A bridge is a symbol for so many things, so many passages and crossings in life.
We stand upon one shore, wondering if we have the means or courage to brave the distance, decide whether or not we will trust what might support us.
Of course, when there is no bridge, no way forward, sometimes we have to make one. Sometimes we have to risk the journey.
Standing on the west bank of the Neosho River in Humboldt, I wondered if the water had receded enough that I could cross on foot.
The speed of the dark current across the dam, however, was enough to give me pause, imagining myself swept downstream by the fluid rush.
Of course, for years, wading or fording were the only methods available for trekking across the span, often followed by a dripping climb up bright limestone bluffs lining the opposite shore.
From my specific vantage, I scanned for any remains of the Thurston Ford, which stretched diagonally across the water not far from the current bridge.
It was there I saw the ghost of Eleanor Gibbs, who in 1870 managed to ride her horse from one side to the other, racing against a deadly floodtide.
Only a few years before, Col. Orlin Thurston and his friend Capt. Dr. George Miller, had used two unassuming sandstone buildings on the shore nearby to help runaway slaves find their way north to freedom along the Underground Railroad.
Before any bridges were built, a couple different ferry services served to aid with crossing, though they came with fees ranging from a nickel to 35 cents, depending upon whether one was transporting humans, livestock or buggies.
I must admit I smile at the thought of a nineteenth-century farmer loading up a single hog and using the raft to cross his or her main barrier to town.
Charles Lander provided an account wherein he recalled using a self-drawn ferry pulled hand over hand. Its path reached from the west end of the current bridge to about as far north as one can get before the river’s course cuts back west.
Despite the potential benefit to the community, though, when the county first voted whether or not to build a bridge spanning the Neosho in Humboldt, the measure was actually soundly defeated (29 – 377).
Seems times haven’t changed much, as I guess hardly anybody thought they should support something they believed would only help other people.
Ultimately, it wouldn’t matter. With the prospect of the railroad coming through, a private stock company decided to support the first bridge anyway, paying a “mere” $2,000 to the King Bridge Company out of Ohio.
When the first bridge was finished in September 1870, it was actually a toll bridge that would cost you a nickel or dime, and when the toll house was eventually demolished, a remarkable trove of coins was discovered that you can view at the Humboldt museum.
