Hutsonville Bridge

When I was little, crossing the Hutsonville bridge in my parents' car terrified me. It had that high, climbing arch in the middle that pictures never seem to do justice, and with my fast-driving dad at the wheel, it felt like we were being launched to someplace I most certainly didn't want to go. With the bridge quivering and making spooky noises all around me, thinking I would surely die, I always mustered the courage to peek out the back seat window at the murky, infamous Wabash far below. Once across and back on solid ground, I breathed a sigh of relief as we passed the toll booth that sat smack dab in the middle of the road on the Indiana side of the bridge. The toll taker, as I remember, was a tall, lanky man who seemed made for the narrow, wooden toll booth. He always smiled and waved to us with his one good arm as if he too was happy that we made it across the bridge safely. Just below his right elbow on the other arm was a shiny, sliver hook, a misfortune I was sure somehow involved the bridge.

As kids we stood in the middle of the bridge against the rail, 30+ feet over the moving, serious river, while two, maybe three loaded Gibson Coal trucks crossed from Indiana, always going too fast so as to beat the lights that had been put at each end of the bridge to reduce traffic to one lane. The bridge groaned and shook as if it was alive and felt pain. When the loaded-down trucks hit the middle of the span, never as far apart from each other as they should've been, the deck felt like it dropped a good 2-3 feet under us. Once the trucks were across, the forgiving bridge rose back to its usual position, as if it were a big spring, which basically it was. When loaded, the arched deck dropped and straightened, pushing out toward the ends, and the simple cable system supporting the whole crazy thing stretched and relaxed like so many rubber bands. Feet planted, hands gripping the rail, we felt brave.

My grandfather told me a story about the day the bridge was opened in 1939. Everyone in town, and then some, turned out for the ribbon cutting cermony. Politicians and dignitaries galore. The bridge was packed with people from one end to the other and my grandfather was so sure that it would collapse from the weight that he forbid my mother (who was 16 at the time), my grandmother, and my mother's younger sister from going out onto the bridge. They, of course, weren't about to miss out on the excitement. In other words, they ignored him. Having grown up in Hutsonville, and having spent a lot of time in relation to the bridge, I can understand why my grandfather was concerned. It really didn't look all that sturdy, and being that it was designed to flex and move, it didn't always feel so sturdy either. More to come.

What is interesting is that the bridge had a 20 ton load limit. However, trucks hauling coal to the C.I.P.S power plant in Hutsonville ran it so much, Indiana DOT would pull them over under a tree on IN- 154 approx 1 mile before the bridge for an inspection. This probably led to the deterioration of the bridge after only 50 years.

Also, when it was built, it was a toll bridge. the tolls were later removed.

I have used material from this page in constructing a Wikipedia article about this bridge...

http://en.wikipedia.org/w/index.php?title=User:Lar/Hutsonville_Bridge

(soon to be moved into articlespace but the redirected link should work fine)

Please advise if that's an issue (all text is paraphrased, and checked against HAER). If you're interested in improving the coverage of bridges, especially obscure, cool ones like this one, please consider becoming a contributor there...

http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Wikipedia:WikiProject_Bridges