Crossing Under the Hudson: The Story of the Holland and Lincoln Tunnels 9780813550831

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Crossing Under the Hudson I

Crossing Under the Hudson I The Story of the Holland and Lincoln Tunnels

Angus Kress Gillespie

rivergate books an imprint of rutgers university press new brunswick, new jersey, and london

Library of Congress Cataloging-in-Publication Data Gillespie, Angus K., 1942– Crossing under the Hudson : the story of the Holland and Lincoln Tunnels / Angus Kress Gillespie. p. cm. Includes bibliographical references and index. ISBN 978–0–8135–5003–9 (hardcover : alk. paper) 1. Holland Tunnel (New York, N.Y.) 2. Lincoln Tunnel (New York, N.Y.) I. Title. TF238.H6G55 2011 624.1
94097471—dc22 2010035280 A British Cataloging-in-Publication record for this book is available from the British Library. Copyright © 2011 by Angus Kress Gillespie All rights reserved No part of this book may be reproduced or utilized in any form or by any means, electronic or mechanical, or by any information storage and retrieval system, without written permission from the publisher. Please contact Rutgers University Press, 100 Joyce Kilmer Avenue, Piscataway, NJ 08854–8099. The only exception to this prohibition is “fair use” as defined by U.S. copyright law. Visit our Web site: http://rutgerspress.rutgers.edu Manufactured in the United States of America

For All the Sandhogs—Living and Dead

Contents

Acknowledgments Introduction

ix

1

1.

It Can’t Be Done: Planning for the Holland Tunnel 9

2.

A Breath of Fresh Air: Building the Holland Tunnel 21

3.

Winning Acceptance: Grand Opening of the Holland Tunnel 47

4.

Let’s Build Another One: Construction of the Lincoln Tunnel 57

5.

Law and Order: The Role of the Port Authority Police 79

6.

Road Hazards: Threats to Life and Property

7.

If You See Something, Say Something: Dealing with the Threat of Terrorism 118

8.

Rush Hour Frustration: Dealing with Traffic Congestion 137

9.

Tunneling Through the Arts: A Survey of Creative Endeavors 158

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contents

10.

The Light at the End of the Tunnel: The Future of the Tunnels 178 Notes Index

187 205

Acknowledgments

I first got the idea to write about the two trans-Hudson vehicular tunnels back in the 1990s while doing the research for my book Twin Towers. I spent many days going through the archives of the Port Authority located in the executive offices of the World Trade Center. Particularly useful were the weekly reports of the executive director to the commissioners. These reports, written by Austin Tobin, were candid, contemporary, and complete. The first few pages consisted of Tobin’s summary of the most important events and decisions of the preceding week. At the back was an extraordinary resource—an appendix with relevant newspaper clippings from all of the regional newspapers on both sides of the Hudson. Of course, this was an era when newspapers were thriving and competing with each other, so there were many accounts with different points of view. For the researcher these reports were a gold mine of information. However, the reports were arranged chronologically, not according to topic. So although at the time I was mostly interested in the World Trade Center, I kept finding myself distracted by fascinating tidbits about the tunnels. Along the way, it occurred to me that a fine book could be crafted about the Port Authority’s Hudson River crossings. I discussed the possibilities of this project with my colleague Michael Aaron Rockland. He suggested that the George Washington Bridge was a big enough topic for its own book. He went on to suggest that the tunnels deserved their own book, too. The upshot was that we agreed that Rockland was to write about the bridge and I was to write about the tunnels. Rockland’s magnificent book, The George Washington Bridge: Poetry in Steel, came out in October of 2008. In a real sense, this book can be considered as a companion to that volume. Naturally, in writing about the tunnels, I am indebted to those who have gone before me. Both the Holland and Lincoln tunnels are, of course, managed by the Port Authority. There are a number of books covering the history ix

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acknowledgments

of that agency, now known as the Port Authority of New York and New Jersey. One of the earliest is James Morris’s The Great Port: A Passage through New York, published in 1969. The most useful, authoritative, and up-to-date is Jameson W. Doig’s Empire on the Hudson: Entrepreneurial Vision and Political Power at the Port of New York Authority, published in 2001. Since Doig is writing the history of the Port Authority as a whole, he covers the Holland and Lincoln tunnels in the context of everything else that the agency was trying to accomplish. I have tried to pick up where Doig left off, and expand the story of the tunnels in particular. There is an account of the Holland Tunnel of some sixty-four pages written by Carl C. Gray entitled The Eighth Wonder, published in 1927. Although the book is short, dated, and out of print, it did prove helpful. Another book that was worthwhile in terms of research was Harriet Salt’s Mighty Engineering Feats, first published in 1937 and now out of print. This is an adult book on civil engineering covering “ten of the greatest American engineering feats,” including the Holland Tunnel. A similar book is Tanya Lee Stone’s America’s Top 10 Construction Wonders, published in 1998, with a chapter on the Lincoln Tunnel. In addition there was other relevant material, mostly in the nature of newspaper accounts, technical reports, feasibility studies, and contracts—all of which are cited in the endnotes. The contracts were for such things as the acquisition of the land and easements as well as for the construction of the vehicular tunnels, approach roads, and ventilating shafts. I have tried in this book to analyze the institutional systems of the Port Authority that keep the tunnels functioning, examining in detail an institution that is normally taken for granted. In this connection, Annmarie Hauch Walsh’s The Public’s Business: The Politics and Practices of Government Corporations was very helpful to me. Like Walsh, I found that “public enterprises are loaded with social and political implications” as well as with technical and financial ones. I might even go further and say that they also have broad cultural meanings. Wherever possible, my approach has been interdisciplinary. Thus, literature and cinema and television have been just as important to me as politics and economics and engineering. I have tried to tell the story of the two tunnels in a straightforward manner without academic jargon. When the story unavoidably required the use of engineering terminology, I explained the terms as they were introduced. I enjoyed writing this book, and many people have helped me along the way. I would first like to thank my friend and colleague Michael Aaron Rockland, who supplied plenty of support, encouragement, and advice. The American Studies Department at Rutgers University has been my academic

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home for many years. One of the nice things about this small department is that we have institutionalized the device of the “symposium,” where those of us with works in progress can present early drafts of our work. This book was the topic of one such symposium held in December of 2009, and Michael served as principal reader and moderator. Many worthwhile suggestions came out of this meeting, and I would like to thank the participants, including Adam Zalman, Martin Kushner, Steven Hart, Frank Grecco, Louise Duus, Louise Barnett, Helene Grynberg, Leslie Fishbein, Nicole Fleetwood, Alice Echols, Alan Isaac, and Carolina Nuñez-Puente. Later, as the book neared completion, Michael went through the whole manuscript, tightening the prose and demanding clarification of the facts. For his help, I am deeply grateful. I also owe a debt of thanks to James T. Fisher, who teaches cultural and religious history at Fordham University. I have known Jim as a friend and colleague for more than twenty years, ever since he was a graduate student in American history at Rutgers. Over the years, we have both been fascinated with the story of the Port of New York and New Jersey. His 2009 book On the Irish Waterfront was a significant addition to our knowledge of the port. Jim read an early draft of the manuscript of this book, and he helped me to understand how the building of the two vehicular tunnels fit in with the larger story of the growth and development of the Port Authority—and, more importantly, why that agency never got around to building a trans-Hudson rail tunnel for freight. I am not an engineer, so covering the technical side of things was a challenge for me. This book was written with the general reader in mind, but I have tried to give an honest and full account of tunnel engineering. I am especially indebted to Vahan Tanal, a civil engineer specializing in the design and construction of subaqueous tunnels. I met with him in his midtown Manhattan office at Parsons Brinckerhoff, one of the world’s largest engineering organizations. He was kind and patient with my questions. Later, whenever I hit a snag, I would call him on the telephone. He never failed to return my calls. In a similar fashion, I would like to acknowledge the help of Leon Goodman, planner and professor, with over forty years of experience in planning, design, and operation of transportation systems. When I met with him at his home in Long Island, he had retired as manager of the Transportation Planning Division at the Port Authority. He was very patient in explaining the traffic engineering problems at the approaches to the tunnels, including the knotty problems in designing the priority lanes for buses at the Lincoln Tunnel. Of course, any errors in facts or judgment that may appear in the book are my own.

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Mark DiGiovanni of Guaranteed Motor Towing Service of Somerset, New Jersey, helped me in identifying the tunnel wrecker illustrated in chapter 6, “Road Hazards.” Further information on that vehicle was provided by Harry Brown of Weld Built Custom Tow Trucks of Wyandanch, Staten Island, New York. I am indebted to Meghan Bitenc and Cynthia Amour, of the Port Authority of New York and New Jersey, for their help in locating historic photos of the tunnels. Both went out of their way to be helpful. I also wish to thank Jennifer Carey of the Mass Transit Tunnel project, also known as the Trans-Hudson Express, for her help in obtaining the rendering of the New York Penn Station Expansion. Thomas Lisanti of the New York Public Library was especially helpful in locating a veritable treasure trove of historic photos of the Holland Tunnel, and Allyson Fields of Rutgers University Press helped in cropping, adjusting, and fine-tuning those images to render them suitable for publication. My account of the history of the two tunnels benefited from the assistance of Tom Glynn, American Studies Librarian at Rutgers. He got me started with good advice on finding and using historical sources at the Rutgers Libraries and beyond. A number of my present and former students helped with research, including Hana Wilenchik, Monica Garreau, and Victoria Verhowsky. I would like to thank my editor at Rutgers University Press, Marlie Wasserman, who encouraged me early on and later offered wise editorial counsel and moral support over several years. Lastly, to my copy editor, India Cooper, and my indexer, Nick Humez, my heartfelt gratitude for catching and fixing errors that might otherwise have made it into print.

Crossing Under the Hudson I

I

Introduction

As he paced the platform, waiting for the Washington express, he remembered that there were people who thought there would one day be a tunnel under the Hudson through which the trains of the Pennsylvania railway would run straight into New York. They were of the brotherhood of visionaries who likewise predicted the building of ships that would cross the Atlantic in five days, the invention of a flying machine, lighting by electricity, telephonic communication without wires, and other Arabian Night marvels. —Edith Wharton, The Age of Innocence, 1920

In the epigraph above, Edith Wharton’s protagonist, Newton Archer, a gentleman lawyer of the late nineteenth century and scion of one of New York City’s best families, wonders about future inventions, including the possibility of a tunnel under the Hudson connecting New York to New Jersey. The remarkable thing is that all that Archer imagined has come true. The first attempt to construct a tunnel under the Hudson River was made in 1874, two years before General Custer died at the Battle of the Little Bighorn. The plan was to build a rail tunnel from Hoboken, New Jersey, to lower Manhattan. The project was abandoned in 1892 as too expensive and difficult, but the rail tunnel was revived in 1902 as a pair of tunnels, which was completed in 1908–1909.1 About the same time, in the period of 1904 to 1910, the Pennsylvania Railroad built two tunnels for passenger trains—a double one under the Hudson River and a quadruple one under the East River. Because the trains ran on electricity, the tunnels could get by with natural air circulation; there 1

2

crossing under the hudson

was no danger from lethal carbon monoxide. Both sets of tunnels ran to the Thirty-fourth Street location of Pennsylvania Station, then one of the great monuments of classical architecture in the United States, a copy of the baths built by the Emperor Caracalla in the third century a.d.2 The focus of this book, however, is not on rail tunnels but instead on the following generation of tunnels underneath the Hudson—those devoted to motor vehicles. The Pennsylvania Railroad completed its double electrified tunnel under the Hudson River in 1906. In the very same year, Henry Ford was secretly starting plans to build his Model T in Detroit, a development that would lead to a revolution in transportation. The first cars were delivered to customers on October 1, 1908. In that year, over 10,000 were sold. Demand was so heavy that Ford was forced to build a new and bigger factory in 1909. Production increased from 19,000 units in 1910 to 34,500 units in 1911 to an amazing 78,440 in 1912. Then sales records were shattered in 1913 when the company mass-produced 248,000 units. By 1914, the Model T, with its assembly line production, dominated the market.3 The inexpensive automobile placed motor transportation within reach of the average American. This near-universal ownership whetted the regional demand for a trans-Hudson crossing. The automobile was changing the material culture pattern of the region, and sure enough, in 1919 the states of New York and New Jersey signed an agreement to build what became the world’s first successful underwater vehicular tunnel.

Today, the island of Manhattan is linked to the mainland all the way around with a network of bridges and tunnels. For the most part, the bridges get the glory and the tunnels are taken for granted. Tunnels simply do not have the stately majesty of high-arching bridges that reach to the clouds. While bridges soar, tunnels burrow. While we admire bridges as objects of beauty, we are interested in tunnels as artifacts of technology—and unattractive ones at best. It seems that human beings have always feared the places under the earth. Nearly every world culture has a myth of the underworld, a place of damnation or banishment. A cursory survey of Western literature shows many versions of some sort of hell far beneath the earth. We can begin with Virgil, born in 70 b.c.e., where protagonist descends to the Netherworld in Book VI of the Aeneid. We can continue, thirteen centuries later, with Dante’s Inferno, depicting a place where one could expect no pity. In modern literature, we find tunnels used as images of death, destruction, and fear. Given a choice, most people prefer bridges to tunnels. After all, a tunnel is a hole in the ground, and so is a grave. Entering a tunnel, even on an everyday

introduction

3

basis, requires a bit of courage, a bit of willingness to accept risk. Even otherwise well-adjusted people will go out of their way to avoid tunnels. For example, one of my colleagues at Rutgers, Michael Aaron Rockland, has written that often he has taken the George Washington Bridge to Manhattan even when it would have been more convenient to take either the Holland or the Lincoln when he was going to attend a play or a concert or an art exhibit. Rockland explained, “Bridges . . . make me happy. . . . While recognizing tunnels as a technological achievement, I don’t feel the same way about them. In tunnels I’m anxious to get to the other end—only beginning to relax when I see a distant light beckoning—whereas on a bridge I drive as slowly as I dare to prolong the experience.”4 Rockland admits only to being “anxious,” but there are some who experience real fear when traveling through tunnels, or even develop a phobia about it. To an extent, this is a perfectly normal fear based on reality and logic. After all, a tunnel is indeed a confined space. No one likes feeling trapped. However, for some, this normal fear can escalate into a type of claustrophobia, which is an anxiety disorder characterized by a fear of restriction and a fear of suffocation. Typically, it is not just tunnels that upset them but also locked rooms, cellars, elevators, and caves. To identify with them, imagine yourself being locked alive in a coffin. There is no point in telling such people, “It’s all in your mind.” For them, the feelings are quite real, including such symptoms as rapid heartbeat, sweating, visible shaking, and chest pain.5 Those who suffer tunnel phobia are sometimes reluctant to own up to it for fear of ridicule from others. Here is an interesting anonymously posted firsthand account of how it feels: Every single time I have to ride through a tunnel I basically calculate whether or not I will make it should an explosion occur. Is this NORMAL? It starts out very calmly. Then I get into a panic because I know I won’t make it out if I get stuck in the middle. My eyes start to tear up. I think of all the things I should have told my children before I left home. It gets bad. And finally I ease up again once I know I am close to the end. I actually have to count things to make me not focus on my inevitable death. So I choose dividers until I see light again coming from the outside. Once I feel I can survive the crash, I stop counting and look for my EZ Pass like nothing has happened. People around me just see me as another car on the road. They have NO IDEA what I just went through.6

Those who suffer tunnel phobia may be heartened by clinical evidence from Norway indicating that it can be cured. The Hitra Tunnel, the deepest undersea tunnel in the world, some 866 feet below sea level and nearly

4

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3.5 miles in length, was completed in 1994. The tunnel replaced the ferry connecting the island of Hitra, the largest island in Norway south of the Arctic Circle, with the mainland. Some of the people on the island reported phobic anxiety, so officials designed a program to deal with the problem and presented it to eighteen people who sought relief. Psychologists began with a presentation by one of the engineers from the tunnel construction company on how the tunnel was built and why it was considered to be safe. Then patients were gradually exposed to the tunnel itself. The treatment seemed to work. In the end, all of the patients were able to travel through the tunnel in their own cars.7

New York City’s first underwater tunnel for automobiles was the doubletubed Holland Tunnel connecting lower Manhattan and Jersey City, New Jersey. It took seven years to build and opened in 1927, the year Babe Ruth hit sixty home runs and Charles Lindbergh flew across the Atlantic. In my research, I was unable to turn up any full-length, nonfiction, adult book devoted to the construction of the Holland Tunnel. However, there have been any number of brief accounts in various reference books. One of the best narratives I found was a transcript of a radio program, written and hosted by John Lienhard, professor emeritus of mechanical engineering and history at the University of Houston. His series The Engines of Our Ingenuity is produced by KUHF-FM in Houston and broadcast on National Public Radio. With a wry sense of humor, Lienhard opened the “Holland Tunnel” episode with a flat warning that the story comes across as overly familiar and cliché ridden: “Leaders acknowledge a large public need. They debate strategy and try to set up a plan for solving the problem. Then a visionary separates himself from the pack. His project is grander and bolder than anyone had expected. He convinces skeptics and puts the project on the road to completion. Finally, he dies on this side of his Jordan River. Others are left to complete the dream.”8 True enough, at first the venture was considered a risky fantasy because of deadly carbon monoxide given off by motor vehicles. In those days, bridges and ferries were considered to be the only safe way for vehicles to cross the Hudson, but chief engineer Clifford Holland, the Moses-like figure venerated by Lienhard, designed a ventilating system that would remove exhaust-filled air and bring in fresh air. It was a brilliant and original plan, but the actual work was to be carried out by “sandhogs,” the slang term given to urban miners—the construction workers who did the digging, drilling, blasting, excavating, and concrete pouring. Though they often drilled through gneissic rock, the name “sandhogs” derived from the soft soil that they dug through.

introduction

5

The job of digging the Holland Tunnel was considered to be one of the most dangerous in its day. Indeed, this kind of work is still dangerous right to the present. The danger creates a strong bond among the men, many of whom take up the work as a family tradition, generation after generation.9 I did not find any contemporary accounts by workers of constructing the Holland Tunnel back in the 1920s, but we can get some idea of what the work must have been like from Thomas Kelly’s novel Sandhogs. Though this novel is set in the 1980s, much of the work was little changed. And sometimes fiction gives us a better feel for the situation than do factual accounts. Based on his firsthand experience as a sandhog and construction worker before attending Fordham and Harvard, Kelly gives us an accurate picture of the workplace. For example, he describes his protagonist Billy’s feelings after reporting for work, changing clothes, getting on board the elevator, and descending through the shaft: His heart gained a few beats as they plunged away from the night. It was something he often felt, dropping into the earth knowing his father had once made the same trip and had never seen the sky again. He went to work one night and was buried beneath tons of bedrock, his body crushed beyond recognition. Billy always thought the little slap of fear was his father’s way of urging him to get out of the business, get an education. He knew the feeling would pass once he reached bottom and started work.10

Moments later, Billy arrives at the bottom of the shaft, 800 feet beneath the streets of the city. Here’s what he sees and hears: Arc lamps near the shaft cast dead white light. Strings of incandescent bulbs lined both sides of the tunnel, fading into the mist. The wet air was a garrote of diesel fumes and rock dust. The tunnel bellowed with sound. Water pumps sucked and spat. Diesel motors, some new and finely tuned, others old and struggling rumbled and coughed. High-voltage lines buzzed, and air compressors hissed. Hoses and wires ran through the tunnel, a tangle of conveyances. Chaos, noise like the scream of a construction site jammed into a subway station. Billy winced and paused to put his earplugs in.11

Thanks to the bravery and persistence of men like Billy, the Holland Tunnel got built on time and under budget, but it cost the lives of thirteen sandhogs.

When finished, the new tunnel was demonstrably safe and secure. Still, officials worried about whether the motoring public would accept the notion

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of traveling underwater in a confined space. To their pleasant surprise, motorists embraced the new tunnel with enthusiasm. The new tunnel enabled freedom and mobility. The journey across the Hudson was suddenly shorter and quicker. New York City was now protected from food and coal shortages previously caused by ferries being blocked by strikes, fogs, or ice jams.12 That first tunnel brought with it much of what we know of American life since—suburbia and homeownership for the masses. The immediate importance of the Holland Tunnel was underscored by a poll taken among the merchants of New York in 1929 to determine the most important “wonders of the city.” The respondents placed the subway system as number one, followed by the Holland Tunnel as number two. These two top winners were followed by the East River bridges, the Woolworth Building, the Statue of Liberty, the Great White Way, and Coney Island.13 The lasting importance of the Holland Tunnel was confirmed in 1994 when it was declared a National Historic Landmark. Thus, the tunnel was placed in the same select group of artifacts as the Empire State Building, the Metropolitan Museum of Art, and the Dakota Apartments. The citation noted that it was the world’s first “mechanically ventilated underwater vehicular tunnel,” a phrase that does not easily roll off the tongue. So the Holland Tunnel joined a short list of cross-river spans including the Brooklyn Bridge, which became a National Historic Landmark in 1964, and the Queensboro Bridge, which made the list in 1978.14

The success of the Holland Tunnel encouraged authorities to commit resources for the construction of yet another tunnel, which was built farther north. Initially called the Midtown Vehicular Tunnel, it is now known as the Lincoln Tunnel. It crosses under the Hudson River connecting midtown Manhattan, at West Thirty-ninth Street, with Weehawken, New Jersey. The project took more than twenty years to complete. Construction began in 1934, and the center tube was opened in 1937. The project was slowed first by the Great Depression and next by World War II, so the north tube did not open until 1945. Finally the south tube was completed in 1957. Few who travel through this traffic-packed tunnel pause to remember that, before the tunnel was built, Weehawken was best known as the site of the duel that took place between Alexander Hamilton, a former secretary of the treasury, and Aaron Burr, the sitting vice president, on July 11, 1804. The adversaries met in Weehawken because dueling was illegal in New York. It seems that Hamilton fired into the air and missed on purpose, and then Burr shot and mortally wounded Hamilton.

introduction

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The exact location of the Weehawken dueling ground is a matter of considerable controversy because of the many changes made along the Hudson riverfront over the years. Today, tourists are led to believe that that the site was on top of the cliff, where they can see the bust of Alexander Hamilton and two historical markers, one concerning the dueling grounds as a locale and another about the Burr-Hamilton duel in particular. Both were placed there in 2004 to mark the two hundredth anniversary of the duel.15 But there is a clue to the actual location for those who take the time to read the marker concerning the dueling grounds. It reads, in part, “Somewhere below this site, on a wooded ledge twenty feet above the Hudson River lay the dueling grounds.”16 According to the historical accounts, this was a small secluded ledge bounded by rocks and trees, with no access from land, only from water. Specifically, a nineteenth-century history tells us, “the Duel Ground was a natural ledge 6 ft. wide by 11 paces long, that was located near the base of the Palisades accessible only from the Hudson.”17 American writer Ian Frazier made a historical pilgrimage to a place that seemed to fit the description of that small ledge and found that it is now a construction side lot for the Lincoln Tunnel. Frazier described the scene: “There’s an office trailer, a heap of pipe lengths, a portable john, some roadbuilding stone, a chain-link fence, weeds, little orange plastic flags warning of buried cable.”18

The way I see it, these two tunnels are inextricably linked. The Lincoln Tunnel is, in effect, the offspring of the Holland Tunnel. Had the Holland not been a smashing economic success, the Lincoln would never have been built. They are a pair of infrastructure projects, constituting a system of transportation, linked in everyday conversation and in the “every ten minutes” traffic reports. In a practical application of their unity, those of us from New Jersey might very well enter Manhattan by way of one tunnel, and then later exit Manhattan through the other tunnel, depending on where our business had taken place. My belief that the tunnels are e duobus unum is reflected in the book’s structure. The first half of the book is a chronological account of the planning, construction, and opening of the two tunnels. The second half is organized topically, treating issues common to both tunnels such as policing, fire suppression, dealing with hazards, managing traffic, and coping with terrorism. We also take up the question of how the two bi-state tunnels have impacted and inspired the arts. Taken together, the two tunnels—the Holland and the Lincoln—have indelibly transformed New York City. They have also altered and sometimes

