually built the bridge: F. Schmidtz, E. Foucoult, B. Keenan, H. Larson, J. Schrod, E. Knight, and Gus Rakowsky.
At 4:30 in the afternoon of February 23, 1905, these men entered the car at the south tower and prepared to cross. The bridge was not yet fully complete—some of the false wooden work still stood against the south tower where it had once been needed to support the bridge before the main truss was complete. The newspaper fancied that the ferry car would “glide gracefully out over the canal and the hopes which the residents of Park Point have held for years will be realized.”
To ensure safety, men were posted at the top of the bridge so they could identify any problems with the trucks in time to warn of an impending accident. McGilvray himself controlled the car, which began rolling without so much as a hiccup. One of the workmen posted atop the bridge decided to have a little fun with the crowd, striking at the false staging work with a wooden plank and shouting for Adrian to shut off the power. Afraid that “heavy objects were about to crash to the deck,” many of those invited on board sought protection under the car’s awnings. After a good laugh—and reassurance from Lowry that a joke had been played, nothing more—the ferry car moved ahead. Riders felt “only a slight vibration” while the car moved northward. As it reached the north end of the canal with “a gentle motion, an almost imperceptible contact against the air cushion in the approach, it stopped and locked automatically.” The entire trip lasted one minute and fifteen seconds, but it had been over fifteen years in the making. The ferry car then returned to the other side without any passengers disembarking to complete their trip across the canal.
There were no women aboard the first trip—a sign of the times. It wasn’t until March 5 that the ferry car first transferred a woman across the canal. Mrs. Emil Borth of 1624 East Seventh Street, who had carefully watched the bridge’s construction, became determined to be the first person across. So she approached workers and asked for a ride, and they obliged her, telling the newspaper that, “she was alone in the car and thoroughly enjoyed the little thrill of being part of so tremendous and important an enterprise.” The paper went on to claim that, since the ferry’s inaugural run didn’t actually deliver anyone across the canal, Mrs. Borth was not just the first woman to cross the canal in the ferry car, but technically the first person period to cross via the aerial bridge. The story did not mention that bridge workers already used it regularly and an operator was on board during all crossings.
Encouraged by the test, the Duluth News-Tribune estimated the city would take control of the bridge by March 20, when work on the ferry car was scheduled to be complete. That proved a little too hopeful, as five days after the test MSS wrote to McGilvray requesting an extension: weather had created extremely dangerous conditions, causing unforeseen delays. MSS needed until April 1 before opening the bridge to public use and, consequently, until at least May 1 before Duluth could receive the bridge. McGilvray passed the request on to the Common Council, which extended the deadline to May 1.
On March 4 the last of the wooden false work on the south tower came down: outside of “a number of small jobs, which are unimportant, but which require time for their completion,” the bridge was ready. Those tasks included painting the structure: two coats of olive green they had hoped to have on in time to honor St. Patrick’s Day (alas, work was delayed until March 20). Workers painted the lower chord first because the upper chord could be painted once the bridge was in operation.
The ferry car also required many finishing touches, but these would not stand in the way of the bridge’s opening “on or before All Fool’s Day,” as the paper reported, adding that those who would summer on Park Point that year would not need the ferry to move their belongings over the canal. As a final safety measure, MSS decided to see if the bridge could carry the load C. A. P. Turner had specified. On Friday, March 24, after several test runs with just people aboard, workmen loaded the ferry car with sixty-five tons of steel rails, reels of phone wire, cable, a steam boiler, and heavy timber, “greater than any load that the bridge is likely to be called on to carry, at least until street cars are taken across.” Even under all that weight, the bridge operated smoothly. MSS prepared to open the bridge to the public the following Monday.