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the abbreviated reign of “neon” leon spinks

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IGNORE THE PAST AT YOUR PERIL 53<br />

sons why <strong>the</strong> federal <strong>of</strong>ficials balked aren’t clear, but dark rumors have<br />

swirled for decades. Suspecting <strong>the</strong> fix was in, Eldridge later suggested in<br />

his unpublished autobiography that Moisseiff had met with PWA <strong>of</strong>fi cials<br />

before <strong>the</strong>ir decision and convinced <strong>the</strong>m that he could design a bridge<br />

that could be built for far less money than Eldridge’s design. That suggestion<br />

seems plausible because <strong>the</strong> PWA’s decision to fund <strong>the</strong> project came<br />

with two telling caveats. It required <strong>the</strong> state to hire outside design con sultants,<br />

and it <strong>of</strong>fered only $6.4 million to get it built—<strong>the</strong> same amount<br />

Eldridge claims Moisseiff estimated his bridge design would cost. Federal<br />

<strong>of</strong>ficials later denied trying to steer <strong>the</strong> job into <strong>the</strong> hands <strong>of</strong> any partic u lar<br />

designer, but Moisseiff eventually got <strong>the</strong> gig as design con sultant for <strong>the</strong><br />

superstructure, and <strong>the</strong> New York firm <strong>of</strong> Moran & Proctor was hired to<br />

design <strong>the</strong> substructure. And Eldridge, who’d spent years on his own design<br />

and scavenging money for what he considered his pet project, was<br />

eventually put in charge <strong>of</strong> building Moisseiff’s design.<br />

That design was so stunning that Moisseiff, boldly overcoming humility,<br />

described <strong>the</strong> completed Tacoma Narrows Bridge as “<strong>the</strong> most<br />

beautiful in <strong>the</strong> world.” It was a classic modernist span with streamlined<br />

features, a showpiece <strong>of</strong> period design. He’d given it two soaring 425-foot<br />

towers and accentuated <strong>the</strong>ir height by incorporating supporting cables<br />

and o<strong>the</strong>r vertical lines that swept <strong>the</strong> eye skyward. The roadway that<br />

stretched across <strong>the</strong> mile-plus length <strong>of</strong> <strong>the</strong> bridge was a slender two-lane<br />

ribbon <strong>of</strong> asphalt only 39 feet wide. The whole thing was secured at both<br />

ends by massive art deco anchorages <strong>of</strong> concrete and steel. “It was not<br />

merely a road for cars and trucks,” Hobbs wrote, “but an artistic and engineering<br />

statement. It was <strong>the</strong> culmination <strong>of</strong> [Moisseiff’s] outstanding<br />

career.”<br />

Had Moisseiff paid a bit more attention to <strong>the</strong> history <strong>of</strong> suspension<br />

bridges, though, he would have realized that he’d overlooked something<br />

ra<strong>the</strong>r critical. Bridge builders <strong>of</strong> <strong>the</strong> 19th century had followed <strong>the</strong> same<br />

path as Moisseiff, striving to build suspension bridges that were longer,

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