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strengthened New Jersey. Beyond that, the two tunnels opened for New Yorkers twin passages to the rest of the nation. Indeed, it has often been said the tunnels opened up New York to the West. A touching account was given by one New York blogger who wrote that when he was in the sixth grade, he had a geography book that started out with a picture of the Lincoln Tunnel, and it said that when we exit the tunnel, we are on our way to the West. So he always thought that the tunnel was far away.19

chapter 1

I

It Can’t Be Done planning for the holland tunnel

At the beginning of the twentieth century, the civic leaders of New York City were worried about the future of the Port of New York. The city had always thought of itself as the continent’s center of commerce, but its status was slipping. Grain from the East Coast that was once shipped out of New York was now being shipped out of Baltimore. Cotton from the Mississippi Valley was being shipped out of New Orleans and Houston. Coal that used to be shipped from New York was now going through Norfolk and Newport News. What was the cause of this decline? The broad estuary of the Hudson had made Upper New York Bay an important seaport, but it also got in the way of freight carried by rail. There was one seaport, but it was divided between two states. Most of the exports from the heartland headed for New York City were carried by rail to terminals in New Jersey. Then things came to a halt. The rail cars of nine different competing railroads had to be put on their own private ferries, car floats, lighters, or barges and taken across the river to marine terminals on the New York side. The process was excruciatingly labor-intensive, slow, inefficient, redundant, and costly. It was estimated that at any one time there were about four thousand rail cars sitting idle in rail yards awaiting their time to be unloaded. This meant that about $4 million in rail property was tied up because the Port of New York was so inadequate.1 The problem was nicely summed up by Calvin Tomkins, New York dock commissioner: “New York is the only great seaport in the world divided into two parts by an unbridged and untunnelled waterway.”2 An obvious question loomed: Why not build a coordinated freight rail tunnel with a terminal on the West Side of New York? Historians James Glanz and Eric Lipton have pointed out “a swirling mix of reasons behind the failure to follow through.”3 In brief, there were vested interests in preserving things on the waterfront just the way they were. The gangsters and racketeers 9

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who had infiltrated the port had no interest in promoting a freight rail terminal since they had become very clever at exploiting the existing inefficiencies for their own benefit. The port on New York’s West Side in those days has been described by Haynes Johnson as a place of “unchecked thievery, control of the fanatically lucrative narcotics traffic, smuggling, shakedowns, kickbacks, bribery, extortion, and murder.” These waterfront rackets added hundreds of millions of dollars to shipping costs, paid for, of course, by consumers. Such conditions could only thrive with the political protection of secretly cooperating public officials.4 Throughout the first half of the twentieth century, the piers were plagued by organized thievery controlled by criminals on the waterfront. Entire truckloads were known to disappear without a trace. Officials estimated that the annual loss from theft ran to about $50 million a year.5 Then there was the so-called loading racket. Imagine a ship coming into the harbor and unloading its goods. Now the goods sit stacked up on the pier, but they will have to be loaded onto trucks to be carried away to the warehouses of wholesalers. Who is going to do the loading of the trucks? It turns out that the truckers were not allowed to bring their own workers. Instead there was a system in place under which gangsters collected a fee from the owner of the cargo brought to the piers. The truckers were then forced by threats to pay workers under the control of the racketeers to load the trucks. It was not an optional service; it was mandatory. The intimidated truckers, in turn, passed this cost on to the wholesalers, who passed them on to the retailers, who passed them on to the consumers, costing them millions of dollars annually.6 The crowded, narrow, haphazardly laid-out streets of lower Manhattan near the waterfront could not handle the heavy volume of truck traffic coming and going from the piers. The terrible congestion meant that truckers spent many hours waiting for loading or unloading. The delay opened up another avenue for extortion: “Wanna jump to the head of the line? It’s gonna cost you.” Sociologist Daniel Bell has pointed out that the loading racket was unique to the Port of New York. It simply did not exist in other maritime cities such as San Francisco, New Orleans, Baltimore, or Philadelphia, where there were direct rail connections and the streets were not so narrow and congested as New York’s.7 Historian James T. Fisher, who has written about the loading racket, called it “a system that guaranteed income from every exchange made between rail cars, trucks, and barges.” It seems that Frank Hague, the political boss of Jersey City (and its mayor from 1917 to 1947), used the piers as a source of job patronage for workers who showed their appreciation by voting as instructed. At the same time, upper levels of the party faithful were awarded management

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of the freight-handling companies. Meanwhile, the Hague machine received kickbacks from the workers and paybacks from the employers.8 But the principal beneficiary of the loading racket was William J. McCormack of Jersey City, also known as “Mr. Big,” who ruled the waterfront stevedoring business with the tacit approval of Frank Hague. McCormack, a tough and brawny guy of Irish descent, with ties to gangland figures, was able to impose his will on the unruly waterfront. He handled all the loading and unloading for the Pennsylvania Railroad on both sides of the Hudson. Mr. Big was able to intimidate and co-opt Joe Ryan of the International Longshoremen’s Association, so there was no labor unrest. The workers did what they were told. Though McCormack kept a low profile and his name was rarely in the papers, his waterfront profits bought him political power, which he did not hesitate to use in blocking the construction of a railroad freight tunnel under the Hudson.9 Progressives and reformers on both sides of the Hudson may have wanted a freight rail tunnel, but it was not to be. It would have spoiled Mr. Big’s iron grip on the waterfront loading racket. So the next best thing would be to have a link between New York and New Jersey to facilitate motor trucks. Of course, there would still be inefficiencies—loading and unloading all those trucks—but bad as that would be, it would be an improvement over the ferries, barges, and lighters. Besides, such a link would have the added benefit of accommodating the ever-growing number of automobiles. At this stage, it was not clear whether the region needed a vehicular bridge or a vehicular tunnel. All that was known was that something had to be done to get food and fuel to New York City more expeditiously. The delays and costs of ferry service were hurting everyone—consumers and merchants alike. The buzz surrounding the need to get trucks back and forth across the Hudson was turning into a growing groundswell of approval for such a project. Dozens of civic associations, automobile clubs, chambers of commerce, and motor truck lobbyists worked tirelessly to drum up grassroots support. In a well-organized public meeting, George H. Duck, president of the Motor Truck Club, said, “The motor truck is a twentieth century engine of efficiency, but neither it nor the horse can make much of a showing if limited by the frequency—or infrequency—of the present ferry system. An idle truck not only ceases to earn money, but actually loses money under present conditions.”10 Even though the solution to the problem was evident to nearly everyone, it would take a crisis, or more accurately two crises, to get civic leaders moving. They did not have to wait very long for the first one. It came in the form of the extremely hard winter of 1917–1918. In January and February temperatures ranged from 5°F to an amazing 30°F, often accompanied by gales of

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70 miles per hour and blizzards of snow. The Hudson River was practically frozen solid, and nearly all the tugboats in New York Harbor were immobilized with propellers broken from fighting the ice. It became difficult to get any food and fuel to New Yorkers. Coal was needed to warm thousands of homes. Of course, the coal would be shipped to New York by rail in gondola cars, open-topped rolling stock used for carrying loose bulk material. Since there was nothing to prevent freezing rain and snow falling into them, the coal often arrived at the ports in New Jersey frozen solid in a block of ice. Before it could be transferred to barges, the rail cars had to be heated up with steam. If the stevedores did not move quickly, the coal would freeze again before it could be dumped into the barges. On top of this, the United States had entered World War I, creating additional shipping demands. There was a big problem in getting munitions and bunker fuel, the thick, heavy, inexpensive fuel oil found at the bottom of the barrel after distillation, to the steamships headed for Europe.11 The second crisis struck late the following winter, the winter of 1918–1919. This time it was not the weather; indeed, the weather was quite mild. It was a strike by the Marine Workers’ Affiliation, the union that represented some twelve thousand oilers, firemen, deckhands, and cooks. With 90 percent of the traffic tied up, the harbor came to a virtual halt. The only boats running were a few army and navy vessels as well as municipal ferries. The War Labor Board had attempted to mediate the dispute, but it failed to grant the workers either an eight-hour day or a raise in wages, so the Marine Workers walked out. Not a single Pennsylvania, Erie, Jersey Central, or West Shore ferryboat sailed during the strike. As a result, the commuters all piled onto the already crowded Hudson and Manhattan Railroad trains (passenger rail service between Manhattan and New Jersey through the Hudson Tubes had begun in 1908). The police were called out to try to maintain order among the frantic crowds.12 With two crises in two years, the region awoke to the need for action. It was obvious to everyone, except those benefiting from the loading racket, that the freight-handling system was obsolete. New York was the most expensive port in the entire world. Stories were told of truck drivers, stuck on the streets of Jersey City leading to the docks, who would doze off during their waits of two or three hours before moving into the next block. Freight was carried by ferries from railroad terminals in New Jersey over to lower Manhattan, and then off-loaded onto trucks. The waiting trucks were backed up for blocks, causing terrible congestion with resulting inconvenience and expensive delays. The whole system depended on existing ferry routes across the Hudson. How to relieve the pressure? Clearly it would be better to move

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at least some of that freight by motor truck rather than by barge. But there were two entirely different answers to the question. You could build a bridge, or you could build a tunnel. A lively debate ensued.13 At first, it seemed that building a bridge would be better, from the point of view both of economics and of motorist psychology. Weighing the pros and cons, engineers agreed that, in terms of cost, the decision should be in favor of the bridge; assuming equal circumstances, a tunnel is almost always more expensive. In addition, as American civil engineer John Alexander Low Waddell explained, “the general public, almost to a man (and certainly to a woman), would always greatly prefer driving over a structure that provides good light and air, and usually a fine view of the harbor and surrounding country, in comparison with traversing a long, cramped, and dingy tube.”14 In time, as the experts examined the situation more closely, it turned out that there were serious problems with the bridge option. Maritime interests demanded that the proposed bridge have enough clearance to permit the passage of the largest vessels. The maritime industry’s concerns were echoed by the War Department, which insisted that the main span would have to be at least 3,000 feet in length and clear the water by at least 200 feet in order to allow passage of large vessels carrying war materiel. This requirement called for very costly high towers and long approaches. Because of its low elevation, the lay of the land in lower Manhattan does not lend itself to a tall bridge. Such a bridge would need to have lengthy approach ramps stretching inland for many blocks, and all that land on both sides of the river would have to be condemned and purchased. Taking this information into account, civil engineer John Vipond Davies, of the firm Jacobs & Davies, came up with a comparative cost estimate. He reported that the cost of a pair of tunnels, with approaches and terminals, in line with Canal Street, would cost about $11 million. A bridge spanning the Hudson River in the same location would cost in total $50 million or more. It wasn’t the bridge itself that would cost so much; it was the cost of acquiring the land for the lengthy approaches.15 A few months later, a second report was issued by another firm of consulting engineers. This report was even more emphatic, stressing in dramatic language that the expense of such a bridge could be prohibitive. The report said, in part, “Rough estimates of the cost of an undertaking of so gigantic a character must be accepted under extreme reserve. Unforeseen conditions might greatly increase the cost estimated by engineers.”16 The debate continued for the next six months, but clearly the tunnel advocates were on the winning side, arguing that their plan was both more practical and less expensive. Of course, everyone would have preferred the nice

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views and fresh air afforded by a bridge. No one was particularly eager to pass underground, with the accompanying feelings of gloom and claustrophobia. But the price for a bridge was just too high. Besides, a tunnel would not be subject to bad weather conditions. The prestigious civil engineer Charles M. Jacobs, Davies’s partner, finally spelled it out so clearly that no one could fail to get the point. Jacobs said, “Every condition is against the construction of a bridge; every condition is favorable to the construction of tunnels. Favorable conditions for a long span bridge require the combination, if possible, of high shores with a comparatively shallow depth to bedrock for intermediate supporting piers. Here we have flat shores, deep water, and great depth to bedrock.”17 The argument was over. The evidence had been well analyzed and well sifted from many angles. Major opposing arguments had been considered and dealt with. There was an upwelling of support for building a tunnel. Tunneling under water had long been believed to be impossible because the ground under rivers is typically soft and wet. The earliest such tunnels flooded easily. The breakthrough finally came in 1818. The story is told that the engineer Marc Brunel used a magnifying glass to study how shipworms burrow into wood. He observed that as a worm ate the wood, it would excrete behind it a sort of smooth lining to the hole. Inspired by this, Brunel invented a “tunneling shield” that imitated the worm. He came up with the idea for a large iron cylinder, inside of which the sandhogs could do their work. The iron would hold up the roof of the tunnel and prevent collapse. Meanwhile, workers behind the shield would line the sides and the roof with bricks. It was a revolutionary breakthrough in tunnel technology. This was the method used to build the first successful subaqueous tunnel through clay underneath the navigable River Thames in London, completed in 1843. The tunnel was so remarkable in its day that it became a popular tourist attraction.18 Today, of course, there are several different ways of going about the business of building a tunnel, but in the 1920s the technique of choice was the “circular shield” method, similar to that used by Brunel a hundred years earlier. To keep it simple, let us say that this method involves shoving a big pipe, or steel-plated cylinder, underneath the riverbed a little bit at a time. At the head of the pipe is a cutter-head, acting as a cutting edge. Behind the cutter-head is a sort of shield, backed up with compressed air to counterbalance the pressure of the mud and water trying to enter the working space. In this method, it is critical that the rate of shield advance be delicately adjusted to match the muddy soil pressure. As the shield advances, cast-iron rings about 2.5 feet wide are bolted, one at a time, onto the big pipe.19

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As the tunnel builders forced their big pipe underneath the soft mud of the river, it caused a ridge of mud to rise up, marking the course of the tunnel. One well-known engineer of the day explained that the ridge was similar to that “made by a mole . . . due to his forcing the earth upward as he passes his way through the yielding ground.” However, the obstruction thus created was not a problem because the ridge was quickly scoured away by the current of the river.20 The shield method was a proven success in previous efforts to build railroad tunnels, though even its advocates admitted that it was expensive. So there was pressure to cut costs. The great civil engineers of the day were puzzled. How could you cut corners and still do the job safely? A call went out for proposals. Eleven different plans were submitted, including a truly original approach suggested by Major General George W. Goethals, who had played a principal role in building the Panama Canal. He wrote that the cost could be reduced by replacing cast-iron rings with wedge-shaped concrete blocks, 3 feet thick, molded into the shape of an arch or ring, which could be put together in such a way as to form a vault through which the roadway could pass. It was a persuasive argument at the time because the nation was at war; consequently, iron and steel were needed for the military buildup. Goethals’s proposal called for a two-level design, carrying three lanes of traffic per level, one level eastbound and the other westbound. Because it was well known that Goethals had built the Panama Canal ahead of schedule, below budget, and without scandal, his suggestion carried a great deal of weight. Who was prepared to argue with an American hero and an international celebrity?21 Meanwhile, things were moving rapidly on the political front. Normally, the two arch-rival states—New York and New Jersey—found it difficult to agree on anything. This time, the need to transport heavy freight, especially coal and food, was so great that both sides were eager to find common ground. In June of 1917, Governor Walter Evans Edge of New Jersey assembled the “Hudson River Bridge and Tunnel Commission.” He appointed the members of the commission and charged them, in no uncertain terms, to cooperate with the Bridge and Tunnel Commission of New York.22 In March of 1918, the New York commission issued a report advocating immediate construction of the new tunnel under the Hudson. This was not a dry and dull government report; it was an urgent call to action. The commissioners wrote, “The disastrous experience of the city during the recent coal famine was due almost entirely to the city’s inability because of the ice-choked river to transport thousands of tons of coal that were literally in sight on the other side of the river, and yet as unattainable as if they were still in the mines.”23

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1.1. Bust of Clifford Milburn Holland (1883–1924), chief engineer on the project, who died before it was completed. The bust was placed at the New York entrance of the Holland Tunnel. Courtesy of the Historic American Engineering Record.

In September of 1919, the two states signed a formal agreement on a plan that provided for the joint construction, operation, repair, and maintenance of a tunnel. Under the contract, the cost of the project was to be shared equally by the two states. It was planned to establish a schedule of tolls to repay each state within twenty years the principal and interest of the money advanced for construction.24 That same year, Clifford Milburn Holland was appointed as chief engineer for the project, then known as the Hudson River Vehicular Tunnel. A great deal of responsibility was suddenly thrust upon him.25 For many people, this was a surprising appointment because Holland was only thirty-six years old. At the time, he was the youngest chief tunnel engineer in the United States. Besides, this was not just any tunnel. Rather, it was to be the largest underwater corridor of vehicular traffic in the entire world. Some on the commission had misgivings because of his youth. However, Holland was able to overcome their doubts because of his energy and focus. It also helped that he was polite and proper in all public appearances. Born in Somerset, Massachusetts, in 1883, he graduated from Harvard University with a B.A. in 1905 and a B.S. in civil engineering in 1906. While studying engineering at Harvard, Holland had made up his mind to specialize in the field of underground excavation with the use of compressed air. A model of industry, sobriety, and self-discipline, he laboriously made his way

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through everything published on the subject. He gained considerable experience while serving as divisional engineer of the Public Service Commission, where he had responsibility for the construction of two East River tunnels.26 Holland, devout and educated and hardworking, was ready to begin. Upon his appointment, Holland immediately showed tact and diplomacy. Although privately he had strongly held views on how to proceed with the project, he did not tip his hand prematurely. Instead, he handled the situation without raising antagonism or hostility. When asked by the press what he planned to do, Holland replied, “It is a big subject and I will go into it with the one idea of making a careful investigation and devoting all my time to a thorough study of the whole project. I have an open mind now on all the various suggestions that have been made.”27 Meanwhile, he worked long hours and kept working on weekends. The tunnel project became a twenty-four-hour obsession. Holland had to deal with some basic questions. Were the goals attainable and affordable? How could all the aspects of the project be tested and integrated? Without patient, careful, painstaking, and detailed planning, the tunnel project could easily become confused, chaotic, and costly.28 Holland was under considerable pressure to push the project quickly to completion. Some engineers had said the whole job could be done within two years. Because he excelled in planning and forecasting, Holland did not allow himself to be trapped into giving unrealistic time estimates. When confronted on the issue, he calmly replied, “The preliminary work, not the actual tunneling, consumes the time. The making of surveys, the taking of borings, the driving of shafts from which the tunnel must be begun on both sides of the stream, all require time and close attention.”29 Notwithstanding Holland’s skill in avoiding conflict situations, there was a problem looming that had to be addressed. By now everyone agreed that the circular shield method was best. But what material should be used for the tunnel tube—concrete, cast iron, steel, or something else? And what should be the configuration? Although General George Goethals had been advocating one very large bi-level tunnel and the use of masonry block in lieu of castiron rings, Holland’s plan called for two smaller, one-level twin tunnels to be built side by side with cast-iron rings. His tunnels would be only 29.5 feet in diameter. It was an interesting debate—Goethals’s one large tube versus Holland’s pair of smaller tubes. A strong argument in Holland’s favor was the fact that in tunnel construction, the volume of excavation would increase as the square of the diameter. Put simply, this meant that any increase in width of the tunnel would be very expensive because of the greatly increased amount of sand, mud, and rock that would have to be removed.30

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Another not-so-obvious-at-first advantage of the Holland plan was that the entrances and exits of the twin tunnels could be widely separated. On the New York side, for example, one was to be north and the other was to be south of Canal Street. Separating the entrance and exit traffic was the key to relieving traffic congestion. The plan allowed for wide plazas at both entrances and exits, so that waves of traffic could converge in an orderly manner. In contrast, the Goethals plan would have three inbound and three outbound lanes of traffic on each side, packed into a single congested plaza.31 Nonetheless, Goethals had the upper hand in terms of seniority and prestige. It was David versus Goliath. The stakes were high. The reputations of the two engineers were on the line. Was Holland being too conservative, too resistant to innovation? If Goethals was correct, the concrete blocks would save a great deal of money. On the other hand, if he was wrong, the project would fail and lives would be lost. Clifford Holland was laboring under the daunting shadow of the great Goethals, but he finally had to speak up. In a report directly addressing Goethals’s plan, Holland wrote that “the lining of concrete blocks is not of sufficient strength to withstand the external load, and is not suited to Hudson River conditions.” He went on to explain that the construction method was too difficult and untested and that the cost estimates were too low. He concluded that shield-driven tunnels should “have a lining of cast iron” because “the experience obtained in driving earlier tunnels is available as a guide to their successful completion.”32 Nowhere is there a more clear and concise account of the ensuing dispute than in Henry Petroski’s book Engineers of Dreams. Petroski is an American civil engineering professor at Duke University and a prolific author of wellwritten books on the history of engineering. In brief, Petroski found that, on the one hand, Goethals had only prepared a “conceptual plan” that failed to withstand critical examination. On the other hand, Holland’s plan was “more conservative” and “within the state of the art and demonstrated practice.” The dispute became bitter. Goethals insisted that Holland provide him with all the supporting data showing how his conclusions had been reached. Normally very polite, Holland replied that he could not be bothered with such a request and that Goethals, like any other citizen, could come to the office and inspect the documents. Why was Goethals so persistent in pushing his views? Petroski speculates that Goethals had “an arrogance that must have been fueled by fame.”33 As the controversy heated up, Goethals did have one very ardent supporter, Edward A. Byrne, an Irish American civil engineer who was serving on the expert consulting board overseeing the project. Byrne had extensive experience in bridge construction and a good reputation in the community.

