The Dixon Bridge Disaster - May 4th, 1873

On this day in 1873, a toll bridge in Dixon, Illinois, collapsed into the Rock River and took a crowd of more than 200 people with it. 

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Episode Transcript

Speaker 1 (00:00):
This Day in History Class is a production of iHeartRadio.
Hello and Welcome to This Day in History Class, a
show that pays tribute to people of the past by
telling their stories. Today, I'm Gay Bluesier, and in this episode,

(00:22):
we're reflecting on a mournful day in Illinois history, a
road bridge failure that claimed the lives of nearly fifty people.
As a warning, today's episode includes discussion of gross negligence
and needless human suffering, which some listeners may rightfully find disturbing.

(00:48):
The day was May fourth, eighteen seventy three. An iron
toll bridge in Dixon, Illinois, collapsed into the Rock River
and took a crowd of more than two one hundred
people with it. The majority were able to swim free
of the wreckage, but dozens of others were crushed by it,
with many being pinned down just beneath the water's surface.

(01:12):
In total, forty six people lost their lives in the collapse,
and fifty six more were injured. Even now, one hundred
and fifty years later, it remains the worst vehicular bridge
disaster in American history. Post Civil War, Dixon, about one
hundred miles west of Chicago, was a growing city split

(01:33):
in half by the Rock River, a tributary of the Mississippi.
Over the course of decades, nearly a dozen wooden bridges
had been built across the river, but in every case
they were eventually washed away by raging floods. Finally, in
eighteen sixty eight, residents began to call for a more
reliable solution, the construction of an iron bridge that could

(01:56):
withstand the force of the Rock River even at its
most relentless. The city council reviewed fourteen different proposals, ultimately
choosing a design by Lucius Trusdell of Massachusetts, who had
already constructed several bridges in Illinois, including a similar one
in the nearby town of Elgin. Trusdell's design called for

(02:18):
an iron bridge six hundred and sixty feet long, longer
than any he'd constructed before. Its eighteen foot wide deck
would be flanked on either side by a five foot
wide sidewalk, and its iron superstructure would stand eighteen feet
above the water. The total cost of the bridge was
seventy five thousand dollars, money which the city hoped to

(02:41):
recoup by charging tolls. It was later revealed that city
engineer L. Stanton had urged the council not to accept
Trusdell's offer due to his fear that the bridge wouldn't
be as strong as the designer claimed. Stanton was eventually
dismissed from the project due to his opposite but even
before the Dixon Bridge was completed, there were clear indications

(03:04):
that Stanton had been right to doubt Trusdal's work. Just
a few weeks before the Dixon Bridge was opened, the
Trusdale Bridge in Elgin partially collapsed. It was promptly repaired,
but then six months later it collapsed again. One newspaper
tried to shield Trusdell from blame, claiming that quote the

(03:25):
foundations of the structure must have been tampered with by
some evil disposed persons. Trus Dell gladly adopted that account,
but it almost certainly wasn't true. Despite the red flags, though,
Dixon stood by the designer and proceeded with the final
load tests of its own bridge. Four teams of pack

(03:45):
animals and dozens of people hauled loads of stone and
flour across the structure all at once to test its sturdiness. Then,
satisfied that it would hold, the mayor opened the new
bridge to the public on January twenty first, eighteen sixty nine.
There was great fanfare that day, including a half mile parade,

(04:06):
and people from miles around came to get a glimpse
of the bridge. One local reporter was dazzled by what
he saw, writing quote, A structure more truly grand and
beautiful to the eye can be found in no Western city,
and we presume in no Eastern one either grand and
beautiful it may have been, but stable it was not.

(04:29):
On May fourth, eighteen seventy three, just four years after
its dedication, the Dixon Bridge collapsed into the river below.
Shortly after noon on that sunny spring day, a crowd
of people gathered on the bridge and along the North
riverbank to watch a baptism. It had been a long winter,
and witnessing a spiritual rite of passage seemed to the

(04:51):
townspeople like a fitting way to welcome the new season.
Reverend J. H. Pratt, of the Baptist Church and Dixon
presided over the saram. His flock had grown in recent
months thanks to an influx of young women who had
moved to the area to work in its local factories.
Some of those women were among the ten or so
people said to be baptized that afternoon, as was Reverend

(05:14):
Pratt's own daughter. Their families and friends had come out
to watch the festivities, with some kids even climbing the
trusses of the bridge to get a better view. However,
as the third person waded into the water to be baptized,
the bridge suddenly began to vibrate. The bridge tender Henry
Strong feared it would buckle under the crowd's weight. He

(05:36):
pushed his way onto the walkway and ordered people off
the trusses and away from the railing. Then moments later,
there was a loud cracking sound on the north span
and the bridge began to lurch. The end span where
everyone had gathered collapsed completely. Then the other three spans
gave way as well and sank partially into the river.

