A Tragedy Remembered

It happened 40 years ago on December 15, 1967. It was just after the "Summer of Love" and half way through my senior year at Huntington East High School. Mom and Dad were at the supermarket for the weekly grocery run, and I was home looking after my seven year old brother. The news bulletin broke into the regular television program, advising that the Silver Bridge had collapsed into the Ohio River, sending dozens of automobiles and trucks and twisted steel wreckage into the frigid waters.

There are some events that are emblazoned in your memory to the point that you remember where you were and what you were doing when you heard the news. I can well remember being in 8th grade U.S. History class at Beverly Hills Junior High School when the news of President Kennedy's assassination came down. On September 11, 2001 I sat at my desk in my insurance office when my daughter in law, Leigh Anne, called to tell me a plane had flown into the north tower of the World Trade Center in New York. While we talked, she suddenly blurted out, "Oh my gosh! Another plane just hit the other tower."

The Silver Bridge disaster had that same kind of effect in this part of the country. I can still recall the shock I felt when the local news anchor, Boz Johnson, began giving the first sketchy reports that indicated a major tragedy had happened just 30 miles up the river from Huntington. The Silver Bridge was a suspension type bridge which connected Point Pleasant, West Virginia with Kanagua, Ohio. The collapse came at rush hour in the late afternoon while traffic was heavy in both directions. When the final results came in 46 people had lost their lives in the cold waters of the Ohio River.

One of our family friends was a TV repairman for Sears who had been in Gallipolis, OH doing service work on a customer's television. (Can you remember when they did that?) He had just crossed the bridge from Ohio and his van was sitting on the West Virginia approach ramp waiting for the light at the foot of the bridge to change to green. He told us that he felt strong vibrations, heard rumbling and cracking sounds, and watched through his rear view mirrors as the superstructure and roadway behind him collapsed into the river. What a frightening experience that must have been! He had escaped death by just a few yards, and had been a reluctant witness to the death of nearly four dozen others who were on the bridge he had just crossed. He carried those memories (and a touch of survivors guilt) with him for the rest of his life.

Dad had held several revival meetings over the years up in Gallia and Meigs Counties in Ohio. Many times our family had crossed the old Silver Bridge. It was different from most of the bridges in our area. It was a suspension bridge, and identical to bridges down river at Portsmouth, Ohio and at Maysville, Kentucky. I remember thinking how many times we had crossed that bridge, oblivious to the structural deficiencies in the cables. The thought sent shudders up my spine and for the first time in my life, made me uneasy about the thought of crossing a bridge. Strange how we take our safety for granted.

In a sense, some good did come from the tragedy. Suddenly there was a heightened awareness of the deteriorating bridges in our area. Within a few months, every bridge in West Virginia had been inspected and a number of them were found to be seriously defective. The old bridges up and down the Ohio River began to get regular inspections, and many underwent various needed maintenance procedures. Weight limits were installed on most, and over the years many of the old bridges have been replaced.

Time passes quickly and we seem to mark it by certain events - many of which are tragic. I will have to admit that I hadn't thought much about the Silver Bridge in recent years. Then, just a couple of months ago, an Interstate Highway bridge in Minneapolis, MN collapsed, and the news reports brought the old memories vividly back to life. The newscasts and papers this weekend reminded me that forty years had passed since Boz Johnson told us the news that evening.

It all serves as a reminder that life is uncertain. Many of those folks in Point Pleasant forty years ago were on their way home from work. Some had been Christmas shopping. All had plans for that Friday evening, but those plans were changed. People go about their daily business, rarely thinking about their mortality. It wouldn't be healthy to think about that all the time, of course, but it is important that we do not lose sight of the fact that we are mortal creatures. We won't be here forever.

Make the most of today.

I have learned to appreciate each day of life, and live it as though it will be my last.