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So why would Byrne have taken up an argument in favor of a questionable procedure over the tried and true? Diving deep into the past and searching the records, Petroski has supplied a plausible explanation based on his suspicion that in New York there was “a long history of corruption and influence peddling in the construction of public works.”34 It seems that Goethals’s tunnel plan depended on a process that had been patented by John F. O’Rourke, another Irish American engineer. A great deal of money was at stake. It appeared that using concrete blocks rather than cast-iron rings would have resulted in a savings of some $9 million. O’Rourke was willing to release his patents for the project for a fee of 25 percent of the savings. In other words, O’Rourke stood to gain a bit more than $2 million. Though there is no proof, Petroski connects the dots and reaches the reasonable conclusion that O’Rourke may have been “willing to share with those who might help him get it.”35 Of course, at the time, no one was aware of this hidden agenda. The debate between Goethals’s plan for a single concrete tube and Holland’s plan for twin cast-iron tubes was long and bitter. The debate involved greed, bureaucracy, personal conflict, and power politics. Holland was the underdog, but he refused to give up in the face of great odds. As the debate dragged on, costs continued to rise. With professional engineers in disagreement, there was no clear-cut path to a decision. In the end, it would not be an engineering decision; it would be a political one. But it would not be easy, because there were two decision-making bodies, two commissions: one for New York and another for New Jersey. All this debate was taking place at a time before the creation of the bi-state Port Authority. The two commissions would have to reach a voluntary consensus; neither could force its will on the other. The commissioners were community leaders and men of influence, but they were laymen rather than engineers or traffic experts or contractors. Finally, a turning point came with the issuance of a public statement by General George R. Dyer, chairman of the New York commission. Though not an engineer, Dyer enjoyed tremendous prestige as an officer in the New York State Militia and a veteran of the Spanish-American War. Most importantly, Dyer had the respect of both commissions. In March of 1920, Dyer came out clearly in favor of Holland’s plan for twin cast-iron tubes. Interestingly enough, Dyer did not take up the debate between cast iron and concrete. Instead, his argument was based on traffic considerations. He asserted that a single concrete tunnel with six traffic lanes would cause enormous congestion on local access streets, while widely separated twin tubes would have ample provision for broad plazas and approaches, allowing “an uninterrupted flow

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of traffic to enter the portals, also adequate space at the exits for vehicles to clear and merge into the traffic of city streets.”36 By putting all of his prestige behind Clifford Holland, General Dyer was able to get all of the commissioners on board with the plan. With the planning process complete, attention could now turn to the building of the tunnel.

chapter 2

I

A Breath of Fresh Air building the holland tunnel

One would have thought that once Clifford Holland had beaten down the mighty George Washington Goethals, hero of the Panama Canal project, the rest of the job would be easy. After all, the contract between the two states had been signed with provision for the construction, operation, repair, and maintenance of the tunnel.1 It would seem that the task ahead was a simple matter of engineering and construction. And indeed, in a real sense, building the tunnel itself would be the easy part. Overall, it was not so simple. In actual fact, Holland’s difficulties were just beginning because the project was drenched in politics. First, one had to plan for the approach roads and the plazas, and then one had to condemn and pay for the land. This process seemed straightforward enough, but there were powerful interests who saw an opportunity to make a great deal of money by extorting high prices for their holdings. For the Tunnel Commission (the two state bodies were now operating jointly) to acquire land for the project, there was an official procedure to be followed. First the commissioners would bring out their surveyor’s compasses and chains to develop a precise map showing exactly what properties would be needed. Then they would formally notify all the people holding any of the parcels to be purchased and would appoint appraisers who would estimate the value of all the affected parcels. If the owners were satisfied, they could simply accept the appraised value and be paid. Those owners who were not satisfied with the appraised value could go to the Court of Claims and litigate the amount of money that should be awarded to them.2 On the surface, the legal procedure for condemnation seemed fair and reasonable. Predictably, however, the procedure did not go smoothly. Some properties had been snapped up by speculators, hoping to make a killing. Though difficult to prove, it is reasonable to assume that the Tammany Hall machine used the situation to its advantage. Even honest people of goodwill 21

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might disagree over what constituted a “reasonable market price.” In addition to the squabbles over money, there were emotional, sentimental, and historical objections to the taking of private land. On the Manhattan side, the exit tube was to go under Canal Street, surfacing at the junction of Varick and Vestry streets. Meanwhile, the entrance was to be placed on the north side of Broome Street, between Varick and Hudson streets. All in all, this meant that fully eight blocks would be condemned.3 Perhaps it was inevitable. There were howls of bitter protest from both local residents and architectural historians. True, there were some dilapidated spots with houses in poor repair. But there were at least two blocks near St. John’s Park with fine old mid-nineteenth-century homes with oldfashioned stoop entrances, colonial doorways with fluted ionic columns, and big dormer windows sticking out from the attic. The owners of these substantial homes were understandably upset and angry. One resident told a reporter, “I can remember St. John’s Park with its grand old trees and the fine houses around it, but the new tunnel will probably drive us out.”4 Bad as the disputes were on the Manhattan side, they were even worse on the Jersey City side. The streets of Jersey City near the tunnel approaches were narrow and badly arranged to handle the anticipated volume of traffic. The land to be condemned ran along Twelfth Street for the eastbound traffic and along Fourteenth Street for the westbound traffic. There were no architectural gems here; instead there were run-down warehouses, distribution terminals, and tenements. Who were the owners? Many of them were shell companies with links back to a corrupt city hall and Frank Hague’s Hudson County machine. The owners, of course, were demanding sky-high prices. When the state seized their property, the owners contested the payments and went to court. Of course, the courts might have seen through these shams and made fair and reasonable awards—but there was a catch. The judges were appointed by the governor, and the governor owed his office to Frank Hague because the political boss of Hudson County could deliver a large vote to his choice in any statewide election. So, in practice, the judges were vetted by Hague, and the property owners received greatly inflated prices.5 Clifford Holland was understandably discouraged with the transparent graft and corruption in Jersey City. He sat down with his second-incommand, Milton Freeman, who looked at the situation more objectively. Freeman told him not to focus on what he could not do, and instead make a list of things he could do. The dark moment passed. Holland’s mood brightened when a ceremonial groundbreaking on the New York side was scheduled for March 31, 1922. Holland was joined in the morning ceremony by Michael L. Quinn, the contractor’s superintendent, at a small park at the west

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end of Canal Street in Manhattan. According to a contemporary account, “Mr. Holland took a pick from the hands of John Bazone, a laborer, and drove it into the earth. Mr. Quinn thrust a shovel under the loosened earth and threw it to one side.”6 The workers politely asked for their tools back, but neither Holland nor Quinn would give them up, because they planned to have them silver-plated to be displayed in their offices. The report failed to say if the workers got their tools replaced. Taking some comfort from the ceremony, Holland got back to work with his engineering team—Milton Freeman and Ole Singstad, a Norwegian American civil engineer with expertise in ventilation. Holland had put together a small team of top talent. It was very much a shared enterprise, and all three were trying to get things right. The engineers were disciplined to the point of exhaustion. They worked long hours, poring over blueprints with their slide rules. On weekends they kept working. The unsung heroes of the drama were the wives of the engineers. Many nights Holland would not get home until nine, when his four young daughters were already asleep. His wife, Anna, was annoyed. She was having difficulty living with his twenty-four-hour obsession. He said that perhaps she did not fully understand how much responsibility had been thrust upon him. Of course, that was the wrong thing to say. It was an awkward situation since Anna herself was burdened with doing most of the parenting of their four children. She said that she did not mind doing all of the cooking and the cleaning. She did not mind dressing the children, feeding them, and cleaning up after them. But she pointed out that Clifford was missing out on playing with his daughters, reading to them, and kissing them good night. He apologized and promised to mend his ways. Of course, nothing really changed. Nonetheless, the couple stayed together.7 Meanwhile, things were going well at work for Holland except for one big problem—dealing with Frank Hague, mayor of Jersey City. Because the two men were temperamentally incompatible, the enmity between them had begun from the very start of the project. Holland was an idealist with exuberant energy, determined to push ahead with the tunnel project, but he was saddled with Hague, a stubborn and practical individual who was looking to extort as much money as possible for local street widening and improvements in Jersey City. Because of Hague’s influence, the New Jersey commissioners had threatened to prohibit the beginning of work on the tunnel unless significant concessions were made on funding for street improvements. Hague was a tenacious adversary, and he hoped that by stalling and delaying, he could cause Holland to cave in to his demands. Hague could delay things almost indefinitely by withholding necessary permits and by forbidding street

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closings. Normally, work on a big project would only begin after a formal groundbreaking ceremony, like the one held on the New York side in March. Holland wanted to schedule the groundbreaking for early May of 1922. But, to signal his intention of holding things up, Hague had publicly scheduled a gala Fourth of July groundbreaking that would have stalled the work for another two months.8 Holland began to realize that the Hudson County machine would work very hard—and do whatever it took—to get its way. How could Holland get around Boss Hague, also known as “King Hanky Panky of New Jersey”? It would take cunning and courage to circumvent Hague’s authority. Driven by a sense of mission, Holland hatched a plan. His idea was that once the actual work was started, it would be hard to stop him. He would put together a secret groundbreaking ceremony in New Jersey. There would be no press releases, no brass band, and no reviewing stand—only a couple of carefully vetted members of the press to document the event. Holland quietly assembled a small group of men including some of his own key engineers, R. C. Falconer from the Erie Railroad Company, and the contractor, George H. Flinn. On Tuesday, May 31, 1922, they clandestinely crossed the river from New York and slipped into Jersey City at dusk. They avoided public streets and cut through the ferry yard. En route, they had to talk their way past several Jersey City policemen. Fortunately, everyone in the group was well dressed and spoke convincingly. Nonetheless, this maneuver took considerable courage because the Jersey City police were known for using their nightsticks first and asking questions later. The group arrived safely at the railroad yard, where, without fanfare, “George H. Flinn drove a pick in the ground, Mr. Holland dug up a shovelful of dirt, and the breaking of ground was over.”9 Of course, the brief groundbreaking ceremony in Jersey City had no significance in the law, but it was a major public relations victory. Grounded in tradition and custom, it signified the beginning of the tunnel project on the New Jersey side. With the story all over the newspapers, it would now be much more difficult for Hague to stand in the way. Frank Hague was known to be something of a hothead, a man easily angered. When news of the groundbreaking in Jersey City reached him, he broke into an intense rage. He would have liked to express his anger publicly, but he realized that there was little he could do. He had simply been outmaneuvered. So Hague decided not to discuss the subject with the press. Instead, his office released a statement: “The action of the tunnel officials in breaking ground in secret was just what might have been expected from the tunnel commission that refused to provide for safe and adequate approaches on the New Jersey side of the Hudson.”10

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While Frank Hague bit his tongue and kept quiet, his point man, John F. Boyle, did not. Boyle was a Jersey City banker and real estate investor as well as an operator within the Hudson County Democratic machine. When he learned of the secret groundbreaking, he said, “I don’t see why a great project like this was started in such a contemptible and sneaky manner.”11 Throughout the project Boyle kept up his petty, quibbling, and unscrupulous attacks. How ironic, then, that in 1936, six years after his death, Jersey City honored Boyle by designating the approach grid of streets to the Holland Tunnel “Boyle Plaza.” As journalist Steven Hart has pointed out, “What was true then is equally true now—there’s no getting to the tunnel without first going through John Boyle.”12 With the Hudson County machine at least temporarily out of the way, Holland could now turn his attention to the task at hand. It would take stamina, perseverance, and a great deal of work to finish the job. There were no shortcuts to success. Looking for a contractor who had done this sort of work before and had done it well, the Tunnel Commission had awarded the bid to Booth and Flinn, one of the largest American general contracting companies of that era. The result of the 1881 merger of two Pittsburgh companies, one founded in 1876 by William Flinn and a similar one managed by James J. Booth, it was closely aligned with the city’s Republican Party machine. As a result, the company, often described as “the lowest responsible bidder,” was awarded most of the large construction and paving contracts in Pittsburgh and western Pennsylvania.13 A schoolyard chant said to be popular among Pittsburgh elementary school children of the day went like this: Leader: Who made the world? Chorus: God made the world! Leader: Who filled it in? Chorus: Booth and Flinn!14

During the First World War, Booth and Flinn expanded its contracting work to New York City, where Brooklyn residents were demanding an extension of the subway under the East River and into Kings County, linking Manhattan with Brooklyn. On October 12, 1914, the company began work on two tunnels for this purpose, each with two tubes for a total of four, which in the aggregate, including approaches, totaled over 6 miles in length. The first was the 5,900-foot-long Clark Street Tunnel that carries the numbers 2 and 3 trains (now Seventh Avenue Express). The second was the Montague Street Tunnel that carries what are now known as the M train (Nassau Street Local) and R train (Queens Boulevard/Broadway/4 Avenue Local).15

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Because postwar inflation had driven up the price of both labor and materials, the company lost $4 million on these two jobs. But the jobs were completed anyway, thus enhancing its reputation as a firm that was both skilled and reliable. The first job to be completed was the tunnel between Clark Street in Brooklyn Heights and Old Slip in lower Manhattan. This tunnel was relatively small at only 17.5 feet in diameter. At its greatest depth the floor of the tunnel was 88 feet below the surface of the East River. The tunnel was “holed through” on November 28, 1916. The ceremonial last blast was fired at the shaft house at the intersection of Old Slip and Front Street in the presence of a gathering that included George H. Flinn and Clifford M. Holland, then tunnel engineer of the Public Service Commission. Following the setting off of the blast, the men applauded and cheered. Speeches were given, and then the party descended the shaft and walked from the Manhattan side to the Brooklyn side. According to a contemporary account, the walk took about an hour. Mr. Flinn took pride in the fact that there was only one fatality from caisson disease—decompression sickness, or “the bends”—during the construction of this tunnel. Of course, the loss of even one life was regrettable. However, one should recognize that in this era, there was a rule of thumb that on every large-scale civil engineering project, managers could expect one death for every million dollars of the project. Since this was a $6 million project, only one death was cause for some satisfaction. Engineers had learned a great deal about caisson disease since the days when the Brooklyn Bridge had been built. As a result of scientific studies, they had put in place strict rules for the conduct of the work. During an average day, there were five hundred workers on the job. But when the air pressure was at its highest, 37 pounds per square inch (psi), there were more than a thousand workers. Why the dramatic increase? Because at this great pressure, workers were employed for only one and a half hours at a stretch. They entered the tunnel twice a day for a total of only three hours, which was considered a full day’s work under these dangerous conditions.16 The second job to be completed, again with a diameter of only 17.5 feet, was the tunnel between Whitehall Street in Manhattan and Montague Street in Brooklyn. The tunnel was holed through on June 20, 1917, by a blast set off by Public Service Commission Chairman Oscar Solomon Straus from a temporary platform decorated with bunting near the shaft house on Montague Street. Also present were chief engineer Daniel L. Turner, Holland, and Flinn, who served as master of ceremonies. Everyone on the platform was proud of the fact that there had not been a single death from compressed air during the project, despite the fact that there had been 800,000 decompressions bringing

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engineers and workmen out from the compressed air of the tunnel. It was an amazing safety record for a project that was recognized by everyone as being very hazardous. Pushing down the electrical switch setting off the explosion, Chairman Straus said with a smile of pride, “I now make the connection marking the completion of the bore of this great tunnel. I conceive it a high privilege and honor to perform this act which means so much for the comfort of the people of the city. This tunnel will form another transportation link tying together the two greatest boroughs of New York.”17 Given this extensive experience, it was apparent that Booth and Flinn could do the work of the larger Hudson River Vehicular Tunnel. They put in their bid for driving the tunnel and constructing the shafts at $19,331,723. This was not the lowest bid, but with a reputation for doing high-quality work, and because of their experience and skill, they were awarded the contract.18 Speaking with a newspaper reporter, George H. Flinn said that he hoped to make money on the trans-Hudson tunnel, notwithstanding his earlier financial losses on the East River tunnels. The key, he explained, would be to complete the job within the specified time of thirty-six months. The work would keep at least a thousand men employed in shifts that would cover twenty-four hours of every day. The job was of an unprecedented scope. The tunnels he had built under the East River were only 17.5 feet in diameter, while the Hudson River tunnel was to be much larger—some 30 feet in diameter, nearly twice as large. The litany of numbers was staggering: The tunnel was to be 9,250 feet in length, of which the under-river length was to be 5,480 feet. The maximum depth between the top of the tunnel and the surface of the Hudson at high water was to be 72 feet, while the maximum depth of the roadway was to be 93 feet. Similarly, the amount of material required was astonishing. The cast-iron tunnel lining would weigh 115,000 tons. The project would require 129,400 cubic yards of concrete.19 The 1920s were known as the “Roaring Twenties,” a period of social, artistic, and economic dynamism. In the wake of World War I, jazz music saw a tremendous surge in popularity and the stock market soared. A new generation of young women emerged known as the flappers, who wore short skirts, bobbed their hair, and shocked the elders with their wild behavior. It was an era of optimism and prosperity, conducive to large-scale public works. The Hudson River tunnel project was one of the more important of those major undertakings, creating as many as 10,000 jobs if one counted the furnishing of supplies as well as the actual tunnel construction. Obviously, the biggest job was one of excavation. This required the removal of 404,000 cubic yards of material, roughly equal to the volume of the Woolworth Building. The process was labor-intensive. Nearly all of the

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mud and sand and stone had to be hand-shoveled from the working face, at the end of the working tube, into small cars and moved out of the tunnel. Who could imagine such a thing? This process alone would take the labor of about 1,000 men a day.20 The refuse material from the excavation consisted of mud, rock, and sand—collectively known as spoils. Where to put all this stuff? Conveniently enough, Jersey City was prepared to receive it all. The area along the east side of Upper New York Bay was considered to be unusable swamp land. It was a win/win arrangement. Clifford Holland had a place to dump the spoils, and Frank Hague could make money on the newly developed bay areas. In the short term, Jersey City could make a profit by selling the land; and then, in the long term, the city could collect taxes. Such was the pattern of land reclamation back in the 1920s.21 Today, of course, because of environmental laws, it would not be possible. Filling in wetlands for urban development is now considered to be a form of habitat destruction. Of course, carrying out the excavation and dumping the spoils was an obvious source of employment. Less evident was the labor required to provide the materials for the work. Let us start with Portland cement, the binder for the structural concrete, made from a pulverized mixture of limestone and clay, with the advantage of being able to set and harden underwater. The engineers estimated that 172,000 barrels would be needed for the job. Why? It was used for placing a concrete lining inside the cast-iron tube of the tunnel. During this phase of the work, they would need 600 barrels of cement a day, or about three carloads every twenty-four hours. To produce and ship this cement would provide jobs for about 100 men a day. The list goes on with what a contemporary newspaper account called “a bewildering array of figures showing the scope of the work.” What about the sand and gravel and crushed stone? Jobs for another 50 men. What about the lumber used for concrete forms? Jobs for 30 men. Cast iron and steel, along with the necessary molding sand and foundry machinery? Jobs for 2,000 men.22 After much planning and thinking and drafting and haggling with politicians, the time had come to begin the actual work. Fortunately, by now, the engineer and the contractor had years of experience working together on subaqueous tunnels. Building a tunnel underwater is a specialized task. When building a tunnel through hard rock, engineers usually used explosives. When building a tunnel through soil or softer rock such as limestone, engineers of the 1920s used the shield method. Digging a tunnel through a sandy or muddy riverbed might seem easier than going through rock, but in fact it was more dangerous because these water-bearing soft materials can cause cave-ins.23 Clifford Holland trusted George Flinn to do the right thing. Flinn would not

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cut corners by using shoddy materials or slapdash methods. The two men had been working together since 1914, and they got along. They had learned their craft together, acquiring techniques and tricks and lore during the construction of the East River tunnels. The term “shield” as applied to tunnel construction is singularly misleading and unhelpful, but we are stuck with it. Let us just say that “shield” is a piece of civil engineering jargon that has a meaning distinct to that profession and different from the everyday and commonsense use of the word. Unfortunately, the use of the term creates a barrier to communication with the layman. When I look up the word “shield” in a desk-side dictionary, I am told that it means “an article of protective armor made of leather, metal, or wood, carried on the forearm to ward off blows or missiles.” As applied to tunnel construction, this definition does not make much sense. I am reminded of Humpty Dumpty, who, as is well known, said to Alice, “When I use a word, it means what I want it to mean; neither more nor less.” The trouble with Humpty Dumpty’s approach is that his use of words makes them unintelligible to others. Alas, civil engineers, like other professionals, sometimes lapse into the same mode of thinking. In turning to an unabridged dictionary, however, we finally find the answer, way down the list in the fifteenth separate definition. It says, “Tunneling & Mining. An iron or steel framework moved forward at the end of a tunnel or adit in process of excavation to support the ground ahead of the concrete, cast iron, brickwork, or other lining.”24 Fortunately, we have a contemporary newspaper account that serves to clear up the confusion. The reporter, paraphrasing Clifford Holland’s description, wrote that these shields “may be described as movable hollow cylinders which are pushed ahead of the tunnel already built, not as excavating machines, but as protections for the men behind them.”25 In other words, tunnels shields were functioning as shields, in the sense that they were shielding, or protecting, the workers from the water and mud of the river surrounding them on all sides. But, of course, the tunnel shields did not visually appear in the familiar classic shape of a shield used in combat to protect the body. These shields could be compared to an ordinary tin can, open at both ends, but with a heavy sharp cutting edge of steel along the front rim. The top of the shield extended beyond the sides and bottom, thus providing a roof, a shield, of protection for the construction workers who were digging out at the open front end of the shield. To be sure, the workers were only partially “shielded” from danger by being surrounded by the shield on the top, bottom, and sides. The situation was still potentially dangerous because the front end was open for the purpose of digging, and that is why the work area

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was filled with compressed air, to hold back the mud and the sand and the water. Behind the shield were seventeen powerful rams, pushing the shield ahead through the mud and muck of the riverbed. In other words, the shields were driven ahead. So sometimes the “shield method” is called the “tunnel jacking method,” using “jack” in the sense of a machine exerting great pressure over a short distance. Each individual ram generated a forward thrust of 350,000 pounds. Taken together, they could shove the shield ahead with an astounding pressure of 6,000,000 tons. But the shield was not just blindly shoved ahead. Because there were so many rams evenly distributed over the rim of the shield, the pressure of each could be adjusted so as to control precisely the direction of movement of the shield under the river. The newspaper account continued: “The rear or tail of the shield overlaps the completed tunnel, and under its cover the workmen set up the cast iron rings which, when they are fitted together, form the core of the tunnel.”26 Any remaining spaces or gaps were filled up with grout. Everything worked fine as long as the shields were being shoved through soft mud and muck, but serious problems were always lurking in the riverbed. Boulders and rocks were hazards that could damage the cutting edge of the shield. Other hazards were old wooden pilings, used as foundations for docks and piers. These were serious obstacles, and not only because of the potential damage to the shields. If an obstacle were to stop the progress of the shield, compressed air could continually leak in one place, weakening the overlying bed of clay in the river. Such a thing actually happened in the construction of one of the earlier East River tunnels. Suddenly, the air blew out through the riverbed, penetrating 30 feet of river and mud, carrying out in a waterspout one of the workmen, who fell back into the river and was rescued by a passing boat. Miraculously, he was not seriously injured, but it could have been fatal.27 All of the tunneling work was done under compressed air; and, of course, this greatly increased the operating costs of the project because a large compression plant was needed. Meanwhile, it was the responsibility of the engineers to monitor and adjust constantly the air pressure within a narrow range, keeping it balanced with the pressure of the water. This task had to be done with precision because if the pressure was not great enough, river water would flow in, flood the tunnel, and drown the workers. In contrast, if the air pressure was too excessive, it would cause a blowout through the bed of the river, most likely hurtling some of the workers to the surface and even beyond. A safeguard against blowouts was the practice of dumping bargeloads of thick, heavy clay into the river along the route of the tunnel to strengthen the riverbed.28

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The construction workers assigned to the job of excavating the tunnel were known by the slang term “sandhogs.” At first glance, this colloquial expression might sound to most of us unflattering. However, the term is still warmly embraced with pride by these urban miners. In fact, sandhogging as a trade is typically passed down from father to son, generation after generation. For sandhogs to enter the working part of the tunnel, they first had to pass through an air lock, which consisted of a small chamber, or a hollow riveted steel cylinder, with airtight doors at either end that did not open at the same time. When the worker entered it, the air pressure was the same as outside. Slowly the air pressure from the tunnel would be admitted until the pressure in the air lock was the same as in the working tube. At this point, it would be safe for the sandhog to descend to his work, removing mud and rock with pick and shovel. It was said that workers entering the air lock did not feel anything amiss, except the sensation of pressure on their eardrums, although physicians and engineers noticed that workers breathing air with a pressure of 20 psi or more often felt a certain euphoria from the increase of oxygen in their lungs.29 At the end of his shift, a worker would reverse the process and enter the air lock, where the pressure would slowly and gradually be reduced to the ambient outside pressure. If a worker were to leave too quickly, he would suffer from decompression sickness. Though the cause of the disease was not fully understood at the time, a great deal of practical knowledge had been learned about how to prevent it since the terrible experiences in building the Brooklyn Bridge back in the 1870s. The key was to reduce air pressure slowly. But if for any reason a worker complained of pain, he would be hurried into a hospital hyperbaric chamber and put under pressure to restore him to good health.30 It was with every safety precaution in mind that the first Holland Tunnel shield was put into place at the Hudson River’s edge near the foot of Canal Street in October of 1922. There were to be two shields heading west from New York to New Jersey, and two shields running the other way, from New Jersey to New York. In time, they would meet in the middle, making two complete tunnels. Each circular shield weighed about 400 tons, and each was equipped with powerful hydraulic jacks. These huge shields, each measuring 30 feet 4 inches in diameter, were planned to operate some 65 feet below the surface of the river. It was hoped that the shields could advance a modest 2.5 feet every day through rock, and a more ambitious 5 or 6 feet a day through mud. The western part of lower Manhattan was mostly fill, land artificially created behind a bulkhead line that had been filled in with rocks, heavy timbers, and debris over the centuries. Cutting through this mess would be arduous.

