“May the Bond Be Eternal” (Part 1 of 4)

The Beginning of the Transcontinental Railroad

In the midst of a war tearing North from South, the country embarked on one of its greatest engineering feats to join east and west together.

The early January rain did not dampen the crowd’s enthusiasm; nor did the chill in the air.  They had gathered in Sacramento to witness history, and had assembled from all parts of the state, from all walks of life, both men and women, politicians, officials, businessmen, homemakers, laborers, clergymen.  The grandstand at the end of K Street along the Sacramento River waterfront had an American flag planted at either end.  A brass band entertained the crowd from the balcony of the American Exchange Hotel.  Two patriotically decorated wagons stood ready, piled high with soil, the first of what would be hundreds of miles of railroad embankment. One of the wagons boasted a banner with the image of two hands locked in fraternal embrace, arms reaching across the continent from the Atlantic to the Pacific, proclaiming, “May the Bond Be Eternal”.  The words seemed particularly fitting on this occasion; so many of the nation’s bonds had been broken these past few years.

The steady, rhythmic thumping sound of a pile driver could be heard in the distance, its nineteen-hundred-pound hammer delivering a blow every twenty seconds, three per minute - thump, thump, thump.  Finally, Governor Stanford stood to begin the ceremonies with an oration described by some as long and monotonous; other speeches followed, and the clergy offered a prayer.  And then, spade in hand, the Governor of California turned the first shovelful of soil for what would become an embankment for the transcontinental railroad.

Charles Crocker, the man entrusted with managing the construction for the Central Pacific over the next seven years, stepped forward next.  Rough around the edges, a man of few words, Crocker turned another shovelful of soil and offered an exceptionally short speech, much to the crowd’s relief, concluding with the words, “All that I have – all my own strength, intellect, and energy – are devoted to the building of this section...”  Referring to the distant sound of the pile driver, he remarked that this was no idle ceremony; the work was already under way.

The work was indeed underway, installation of piles for the bridge that would span the American River, piles thirty feet long pounded into the riverbed, seven each day.  It was a modest beginning to what would be one of the most impressive construction projects of the century, but soon the site would be stockpiled with lumber for bridge trestles and crossties.  A continent away, others were negotiating transactions for six locomotives, six passenger coaches, forty-six freight cars, and the iron rails that would extend along the first fifty miles of the road.  All would need to be shipped by sea, a voyage that would take months.  It was a slow start, but it was a start.