Waldo-Hancock Bridge doomed by neglect

It was 10 or 15 minutes into waiting to cross the doomed Waldo-Hancock bridge one recent weekend that I found a single question nagging at me. I happened to have been stopped at a point on the road where I could see the entire span of the bridge, and as I gazed at it, the only question on my mind was – why? Why had this great bridge been allowed to deteriorate to the point that it now faces imminent replacement, closure and ultimately destruction?

I came to wonder this because a few minutes’ observation of the mighty span reminds you that bridges just don’t fall apart on their own. Sometimes they are destroyed in storms or floods, or tear themselves to pieces in high winds, but not this bridge. This bridge was lost through neglect. Even a cursory visual inspection, which the slow drive over the bridge now gives you, confirms this – the worn frame, the crumbling concrete, the ancient green paint untouched for years and covered in rust.

The tragedy is that it didn’t need to be this way. The bridge’s broken cables could have been replaced or reinforced years ago, but were not. Its worn deck could have been repaired, but was not. Its rusted surfaces could have been repainted, but were not. So the question remains then, why was this stunning structure, unique in such a way as to inspire awe, even among those who live daily in the shadow of its great towers, allowed to go to ruin?

Nobody seems to want to talk about that. The Department of Transportation has certainly offered no explanation and has suddenly developed a heretofore-unseen mastery of evasion and obfuscation. No meaningful comment has echoed forth from officials in Augusta, other than to ask for more money, of course, as though that was somehow the problem. Perhaps spending $8 million on the bridge before finding out it is beyond repair is more indicative of the real problem.

The media, for their part, seem little interested in a full-scale investigation. The Bangor Daily News, in its July 15 editorial, played down the question entirely. “It is easy to say that this whole mess shouldn’t have happened,” the paper wrote. “But it appears inspectors were truly caught off guard…” Obviously, but couldn’t that be because they were not doing their jobs? Is there not someone ultimately to blame for not having the cables more thoroughly inspected years ago?

Perhaps it is that seeking some accountability is simply out of favor these days. Demands for answers are seen by some as mean-spirited, vindictive and morally suspect as well. When a group of my fellow legislators and I held a press conference to request a legislative investigation of the Department of Human Services, after it had somehow lost track of $30 million, we were chastised by the papers for taking advantage of the situation for political gain. It couldn’t have been, I guess, that we genuinely wanted answers and thought it just that we be given them.

Of course, modern pop psychology tells us it is unhealthy to focus on one’s problems. We are told to cope, to deal with it. Looking to blame others only distracts us from us from the healing process, we are told. Get over it, they tell us.

Perhaps, then, I am old-fashioned, like the bridge itself, but I’m not ready to get over it. I want answers. I want pages of documents, I want sworn depositions, I want names to be named and I want heads to roll. And this sentiment, I submit, is not unlike what many others in the region are feeling, and for the same reason.

I lived in Penobscot as a child, but my grandparents lived in Hampden, so going to see them meant taking the long trip up the river, the highlight of which was a great leap by way of a soaring bridge over the dark waters of the Penobscot. It was always my favorite part of the trip, craning my neck in a vain attempt to catch a glimpse of Bucksport from the air, off to the side as we crossed over. I don’t recall a trip over that bridge, even to this day, that I didn’t marvel at its ingenuity, its immense strength, and its simple and stunning beauty.

My parents live in Penobscot still and now that my family and I live in Rockport, the bridge figures prominently yet again in trips to see grandparents.

I had looked forward to the awe that the old bridge would inspire in my own children. It is already my daughter Emily’s favorite part of the trip.

But now my girls will never come to know the bridge. Emily, the oldest, is only 4 and will, in all likelihood, forget the great span, once it has been cut to pieces with blazing torches and replaced with the kind of concrete-and-steel monstrosity that DOT seems so fond of building. I can see it there already, a wide, smooth, modern span, but one as common and as soulless as the roads that meet it on either end.

In such a way, the great bridge and the experience of passing under its stately towers will be lost forever. Or rather it will have been stolen.

For whether through apathy, ignorance or outright incompetence, DOT has stolen this bridge from all of us. They allowed the bridge to deteriorate beyond redemption. Their struggles to save it, too late, now disrupt travel and endanger the economy of the entire region. And too soon from now they will allow to pass into history an irreplaceable landmark, a landmark of engineering brilliance, of metalworking prowess, of imaginative genius.

In the months and years ahead, even more questions will come, I’m sure. But for me, there is only one that matters or ever will: Why?

Stephen Bowen is a Republican from Rockport who represents House District 63 (Camden and Rockport) in the Maine Legislature.