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There was quite a bit of work involved in setting up each shield before actual construction could begin. Pumps had to be put in place to provide the air pressure, ranging from 20 to 45 psi. Then small-scale rail tracks had to be installed to carry away the excavated rock and mud. Most importantly, air locks had to be set up to protect the health of the workers.31 Actual work began on October 26, 1922, when air pressure was turned on within the huge shield underneath the Hudson River near the foot of Canal

2.1. Three workers, using an outsized wrench, tighten bolts on circular ribs that connect cast-iron plate segments of the tunnel liner, which supports the Holland Tunnel excavation through Hudson River silt, a very fine silt with high water content. Each bolt weighed ten pounds. Courtesy of the Port Authority of New York and New Jersey.

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Street. Of course, the pressure was needed to maintain the integrity of the front of the shield, to hold back the mud, the sand, and the water. This excavation was for what would become the so-called exit tunnel, for vehicles exiting the tunnel into Manhattan. As the shield inched forward, it was possible, in a trial run, to put into place the first ring of cast-iron segments. Each segment was 6 feet long and 30 inches wide and 7/8 of an inch thick. Interestingly, the 30-inch width corresponded to the progress a shield could make in about seven hours. With flanges on the ends to enable them to be bolted together, the segments weighed an unwieldy 3,300 pounds each, and it took fourteen of them to complete a ring, plus a final “key segment” of about 1,000 pounds. Each segment was picked up by an extraordinarily large mechanical arm, with a counterweight, operated by compressed air, and put

2.2. Interior view of the unfinished south tube of the Holland Tunnel, under West Street, New York City, showing the circular ribs of the cast-iron tunnel liner. Notice the slight curve to the left (radius 1,000 feet) and the source of light from around the bend in the distance. The temporary railroad tracks on the floor of the tunnel were for the rail cars used to remove muck, the material excavated from the tunnel face. Original photo of December 6, 1923, is from the archives of the New Jersey Interstate Bridge and Tunnel Commission. Courtesy of the Science, Industry and Business Library, The New York Public Library, Astor, Lenox and Tilden Foundations.

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into the proper position. Workers then bolted it to its neighbor with 160 bolts, each of which weighed 10.5 pounds. All in all, it would take seventy thousand segments to complete the tunnel. When the cast-iron tunnel was completed, it was to be lined with cement to a depth of 10 inches. The use of such heavy components served a dual purpose. In the first place, these heavy segments had great strength. At the same time, we have to bear in mind that these iron tubes were to be filled with air, making them potentially buoyant, not a good thing! Thus it was important that the completed tubes be very heavy, so that they would stay in place at the bottom of the river, rather than gradually float to the surface.32 After years of planning and thinking and negotiating, it was a pleasure for Clifford Holland to begin the actual work. Speaking with a reporter, he said, “All of the men on the job are working with enthusiasm, and the first trial has been hailed with as much rejoicing as if were giving a battleship its first spin. We are expecting to meet difficulties until we reach the virgin soil outside of the bulkhead line. We estimate that for the next three months the work of cutting a way westward will be rather slow. But after the virgin soil is reached we hope to advance at the rate of about fifteen feet a day.”33 Gradually, the work fell into a routine with three sets of workers. In the forward section of the shield, sandhogs were busy with pick and shovel digging out the loosened material. There’s an old saying, “If it’s deeper than a grave, the sandhogs dug it.”34 The sandhogs carried out their work in pairs consisting of a miner and a helper. According to contemporary accounts, many of these workers were either Irish or Italian. Of course, this ethnic pattern can be explained in terms of the larger picture of immigration to the United States. Historically, large numbers of Irish came to the United States between 1820 and 1860. Most arrived with little cash or education, so they gravitated toward unskilled manual labor—working on canals, railroads, streets, sewers, and other construction projects. Of these, a few found work as sandhogs, doing the backbreaking and dangerous work that few Americans were willing to do. They got these jobs through connections. A newly arrived immigrant had to find somebody who knew someone. Using the Irish network of family and friends, he would locate someone who could get him to the head of the line. These Irish workers faced the threats of collapses, water and gas leaks, faulty equipment, and disease. But at least they had a job. In a similar pattern, large numbers of Italians immigrated to the United States between 1870 and 1910. Many came from rural communities with very little education. Since they were willing to work long hours for low wages, they began to take up some of the jobs formerly held by the Irish, including work in the netherworld of sandhogs. Like the Irish before them, they were

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willing to put up with huge rats, darkness, giant cockroaches, and the everpresent threat of death. As time moved on, the Irish and Italian workers were joined by more recent immigrants from the West Indies. A turning point occurred in 1903 with the founding of the Laborers International Union of North America (LIUNA). Construction workers overcame hostility, threats, and violence to form a union that struggled to gain concessions such as the eight-hour workday, better pay, and improved working conditions. Gradually, work as a sandhog became highly sought after. It was an avenue by which hardworking blue-collar men could achieve the American dream. The job now has a certain mystique: tough men taking pride in doing a tough job. To be sure, over the years, some of the sons of the original sandhogs went to college and moved up the social ladder. But the striking thing is that many of these sons, who could have done anything, followed in their fathers’ footsteps, taking pride in being manly men doing a man’s job. I believe that trend explains the fact that so many of today’s sandhogs, members of LIUNA Local 147, make up an ethnically diverse workforce of mainly Irish, Italians, and West Indians.35 We know that the sandhogs of the 1920s working on the Holland Tunnel were willing to endure great hardship and risk. The men at the front passed the excavated material along to another set of workers through shutters in the bulkhead behind them. These workers were usually Polish or Hungarian, the more recent of the immigrants. The material then went through the tunnel and was lifted onto a gantry crane and dumped into waiting barges. A third set of workers operated the giant arm that was used to set the cast-iron segments of the ring into place.36 In January of 1923 work began on the “entrance” tunnel, for vehicles entering the tunnel from Manhattan, bound for New Jersey. This tunnel was located at Spring Street, just north of the “exit” tunnel.37 At the same time tunneling under the river proceeded, there was another important set of tasks to be accomplished, the placing of ventilation shafts for the completed tunnel. The ventilation system would need a number of shafts, requiring the construction of huge caissons, boxlike watertight structures made of steel and concrete. Building a caisson was much like building a ship, and when construction was complete the caisson would be conveniently buoyant and hence transportable. Each river caisson was to be towed to its location and sunk in place by pouring tons of concrete between its inner and outer shell. The caisson, permanently fixed to the riverbed, would await the arrival of a shield. When a shield reached a caisson, circular openings for the two tubes would be cut through the caisson and the joints would be sealed. The caissons were built at Staten Island Shipbuilding, located at

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Mariner’s Harbor along the Kill van Kull, the narrow tidal strait between Staten Island and Bayonne, providing access to Upper New York Bay.38 The first caisson was the largest caisson ever constructed. From Staten Island, it was floated into the Kill van Kull and towed over to Manhattan, where it would be sunk into place. Of tremendous size, it was 93.25 feet wide, 108.5 feet high, and 37 feet deep. It was launched with suitable fanfare on December 5, 1922. Anne H. Holland, the twelve-year old daughter of Clifford Holland, held a bottle of champagne in one hand and a bouquet of roses in the other. The wine was furnished by the contractor, George Flinn, and the roses were supplied by William J. Davidson, the shipbuilder. Miss Holland climbed up the platform and broke the bottle of wine against the side of the caisson, saying, “I name thee the New York River Caisson.”39 Workers then knocked away the blocks, and the caisson slid down the greased way into the Kill van Kull. After the shipyard completed the finishing touches, a few weeks later the caisson was ready to be towed to the Hudson River and to be sunk at the pier-head line at Canal Street. Three tugs were readied for the task, but the trip took much longer than expected. The voyage of the caisson from Staten Island to Manhattan started at 5:45 a.m. on January 30, 1923. The task was not completed until 8:00 p.m. The strange and unwieldy “vessel” pulled by three tugs attracted a great deal of attention from passing ships, most of which gave the three tugs a wide berth. The few vessels that insisted on conventional rules of the road were warned away by stern blasts from the air horns of the tugs. It was a difficult trip against an unexpected high wind from the north. The tugs had trouble making any headway. The caisson had a draft of 25 feet, and it stood 35 feet above the water. The portion above the water served as a giant sail, catching the wind and impeding progress. At one point, about three hours into the trip, near Bedlow’s Island (also spelled Bedloe’s Island, and now known as Liberty Island), the tugs had to drop their anchors to prevent the caisson from being blown backward. Overall, the rate of progress for the day was only 1.25 miles per hour.40 The passage of the first caisson through New York Harbor attracted a great deal of attention, but as the rest were delivered throughout 1923, such sights became routine.41 Though the caissons, which were to become ventilating shafts, were gradually becoming a familiar sight to people on both sides of the Hudson River, professional engineers knew that they represented a revolutionary development, a conceptual breakthrough in solving the problem of ventilation. Digging a tunnel underneath a river was, in itself, unremarkable. Though difficult and dangerous, it was a routine engineering challenge. It had been done earlier for railroads. The Pennsylvania Railroad had a tunnel

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2.3. Two tugboats towing the unwieldy New York–side Hudson River shaft caisson as it passes the upper New York Bay just north of St. George, Staten Island. The caisson for the Holland Tunnel was built by the Staten Island Shipbuilding Company for Booth and Flinn, the general contractor. The two tugboats, like other harbor tugs of the period, have large deckhouses and high pilot houses with very tall single stacks. Original photo of January 20, 1923, is from the archives of the New Jersey Interstate Bridge and Tunnel Commission. Courtesy of the Science, Industry and Business Library, The New York Public Library, Astor, Lenox and Tilden Foundations.

underneath the Hudson River. The Long Island Rail Road had tunnels underneath the East River. The electrified locomotives, however, gave off no noxious gases. In fact, subaqueous tunnels for motor vehicles had been constructed in Europe, but they were all rather short and were self-ventilating, depending on natural drafts to clear the air of poisonous fumes. Clifford Holland was confronted with a brand-new problem that required an imaginative solution: How do you design a ventilation system that will clear a very long tunnel of deadly automobile and truck exhaust?42 Designing the ventilation system was a multidisciplinary intellectual challenge. There was no established model to follow. The problem was figuring out a way to cope with the deadly carbon monoxide exhausted by 3,800 cars and trucks an hour. It was well known in the 1920s that carbon monoxide is almost odorless, and it does not irritate the lungs, so it is especially deceptive.

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2.4. Cross-sectional view of the sinking of the Hudson River caisson, or ventilating shaft, for the Holland Tunnel, providing vertical access to fresh air and to evacuate carbon monoxide emissions. For scale, note the two tugboats on the surface and numerous workers on the floor of the riverbed. Courtesy of the Science, Industry and Business Library, The New York Public Library, Astor, Lenox and Tilden Foundations.

When a person breathes carbon monoxide, the hemoglobin in the blood sucks it up, favoring it over oxygen. Then the blood fails in its function of carrying life-giving oxygen to the tissues of the body. Physiologists tell us that carbon monoxide is not a poison. Instead it suffocates people, just as surely as if they had been choked to death. On the open road, carbon monoxide is not a problem, but in a confined space like a small garage or a tunnel, it is a very real threat to life. What was not known in the 1920s was how much carbon monoxide was tolerable. In other words, engineers needed a factual basis for deciding how far to go in diluting the gas so as to make it effectively harmless. More research was needed in this area.43 The concern was described eloquently in the Encyclopedia of Bridges and Tunnels: “Although digging and reinforcing a tunnel are usually the hardest parts, when it came time to build the first long vehicular tunnel, the real challenge was ensuring that this otherwise helpful crossing did not become a lethal gas chamber.”44 To solve the problem, Clifford Holland and his team of engineers drew on the expertise of a variety of specialists from Yale

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2.5. Detail of fans on the third floor of the New York Land Ventilation Building of the Holland Tunnel. The ventilating system forced fresh air from underneath the roadway and removed expended air from the ceiling. This system has been the model for all successive vehicular tunnels. The air is moved by forty-two blowing and forty-two exhaust fans of 6,000 total horsepower, arranged in four ventilating buildings, of which there are two on each side of the river, one at the pier head line and the other inland. Courtesy of the Historic American Engineering Record.

University, the University of Illinois, and the U.S. Bureau of Mines. Their challenge was simple: How do you make the air in the tunnel as safe as open air? Coming up with a solution was not simple. You could not just blow in fresh air from one end and have the exhaust fumes blown out the other end because the tunnel was too long. Doing it that way, you would have to create a wind velocity of hurricane strength. Such a wind velocity would not only be impractical and inconvenient, it would create a tremendous fire hazard because, in the event of a fire, the wind would fan the flames. Numerous experiments were carried out by government chemist A. C. Feldner of the Bureau of Mines using a mine shaft at Bruceton, Pennsylvania. Feldner was charged with finding out the amount and composition of gases exhausted by motor vehicles. He concluded that several gases were discharged, but the only one of significance was carbon monoxide. Meanwhile, engineers at the University of Illinois used a miniature tunnel on the campus at Urbana. There tests were carried out using temperature measurements, smoke observations, and the collection of dust samples. At the same time,

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scientists at Yale were gathering physiological data on the effects of carbon monoxide. The chief investigator at Yale was biochemist Yandell Henderson, who was an expert in cardio-respiratory physiology. As a result of all this experimentation, scientists determined that the largest acceptable amount of carbon monoxide in the new tunnel would have to be limited to four parts in ten thousand. A report was issued that stated, “The experiments have proved conclusively that the mechanical ventilation of the Hudson River Vehicular Tunnel as planned is assured of success.”45 The experts came up with what was called the “transverse-flow” method. Fresh air would be drawn from the outside through the ventilating buildings and blown by fans into ducts placed under a false floor containing a ventilation shaft. The largest of these fans was 8 feet in diameter and was capable of supplying 227,000 cubic feet of fresh air per minute. The fresh air would be forced through narrow slots, spaced 10 to 15 feet apart, just above the curb, 12 inches above the surface of the roadway. Exhaust fans would pull the noxious air from the tunnel and take it out through openings in the ceiling, and it would be expelled into the open air through the top of the six-story ventilation building. In other words, the ventilation would be accomplished by a number of closely spaced powerful vents, running from the bottom of the tunnel to the roof of the tunnel, rather than by one super-long lengthwise system. A key advantage of the transverse system was that it minimized the fire hazard because there were no longitudinal air currents serving to fan the flames and spread a fire. Instead, the flames would be confined to a relatively small space, enabling firefighters to suppress the fire.46 In the final plan, there were four ventilation buildings—two in New York and two in New Jersey— with a total of eighty-four fans, forty-two blower units and forty-two exhaust units. At full speed, they could change the air in the tunnel every ninety seconds. In other words, forty times every hour the atmosphere of the tunnel would be completely changed.47 The system is still in use today. Meanwhile, as the engineers were struggling with the fine points of the ventilation problem, the sandhogs continued their slow progress, day by day and inch by inch. As fast as the earth was removed from the face of the operation, the tunnel was walled in with iron plates. The shield provided a protective workplace, serving as an embracing floor below and roof above and walls on both sides. But the working face of the shield was open to the mud and rock of the riverbed. Of course, the shield was supplied with compressed air—just enough to keep the riverbed at bay. Nevertheless, it was the fate of the sandhogs to face the risk of a catastrophic blowout every day they went to their damp and dangerous work.

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It was a serious situation, but the sandhogs had learned to conquer their fears. For most of them, going to work was not a matter of choice. It was a matter of necessity, since they had families to support and bills to pay. Working without the light of day, they had to put their trust in the engineers who had the responsibility to balance the pressure of air in the tunnel against the pressure of the mud and water of the riverbed. Unfortunately engineers, even the best of them, are only human; and, from time to time, they make mistakes. The tunnel excavation had been proceeding without serious incident for a year and a half since October of 1922 when, on the morning of April 3, 1924, trouble struck. Thirty-five men were working under the supervision of foreman David Brown 22 feet below the bottom of the Hudson River in the southernmost tube being driven from Manhattan to Jersey City when they noticed a bit of water seeping thought the roof of the shield near the face of the excavation. They recognized the seriousness of the problem right away because air tends to escape through the upper part of a tunnel. At first they tried to repair the leak with straw and mud, but the water flooded in with great force. “Run for your lives, men,” Brown ordered, and the thirty-five workers ran back past a safety screen and continued running, with the flood racing behind them, until the tunnel bed began sloping up toward the Canal Street level and safety. It turned out that the blowout had resulted from a weak spot in the riverbed. The air pressure in the tunnel was not enough to balance the weight of the water, which came pouring in. At the same time that the water was coming in through the tunnel roof, the compressed air was being driven upward through the weak spot in the clay, causing an enormous geyser to shoot 50 feet into the air. The blowout put two hundred men out of work for three days as the engineers repaired the damage. The first step was to supply additional air pressure to drive the water from the tube. At the same time, engineers arranged for the delivery of two bargeloads of clay to be dumped at the exact spot of the rupture to seal the void.48 Henry Petroski, who specializes in failure analysis, points out that engineering design has as its foremost objective the prevention of failure, yet failures do occur. Recent examples are not hard to find. We are reminded of levee failures in New Orleans in the wake of Hurricane Katrina in 2005, the Big Dig ceiling collapse in Boston in 2006, the construction crane collapses in Manhattan in 2008, and the Gulf of Mexico oil spill of 2010. The best we can do, as human beings, is to learn from our mistakes. Petroski writes, “Success may be grand, but disappointment can often teach us more.”49 There is an old superstition that trouble comes in threes, and it seems to be borne out in our narrative—at least for the year 1924. If the tunnel blowout on April 3 was trouble number one, then it was quickly followed six days later

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by trouble number two with a sandhog strike. Worker frustration boiled over in the wake of the previous week’s frightening blowout. There was widespread bitterness, and the workers were demanding a four-hour day instead of a six-hour day, if they were working under a pressure of 27 or 28 psi. The dispute was not over compensation as such; it was over the hours exposed to compressed air. Everyone agreed that the pay was good. Sandhogs received $8.50 a day, which compared favorably to other blue-collar jobs in the United States of 1924. At that time, the average pay for an industrial worker for an eight-hour day was $4.48.50 The main complaint was that too many workers were suffering from the bends. Such a condition could only be remedied by shortening the hours of exposure. The strike was short-lived, in large part because the firm of Booth and Flinn was in no mood for a prolonged work stoppage. To make any money on the project, they had to stay on schedule and proceed without delay.51 The company gave in to the demand of the workers. It was not long before trouble number three arrived, and the news was truly devastating. Clifford Milburn Holland died of exhaustion and heart failure on October 27, 1924, in Battle Creek, Michigan. He was only forty-one years old, and there is little doubt that the terrible strain of working around the clock hastened his untimely demise. There was no small irony in the fact that on October 29, only two days later, the north tube tunnel was “holed through.” Crews working east from Jersey City and west from lower Manhattan met each other with great precision. There was to have been a big celebration for this, with President Calvin Coolidge setting off the final blast, but the ceremonial event was canceled out of respect for Clifford Holland.52 His determination and sacrifice were quickly recognized in the press. He was called the “martyr engineer” and hailed as the creator of the “eighth wonder of the world.” Within two weeks of his death, the project was named in his honor. It is sad that Holland did not see the completion of the proudest accomplishment of his life.53 Upon the death of Clifford Holland, his trusted lieutenant, Milton H. Freeman, was appointed chief engineer of the project. The two had an unusually close relationship, based on friendship, loyalty, and respect. Still, it was an abrupt transition since Holland’s death was unexpected. Freeman was certainly disciplined, hardworking, and competent; but he had not fancied the idea of becoming chief engineer. Nonetheless, Freeman was prepared, since he had been one of Holland’s closest advisers, and he had been involved in all of the major decisions. Clifford Holland had been a charismatic leader, the man who had set the goal. He had infused energy and eagerness into the team. Milton Freeman

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2.6. Holing through. Tunnel superintendent Harry Redwood, of the New York side, working west, on left, shaking hands with Norman Redwood, of the New Jersey side, working east, in North Tunnel, October 29, 1924, only two days after the death of Clifford Milburn Holland. Courtesy of the Port Authority of New York and New Jersey.

was more of a bureaucratic leader who followed established procedures. However, Freeman took charge of the project at a singularly opportune moment, with the remarkable accomplishment of the north tube tunnel being holed through only two days after Holland’s death. The last barrier of mud and rock had been blasted out. Amazingly, after the blast, it was discovered that the two tubes, driven toward each other from opposite sides of the Hudson River, had deviated by only about three-quarters of an inch. This success was a validation of the hard work of both the engineers and the sandhogs. The event came as a great motivator. Freeman was able to take advantage of the energy and enthusiasm generated by this accomplishment, and the project took on an unstoppable momentum.54 Unexpectedly, tragedy struck once again. Milton Freeman died suddenly on March 24, 1925, at his home in Valhalla, New York, of acute pneumonia. Contemporary accounts said that, even though he had a weak heart, he nonetheless spent many hours under the river tracking the progress of the

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boring. In all likelihood, work and worry contributed to his untimely death at the age of fifty-four. After Freeman’s death, Ole Singstad was put in charge of the project. The Norwegian-born Singstad came to the job with plenty of experience. Before World War I, he had worked on the design of the Hudson and Manhattan Railroad tubes. He had also designed long stretches of the IRT subway, including the underwater tunnel from Manhattan to Brooklyn. On the Holland Tunnel project, he had been mainly concerned with the design of the ventilation system.55 There was no time for the tunnel engineers to mourn the loss of Milton Freeman, for there was no letup in the pressure to complete the job. Ole Singstad was suddenly flung into a new set of crushing responsibilities. He did not get time to reflect because the work had to proceed rapidly. The north tube, 8,558 feet from end to end, was the first to be completed, then the south tube, at 8,371 feet. Both are situated in bedrock under the river, with the lowest point about 93 feet below the average high-water mark. Once the basic construction was complete, engineers could turn their attention to the finishing touches. These tasks, of course, were more routine and less heroic than the tunnel digging. Still, much work had to be done. You cannot drive through a round tube, because you need to have a flat roadway. To visualize what had to be done, we can think of the tunnel as a pair of tubes, each containing a long, rectangular box that was to become the usable part of the tunnel. The passing motorist perceives a long roadway below, an illuminated ceiling above, and vertical walls on both sides. But we know that the roadway is supported by a false floor and that the ceiling above is a false ceiling. In a cross-section diagram, a tunnel tube resembles a square within a circle. We can compare the motorist’s experience to that of viewing a trompe l’oeil painting. In effect, the engineers have “tricked the eye” of the motorist. Fresh air had to be pumped in below the roadway, and exhausted air vented out through the ceiling. Once the roadway was complete, the tiles, the lighting, the roadway, and the elevated police walkways had to be put in. There was architectural work to be done at the entrances and exits. Power cables and traffic signals had to be installed. Provision had to be made for fire extinguishers and other emergency equipment. The Holland Tunnel required four million ceiling tiles, each 4 inches square. The original lighting was by means of incandescent bulbs installed every 20 feet, though over the years they were eventually replaced by fluorescent lights, and they in turn were replaced by energy-saving light-emitting diodes. The original plan for the elevated police walkway was that an officer was to be stationed about every 100 yards along the way.56

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2.7. Full-sized cross-sectional mock-up of the Holland Tunnel with diameter of 29 feet 6 inches, with an illustration of a passenger car on the left and a small truck on the right, showing fresh air coming in below the roadway and vitiated air being removed from above the ceiling. For scale, note the two men standing on either side of the tube. Courtesy of the Science, Industry and Business Library, The New York Public Library, Astor, Lenox and Tilden Foundations.

