The Great Bridge: The Epic Story of the Building of the Brooklyn Bridge

Reading a book like this fills me with awe for the feats of engineering and and, frankly, back-breaking labor, that occurred regularly and as a matter of course for much of this country's history. Such mammoth undertakings are the stuff of David McCullough - from the Panama Canal, which, yes, I know, is not in this country, but was very much constructed at the will of it; to bridges and dams; to the Wright brothers' first flying machines. (Side note: it's no wonder McCullough is the master here - his latest book was published this past spring; Great Bridge in 1972.) There is no one better at bringing the greatest examples of innovation, invention, and engineering down to size than McCullough. 

That said, the primary weakness of The Great Bridge is, perhaps, McCullough's own strength: he has such a grasp of the engineering principles that he cannot help but include every last detail on how the caissons bore into the earth, how the cables were spun, how the planks were laid. Sometimes I felt I was reading an engineering text, rather than an historical account of the construction. I plead guilt to some serious skimming of these sections.

I was much more interested in the life and times of the Chief Engineer, Washington Roebling, the (exceedingly corrupt) political environments in Tammany Hall and the Grant administration, Henry Beecher's hypocrisy, the inimitable Emily Roebling, and the medical advances of the age...pretty much everything but the tensile strength of Bessamer vs. crucible steel. I had to chuckle when I read, "Collingwood spoke a little too long about the staggering quantities of brick, stone, steel, and iron that had gone into the bridge..." Like Collingwood's audience, I felt McCullough belabored these points a little too much.

Evidently I've lodged this complaint before as, in reviewing my previous McCullough posts, I noted my final verdict on the Paris book, "Overall, this was a good read, although it could be quite dense at time and, therefore, a bit of a slow go. French history or American art history buffs would enjoy it greatly, but others might find it just a bit on the dull side." Likewise, those with a strong interest in our nation's public works might go ga-ga for McCullough's detailed work, but other readers might find parts of it a slow go.