History Book Club

Selection 1999-2001

Reviewed by Elliott West (Professor of History, University of Arkansas)

 

It was arguably the greatest technological achievement of its day. it was also born of financial and political shenanigans that shocked and astounded even the most hardened observers of a deeply corrupt era. The laying of America's first transcontinental railroad reflected the nation it was knitting together--its expansive view of itself its outrageous risk-taking, its muscular accomplishments, its blend of naivete, exploitation, and arrogance.

Many histories have been written about this, one of the crucial episodes in a remarkable century of nation-building, but David Haward Bain's Empire Express is the most ambitious and comprehensive. Its broad sweep begins early, with the first stirring of interest in what most thought a preposterous notion. In 1844 the New York merchant Asa Whitney began thumping for a rail connection from Chicago to the Pacific--this before the United States had clear tide to an acre beyond the Rocky Mountains. Like many after him, he was moved by a mix of motives, starting with a link to the Asian market and a pious zeal to spread Christianity.

By 1850 the Pacific coast was in American hands and tens of thousands drawn there by California gold. Whitney's globe-shrinking vision now made increasing sense, but politics and the deepening bitterness between North and South hobbled every effort to settle on a route and get the work underway. Only after the Civil War was underway and balky southerners out of the government could the project be set in motion. On July 1, 1862, twelve days after passage of the Homestead Act, Congress authorized the Union Pacific to build westward from Omaha and the Central Pacific eastward from the California gold fields.

It was a great conjecture. Financial plans rested on untested assumptions and much of the engineering on instinct. No one had much of a due even where the two lines would meet. into these gauzy possibilities and potential disasters stepped an uncommon collection of men. Bain is at his best in luring us into their world. There's Theodore Judah of the Central Pacific, lobbyist extraordinare and brilliant engineer whose straight-arrow ethics led him increasingly into conflict with the "big four," a talented but slippery bunch who took over control of the enterprise. For all their mint, that quartet of Charles Crocker, Collis Hunting- ton, Leland Stanford, and Mark Hopkins saw the thing through with a powerful blend of tireless work, sleazy maneuvers, creative bookkeeping and the baldest bluffs. Working from the opposite direction was another strange mix that included Dr. Thomas Durant, former ophthalmologist and exporter, the Civil War general Grenville Dodge, and Oakes Ames, whose long-tailed New England lineage gave the business some social gloss and economic standing. All players learned that, even with the government's massive loans and gift of millions of acres snaring investors and wooing political support was as much a challenge as laying track across the continent. Promoters became pioneers in boondoggling. On a memorable 1866 junket out West, two hundred politicians and fatcats were toasted and thrilled--and briefly terrified by a sham attack by Pawnee warriors staged as a wakeup call.

Bain manages to explain the tangle of financial schemes and political maneuvering and weave them into the more tangible drama of the transcontinental's construction. Since each mile of track meant more money loaned and land given, the Union Pacific and Central Pacific raced frantically to cover maximum ground before meeting. with squads of Irish labor the first pushed across the relatively level plains. It was a mix of dazzling accomplishment and the shoddiest work, marvelous bridges and trestles with rails set on cottonwood ties that warped crazily after the first rain. The Central Pacific punched through the Sierra Nevada (and was paid more per mile over the rough terrain). Chinese were brought in for work no one else would try. Shipping in supplies from across the world, blasting tunnels and bulling through snow--forty-four storms in 1867 dumped up to six feet in a night--the builders somehow kept a semblance of a schedule. They relied on imported innovations, including skis and nitroglycerine. The human cost was stunning, both in Indian societies convulsed and hundreds of workers killed, with Chinese typically noted only by the number of corpses.

Bain has a sharp eye for the revealing or funny quote among the mountains of sources he consulted. He is especially impressive in keeping coherent the many threads of the story and in juggling the dozens of characters who, by the nature of the topic, are scattered across a continent yet are all working toward the same end. On May 10, 1869 at Promontory, Utah, Crocker and Durant gave the final two whacks at the last two spikes, and although the scheming and scandals would continue, the job was finished and the coasts connected. Readers of this fine history will look back in both directions and appreciate quite a story of a remarkable enterprise.

 

[Return to main page]