It was a little more than three years from the initial holing through until the official opening day, when the tunnel was ready for traffic. However, as the tunnel neared completion there were a number of “sneak preview” tours for VIPs. In August of 1926, more than a year before the formal opening,

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Governor Al Smith of New York and Governor Arthur Harry Moore of New Jersey rode through a spotlessly clean and well-lighted tunnel on a preview tour widely reported in the press.57 The inspection party, with two busloads of tunnel commissioners, engineers, physicians, mayors, state senators, and military officers, stopped at the center of the tunnel at the point of the state line, marked by a row of blue tiles on the white background. At this point, Governor Smith stood under the New York sign and Governor Moore under the New Jersey sign, and the two governors shook hands across the line. It was a perfect photo opportunity, illuminated by a powerful spotlight mounted on a truck. After inspecting the tunnel, Moore called it “one of the outstanding achievements of engineering history and of great significance to the States of New Jersey and New York.”58 But the public would have to wait until later for the formal opening.

chapter 3

I

Winning Acceptance grand opening of the holland tunnel

Step by step, the Holland Tunnel was nearing completion after a long seven years of construction. People on both sides of the river anticipated the opening of the tunnel with enthusiasm and excitement. Contemporary newspaper accounts reflect the keen interest that readers had in something they had been reading about for years. But before the tunnel could be opened, there were some necessary administrative tasks. Regulations had to be developed and rates had to be set. Neither task was completely straightforward. In early 1927 a committee of the commissioners was set up to study the problem of rate setting. It was clear that tolls for motor vehicles would have to cover maintenance, salaries, and amortization. Beyond that simple equation, there was a need for nuanced judgment. The commissioners felt that the tolls should be sufficiently low as to attract motorists, but not so low as to put car ferries out of business. If the ferries were to give up altogether, it would throw too much traffic to the tunnel. They also felt that it would be bad public policy to abandon ferry service, because it was necessary to have an alternate service available in the event that the tunnel was shut down for one reason or another. At the same time, tolls would have to be set sufficiently high so as to prevent the congestion brought about by attracting too many vehicles.1 The commissioners’ deliberations over toll charges dragged on for months. There was considerable political pressure from the business community to keep rates at a minimum. Feelings were running high, and the commissioners reluctantly agreed to hold a public hearing on the matter. The commissioners were wary of revealing very much about their discussions. However, General Dyer, head of the New York Tunnel Commission, did say that he believed that the rates should not be any higher or any lower per vehicle than those charged by the ferries for the same service.2 47

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Finally, on the first day of November 1927, just days away from the formal opening of the tunnel, the rates were announced. The tolls included a basic rate of fifty cents for a regular automobile, regardless of the number of passengers, because counting the passengers would have been too time-consuming and would have interrupted the steady flow of traffic. Motorcycles were charged half price, twenty-five cents, while buses were charged double, one dollar. Trucks had variable rates depending on their weight, from a small truck at fifty cents all the way up to two dollars for a very large truck of ten to twelve tons. These rates per vehicle were roughly comparable to those charged by the ferry companies, though the bus charge was a bit cheaper and the motorcycle charge was a bit more expensive.3 At the same time that rates were announced, the rules and regulations for traffic were published. The speed limit was set at 35 miles per hour. With regard to following distance, motorists were supposed to maintain a space of not less than 75 feet between vehicles. This regulation certainly made sense from a safety point of view, but it was difficult to enforce. If you figure a typical car of the day was 15 feet in length, then authorities were asking motorists to maintain a space of five car lengths from the car in front of them. While a careful and prudent motorist might do so, many failed to maintain a sufficient stopping distance and rode the bumper of the car ahead—as many still do. Other regulations dealt with oversize and slow-moving vehicles, which required special permits. These included such things as floats, steamrollers, steam shovels, movable cranes, and so forth. Of course, some vehicles were excluded altogether. These included bicycles, pushcarts, double-deck buses, and horse-drawn vehicles. Still other regulations dealt with the commonsense exclusion of dangerous articles such as explosives, inflammable liquids, corrosive liquids, and poison gases or liquids. Finally, there were also a number of regulations for drivers. For example, they were not permitted to change tires in the tunnel, nor were they allowed to smoke. Reasonably enough, drivers were not supposed to sound horns or sirens, since these sounds would be uncomfortably amplified in the confines of the tunnel, though some did from time to time.4 To satisfy the curiosity of the public, officials allowed a number of sneak previews for reporters. About a month before the formal grand opening, a reporter from the New York Times turned in a story under the headline “How It Feels to Ride in the Holland Tube.” Of course, officials knew that a reporter was more apt to give a favorable account if he had been given a special invitation. Sure enough, the reporter’s account was generally positive and supportive. His trip took only seven minutes from the Manhattan side over to the

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New Jersey side, and the return trip was the same. The reporter seemed pleased that traffic was to be separated into two lanes—one for faster private cars and another, slower lane for trucks. He noted that the temperature in the tunnel would be warmer than the outside air during the winter and cooler than the outside air during the summer. It was clear that the reporter was not looking for faults and problems. He wrote that he was “impressed with the brilliant illumination and cleanliness of the tunnel. The walls are of a vitreous white tile, with borders top and bottom of orange-colored tile. They remind one of the interior of a white-front restaurant.”5 Such sneak previews paved the way for the formal opening. The 1920s were the era of Coolidge prosperity and, of course, of ballyhoo—shameless publicity and promotion. The tunnel commissioners planned the event carefully. On the one hand, it could be said that the opening ceremony acknowledged and celebrated an important milestone in the history of the region. If nothing else, it honored the workers who had lost their lives in the construction of the project. On the other hand, as a planned event whose primary purpose was to attract media coverage, the celebration clearly had much in common with what historian Daniel J. Boorstin has called the “pseudo-event.” The value of such a celebration depends on its being covered, and its success, Boorstin wrote, “is measured by how widely it is reported.”6 The opening was scheduled for Saturday, November 12, 1927. The day before, the tunnel was given a thorough cleaning and inspection. The celebration was carefully planned and choreographed. The New York party, consisting of Governor Al Smith, the tunnel commissioners, and other dignitaries, assembled at noon at the Seventy-first Regiment Armory on Park Avenue at Thirty-fourth Street. The luncheon was held in the massive drill hall, a traditional meeting place for civic affairs, and it was hosted by Chairman Dyer. At 1:00 p.m., the group left the Armory, accompanied by a military escort, and headed downtown for the Holland Tunnel. After a ceremony at the entrance plaza, they proceeded through the tunnel, reaching Jersey City at 2:30 p.m. There they were welcomed by Theodore Boettger, chairman of the New Jersey Tunnel Commission. Assembled on the New Jersey side were Governor Arthur Harry Moore, Mayor Frank Hague of Jersey City, and 130 other New Jersey mayors. There were a number of speeches, including one by Ole Singstad, who was still chief engineer for the joint Tunnel Commission. In an ecumenical spirit, the invocation was offered by a Protestant minister, the Reverend Harry L. Everett, pastor of the First Congregational Church of Jersey City, while the benediction was offered by a Catholic priest, Monsignor John F. Ryan of Saint Brigid’s Church of Jersey City. The ceremonies in

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3.1. Dedication ceremonies at the New York Plaza of the Holland Tunnel on November 12, 1927. Completion of the tunnel had taken nearly seven years, and the work claimed the lives of fourteen men. President Calvin Coolidge pressed a golden lever that caused American flags on both sides of the tunnel to separate, and to officially open the tunnel. Vehicles were permitted to pass through the tunnel at one minute after midnight on November 13, 1927. Courtesy of the Port Authority of New York and New Jersey.

Jersey City were wrapped up at 3:30 p.m., and both parties motored through the tunnel toward the Manhattan side. At the center of the tunnel, the motorcade came to a stop at the blue line on the white-tiled wall marking the boundary between New Jersey and New York. Ann Boyle Egner, the six-yearold granddaughter of tunnel commissioner Boyle, cut the silk cord that stretched across the boundary line, and the event was broadcast over the radio. Once over on the Manhattan side, the motorcade stood by for the main event, which took place at exactly 5:00 p.m. A huge American flag had been draped over the entrance to the Holland Tunnel at either end. Just before the formal opening, the plaza lights were extinguished, and searchlights illuminated the flags. With a gold and platinum telegraph key, President Calvin Coolidge, from the East Room of the White House, connected the current that activated the motors to raise the flags and open the tunnel. There was a bit of irony in giving President Coolidge such a prominent role. It was natural to want the highest official in

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3.2. Governor Al Smith of New York shakes hands with Governor Arthur Harry Moore of New Jersey at the state line in the Holland Tunnel on Dedication Day, November 12, 1927. The boundary had been established at the middle of the Hudson River by the Treaty of 1834. The boundary is marked by decorative tiles, giving an Art Deco look to the letters. These tiles are circular in shape, much smaller than the regular tiles, and set in grout. The state line tiles are of distinctive colors—burgundy (purplish red), teal (medium blue-green), and white. Courtesy of the Science, Industry and Business Library, The New York Public Library, Astor, Lenox and Tilden Foundations.

the land to preside over the ceremonies, but the Holland Tunnel was in no way a federal project; it had been built by the two states. Significantly, the ceremonies honored those who had gone before. One was Clifford Milburn Holland, who had died midway through the project, and the other was Milton H. Freeman, his successor, who died a few months after taking the top job. The commissioners named the entrance to the westbound tube Freeman Square in his memory. Simultaneous with the opening of the tunnel, bands in Manhattan and Jersey City played “The Star-Spangled Banner.” The tunnel was then opened to allow people to walk through and inspect it with no charge for two hours, until 7:00 p.m. As people walked through, they were shouting and singing, just to hear their voices echo off the walls. At 7:00 p.m. the tunnel was closed to pedestrians, and officials conducted a final inspection for the official opening to vehicles, which took place just after midnight, early Sunday morning.7

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The first vehicle in line was a truck making a shipment to Bloomingdale’s department store in Manhattan, and it was followed by a car carrying Holland’s and Freeman’s widows, who had been given prominent roles in the ceremonies. Mrs. Holland and Mrs. Freeman purchased two tunnel tickets, which they paid for with two silver dollars, minted in 1927. The coins were framed and hung—one in the New Jersey Tunnel Commission offices, the other in the New York Tunnel Commission offices.8 Holland’s widow told a reporter, “Evening after evening he remained at work. Our dinner hour was always uncertain. If we induced him to attend the theatre, he always went back to the tunnel afterward, spending hours in the field offices and personally supervising the work.”9 Opening day took place on Sunday, November 13, 1927. It was a great day of celebration. Many families already had the custom of going out for a Sunday drive, and combining that with the impulse to do something historic and memorable proved irresistible to many motorists. The tunnel traffic of 51,748 vehicles was made up almost entirely of “pleasure cars,” as they were called in the 1920s. Officials were delighted with the count, since the supposed “maximum daily traffic” had been set by educated guesswork at a theoretical 46,000 cars. Reports were mostly favorable, though there was congestion at the tunnel entrances with predictable delays. On the other hand, the exit plazas cleared rapidly. It was the entrance plazas that caused frustration as vehicles waited ten or twelve or even sixteen minutes, side by side, trying to squeeze into the tube, which could only take two cars abreast. Reporters noted that on the New Jersey side, the waiting lines were backed up for miles.10 Responding to complaints about the backups at the entrances, tunnel officials said planners had to look at the traffic picture as a whole. They argued somewhat evasively that a two-lane tunnel only had so much capacity, that it was designed to accommodate the traffic from a given neighborhood. The tunnel, they said, could not be expected to service traffic from the entire city or the entire region.11 That official explanation made little sense. Fortunately, traffic engineers who have been working on this problem for decades have come up with a better explanation. Simply put, the mouth of a tunnel like the Holland is a bottleneck. It squeezes the flow like a narrowing pipe. There are too many cars for the tunnel’s capacity. The problem persists to this day.12 The opening day surpassed everyone’s expectations, but in the following week the number of sightseers was reduced. The weekday average dropped to about 18,000 vehicles, but officials said that the sharp reduction was not a realistic indicator of future traffic. As motorists worked out new travel routes, they would incorporate the tunnel into their travel plans. At the same time,

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some truck drivers complained that curiosity seekers were clogging the tunnel. They would hold off using the tunnel until those motorists faded away. A preliminary study of traffic at the Holland Tunnel for the first week showed a fairly clear pattern of usage. Between 4:00 a.m. and 8:00 a.m., most of the traffic was made up of produce and milk trucks. Then, between 8:00 a.m. and 9:30 a.m., authors of the study observed New Jersey commuters who were using the tunnel in lieu of railroad transportation. Between 9:30 and 12:00 noon, there were more delivery trucks. Between 12:00 noon and 3:00 p.m., they found cars and trucks in about even numbers. Between 3:00 and 6:00 p.m., outbound commuters headed back to New Jersey. Between 7:00 and 8:00 p.m., inbound theater crowds from New Jersey dominated; between 8:00 and 11:00 p.m., sightseers and tourists. Finally, between 11:00 p.m. and 1:00 a.m., the theater crowds returned to New Jersey. In analyzing traffic patterns for the first week, tunnel commissioners disclosed that they had hoped for a daily average of at least 35,000 vehicles, a number that included not just cars and motorcycles but also the higher-paying buses and trucks. They acknowledged that the 18,000 average vehicle count was disappointing. At the same time, they pointed out that they only needed 16,500 vehicles per day in order to reach the break-even point, to pay overhead expenses and fixed charges, obligations that totaled $5,500,000 annually, or about $11,232 per day. So, at first glance, the income appeared to be sufficient. But when it comes to regional politics, nothing is ever as simple as it seems. There was another obligation. New York state legislation required that $1,400,000 every year be paid to the newly formed Port Authority, the money to come out of New York State’s share of the earnings. The Port Authority had been given broad responsibility for transportation infrastructure in the region, but it had no power of taxation and no revenue-earning property of its own. Meanwhile, the Port Authority was supposed to build two Staten Island bridges and a proposed gigantic Hudson River bridge. In time, of course, the Port Authority was to become a wealthy and powerful agency. In those early days, though, the transportation hopes of the region were pinned on the success of the brand-new Holland Tunnel.13 Then, as now, everything about the Port Authority was controversial. Objections were raised about turning over revenue from the tunnel to the new agency. One of the most outspoken critics was Theodore D. Pratt, general manager of the Motor Truck Association of America. Pratt correctly predicted that such action would delay for many years the time when tolls for the tunnel could be reduced, or even abolished. The original financing plan for the tunnel called for the two states to advance the money for the costs. Tolls were to be charged to cover the operating costs and to pay down

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the interest and principal on the bonds. After all these charges were met, the idea was to do away with tolls altogether, or just charge enough to pay for regular maintenance. Pratt immediately recognized that the original plan was in jeopardy. He said, “The transfer of this large revenue-producing project to the Port Authority will mean that, indefinitely, the motorist will be required to pay for the financing of other Port Authority projects.”14 Of course, history has proved Pratt to be absolutely correct. In the early days, the success of the Holland Tunnel was not a foregone conclusion. There were plenty of worries and concerns. Would the tunnel relieve traffic congestion? Would the public accept this new mode of travel? Would the ventilation system work? Most importantly, would the facility pay for itself? There were no federal loan guarantees; the two states were on the hook for the full amount. The facility could not rely on tax dollars; its only funding source was user fees. The most obvious beneficiaries of the new tunnel were New Jersey residents who were now able to commute to jobs in New York by car. Other groups stood to benefit as well. There was a real benefit to residents of New York City, even if they never planned to use the tunnel themselves. The new tunnel constituted a form of insurance against the risk of food and fuel for the city being cut off as a result of the winter ice formation in the Hudson River. But ice was not the only hazard to navigation on the Hudson River; there was also the problem, from time to time, of dense fog. The lack of visibility made passage too dangerous in the crowded harbor in an era before the development of radar. It did not take long for the Holland Tunnel to prove its usefulness in this regard. About a month after the opening of the tunnel, New York was hit by a dense fog. According to a contemporary account, “The harbor from Sandy Hook to the Battery echoed on all sides with the ringing of bells on the ships at anchor and the sirens and powerful foghorns of the tugs and other small craft, creeping slowly toward the city.”15 Predictably, traffic increased in the Holland Tunnel, which accommodated an additional 4,000 vehicles over the traffic on a clear day. Apart from weather-related hazards, New York City commerce stood to benefit on a day-to-day basis, especially the building trades, since the tunnel was having a favorable effect on construction costs. Building materials now cost much less because delivery prices were reduced. Allen E. Beals, a financial analyst of the period, wrote concerning the Holland Tunnel, “It is, in the first place, the only underwater vehicular inlet or outlet in or from New York. It connects the railroads of a great section of the country with a territory which in 1926 projected more than one-sixth of the total building construction activity of the United States.”16

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Even a good project, of course, can have drawbacks. The opening of the tunnel had an immediate adverse effect on ferry service. Ferry executives were faced with the unpleasant alternatives of either increasing rates for commuters or curtailing service. The Pennsylvania Railroad, suffering a 50 percent loss in traffic, was hit the hardest by the diversion of vehicles to the new tunnel. Meanwhile, the Erie Railroad lost 40 percent; the Lackawanna, 36 percent; the Central Railroad of New Jersey, 20 percent; and the New York Central, 10 percent. Besides this loss of revenue, there was the additional burden of increases in the rent charged by the City of New York for the ferry terminals. Then there was the peak load problem. The ferries were most in demand for only about two hours in the morning and two hours in the afternoon. For the rest of a twenty-four hour cycle, the vessels were either underused or idle.17 As revenues for the rail ferries fell, the tunnel business kept gradually increasing. Officials watched the numbers carefully. During the first week of tunnel operation, it was used by 158,062 vehicles, yielding receipts of $82,422. During the second week, the vehicle count was up to 176,536, yielding receipts of $91,493.18 More good news for tunnel advocates came the following month. The 1927 Christmas holiday rush provided a windfall for the Holland Tunnel. December 25 fell on Sunday, and the holiday period from midnight Saturday to midnight Monday ran up tolls of $43,675 from 85,739 vehicles. These statistics told a success story.19 But would it have a happy ending? January, predictably, was a very slow month. The weather was cold, and shoppers were burned out from the holiday season. But February had 3.7 percent more traffic than January; March was 4.8 percent ahead of February; and April was an impressive 19.6 percent over March. Perhaps the late fall launch, just before the slow winter travel season, had been a blessing in disguise. It was better for the numbers to be seen going up, however slowly, than coming down. By the time the Holland Tunnel completed its first six months of service on May 13, 1928, the financial picture was encouraging. Total receipts had now passed $2,000,000, and all signs indicated that the summer months would bring increased traffic.20 Slowly but surely the Holland Tunnel was proving itself financially viable. By the end of the first year, more than eight million vehicles had used the tunnel, bringing in some $4,700,000 in gross revenue. Sure enough, it turned out that June, July, and August had been the most profitable, with an average monthly gross income of more than $450,000.21 So on the first anniversary of its opening, the Holland Tunnel enjoyed growing traffic and revenues. There was even talk that the entire cost of the construction could be paid off within a decade.22 During that first year of operation, the Holland Tunnel was still something of a curiosity. Tunnel police dealt with many foolish questions and a few

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smart remarks. One young woman asked a surprised policeman, “Is this the new ferry?” as she stared into the mouth of the tunnel. “Oh, I hope it isn’t dangerous.” Other visitors asked, “Can we walk through?” They were always disappointed when they were told that pedestrians were not allowed. Motorists inquired about rates, and some were genuinely annoyed when they learned that there was a charge.23 In addition to the Sunday drivers who drove through the tunnel just for the experience, police also noticed curious sightseers who came to the tunnel plazas on foot to watch the emerging traffic. Some of them might stand around for an hour or more studying each car as it came up out of the tunnel mouth. As one group of sightseers looked on with rapt attention, a policeman said, “They look like they expected something wonderful to pop out any minute.” One bystander told a reporter, “Well, I guess they won’t be satisfied until they see one of the cars coming out wreathed in seaweed.”24 Police remarked that one of their biggest problems in the early days was not motorists driving too fast but sightseers driving too slowly. Officials were eager for traffic to keep moving at 35 miles an hour, but sightseers were taking their time checking out the ventilation system and the fire boxes. The biggest attraction was the line between New York and New Jersey where the two governors had been photographed. While residents of the bi-state area toured the Holland Tunnel in their own cars, out-of-state tourists in Times Square were being enticed to take bus tours of downtown Manhattan. Such tours had always included Greenwich Village, the Flatiron Building, Chinatown, and Little Italy. Now the hawkers had a new angle: “See the Holland Tunnel! Round trip through the new tubes starting!” It was the latest attraction not to be missed.25 A few weeks after the Holland Tunnel’s first anniversary, in late December of 1928, a meeting of real estate brokers was held in the landmark BeauxArts Hotel Astor at Broadway and Forty-fourth Street. There, the immediate construction of a new tunnel to New Jersey from Forty-second Street was advocated by Harold M. Lewis, executive engineer of the Regional Plan of New York. Lewis said that as the Holland Tunnel reached capacity, a new tunnel would be needed to relieve congestion in Manhattan. His proposal, warmly received, was part of a comprehensive regional plan for the industrial development of the entire metropolitan region.26 It was the Roaring Twenties and anything seemed possible. Americans were enjoying unprecedented prosperity with a boom in consumer goods. Because of mass production and automation, the Model T car was affordable for even ordinary people. Americans knew that they were living in a machine age, a new era. Confidence was boundless, morale was high, and people were ready to accept the idea of a second trans-Hudson tunnel.

chapter 4

I

Let’s Build Another One construction of the lincoln tunnel As we have seen, the Holland Tunnel, completed in the late 1920s, was both an engineering and a financial success. It was this good news that motivated civic leaders to press for the construction of a second vehicular tunnel under the Hudson River. Everyone was bedazzled by the momentum of progress. Civilization was on the march. Building a second tunnel seemed like a straightforward task. After all, there were no new or untried technical concepts required. The big problem of ventilating vehicle exhausts had been solved. It was clear that motorists would accept the notion of driving underneath the river, and they were willing to pay for the privilege. The need was obvious. There was tremendous pressure from the public to relieve the traffic congestion in midtown Manhattan. Given the optimism and prosperity of the 1920s, it all seemed so easy. As it turned out, though, there were many unforeseen obstacles and challenges for the project initially known as the Midtown Hudson Tunnel, later named the Lincoln Tunnel. When the idea was initially floated in 1928, times were good, and financing would have been easy. But the story of the Lincoln Tunnel was destined to unfold in a very different manner from its predecessor. This intriguing tale was to be told not in months or in years but in decades. No one could have been expected to foresee the crash of 1929 or the ensuing Great Depression of the 1930s, which made capital hard to come by. The project was saved by New Deal funding from the Public Works Administration, but on a less grand scale than envisioned. The earlier design called for two tubes, but the first-phase work had to be scaled back to a single tube, completed in 1937. Then work on the second tube, which began in 1938, had to be suspended for a time during World War II because of labor and material shortages; it was not ready until 1945. The Port Authority decided in 1951 to add a third tube, which finally came online in 1957, a full thirty years after the opening of the Holland Tunnel. 57

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The story of the Lincoln Tunnel, with its many twists and turns, is a tribute to the persistence of the people at the Port Authority, who endured many frustrating delays. Our story begins in November of 1928, a time when both New York and New Jersey held gubernatorial elections. As fate would have it, both states elected new governors, and both of them were sympathetic to major public works dealing with transportation. Franklin D. Roosevelt of Hyde Park ran successfully for governor of New York as a reform Democrat. Since he was from upstate, he appealed to voters outside of New York City, something beyond the reach of most other Democrats. At the same time, Morgan Foster Larson of Perth Amboy ran successfully for governor of New Jersey as a Republican. Larson had been educated as an engineer at Cooper Union in New York City and had served as Middlesex County engineer. Later as a state senator he won a reputation for supporting transportation projects. Things were moving quickly even as the governors-elect were waiting to be sworn into their respective offices. The very next month after the elections, in December of 1928, a recommendation was sent to both Roosevelt and Larson urging the construction of a second tunnel underneath the Hudson River between Manhattan and New Jersey. The recommendation had been signed by General George R. Dyer of the New York Tunnel Commission and by Theodore Boettger of the New Jersey Tunnel Commission. The proposal persuasively pointed out that initial financing could be made possible by drawing on the profits generated from the Holland Tunnel. To make the deal even more attractive, the commissioners optimistically suggested, perhaps naively, that the earnings from both tunnels over a twenty-five-year period would be great enough to pay off the loans altogether. As a result, the tunnels could ultimately be made into free public highways. Both of the governors-elect seemed to be receptive to the message.1 But then, in 1929, the momentum for a new tunnel began to stall. Although the Holland Tunnel continued to be profitable, the great crash of October 1929 made it difficult to raise the necessary funds for new construction. Perhaps even more problematic, there was a dispute about who was going to build the tunnel. There were two rival agencies. One contender was the Port Authority, founded in 1921, that was building the Great Bridge, later to be named the George Washington Bridge, at 178th Street. The other contender was the joint Tunnel Commission of New York and New Jersey, founded in 1906, that had built the very successful Holland Tunnel. There was a lively dispute over who was better able to build the new midtown tunnel. Everyone agreed that it did not make sense to have two agencies involved with bi-state bridges and tunnels. But who was going to blink first? There were vested interests on both sides, and the dispute dragged on.