(05:58):
The bystanders still at top the bridge were thrown into
the water, and when the truss fell over on top
of them, many were trapped under the twisted grid iron.
As the Chicago Tribune later reported quote, some sank to
rise no more, some were killed before they touched the water.
Some jumped from the bridge to the river and swam ashore,

(06:20):
and some were entangled in the debris, imprisoned in an
iron cage with which they sunk and from which there
was no escape. Tragically, some of those people drowned less
than one foot from the surface, with the edge of
the water in clear view but just out of reach.
It would take several days before their bodies could be

(06:41):
disentangled from the iron work, which had to be cut
away using hack saws. The scene of the collapse was
one of frantic struggle both above and below the waterline.
Those who avoided the wreckage made their way to the
bank and a mad panic, reportedly pulling others down inadvertently
along the world. Horses with buggies had been hurled off

(07:03):
the bridge as well, adding to the sense of confusion
as they tried to flail their way to shore. But
there were also heroes amidst the chaos. Men like William
Daley used wooden planks from the broken bridge to pull
the injured to safety, and Reverend Pratt rescued at least
a dozen people from the water single handedly. The injured

(07:23):
and the dead alike were carried to the nearest houses,
which served as makeshift hospitals and morgues. Over the next
several days, family members would stumble from one house to
the next, hoping against the odds to find their loved
ones alive and well. By the time the last body
was recovered from the river bed more than a week later,

(07:44):
the death toll had risen to forty six. Only seven
of the victims were men, while the rest were women
and children. The reason for that great disparity was likely twofold. First,
many men had opted to stand on the bank so
as not to block the view of women and girls.
Although done with chivalrous intentions, the result was that far

(08:05):
fewer men were plunged into the river when the bridge
gave way. The second reason for the high number of
female casualties was the state of women's fashion in the
late nineteenth century. Floor length dresses supported by metal hoops
were the hottest style at the time, but those thick,
long dresses made it nearly impossible to swim. In the

(08:26):
months following the disaster, residents cast blame on everyone from
Trusdell to the city council, and even absurd as it was,
on the Baptists. However, the overwhelming consensus, both in the
town and in the press was that trus Dell was
indeed responsible. One newspaper dubbed Dixon's bridge the Trusdell Trap,

(08:49):
while another said it wasn't a bridge at all, but
a patent wholesale drowning machine. Several Chicago engineers were asked
to weigh in on what went wrong, and every one
of them pinned the blame on poor design and an
over reliance on light and cast iron. Mister Trusdell is
no engineer at all, said one of the commenters. His

(09:11):
methods of construction showed in ignorance of the fundamental principles
of mechanics and had always been regarded as worthless by
those whose opinion was regarded as valuable. Trusdell tried to
clear his name by claiming once again that the bridge
he designed had failed due to sabotage. In a letter
to a Massachusetts newspaper, he boasted about a track record

(09:32):
that wasn't nearly as impressive as he seemed to think.
It is nearly eighteen years since I began building iron bridges,
he wrote, and the Elgin and Dixon bridges are the
only ones that have fallen, and no loss of life
except at Dixon can as much be said of any
other plan. As it turned out, Yes, yes it could.

(09:55):
Lucius Trusdell never built another bridge, though some would argue
that he had owned only barely done so in the
first place. Today, there are two different plaques on the
Dixon Riverwalk to honor those who died in the bridge disaster,
and a new memorial will be unveiled at the site
in twenty twenty three to mark the one hundred and
fiftieth anniversary of the city's darkest day. In that way,

(10:19):
although the tragedy took place long ago, the courage and
compassion of the rescuers, the survivors, and the bereaved lives
on for I'm Gabe Luzier, and hopefully you now know
a little more about history today than you did yesterday.
If you have a second and you're so inclined, consider

(10:41):
keeping up with the show on Twitter, Facebook, and Instagram.
You can find us a TDI HC show special. Thanks
to Dixon native Angela Hawes for suggesting the topic for
today's episode, and if you have a historical subject you
think I should cover, feel free to send your suggestions
to This Day at iHeartMedia dot com. Thanks to Chandler

(11:04):
Mays and Ben Hackett. For producing the show, and thanks
to you for listening. I'll see you back here again
tomorrow for another day in history class.