New Haven Register (Sunday) (New Haven, CT)
The incredible success of the ‘The Bridge’
We who live and work in and around New Haven are having a moment: The bridge is just about done.
The bridge is what was known as The Q Bridge, but is really a huge array of highways, overpasses, on ramps, huge retaining walls and concrete piers — all new, replacing the jumble of colliding ribbons of steel and concrete with wider, gentler, swooping waves of flowing cars all having a full-o crescendo at the stolidly expressive new Pearl Harbor Memorial Bridge.
We may refer to the project as the bridge but the past two decades have meant unending work on virtually all those roads going over, off, up and to the massive intersection of two of the country’s large interstate highways — interstates 95 and 91.
If mothers analyzed the pain and danger of giving birth, would they have children? I think so, but I am not a mother. But the love and devotion of parents for their offspring after all that pain and danger makes all the travail and risk worth the life changing effort.
Large-scale building efforts are also scary and painful for everyone involved. The chaos and costs of construction fade once enough time goes by, as well. But no matter what the outcome, the flaws of any design are fully revealed once any project is finished. Being an architect for 40 years, I have lived this sequence more than 800 times. But some projects work on just about every level. I think it is safe to say the Pearl Harbor Memorial Bridge project is a remarkable success.
It has been 17 years in construction, but the New Haven Harbor Crossing Improvement Program has been envisioned since a 1989 Connecticut Department of Transportation study.
This month, at last, the final layer of blacktop is being rolled onto the south side lanes of the last leg of this mammoth effort — the widened bridge to the west of Long Wharf. As we drive by and on the cluster of bridges to the east, and now to the west we can easily forget the terror and cursing that was there before construction began. The intersection was designed for 30 percent of the traffic that came to use it, but its design was tortuous in some places, no matter how many cars or trucks used it. There was direct dumping of ongoing traffic from any number of on ramps directly in front of you. There were few, if any, breakdown lanes, anywhere. Huge tanker trucks slowly coming up a steep ramp from the oil tanks on the New Haven harbor had to force themselves directly into the jammed traffic. Cross-lane shifting to get from one side to the other as left exits followed right on ramps made a mile or two of terror and frustration.
And it only got worse during the last 16 years of construction.
Perhaps all that that pain makes the result seem more positive than it might otherwise be if this were simply a newly minted construction, but I do not think so. In truth the miracle of maintained traffic flow all these years, however compromised, seems almost miraculous. Even though its origins were chaotic (initially no bidders, aborted contracts during construction, the awkward fate of the old Yale Boat House) the result seems, dare I say, effortless.
No one needs to slow down. Lanes flow around curves up and under other lanes, signage is clear, there is space to accommodate accidents and breakdowns – in short two huge highways crash into each other 60 or 80 feet above a neighborhood and water and no one is distressed in transit.
Of course it cost $3 billion. The project involved scores of contracts, companies and extreme co-ordination. Of course it took 17 years. Of course the laughable 40,000 cars a day had to be tripled if reality had to be addressed after 60 years of bad planning evidenced themselves. Of course it took then-Mayor John DeStefano Jr. to beg for a sexy “extradosed” bridge design by Parsons Brinkerhof to create the imagery that everyone now sees. Almost 30 years in planning and construction, the benefits of time are now evident.
Although it was envisioned to take 12 years, the Dwight D. Eisenhower Federal Highway System took 35 years to fully complete the entire network of roads. In retrospect, the expedition of that effort is incredible, but there was little existing traffic to be accommodated, and, of course, there were errors (like the lowballing of the flow that made this new interchange necessary.) Clearly in the rush to create the interstate system the aesthetics were simply not as important to that groundbreaking effort — much of the federal highway system is simply deadly dull, if not ugly.
Given all these gritty realities being rubbed in our noses all these years, it is also understandable that the rough and tumble realization of the old Q Bridge gave way to the gilt letters, oval piers, gathered cabling and multicolored accent lighting that resulted in the Pearl Harbor Bridge. But the beauty of completion is not just aesthetic.
The simple fact that a huge pain has been lifted off all those drivers fundamentally makes all our lives just a little better.
Real estate agents think property values on either side of the interchange may just be enhanced by it, as commuting is not so onerous.
And if you remain just a little bitter about the seemingly unending insanity of construction-caused lanechanges, rerouting, spontaneous stoppages and mindnumbing slow-downs over so many years, just remember it was a safe site. If it were just one highway, or a single bridge or even a direct interchange like the Interstate 84 and I-91 connection in Hartford, lingering frustration might be justified.
But this effort involved three towns and dozens of on/off ramps, spans, signs, utility lines, fresh and salt water encounters, and collateral integration with the ending of the “34 Connector” and a “resiliency” imperative that accommodated potential flooding after the spate of hurricanes a decade ago.
So the raw size, complexity and ongoing use of this ganglia of connection has been overcome by money, time and skill. The effort worked. It is harder to write a favorable review than a negative rant, but consider this: this effort was planned and built in about the same amount of time as the Great Pyramid of Giza. Of course that was then, but that stone singularity also required a focus and determination to get built, too.
It is done.
Duo Dickinson, FAIA, graduated from Cornell University, is an architect of over 800 projects and has written eight books. He writes for Common Edge and Mockingbird and teaches at the Building Beauty Program in Sorrento, Italy. He will be an adjunct instructor at The University of Hartford in the spring.