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In January of 1930, Governor Roosevelt sensibly urged both sides to get together, “to the end that the demonstrated engineering skill and technical equipment of the tunnel commissions and the financing ability of the Port Authority might be combined.”2 There was no debate about the need for a new tunnel, nor was there any debate about the feasibility of building it. However, there was a wide discrepancy in the budget estimates coming from the two agencies. The Tunnel Commission said that it could do the job for the bargain price of $67 million, while the Port Authority said it would cost some $96 million. At first glance, it was tempting to seize upon the lower number. However, knowledgeable observers pointed out that the Port Authority’s estimate was more realistic, since that agency had to operate essentially as a no-nonsense private contractor. It would finance the project on its own credit, its own ability to issue bonds. The Tunnel Commission would get its money from the two states, with the promise to repay out of earnings. If its initial estimate were to turn out to be too low, it would simply go back to the states and ask for more money. Indeed, that was exactly what had happened in building the Holland Tunnel.3 Clearly, it was not in the public interest to allow two rival agencies to go on indefinitely building competing bi-state crossings, either over or under the Hudson River. To save face and to prevent hurt feelings, officials decided to combine the two agencies rather than force one or the other out of business.4 So in April of 1930, the Tunnel Commission was merged with the Port Authority. Under the terms of the deal, the new agency took the name of the Port Authority; however, the tunnel commissioners continued their appointments. The Port Authority originally had six commissioners, three from each state. Under the new arrangement, the Port Authority now had twelve commissioners, six from each state. On April 13, Governor Roosevelt signed off on the agreement for New York State.5 In short order, the New Jersey legislature went along with the deal, without much opposition, passing the necessary enabling legislation on April 15.6 No time was lost in setting up the new combined agency. The board of commissioners was made up of high-profile men with proven reputations. At the reorganization meeting held in May of 1930, power was carefully balanced between the two states. John F. Galvin of Manhattan was elected chairman, and Frank C. Ferguson of East Orange was elected vice chairman. Galvin had already been chairman of the Port Authority for two years and vice chairman for several terms. He had previously served on the board for the construction of the Catskill Aqueduct. He was president of the Metal Stamping Company of Long Island City, and he was an officer and director of several other companies. Vice Chairman Ferguson was the fiscally conservative president

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of the Hudson County National Bank of New Jersey and had served as a commissioner of the original Port Authority since 1924. He was a conscientious and effective commissioner, though the record shows that, back in 1921, he had been very skeptical and had vigorously opposed the creation of the agency.7 In the summer of 1930, things began to happen—quite a miraculous turn of events given the deepening depression. To reassure bond buyers about the feasibility of the project, the new Port Authority took a traffic survey, holding interviews with some 125,000 motorists. It concluded that there was a real demand for an underwater crossing between Thirty-eighth Street in Manhattan and Weehawken in New Jersey. Initially some traffic might be lost at the Holland Tunnel, but in time there would be more than enough business for both tunnels.8 As mentioned earlier, the proposed project was given the appropriate, if unimaginative, name of Midtown Hudson Tunnel.9 For a while in early 1931 it looked as if construction on the new tunnel might really begin. In January, the Port Authority sent Governor Roosevelt and Governor Larson a detailed plan for the tunnel. The Port Authority said that if the two legislatures acted immediately, it might be possible to finish the tunnel by 1937.10 In February, bills to enable the Port Authority to begin work were introduced in the New Jersey legislature in Trenton and in the New York legislature in Albany.11 By March, the legislation had been passed by both state legislatures and signed by both governors, who supported it, in part, to relieve unemployment. There was considerable pressure to get started and to use the money as soon as possible.12 In the spring of 1931, there was still an optimistic hope for an immediate beginning of the construction of the Midtown Hudson Tunnel, but as the year dragged on this hope slowly faded. The Great Depression was having a devastating effect on the U.S. economy. Construction projects everywhere were coming to a halt. In June of 1931, President Herbert Hoover proposed a one-year moratorium on all intergovernmental debts, and by July the moratorium was put into effect by all major nations. Despite this success, by the fall of 1931 confidence began to slip again. In September and October, many Americans began to withdraw their money from banks, and by the end of the year more than eight hundred U.S. banks had closed.13 By the spring of 1932, the Port Authority, like everyone else, was in the grip of the most severe economic depression ever experienced. The failure of so many banks made capital hard to come by. The Port Authority had hit a wall; there simply was no money available for a grand project. The gloom of those dark days of the Depression was captured in John Dos Passos’s novel The Big Money, which used all kinds of experimental techniques including collages of newspaper headlines such as “Wall Street Stunned” and “Decline in

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Contracts.”14 Statistics showed that one out of every four employable New Yorkers was out of work. The song “Brother, Can You Spare a Dime?” was heard everywhere. The homeless were sleeping wherever they could find a spot—under bridges, in rail terminals, on subway trains, or in shelters. Some gave up altogether and turned to suicide. A grim joke told of a hotel clerk who asked those who were checking in if they wanted a room for sleeping or for jumping.15 The Port Authority’s failure to raise money was at a heartbreaking impasse, but officials put a brave face on the situation. They issued a report in March of 1932 saying that the project would have to await better financial conditions. They were not abandoning the project, but they were acknowledging a delay. They announced that they would not start the tunnel until they were able to market their bonds on a 4.5 percent basis. Announcing a specific target was a clever move. They were not giving up, and they were not walking away. They were simply waiting for better days.16 It was clear that the necessary money could not be raised from the private sector during the Great Depression, so a few months later the Port Authority turned to the Reconstruction Finance Corporation (RFC), an independent agency of the U.S. government set up by the Hoover administration.17 Though the RFC made many positive contributions in alleviating bank failures, the agency got involved in a dispute with the Port Authority over interest rates, and the deal to finance the new midtown tunnel under the Hudson fell through. Next the Port Authority turned to the Public Works Administration (PWA), a New Deal agency, expressly dedicated to providing employment, headed by Harold Ickes. The PWA was created by the National Industrial Recovery Act in June 1933, and it turned out to be easier to work with than the RFC. The PWA agreed to loan the Port Authority $37,500,000 at only 4 percent interest, a generous arrangement. However, the Port Authority had to agree that, for the time being, it would postpone the twin tube plan and go ahead with a single tube.18 With the money in hand as of October of 1933, preliminary work could begin and supplies could be ordered. The first step was to carry out a series of borings in the Hudson River to determine the nature of the rock and soil that would have to be excavated. The authority could also go ahead and place orders for mundane, but necessary, supplies such as nuts, bolts, and washers— all needed for the shield-driven process.19 About a month later, the Port Authority made a number of appointments to key positions on the project. Colonel Charles S. Gleim, who earlier served on the Holland Tunnel Commission, was named chief engineer.20 Ole Singstad, best known for designing the innovative ventilation system for the

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Holland Tunnel, was named the chief consulting engineer on the tunnel. Ralph Smillie was named engineer in charge of design. He had been head of the Engineering Department of the Newark City Railroad for two years, and he had served in an advisory capacity to the Port Authority for several months. He was given responsibility for the structural, mechanical, and electrical aspects of the tunnel.21 Of course, the professional engineers had the ultimate responsibility for the success of the Midtown Hudson Tunnel, but the day-to-day responsibility for the hands-on supervision of the work fell to George Breck Montgomery, who had the title of superintendent of construction. Basically, this meant that Montgomery had to be available, night or day, to deal with delays, problems, and emergencies. Engineers make the designs, but construction superintendents implement them. Though he had studied at Colgate University, Montgomery left without finishing up a degree to enlist in the Spanish-American War. From 1914 to 1918, he supervised the construction of four tunnels under the East River, and then, from 1921 to 1926, he served as general superintendent of construction work on the Holland Tunnel. With all this experience, it was no surprise that he was appointed construction superintendent for this newest tunnel. He was known to work well with all kinds of people, from commissioners to sandhogs.22 With the financing in place and with the key personnel appointments made, things finally started happening in the spring of 1934. A traditional groundbreaking ceremony took place on Thursday, May 17. The festivities provided a welcome opportunity to dispel the gloom of the Great Depression. Many notables were invited for separate exercises on either side of the Hudson River. Units of the militia from both states were called out to participate. The Seventy-first Infantry of the New York National Guard participated by lighting a flare to recognize the groundbreaking. Company D of the 104th Engineers of the New Jersey National Guard took part in a similar ceremony on the Weehawken side. With hard-won wisdom, the Port Authority was careful to bestow equal respect upon both states on this important occasion. There was to be a formal ceremony in Manhattan starting at 1:30 p.m., followed by an equally formal ceremony in Weehawken starting at 3:00 p.m. Clearly, tiny Weehawken was not the equal of mighty Manhattan, but officials were careful to ignore that obvious discrepancy and to treat Weehawken with flattery. The response to this was gratitude and goodwill. The Coast Guard asked all vessels in the Hudson River to blow whistles and sound sirens to mark the event. New York City fireboats provided a water display, throwing large arcs of water in every direction. The Manhattan ceremony began at 1:30 p.m. at the foot of West Thirty-ninth Street. It was set up

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with a big tent, folding chairs, martial music, sound reinforcement, and police protection. There was an air of vitality and excitement that spread the message: Something important is about to happen here. Dignitaries took off their hats and topcoats and wielded ceremonial picks and shovels, digging up spadefuls of earth. Flashbulbs popped, and aides snatched the tools so they could be taken away, silver-plated, and mounted in walnut display cases with engraved plates with commemorative information. But that was only the beginning. Politicians love an audience, and every official of any importance got a chance to speak.23 General Dyer, chairman of the Port Authority, opened the ceremony on the New York side by introducing Mayor Fiorello Henry La Guardia, popularly known as “the Little Flower.” Choosing La Guardia to kick things off made sense; he was known to be charming and warmhearted. He had the personal magnetism that would galvanize attention. A strong supporter of the New Deal, La Guardia spoke in a high-pitched voice, marking important passages of his speech with emphatic gestures. He said, “This will be another link between the people of New York and the people of New Jersey. Personally, as mayor, I want to see the people of New Jersey come here. I want to see them come empty-handed and return with full market baskets. I congratulate the Port Authority. I send greetings to Secretary Ickes and thanks to President Roosevelt for making this project possible.”24 Next to speak was Governor Moore, a native of Jersey City, who had earlier attained national fame when he assumed control of the investigation into the Lindbergh kidnapping in 1932. Moore said, “Today we are breaking ground for the Midtown Hudson Tunnel. Four years hence vehicular traffic will be flowing between the town of Weehawken on the opposite shore of New Jersey and the point where we are now assembled on the Island of Manhattan. The broad barrier formed by nature to easy communication between the two great states is again overcome by modern engineering genius and by the administrative and legislative devices of resourceful men.”25 Also speaking at the event was Samuel Levy, president of the Borough of Manhattan.26 Levy may have been a ward boss and a machine politician, but he knew what to say on this occasion. Sticking to the celebratory tone of the day, Levy said, “The ties of friendship between the States of New York and New Jersey will be further cemented by the construction of the Midtown Hudson Tunnel. The President has made possible a new link in a great national highway system.” The New York National Guard band played “The Star-Spangled Banner” and other selections, and that wrapped up the Manhattan ceremony.27 The follow-up ceremony took place on the western shore of the Hudson River, along the southern end of the New Jersey Palisades, across from

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midtown Manhattan, in the historic district of King’s Bluff within the tiny township of Weehawken, only 1.5 square miles in area.28 This ceremony began at 3:00 p.m. with a welcome from Mayor J. G. Meister, who described the tunnel project as the “most important accomplishment in the history of Weehawken.”29 Mayor Meister introduced the keynote speaker, Colonel Henry Matson Waite, deputy administrator of the Public Works Administration. Colonel Waite had a distinguished record of service in the First World War. As deputy administrator of the PWA, Waite had the job of actually evaluating the hundreds of proposals submitted for federal support.30 Until this point, all the speeches had been designed to make people feel good. They had been of a ceremonial nature, stressing the identities and values that linked the people of New York and New Jersey as a single community. The hard-hitting Colonel Waite had something else in mind. With his military background, he was accustomed to issuing orders that soldiers would obey without quibbling or questioning, but at the same time he knew of New York City’s reputation for strong labor unions. With considerable foresight, he warned against a real threat to the project, labor militancy. In his speech, Colonel Waite said, “The Public Works Administration, as rapidly as possible, is putting people to work and is a wheel-horse of the recovery team President Roosevelt has hitched. Vast sums of money are being expended on safe, economic, and socially necessary improvements. With close cooperation among governments, contractors, and labor, much can be accomplished.” He then offered a stern message: “Labor must realize that it has a vast, unselfish duty to perform. The public is struggling in every possible way to get people back to work. The public mind cannot understand, nor will it tolerate, strikes. When people are demanding work, with vast throngs on relief rolls, the public mind cannot comprehend why those having work strike.”31 The speech was a shot across the bow of organized labor. Colonel Waite was sincere in wanting to get people back to work, but as a military man he had little sympathy for striking workers. To even threaten to carry out a strike against a project sponsored by the PWA seemed to him the height of ingratitude, a poor return for the kindness that had been extended to the region in selecting this particular project for funding. The remaining speeches were more routine and superficial. The next to speak was M. William “Bill” Bray, lieutenant governor of New York, whose political base was in far-away Oneida County, nearly one hundred miles west of Albany. Bray walked up and placed his speech on the podium, and looked out at the crowd. Reading from his prepared remarks, he said, “I think I can speak for both New York and New Jersey in saying that we are particularly

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pleased with the fact that it [the project] will be completed without in any way adding to the tax burdens of the people of either State—for which we should express appreciation both to the Port Authority and to the Public Works Administration.”32 The last speaker of the afternoon was Port Authority Vice Chairman Ferguson. As the hour was getting late, he kept his remarks brief, but he stressed that the project was not just of local significance: “Today we have the added satisfaction of knowing that with this project we are not only creating a new transit facility for the people of New York and New Jersey, we are also taking an active part in the national scheme of economic reconstruction.”33 With the opening ceremonies completed, work could now begin in earnest in the spring of 1934. There was much to be done, and it would be well coordinated by the engineering staff and by construction manager George Breck Montgomery. Land had to be acquired on both sides of the river. An entire region of Manhattan from Thirty-fourth Street to Forty-second Street west of Ninth Avenue was to be transformed. Old tenement buildings would be razed, new north–south streets would be created, and broad plazas would be developed. In effect, this was a giant urban renewal project destroying blocks of warehouses and old brick dwellings of the predominantly Irish neighborhood of Hell’s Kitchen, the old turf of the Gopher Gang, so notorious for robberies and illegal gambling operations that police feared to patrol the area unless they could mass in large groups. Meanwhile, a mile and a half west across the Hudson were the rock cliffs of Weehawken, where blasting had begun as a first step in creating the necessary access ramps.34 Once the land on the West Side of Manhattan had been acquired and cleared of its old tenement buildings, engineers could begin excavating a construction shaft, deep into the earth between Eleventh and Twelfth avenues.35 The purpose of this shaft was to provide vertical access to the level of tunnel operations. Because urban land is valuable, engineers were following standard practice. A vertical shaft uses up the least amount of land and minimizes interference with the entire complex subterranean infrastructure. The completed shaft would allow workers to get to the site and would provide an exit for the tunnel muck.36 The shaft was 40 feet across and 80 feet deep, blasted out of solid rock. Running down one side was a winding staircase for the workers, slippery from the moisture. Running down the other side were cables from the aboveground power station for electrical power and pipes carrying compressed air. In this inland construction shaft, workers assembled the cutting shield, weighing over 400 tons, which would initiate the burrowing. Then a battery of hydraulic jacks with a thrust of 6,000 tons would push it through the earth and on into the silt and the rock of the riverbed.37 Later,

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a similar shaft would be built on the New Jersey side.38 The overall problem was to drive a 32-foot boring for 8,000 feet, most of it below sea level and 4,600 feet of it under the river, at the same time keeping the river out of the workspace while fashioning a 31-foot watertight shell of steel and concrete inside the boring.39 Meanwhile, engineers were working on another sort of shaft, a tunnel caisson, a huge steel structure to be sunk in the Hudson River off the foot of Thirty-ninth Street. Given the practices of the 1930s, engineers could simply dig the inland construction shaft with a crane using a clamshell bucket to hoist the mud and muck from the shaft and drop it into a truck on the surface.40 However, there was no way to “dig” a shaft through river water. Instead, they had to use a sort of prefabricated shaft, or caisson. The caisson for the Midtown Tunnel was fabricated at the plant of the Federal Shipbuilding and Dry Dock Company in Kearny, New Jersey, on the west bank of the Hackensack River. The hollow, boxlike structure was about 42 feet by 52 feet, with walls about 30 feet in height. However, the walls were designed in such a way that they could be extended, bit by bit, as the caisson was sunk, eventually extended to nearly 100 feet as the caisson settled into its final position on bedrock, a process that would take about three months.41 Once the 600-ton caisson, a red steel cube, was fabricated in Kearny, it took a two-day process to get it to the worksite. On the first day, it was slowly towed down Newark Bay, through the Kill van Kull, pausing overnight at Staten Island because of the tide. On the second day, it took three and a half hours for the Federal Shipbuilding and Dry Dock tugboat to float it from Staten Island to its Thirty-ninth Street resting place. The tugboat crew had just as much trouble with this procedure as did their predecessors eleven years earlier, back in 1923, when they were trying to maneuver a caisson for the Holland Tunnel. The clunky caisson was not fabricated with ship handling in mind. “We had to drift it, we couldn’t pull it,” one of the deckhands explained. “We could pull a liner against the tide, but not this thing.”42 “It’s a harder job than bringing in an ocean liner,” said tug Captain Eric Iverson, explaining that the difficulty was due to the square shape of the caisson, certainly a poor hull design in terms of navigation.43 Once the caisson was in place, the sinking process could begin. It was a very clever design. The sidewalls of the caisson had inner and outer steel skin plates separated by braces. The space between was gradually filled with concrete. With this added weight, the structure would drop little by little, first to the silt at the bottom of the river, and finally down to bedrock, 98 feet below mean high water. Since the walls were watertight, the water could be pumped

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out, the caisson would be sealed at the top, and compressed air would continuously keep water and mud out at depth. After the work was all done, the structure could be placed into service as a ventilating tower.44 In late July of 1934, construction of the new tunnel was well under way. Most of the skilled sandhogs on the job received an average of $10 for a day’s work made up of two three-hour shifts with three hours’ rest in between. They took great pride in their work. Many of them had done tunnel work for years. Some had come to the United States with the first English contractor who had built the Pennsylvania Railroad tunnel in 1904 and had stayed on. Their sons and grandsons had followed in their footsteps.45 The work was proceeding on schedule when suddenly a strike threatened the project. Of course, this was precisely the problem that had been anticipated two months earlier by Colonel Henry Matson Waite at the groundbreaking ceremony. Except that this strike did not unfold as Waite had anticipated—over economic issues. Certainly during the Depression, when many were out of work altogether, it would have been unseemly to strike for higher pay or shorter hours or better benefits. But this was not a case of workers asking for more money; rather this strike was over what they saw as unfair labor practices. Specialized workers were threatening a jurisdictional strike. They were protesting the assignment of disputed work to ordinary laborers, a direct threat to their dignity and self-esteem. During the Depression, of course, there was a surplus of available labor. The greater the supply of labor, the greater the temptation for employers to undermine union solidarity. Union leaders understandably saw this situation as a clear risk that unions could be wiped out altogether. On Friday July 27, Charles Johnson Jr., president of the Dock Builders, Pile Drivers, and Foundation Workers Union, on behalf of all related heavy construction unions, issued a formal strike threat. Basically he charged that the contractors were employing laborers at low pay for doing the work that should have been assigned to such skilled mechanics as engineers, electricians, blacksmiths, and carpenters.46 In his statement, Johnson said, “We will discuss the advisability of a general strike in New York City and New Jersey as a means of forcing these public works contractors holding $600,000,000 in government jobs to recognize union labor and pay a living wage and eliminate laborers being employed as skilled mechanics. If we do not succeed in eliminating this situation, an evasion of the prevailing rate of wage, we may be forced to call a general strike on heavy construction work in the metropolitan area.” Meanwhile, in Weehawken, Local 825 of the Steam and Operating Engineers Union posted pickets to prevent about 150 men from the Jersey side of the Midtown Tunnel

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from reporting for work. At the same time, Hudson County police and railroad police were called out “to prevent disorder.”47 In the meantime, state and federal mediators were called in to try to bring about a settlement. Simultaneously, the New York Police Department issued an unusual request: Chief Inspector Lewis J. Valentine asked all labor unions “to submit credentials of their accredited representatives.” Arriving on the heels of a tunnel strike threat, the timing of this “request” was suspicious. Coming from the NYPD, it seemed like an order certain to have a chilling effect on union activity. However, the police department insisted that there was no connection with the threatened general strike in the heavy construction industry. Chief Inspector Valentine unconvincingly explained that the Amalgamated Clothing Workers of America had called for the police to check up on recognized union officials in the city “as a means of eliminating racketeers, gangsters, and other undesirable elements in the various industries.”48 Not surprisingly, soon after the issuance of the order, several unions objected strenuously. For example, the Food Workers Industrial Union saw the overture as a move to take away their right of collective bargaining. They called upon other unions to resist “this step to take away our rights to choose our own representatives, our right to organize and strike.” Inspector Valentine responded that providing such credentials was entirely optional. He went on to say that the police department had no jurisdiction in the negotiations regarding labor disputes, and he placed full responsibility for the practice on the clothing workers union. At the same time, he said, he was eager to cooperate with legitimate unions in eliminating racketeers.49 The following week there was a meeting of one hundred representatives of the thirty-two affiliated unions. After a lengthy discussion, Charles Johnson announced that the strike would be postponed at the suggestion of both state and federal mediators who had come to New York from Washington to work on a settlement. The stakes were high because a general walkout would affect not just the Midtown Tunnel but Triborough Bridge work as well. The key mediators were Peter A. Doyle of the State Labor Department and William G. Liller of the Federal Conciliation Board. It was a tough assignment because each side was dug into its position. However, there was hope that, as impartial evaluators, they could improve the dialogue between the two sides.50 After several days of listening to the problems of both labor and management and suggesting alternative approaches, the key mediators were getting weary. They brought in a fresh face, Professor Lindsay Rogers, who was a respected scholar, a professor of public law at Columbia University. A wellknown figure, Rogers had the unusual blend of personality, skills, knowledge,

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and experience to tackle the problem. He was what we would call today “a public intellectual.”51 Bringing in Professor Rogers was a key step in breaking the logjam and getting both sides to sit down and talk. Speaking for the several unions, Charles Johnson said, “We are pleased that the United States Government is interested enough to investigate the evils complained of. We feel we will get a fair break from Professor Rogers and the two other members of the committee. Our sole purpose is to compel the contractors to obey the written word in their contracts with the government. If they do that the organized workers will get all that they have asked for.”52 Twenty days later, the tunnel strike was settled. The ironworkers, blacksmiths, pipe fitters, engineers, and electricians all went back to work, with the assurance that ordinary laborers could no longer take jobs in the skilled trades.53 Work on the tunnel continued through the late summer and early fall of 1934. Meanwhile, aboveground on the Manhattan side, there was much to be done to cut the path for the approach. In late October of 1934, a crew of forty workers began to create a roadway eight blocks long and 75 feet wide through the Hell’s Kitchen district of Manhattan, a gritty tenement neighborhood of the poor and working class. The process involved the razing of ninety-one buildings extending from Thirty-fourth Street to Forty-second Street between Ninth and Tenth avenues. Many of the buildings were of limestone, five stories high, built between 1850 and 1870.54 We are fortunate to have a contemporary account of the tunnel workspace from a newspaper reporter, L. H. Robbins, who went to the trouble of making a firsthand visit in March of 1935. His visit required official permission, a medical examination, and the signing of a release form. Robbins was not deterred by the red tape. His graphic description of the workplace includes specific and colorful details that are not available from any other source. His account began with a classical allusion to Tartarus, the subterranean place of eternal punishment in Greek mythology, a deep and gloomy abyss. Robbins wrote, “You will find a bit of the realm of Tartarus down there, all very orderly, but infernal, nevertheless.”55 After describing the process of passing through the air locks, Robbins introduced his cast of characters as “Big Irishmen, Italians, Negroes, Poles, and Swedes, ox-strong, rough-clad, and spattered with mud, plaster, and red lead.” He went on to describe the cylindrical 400-ton tunnel shield as well as the supplies and machinery required to fabricate the tunnel shell. To get to the working face of the shield, Robbins tells us, “you climb over men with hammers, over planks and six-foot bolt wrenches, and are climbed over in turn by men with coils of wire-like metal calking and pails of red lead.”

