The Republic of Nature: An Environmental History of the United States

6. Iron Horses: Nature and the Building of the First U.S. Transcontinental Railroad

228 six iRoN hoRses Nature and the Building of the First U.S. Transcontinental Railroad on a may morning in 1869, 690 miles east of Sacramento and 1,086 miles west of Omaha, a small crowd gathered to witness the driving of the final spike in an ambitious project: a single railroad line that spanned the remote western interior of North America. For sixyears,laborersfortheCentralPacifichadlaidtrackseastwardovertheSierra Nevada and across the Great Basin desert. At last they had pushed the construction into the Promontory Mountains, a dry, windswept range that jutted south into the Great Salt Lake. There, in a high, sun-drenched valley encircled by ridges still covered with patches of snow, they met the crews of the Union Pacific, which since 1864 had been toiling west across the Great Plains, through the Rockies and the Wasatch Range, and up the last grade to Promontory Summit . Now, in the cool, clear air, some five thousand feet above sea level, amid the sagebrush, bunchgrass, and juniper, several hundred people came together at the spot where the rails would converge.1 The members of the group hailed not just from the United States but also from countries as distant as Ireland and China. There were Central Pacific Railroad and Union Pacific Railroad Company officials, state and territorial governors, Mormon dignitaries from Ogden and Salt Lake City, journalists and photographers, a smattering of women and children, and a band. To one side, the troops and musicians of the 21st U.S. Infantry stood at parade rest. Mostly there were the railroad laborers, lean, weathered, and roughly clothed. “Grouped in picturesque confusion,” wrote one observer, “were men of every color, creed, and nationality—the Indian, the Mongolian, the Saxon, iRoN hoRses 229 the Celt, and the half-caste Mexican, some arrayed in gorgeous costumes, and some innocent of any, mingling freely with American citizens and soldiers.” Although the description no doubt exaggerated the scene, it surely revealed a general awareness that the people in attendance—in particular, the laborers whose brains and brawn had built the railroad—were not of one racial type or ethnic identity. The world had come to America, and America had become, in effect, the world.2 If the Promontory Mountains and the valley landscape provided the backdrop for the diverse gathering, things of another nature—the railroad and its components—formed the immediate frame. Locomotives loomed on either side. The Central Pacific’s Jupiter, a wood-burning engine with a distinctive funnel-shaped bonnet smokestack designed to arrest sparks and prevent fires, pointed due east. The Union Pacific’s No. 119, a coal-burner with a tall, straight stack, faced due west. Each machine sat atop its own distinctive tracks. The Central Pacific’s wood crossties were standardized and clean-cut with squared edges,whiletheUnionPacific’swererough-hewnandirregular.Telegraphlines ran parallel to the rails; atop one pole an American flag snapped in the breeze. Horses, some hitched to wagons and others carrying riders, stood on the edges of the crowd, highlighting the transition from animal to machine power that the railroad represented.3 The organizers of the ceremony intended it to celebrate the transcendent purpose they perceived in the land. Just before noon, to the cheers of the crowd and the shrieks of locomotive whistles, a Chinese crew from the Central Pacific and an Irish gang representing the Union Pacific each brought forward a final rail. The Rev. Dr. John Todd offered a prayer, thanking God for his blessings and asking that he acknowledge the railroad as “a monument of our faith and our good works.” With his help, Todd intoned, “this mighty enterprise may be unto us as the Atlantic of thy strength, and the Pacific of thy love, through Jesus, the Redeemer.”4 Leland Stanford, the Central Pacific president and former California governor , then received an array of ceremonial spikes to be fitted into pre-drilled holes in a polished laurel tie. Arizona presented a spike plated with silver and gold; Nevada’s was made of silver. The California spike, destined to become the most famous of all, contained eighteen ounces of pure gold. “The Last Spike” was engraved on its head, and on its side appeared these words: “May God continue the unity of our Country as this railroad unites the two great Oceans of the world.” Stanford accepted the spikes and spoke of the railroad’s 230 iRoN hoRses great commercial promise. Grenville Dodge of...