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4.1. Constructing the Lincoln Tunnel by tunneling through rock, a slow process, on the New York side. First, holes are drilled at the face of the tunnel, and then the drill holes are loaded with explosives. Next, the men move back to a safe location, and the charge is detonated. After the smoke clears, the rubble can be removed. Courtesy of the Port Authority of New York and New Jersey.

His descriptions employed apt metaphors, as in this word picture of the shield: “A steel cutting edge projects forward at the top and sides, like the visor of a cap, and protects workers underneath from falling debris.” Later Robbins compared the tunnel shield to a “steel Hercules,” the mythical hero famous for his strength. Still later, he described the work of rock drillers who created a hole where dynamite could be placed. Then came the

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4.2. Workers installing the framework in preparation for pouring the concrete slab on which the roadway for the Lincoln Tunnel will be supported. The roadway is spanned between the sidewalls to provide space underneath it for ventilation, utilities, and drainage. Courtesy of the Port Authority of New York and New Jersey.

careful work of the blaster who placed the charge and retreated to a safe distance. Robbins explained, “He enters the lock, he opens a box, and inside it he puts a couple of electrical things together, at which instant the world comes to an end down there by the shield, and the concussion bashes you in the face like a boxing glove.” Immediately following the detonation, workers loaded up rail cars to carry away the blast-shattered rock. Clearly, Robbins came away with admiration for the engineers in charge of the project, comparing them with the Titans, the race of powerful deities that ruled during the legendary Golden Age of Greece. Robbins concluded, “A heroic race they are, they and their stout-hearted sandhogs, gamely and proudly doing Titans’ work down there under the tide, under the town, making the world convenient for the rest of us.” The pace of the work was quite uneven. On the New York side, workers had to blast their way through hundreds of yards of difficult rock, a slow and time-consuming task. Meanwhile, the shield from the Weehawken side, digging through soft soil, was proceeding quite rapidly, so rapidly that it would be responsible for nearly all of the under-river work. The meeting point would not be in mid-river, as was the case for the Holland Tunnel, but the big

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steel caisson at the foot of West Thirty-eighth Street. By May of 1935, the Port Authority reported that workers digging eastward from the New Jersey shore had passed the midway mark and crossed into New York. Engineers said that the daily average of 35 feet was a record for this kind of work.56 The following month, the Port Authority reported a world’s record for speed in tunnel construction. The eastbound crew moved the Midtown Tunnel 250 feet in a single week. This achievement was compared favorably with the 150-foot record set during the construction of the Holland Tunnel years earlier.57 The westbound crew, blasting through rock on Manhattan Island, was moving much more slowly. The shield from the Jersey side moved faster in a day than the other in a week.58 The digging was completed faster than anyone had expected, two months ahead of schedule. A ceremony to mark completion of the bore took place on Friday, August 2, 1935. The Midtown Tunnel was officially holed through at 12:13 p.m., when Harry Stripling, a veteran sandhog, came through from the New Jersey end of the tube to shake hands with the chief engineer, Colonel Gleim, who was waiting for him at the Manhattan end as the last pipe was driven through. It was a tremendous honor for Stripling, fifty years old, of Elmsford, New York, a master mechanic and hydraulic engineer. A contemporary account described him as “a slight, gray-haired man.” It went on to say that he “popped out of a two-foot pipe seventy-five feet under the Hudson River.”59 This was a noteworthy event, recorded by newspaper reporters, photographers, sound cameras, and broadcasters. Afterward there would be a traditional celebration with feasting and drinking accompanied by lots of fun and laughter. “There will be a big spread for the sandhogs—with refreshments both wet and dry—on the surface at both ends,” Colonel Gleim told reporters. “Later at 7 o’clock in the evening, there will be a dinner at the Hotel New Yorker attended by Port Authority officials, the contractors on the job, and other invited guests.”60 Notwithstanding all the jubilation, Colonel Gleim warned that there was still a great deal of finishing work to be done. He said that the remaining work would probably take two and a half years, and the tunnel would not be ready for use until January 1, 1938. It was considered absolutely necessary that the tunnel be ready no later than the beginning of the 1939 World’s Fair in New York City to handle the expected increase in traffic. The mud and debris left in the path of the two crews had to be cleaned up. Inside the circular tunnel, they would build a suspended ceiling at the top, supporting walls along the sides, and a solid roadway at the bottom. Like the Holland Tunnel, in crosssection one could think of it as a box within a circle. As with the Holland,

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workers would have to install fresh air ducts underneath the roadway and exhaust ducts above the ceiling. To accommodate the ventilation system, the interior surface would have to be relatively smooth to reduce air turbulence and frictional loss. Engineers would have to apply detailed plans for tunnel lighting, sidewalks, roadway pavement, and police booths.61 Sidewalks in the tunnel had to be installed to provide an emergency exit for patrons in the event of fire or accident. Sidewalks were also necessary to provide access for maintenance people as well as traffic police. Engineers decided on a raised sidewalk as a sort of ledge that would both allow the police to have a clear view of the traffic and protect them from the traffic in the event of an accident. They also made provision for police booths that were heated in the winter and later air-conditioned in the summer, designed with an aluminum frame with glass panels and pass-through doors on both ends. These booths gave some protection from ventilation air blasts as well as the noise from the roadway. Finally, ceramic tiles were installed as the proven finish for walls and ceilings. White tiles were chosen for their ability to reflect light. Given their durability and colorfastness, tiles had already proven themselves in the Holland Tunnel. The only significant downside was that they were not conducive to noise reduction. On the other hand, they stood up very well to constant washing and scrubbing. Overall, ceramic tiles were fire-resistant, light-reflecting, and economical.62 Even as these finishing touches were being applied to the tunnel proper under the Hudson River, there was still work to be done in the last few underground feet on either side, where workers had to deal with rock formations rather than the more easily penetrated mud and muck under the river. It was not until early September of 1936, more than a year after the main tunnel had been holed through, that the final underground stretch on the New Jersey side, 740 feet underneath King’s Bluff in Weehawken, was completed.63 The last 25-foot section of rock and dirt was blasted away on September 1, 1936, just before noon, thus linking the New Jersey Toll Plaza with the western extreme of the underwater tunnel. No formal ceremony marked the achievement.64 Now the main work remaining was finalizing the approaches for traffic on either side. By early October of 1936, the excavation for the New York plaza was complete, with retaining walls in place. Pavement was being laid on the new approach street which ran from Thirty-fourth Street to Forty-second Street between Ninth and Tenth avenues.65 Meanwhile, similar work was being done on the Weehawken side. There, from the very beginning, provision was made at the plaza for both a north tube and a south tube, though at first only the south tube was completed.66 On the New Jersey side, in order to get the traffic down from the top of King’s Bluff to the broad, south-facing

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plaza below, the approach roadway was designed to spiral down in a full circle. In time the spiral was referred to as “the Corkscrew” or “the Helix.” For westbound traffic exiting the tunnel, vehicles would climb the great loop and proceed west through Weehawken and Union City to make various connections including New Jersey State Routes 1 and 3.67 A well-thought-out tunnel plaza would need more than a few tollbooths. A number of service buildings were required as well. Space would be needed for housing service vehicles and emergency trucks. Shops would be required for electrical and mechanical repairs, not to mention storage space for material and equipment. The workshop would contain workbenches, equipment, and tools needed for maintenance and repair. A garage with ready access to the roadway was needed, too, for emergency trucks, as well as facilities for the stand-by crews of the crash trucks, emergency vehicles specially designed and equipped to rescue victims of a crash and to clear wreckage as quickly as possible. Additional space would be needed for service vehicles such as the tunnel-washing truck, the platform truck used for maintaining tunnel lights, and service cars for police officers and maintenance workers.68 In the spring of 1937, as construction was nearing completion, a significant decision was made by the Port Authority. All along, the project had been known as the Midtown Hudson Tunnel. Then suddenly the Port Authority made a startling announcement: The new vehicular tunnel between Manhattan and Weehawken was redesignated as the Lincoln Tunnel. Several reasons were behind this decision. Looking at the big picture of Hudson River crossings, the new tunnel was situated between the Holland Tunnel, named after a great engineer three miles to the south, and the George Washington Bridge, named after a great president seven miles to the north. It seemed only fitting to name the new tunnel after someone at least as distinguished in American history as the other two; thus Abraham Lincoln became an obvious choice. Another, less obvious, reason was to avoid confusion arising from the fact that work was then underway on a Queens-Midtown Tunnel.69 It was a safe choice; no objections were raised to the new name. There was no controversy, no public debate, and no protest. In the fall of 1937, many people were looking forward to the opening of the Lincoln Tunnel. Commuters who lived in northern New Jersey and worked in midtown Manhattan longed for a quicker trip. New York realty interests were enthusiastically speculating on possible trends of growth. There was palpable excitement in the air as West Side businessmen looked forward to new warehousing, light manufacturing, and distribution centers. A bit farther to the east, there appeared to be the possibility of new shopping facilities and perhaps a growth in the hotel business. There would be a broad effect on real

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estate north of Thirtieth Street from the Hudson River over to Times Square.70 In October of 1937 as anticipation was building, the Port Authority scheduled a “preview” inspection of the not-quite-finished tunnel for a party of dignitaries, including former president Hoover and Mayor La Guardia. Also in attendance were Attorney General John J. Bennett representing Governor Herbert Henry Lehman of New York as well as Frank Durand, president of the New Jersey State Senate acting in place of Governor Harold Giles Hoffman. The inspection party traveled by automobile, with police motorcycle escorts, through the nearly completed tube—the New York delegation coming from Manhattan, and the New Jersey delegation coming from Weehawken. The drivers had to watch carefully to avoid piles of brick, stone, and wood piled up along the tunnel walls. The officials met at the midway point, some 70 feet below the surface of the river, where they unfastened a chain that had been suspended across the roadway. Politicians from both states praised the new tube as a great link between New York and New Jersey. Former president Hoover in his prepared remarks said, “This is another welcome demonstration of the ability of the American people to conceive and put through efficiently and quickly a great worthwhile project.”71 As the grand opening scheduled for Wednesday, December 22, 1937, approached, dozens of details had to be addressed. For example, toll charges had to be fixed. It was decided that tolls would be the same as those on the Holland Tunnel and the George Washington Bridge. Passenger cars would be charged seventy-five cents; motorcycles, thirty-five cents; and tractor-trailers, two dollars and fifty cents.72 About the same time, it was decided that slow trucks would be banned from the Lincoln Tunnel, mainly because there was only one lane going each way and such a truck would delay everyone. The Port Authority ruled that trucks unable to maintain a speed of 20 miles an hour on the exit grades would be excluded.73 Shortly before the formal opening of the new tunnel, in order to minimize confusion and congestion, the Port Authority distributed special maps to inform motorists how the approach roads were to work. City police cooperated with tunnel authorities by assigning additional officers and installing a number of traffic signs to show clearly the routes for traffic entering or leaving the tunnel.74 Meanwhile, a number of interstate bus lines planning to use the new Lincoln Tunnel were making formal applications for permits. The Port Authority decided upon a toll of one dollar for each bus, the same rate that was being charged for the use of the Holland Tunnel.75 Under normal operating conditions, it would take motorists about four minutes to cross under the Hudson River in the new tunnel. Making that

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brief trip possible took three and a half years’ work. The builders had experienced many difficulties. At both the New Jersey end and the Manhattan end, workers had to blast through solid rock. The approach road in Manhattan was a 60-foot-wide cut through eight blocks of tenement houses and lofts. The underwater portion was 4,600 feet in length bored by the shield method through river muck, some 20 feet below the bottom of the river. The whole project required the removal of a staggering 650,000 cubic yards of rock and earth. Naturally, this kind of heavy construction carried great risks, and fifteen workers died during the work, two more than the thirteen who died building the Holland Tunnel.76 The opening of the Lincoln Tunnel was clearly a special occasion that called for a civic ceremony. The tunnel would pass from the engineers who built it to the politicians who would take the credit for its construction. By now there was a template to follow for such events. The Port Authority had to look no further than the opening ceremonies for the Holland Tunnel that took place ten years earlier, in November of 1927. Governors and mayors would have to be invited. Speeches would be delivered and broadcast over great distances. For the sake of pageantry, there would be military escorts marching in formation and bands playing patriotic music. The military honor guard, passing in review before the guests of honor, would feature not only foot troops but also battle tanks, scout cars, and motorized artillery. The opening ceremonies took place on Tuesday, December 21, 1937. Numerous speeches were delivered, but the most important were those given by the two governors whose remarks were appropriate to the ritualistic nature of the occasion. Both stressed the shared aims, beliefs, and aspirations of the residents of New York and New Jersey. Governor Lehman of New York gave the principal address at the dedication ceremonies at the Manhattan plaza of the tunnel at eleven in the morning. He said, “I see in the Lincoln Tunnel, not only a splendid engineering accomplishment but beyond this, a new evidence of successful cooperation between states. . . . They have learned to look beyond immediate pressures and . . . seek long-term solutions of problems whose scope extends far beyond the limits of the state line.”77 At the close of Governor Lehman’s speech just before 11:30 a.m., he was scheduled to throw an electric switch that would turn on the green lights signifying the opening of the Lincoln Tunnel on the New York side. He said, “I press this switch which will symbolize the completion of this great project and announce the opening of a new highway from New York to New Jersey— the Lincoln Tunnel.” The governor pressed the switch, and at first nothing happened, which led him to say, “I hope it works.”

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A moment later, the green lights came on, and at the same time, a siren sounded the signal for a light to be lit on top of the New York ventilation shaft at Eleventh Avenue and Thirty-ninth Street. “Apparently, it does,” remarked Governor Lehman.78 Then all vessels in the harbor received a signal to blow their horns.79 Actually, turning on the green lights at that time was purely symbolic, since the tunnel was not really opened to traffic until four in the morning the next day, Wednesday, December 22, 1937.80 In any event, as part of Tuesday’s ceremonies, Governor Hoffman of New Jersey delivered the dedicatory address on the Weehawken plaza at noon. Hoffman saw the tunnel as delivering greater personal freedom for its users. He said, “This tunnel is a magnificent machine of mass transportation, but above all other things, it is a great servant of individual liberty. Thousands of automobiles and trucks will pour through its long tube. . . . Once the barrier of the great river is passed, with time and money saved for the driver and owner, all the roads of America are open at the twist of a wheel. Cars may take city families to the mountains or country families to the great city. . . . Happy journeys to you.”81 At the close of Governor Hoffman’s address shortly after 12:30 p.m., he threw an electrical switch that turned on the green lights signaling the opening of the tunnel to traffic on the New Jersey side. At the same time, a siren was sounded that signaled Battery A of the 112th Field Artillery from the New Jersey National Guard to discharge a nineteen-gun salute from a position on a nearby hill overlooking the Weehawken Plaza. Meanwhile, a squadron of sixteen airplanes supplied by the Coast Guard and the U.S. Navy as well as by the New York and New Jersey National Guard flew over both plazas from eleven in the morning until noon. It was a rewarding and enjoyable day for the participants in the celebration. After all the speeches were given, the cannons fired, and the toasts made, the politicians and celebrities went home. As the sun set, workers made lastminute preparation for the real opening for toll-paying traffic, set at the quiet and dark predawn hour of 4:00 a.m. The choice of that early hour was deliberate. The suburbs would be still and silent, with commuters asleep. Traffic would start with a trickle, allowing officials to iron out any problems before the morning rush. For those first motorists already familiar with the Holland Tunnel, the crossing would seem much the same. The drive from portal to portal was about the same length, some 8,000 feet. Everything was similar, from the white-tiled walls to the blue-clad police officers. Pleasantly, however, the new roadways were 18 inches wider than those of the Holland Tunnel. And truck drivers were pleased to note that the Lincoln Tunnel had

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a full 13 feet of headroom, compared to the 12 feet 6 inches in the Holland Tunnel.82 The first motorist to pass from Weehawken to Manhattan was Omero C. Catan, a publicity-seeking twenty-three-year-old salesman who was living on West Twenty-eighth Street in Manhattan. His car had been parked at the Weehawken Plaza since 10:00 p.m. on Monday night. At the same time, the first motorist to pass from Manhattan to Weehawken was George Horn, age nineteen, from Queens, whose car had been parked at the Manhattan Plaza since 9:00 p.m. on Monday. There were no formal ceremonies to mark these “firsts,” but newspaper photographers duly reported them, including the start of both cars and their brief halt in the middle of the tunnel, where the two drivers exchanged friendly greetings.83 In the first hour, eighty-five vehicles passed through the tunnel bound for New York, and eighty-two made the trip over to New Jersey. A long line of cars was waiting at either end for the 4:00 a.m. opening. Among the first was a bus chartered by a bar and grill from North Hudson, New York, whose owners offered some of its regular customers the opportunity to be in the “first” busload.84 In the first twenty-four hours of operation a total of 7,661 vehicles passed through the Lincoln Tunnel. The questionable honor of being the first motorist to run out of gas in the new tunnel belonged to Charles T. Meany, a salesman from North Bergen, New Jersey. On his return to New Jersey, his car came to a stop 800 feet from the Weehawken portal at 2:33 p.m. A tunnel police officer halted the flow of traffic and summoned a tractor to tow the car away. It took only five minutes for the flow of traffic to resume.85

chapter 5

I

Law and Order the role of the port authority police

When the Holland Tunnel opened for business in 1927, the authorities realized that they would have to create some kind of a police force for which there was no precedent. They created the Holland Tunnel Police Department (HTPD), a separate entity belonging to neither New York City nor Jersey City. Starting from scratch, they had to make things up as they went along. This was the very first vehicular tunnel, with two stretches of about forty city blocks each, the tubes being 10,000 feet long, without any shoulders or any way to shunt disabled vehicles off to side streets. The challenge was to keep traffic moving on a 20-foot-wide thoroughfare for a considerable distance.1 Another challenge was recruiting high-caliber officers. The tunnel police were a motley crew. There were no hiring standards to speak of, though occasionally a competent person was hired. It was hard to attract people for the job because the tunnel police offered far fewer opportunities for “sugar” than the regular New York Police Department, some of whose officers at the time were accepting payoffs from bordello operators, shopkeepers, and especially saloonkeepers—since this was during the Prohibition Era that ran from 1920 to 1933. Taking payments to look the other way was a widely accepted practice. There was little public disapproval of graft in the city because most people there rejected the idea of Prohibition in the first place.2 The HTPD continued as a separate agency for some four years. It was not until 1931 that the Holland Tunnel was passed to the Port Authority. Since the boundary line between New York and New Jersey was clearly marked in the middle of the tunnel, it was decided that the tunnel police would make arrests of lawbreakers as necessary. Then those arrested on the east side of the line would be turned over to the NYPD; those arrested on the west side of the line would be turned over to the Jersey City Police Department. 79

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In truth, the main problem was not arresting people but keeping traffic moving. The police were instructed to respond quickly to breakdowns or flat tires. They would dispatch a tow truck and charge the motorist twice the fee of the toll for the service. Police worked an eight-hour day. The first two hours were spent on the catwalk inside the tunnel, and then they would get a five-hour break working outside the tunnel. Finally, at the end of their shift, they would spend one more hour inside the tunnel. Surprisingly, there were no complaints about exhaust fumes. Officers reported that “the air inside was as pure or purer than outside the tubes.”3 One of the regulations that the HTPD tried very hard to enforce was that motorists were supposed to leave 75 feet between vehicles. Since there were two lanes of traffic moving in the same direction in each tube, the spacing would allow the police to squeeze all the vehicles into a single lane if there was a stoppage. This way there would be a freed-up lane for the emergency response vehicle to reach the scene quickly.4 Breakdowns were not unusual; in the first year there were some two thousand such incidents. Besides helping with the usual breakdowns such as flat tires, overheating, mechanical trouble, or (most embarrassing and indefensible) running out of gas, the 16 sergeants and 186 patrolmen of the HTPD were charged with firefighting. In the first year of operation, there were more than a hundred fires in the tunnel. Fire extinguishers were placed at regular intervals, and for more serious fires, there was a fire engine equipped with 200 gallons of firefighting foam.5 The management tried to do everything possible to minimize stoppages in the tunnel. These events were especially disruptive during morning and evening rush hours when the full capacity of the tunnel was needed. Research showed that any stoppage during rush hour would easily add two hundred vehicles to those backed up at the entrance to the tunnel. What could be done to avoid these problems? Most of the ideas followed common sense. The management provided free compressed air for sagging tires and free water for underfilled radiators at each tunnel entrance. They distributed free pamphlets to patrons urging them to prepare their cars for summer and for winter. However, the key thing was to establish emergency garages at either end of the tunnel. Each garage was equipped with men and tow trucks readily available to remove disabled vehicles.6 Because a tunnel is such a confined space, it is more important than ever that individual motorists proceed in an orderly and lawful manner. In the first six weeks of operation of the Holland Tunnel, eight drivers received summonses for failing to keep in line. At first glance, this might seem overzealous, but keeping cars in line helps to minimize collisions caused by weaving. Even minor collisions can tie up two lanes and block traffic. During those same six

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weeks, the police arrested twenty-three drivers on charges of reckless driving and disorderly conduct.7 Most drivers know that driving through a tunnel requires focus and attention because the lanes are relatively narrow, the tunnel walls are solid, and there is normally heavy traffic in front and behind. All the more reason not to drink and drive through a tunnel. Not to mention the fact that tunnels are heavily patrolled, especially on New Year’s Eve. But, sure enough, on the very first New Year’s Day of the operation of the Holland Tunnel there was a noteworthy arrest. Kenneth Dennin of Elizabeth, New Jersey, had been partying far too hard on New Year’s Eve anticipating the arrival of the New Year, 1928. He should not have been driving, but he took his car through the Holland Tunnel on his way home. Patrolman James Ruby determined that Dennin had been drinking. The officer smelled alcohol and noticed Dennin’s slurred speech. Dennin was not happy when he was arrested at 1:45 a.m. on New Year’s Day. Apparently the alcohol impaired Dennin’s judgment as well as his driving skills. In his anger, Dennin struck the arresting officer. He then faced the additional charge of assaulting a patrolman and was held on $1,000 bail.8 Though the tunnel police did have the power to issue summons for traffic violations, for the most part these patrolmen were not so much crime fighters as traffic expediters. In theory, trucks were supposed to keep to the right lane and passenger cars to the left. The most typical violation was crossing from one traffic lane to another, hardly a major crime. Even so, almost nobody got away with it, for there were patrolmen stationed at regular intervals keeping an eye on things. If they noticed a violation, they would pick up their telephone and phone the officer at the exit, who would pull the guilty party over and issue a ticket.9 In the beginning, it was decided that the best way to keep traffic moving would be to place police officers along the tunnel catwalk, to have them physically present to handle traffic stoppages as fast as possible. For this purpose, seven officers were assigned to each tube of the Holland Tunnel, placed at regular and equal intervals of distance to equalize the workload. This arrangement went on for many years, though by the 1950s studies showed that vehicle breakdowns were not distributed equally throughout the tunnel. Traffic engineers discovered that 70 percent of the breakdowns took place on the upgrade half of the tunnel, where there was more strain on an engine, and only 30 percent on the downgrade. As a result, they redistributed the police officers in a more rational fashion, resulting in increased efficiency and cost savings.10 In addition to expediting traffic and enforcing the law, the tunnel police were urged to be goodwill ambassadors to the public. The superintendent of

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the Holland Tunnel, Ole Singstad, was keenly aware of the mountain of debt looming over the enterprise and the need for tolls to pay it off. Singstad sought to establish positive relationships with the motorists he saw as customers deserving respect. Early on in 1928, he issued a memo to the police force urging them to keep calm and polite. “Don’t, if an operator needs gas or has an accident, appear cranky and act toward him as though he were a criminal,” Singstad wrote. “Don’t lose sight of the fact that persons using the tunnel are paying for the privilege and that they are customers of the commissions and pay your salaries.”11 The list of “don’ts” went on, giving commonsense advice on informal strategies for the management of anger and hostility. Singstad was keen on promoting social harmony, cooperation, and patience. This good advice notwithstanding, a few months after the issuance of Singstad’s memo, an incident occurred that seriously marred the reputation of the tunnel police. It took place in the wee hours of Sunday morning, August 12, 1928. Exactly what happened on that hot and steamy night may never be known since there are conflicting accounts. It seems that two couples on a double date had been partying heavily Saturday night in Newark, and they were driving home to Flushing, Queens, passing through the Holland Tunnel. The driver of the car, James Bernard, age twenty-seven, was said to have willfully crossed back and forth across the centerline of the tunnel, dividing trucks from cars. Patrolman George Denker, an amateur boxer before joining the tunnel police, tried to issue a summons, but Bernard refused to accept it, and an argument broke out. A fight followed that resulted in Bernard being locked up in a Bellevue Hospital prison ward with a compound fracture of the jaw, bruises, and lacerations. He was charged with disorderly conduct. On one hand, the police version of events was that Bernard “had to be subdued.”12 On the other hand, Bernard and his companions had an entirely different story. Bernard had tried to explain to the officer that there was a car in front of him that came to an abrupt stop. Bernard, following the rules to expedite traffic, was traveling at 30 miles an hour. He felt that he had no choice but to swerve to the other lane to avoid a crash. Having done so, he crossed the line and returned to the proper lane. Patrolman Denker did not accept the story and rode on the running board of Bernard’s vehicle to the end of the tunnel, where he instructed Patrolman Joseph Finnen to issue a summons. Bernard refused to exit his vehicle, and then things got ugly. The two policemen pulled him out of the car. Bernard was beaten, thrown to the ground, and kicked; his world turned upside down. The crumpled, stricken motorist started screaming. He was thinking, Why? I can explain. “I—” “SHUT UP! FACE DOWN!”

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Finally, he got to his feet and was escorted to the nearby restroom, where he tried to wash the blood off his face. Denker and Finnen followed him there. While Finnen pinned his arms behind his back, Denker hit him repeatedly and unmercifully across his face and the back of his head with his nightstick.13 When the case came to court, the magistrate dismissed the disorderly conduct charge against Bernard and insisted on the arraignment of the two patrolmen. The magistrate said that this incident appeared to be an unwarranted assault on a law-abiding citizen. He went on to say, “These policemen came here to testify against Mr. Bernard on a simple charge, when they really had tried to commit murder in the washroom of the tunnel where they for a second time brutally assaulted him.” The case slowly ran its course through the criminal justice system. On August 22, 1928, the grand jury indicted George Denker and Thomas Finnen on charges of felonious assault.14 The case attracted widespread and unfavorable attention to the HTPD. Additional complaints of brutality began to surface. Furthermore, it did not look good when it came to light that 250 members of the HTPD had contributed to a “defense fund” for members of the force arrested on assault charges. Meanwhile the two accused patrolmen were free on $10,000 bail each.15 As the case proceeded, the defense came under a cloud because two of the superior officers who were on duty that fateful night appeared to be covering up for the accused. Captain Albert Bunner and Sergeant Arnold Zimmerman, who were at the desk at the time of the assault, gave testimony to the grand jury that was so out of line with that of the victim as to be unbelievable.16 When the trial took place in October of 1928, Patrolman George Denker was convicted by a jury of second-degree felonious assault. But Patrolman Thomas Finnen, who was jointly tried along with Denker, was acquitted and released from custody. The prosecutor expressed the belief that the conviction “would serve as a warning to the police of the entire city not to assault persons unjustifiably when making arrests.”17 That was not the end of the story, though. Denker’s conviction was reversed by the Appellate Division, and a new trial was ordered. At the new trial in June of 1929, court observers were surprised when Denker pleaded guilty to a third-degree assault charge. The judge sentenced him to an indeterminate term of not more than three years in the penitentiary. Why did Denker finally agree to plead guilty? It was pretty clear that a plea bargain had been struck. Reducing the crime from second degree to third degree meant that Denker was convicted of a misdemeanor rather than a felony.18 This was an era when it was not unusual for the police to rough up suspects. In December of 1934, NYPD Commissioner Lewis J. Valentine had sent

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a message to his force that it was all right to knock the bad guys around. Observing a well-dressed young thug in a lineup got him really upset. “He’s the best dressed man in this room,” Valentine said, “yet he’s never worked a day in his life. When you meet men like this, don’t be afraid to muss ’em up. Men like him should be mussed up.”19 Nevertheless, the barrel-chested Denker had crossed a line. The man he had beaten was a regular citizenmotorist with no criminal record; there was no way that the event could be overlooked. So, in retrospect, the tunnel police had gotten off to a bad start, suffering from notoriety rather than enjoying appreciation. However, things started to turn around when the Port Authority took over in 1931. To understand this transition, let us go back to an earlier point in time. The Port Authority was created by Congress in 1921 as a compact between New York and New Jersey. The agreement gave the new agency broad legal authorization to promote the growth of the port district, which was defined to include parts of 17 counties and 108 towns within a 25-mile radius of the Statue of Liberty. Although it had no power of taxation, the Port Authority could purchase, construct, lease, or operate any transportation facility in the region. The new agency was something of a hybrid, with many of the powers of government coupled with the prerogatives of business. It had some powerful things going for it. In the first place, it was not restricted to building and operating a single facility; instead, the agency had broad authority to pursue many different projects over a long time horizon. Secondly, the agency could issue bonds, build a facility such as a bridge or a tunnel, and then charge a “user fee,” or toll, for those using it. There was no obligation on its part to stop charging tolls once the bonds were retired. Seven years after its founding, the Port Authority assembled a forty-man police department on June 1, 1928, for the purpose of patrolling the newly opened Goethals Bridge and Outerbridge Crossing. These officers were called “bridgemen.” So when the Port Authority took control of the Holland Tunnel in 1931, the bridgemen were merged with the tunnel officers.20 In effect, from this point on, the Holland Tunnel would be patrolled by the Port Authority Police Department (PAPD), with full enforcement power in both states. Gradually, they gained a reputation for professionalism and effective public service. Throughout the 1930s and 1940s, the PAPD became known for simple honesty and personal integrity, resulting in greater public confidence in tunnel police. The scandals faded away, partly because of a sophisticated public relations campaign. Most of the publicity was positive and served to enhance the reputation of the PAPD. It seemed that no good deed was overlooked.

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5.1. Police officer on foot at the catwalk, monitoring the flow of traffic at a bend in the Holland Tunnel. The primary responsibility of police was to keep traffic moving. Courtesy of the Port Authority of New York and New Jersey.

In 1935 the New York Times published several letters from readers praising the men of the PAPD under the headline “Knights of the Crossing.” For example, one reader said that as he was driving through the Holland Tunnel, the hat of his lady friend was blown off. In conclusion, he wrote, “Upon arriving at the exit, we were signaled to stop and the officer informed me that the hat had been recovered and would be returned in several minutes.”21 At the same time, there were constant efforts to improve the flow of traffic and to reduce accidents. For example, in 1936, a new signal system was installed in the Holland Tunnel. The idea was to add amber lights that could be activated to flash whenever there was a traffic stoppage ahead, warning drivers to lower their speed.22 Nearly everyone agreed that installing the flashing amber lights, universally recognized as warning of a traffic hazard ahead, was a good idea; however, police officers on the scene knew that, by themselves, the signal lights were not enough because some motorists would simply ignore them. It would take the signal lights coupled with the presence of a uniformed officer in plain sight to ensure full compliance. If most of the police work was tedious and routine, keeping the worn-out clunkers moving through the tunnels, there were some moments of real risktaking and heroism. In recognition of such important deeds, in the 1940s

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the Port Authority created a series of police medals to be awarded for meritorious service. In 1944 the first of these awards went to Joseph F. Lawless, a traffic policeman, who received the Medal of Honor for “acting quickly, courageously, intelligently and at great personal risk and utter disregard for his own safety.” While on duty in December of 1943, he responded to a fire in a rooming house, climbed the fire escape, and assisted victims to safety. Notwithstanding his efforts, some seventeen persons lost their lives in the fire.23 During the years of American participation in World War II, in the first half of the 1940s, overall traffic was down mainly because of gas rationing and tire shortages. However, the day-to-day workload of the Port Authority Police actually increased because civilian vehicles were aging, and there were no new cars available on the market. As the cars got older, breakdowns in the tunnels became more frequent. At the same time, because of the wartime rubber shortage, there were more blowouts and flat tires. Surveys showed that the average life of a private passenger car before the war from dealer showroom to the scrap yard was 5.8 years. Near the end of the war, that figure had been stretched out to 7.2 years.24 Immediately after World War II, there was great pent-up demand for new automobiles. The result was a huge spending spree on new cars. In the first five years after the war, dealers sold an average of three million cars a year.25 More and more cars led to predictable snarls. In the early 1950s, the New York Times began to report on the long lines of New Jersey–bound travelers piled up at the entrances to the Holland and Lincoln tunnels on Friday nights, especially during the summer months, as everyone was trying to get out of the city for the weekend.26 Correspondingly, the tunnels were routinely tied up with traffic jams on Sunday evenings and Monday mornings as people returned from the weekend. Police did what they could to keep things moving. Overheated, steaming cars that tended to crawl or stall were pulled out of line, and their drivers were directed to the free water pumps to fill their radiators before being allowed to proceed. On one particularly hot July morning in 1951, Captain George A. White, stationed at the Lincoln Tunnel, said it was “the worst Monday morning traffic jam I can ever recall.”27 As the 1950s went by, the Port Authority Police Department became increasingly professionalized. At the same time, management worried about the expense of placing highly paid police officers in tunnels. The Port Authority began to investigate the possibility of using a miniature railwaytype car that would run along the catwalk to increase the efficiency of the foot patrol in order to cut costs. The proposed single-wheeled, radio-equipped vehicles would be 10 feet long and 2 feet wide, with an open-top transparent body, powered by an electric motor.28

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The so-called catwalk car would have to travel back and forth in a linear fashion along the catwalk, rather than making a circuit in the manner of a conventional police car responsible for public safety on city streets in a particular zone. The initial plan called for four such cars to be installed in the Holland Tunnel. An officer traveling on such a car could more cover distance more quickly in responding to stoppages. Cars could travel at a top speed of 15 miles per hour, hopefully the equivalent of six men on foot patrol, resulting in a considerable savings on salaries. A prototype car was constructed and installed as a test in the south tube of the Holland Tunnel. The results of the test showed that there would be a savings in manpower, though not as much as initial expectations. It turned out that the car with one rider was equivalent to two men on foot patrol, not six. Nonetheless, the results were good enough to proceed with the plan.29 By the 1950s Port Authority engineers had carried out so many scientific studies, that they had a fairly clear picture of how to maximize the flow of traffic through the tunnels. Key factors in getting the most tunnel capacity were vehicle speed and spacing. Minimum speed limits were established,

5.2. First test run, on December 20, 1954, of the electric catwalk car, able to travel 15 miles per hour, designed to replace patrol by foot. Photo shows a police officer slowing down traffic. Courtesy of the Port Authority of New York and New Jersey.

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underpowered trucks were banned, and numerous signs encouraged motorists to maintain the proper distance from cars just ahead of them. All these measures taken together helped to maximize traffic volumes.30 In addition to implementing rules and regulations, from time to time the Port Authority appealed to truckers for voluntary cooperation to relieve traffic congestion in the Lincoln and Holland tunnels. For example, in June of 1950, Daniel J. Crecca, manager of the New Jersey Motor Truck Association, urged members to avoid the use of the tunnels during the morning rush hour of 8:15 to 9:15 a.m. and the evening rush hour of 5:15 to 6:15 p.m. “The association is always willing,” Crecca said, “to cooperate by recommending changes in operating practices of truck owners.”31 Then, in June of 1954, traffic engineers from both the Port Authority and New York City worked out new patterns for traffic exiting from the Holland Tunnel into the city at the vicinity of Varick and Laight streets. The result was that lanes for exiting traffic were increased from three to seven, greatly increasing the capacity of the tunnel plaza.32 Meanwhile, the training for the Port Authority Police at its own Police Academy, located in Jersey City, became more and more rigorous. Admission to the academy was based on competitive tests. In a typical year, there might be 1,400 applicants for 400 positions. At the training school, recruits were taught basic police skills—how to patrol, investigate crimes, and respond to emergency situations. Recruits assigned to tunnels had to learn about tolls, classification of vehicles, special permits for certain types of vehicles, firefighting, first aid, and prohibited cargo such as explosives. In the 1950s the police academy required five weeks of training.33 By the 1960s this had been increased to nine weeks. Along with increased training came increased pay and benefits. A beginning Port Authority cop received a higher starting salary than his New York City counterpart. He would get the same fringe benefits but a more generous uniform allowance.34 Officers assigned to the strange subterranean world of the tunnels had to adjust to noise, fumes, glaring lights, and the sense of being confined to a closed-in space. Most of us would not consider this a desirable place to work, but few of the officers complained about the work environment as such. It really was not so bad because officers could always shelter in one of the glass booths placed along the catwalks. These booths were air-conditioned in the summer and heated in the winter. The officers also could retreat to relatively more comfortable and little-known Emergency Rooms, or “E-Rooms,” located behind each booth. In fact, the E-Rooms connected the twin tubes. For example, an officer could enter a glass booth on the Jersey-bound side, pass through the E-Room, and exit into another glass booth on the

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Manhattan-bound side. Inside the E-Room was a desk for writing out reports and a series of cubbyholes for filing the reports. In addition, quite a bit of emergency equipment could be stored in these rooms. Here you might find some fire extinguishers equipped with Purple-K, a dry chemical fire-suppression agent, most effective in fighting class B (flammable liquid) fires. There might also be a number of Scott Packs to enable emergency workers to breathe in smoky environments while fighting fires. Despite the workplace amenities and the good equipment, there was considerable job dissatisfaction. Simply put, the problem was that the tunnel officers were overqualified. Ironically, the ever-increasing level of training and professionalism expected of Port Authority police officers assigned to the tunnels had unintended consequences: They were bored. According to a feature story in the New York Times, the time on duty seemed to move slowly for tunnel police officers. For the most part, the job was dull, tedious, and lacking in stimulation. The challenge was finding a way to pass the time in an interesting fashion. Some of the officers recited poetry; others tried to spot license plates from as many different states as possible; still others resorted to daydreaming. Some tried singing. One freelance writer observed, “Since the sound of the traffic makes his voice inaudible to anyone but himself, the tunnel policeman, like a man in the shower, often passes the time singing at the top of his lungs, running through anything from Irish ballads to Puccini arias.”35 The contradiction between rigorously training someone as a police officer and then asking him to cope with mundane, routine problems had been evident from the start. Over the decades, it became increasingly obvious to the Port Authority management that the customary practice was expensive, wasteful, and ineffective. They commissioned a study of the problem by the Traffic Institute of Northwestern University, which concluded that less skilled civilians could do the same job for less money. The issue came to a head on Wednesday, July 18, 1973, when the Port Authority announced that it planned to use forty-three civilians on the catwalks of the Holland Tunnel for a three-month experimental period. The civilians would be paid $2,000 a year less than the patrolmen. The announcement sparked a bitter conflict with the union, the Port Authority Police Benevolent Association (PBA), leading to walkouts and slowdowns.36 On the surface the dispute appeared to be a normal clash of interests between labor and management. The police union wanted job security, and the management wanted to save money. The Port Authority PBA voted unanimously to stand roll call but not to work at the tunnels, bridges, and airports. The police wisely did not walk out, and they did not go on strike. Had they

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gone on strike they might have gone unpaid and would have risked being replaced. What they did, a sort of slowdown, put enormous pressure on management.37 Of course, as a result, for the next couple of days there were several traffic tie-ups, especially at the Lincoln and Holland Tunnels. There were also several breakdowns at the Holland Tunnel during evening rush hour that caused lengthy traffic jams because there were no policemen to ameliorate them. But the confusion did not last long. Supervisory personnel, including lieutenants and captains, as well as detectives in uniform and probationary patrolmen, pitched in to help with tunnel patrols. Judges in both New York and New Jersey ordered the men back to work by Friday, July 20.38 The police obeyed the order of the judges and returned to work. But the struggle was not over. There was an ongoing state of hostility. At first, it appeared that the police union was cornered. The officers who were scheduled to work had to show up, and they had to perform their duties. But the union had another trick up its sleeve. What about the off-duty officers? They had considerable potential for mischief-making. With the deliberate aim of snarling the early morning rush hour at the tunnels, in a carefully planned strategy, they got together and formed a motorcade, driving three abreast on the access ramp to the tunnel. When they got to the tollbooths, they presented large bills to create trouble for the toll takers making change. Once in the tunnel, they drove at speeds of 5 miles an hour or less, with occasional complete stoppages.39 On the surface, the police job action was a tremendous success. The notion of moving slowly, creeping along in stop-and-go fashion, did indeed succeed in causing delays of up to an hour for the hapless commuters. But it was a victory won at excessive cost because public opinion turned against the police. In an editorial, the New York Times came out in favor of management: “It is self-evident that the tunnels do not need highly trained and relatively expensive policemen to cope with the usual problems that arise there. Less skilled, less well trained and less well paid civilians can do what is needed.”40 At this point, the battle was lost and the police grudgingly returned to work. In time, everyone accepted the new arrangement. The Port Authority accepted binding arbitration on the labor dispute, and management promised that no policeman would lose his job; they would simply be reassigned.41 The formal title for the replacement workers was “Facility Operations Agents,” or FOAs, though they were informally known as “bridge and tunnel agents,” or more simply as “brown shirts,” to distinguish them from police officers who wore blue shirts. On their new brown shirts, they wore a distinctively different uniform patch. They did most of the same duties as their predecessors, but they were not armed. At first the new employees suffered from

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being blamed for taking work away from the police, but over time they won acceptance. Their main job was to keep traffic moving. Traffic must be monitored twenty-four hours a day, seven days a week. Most of the duties were routine, such as fixing a flat tire, providing a jump start, or calling for a tow. Gradually, their duties were increased to include an expanded role in handling medical emergencies, operating rescue trucks, and using hydraulic tools to extract trapped motorists. Most of the replacement workers were young men in their twenties who aspired to becoming police officers and had already put in applications to the NYPD, the PAPD, and other police agencies. Many took this work as a stepping-stone for a career in law enforcement, and some succeeded in getting there.42 With the passage of time, the active role and physical presence of the brown shirts within the tunnel itself seemed to become less and less necessary. Just as the police had been replaced by civilians, now there was a realization that even the civilians might be replaced by technology. As a premiere engineering agency, the Port Authority was always ahead of the curve in employing the most modern technical innovations. As early as 1965, the Port Authority had begun to install closed-circuit television cameras at regular intervals along the walls of the tubes to spot traffic trouble spots in the Lincoln Tunnel. In 1966, the system was expanded to include the Holland Tunnel. In addition, photoelectric cells were embedded in the roadway to detect traffic stoppages quickly. In 1967, plans were made to link data from the television cameras and roadway sensors into computers that activated traffic control signals at the tunnel entrances. Thus traffic flow could be regulated in the event of congestion.43 At first glance, all this new technology appeared to be the logical next step. With every technical step forward, though, there came a hidden agenda. There was always constant pressure to reduce costs by cutting manpower. Management believed that civilian tunnel agents could still promptly respond to breakdowns, fires, and other emergencies from response vehicles stationed at either end of the tunnel, but it would not be necessary for them to maintain a constant physical presence on the catwalks. Some critics were saying that the Port Authority had a trend to put too much reliance on gadgetry. In any event, all of this technology did little to help ease the congestion on local streets feeding traffic into and out of the tunnels. Those were under city and state jurisdiction.44 In the 1980s, traffic control became more and more sophisticated. For example, in the summer of 1984, a special lane for cars, buses, and vans carrying more than three people was opened on the New Jersey side of the Holland Tunnel to reduce congestion and to promote car pooling. This high-occupancy

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lane was open between 6:30 a.m. and 10:00 a.m.45 Of course, it is one thing to open a high-occupancy lane, and it is quite another to make it work. Because the high-occupancy lane offers a much faster trip, there will always be a few solo motorists who try to cheat by jumping into that lane. The scheme will not work unless there is a highly visible and effective law enforcement presence. It was not an easy job, but fortunately there was a man who stepped forward to do it—Police Officer Donald A. Foreman, who took the job very seriously. He got to work very early, at 5:30 a.m. every day, Monday through Friday, and he almost never missed a day. He was a regular fixture; he was there winter and summer, rain or shine. On ordinary days, he would wear a reflective vest and white gloves. On rainy days, he would wear a long orange raincoat and the traditional eight-pointed police hat with a plastic rain cover. In the wintertime, he would wear an official Russian-style fur cap with ear flaps that could be tied up to the crown of the cap. On very cold days, the ear flaps could be tied at the chin to protect the ears. Regular commuters knew he was there, and they obeyed the law. His zealous enforcement was legendary. As the downhill traffic approached the Holland Tunnel from the New Jersey side, there were plenty of signs making it clear that single-occupant vehicles were to stay to the right, and only multiple-occupant vehicles were allowed to use the special left-hand lane. Even so, predictably, every morning there were a few motorists who tried to slip unnoticed into the expedited lane. Officer Foreman caught most of them. He pulled them aside and gave them a summons. But that was not the end of the story. He would then divert the hapless motorist into the left turn lane for Hoboken, a major inconvenience representing a huge cost of time in the morning rush hour. Not only did Officer Foreman give out tickets; he also showed up in court to testify. At first, he stumbled in court because he was not savvy to the system. Was the transgression actually illegal? Was it a prima facie case? Was he sure that the defendant present in court was the right person? After losing a few trials, he got better at the process. Officer Foreman took a series of photographs of the warning signs at the tunnel approach. He then posted them on a big, easyto-read chart. Every time, he would bring the chart and an easel to the courtroom. It was pretty obvious that the route was well marked. In addition, he learned to take complete notes on the spot, with very accurate physical descriptions of the defendants and their vehicles, complete with make and model and color and license number. With all this preparation, conviction was a sure thing. He was a guy who took pride in his work and regarded every morning as a challenge.46

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In the late 1980s a significant change was negotiated by the civilian FAOs with Port Authority management. Their title was changed to Tunnel and Bridge Agents (TBAs); more importantly, their uniform was changed from brown shirts to gray shirts. For the agents, the uniform change was an important prestige issue. They felt that their brown uniforms too closely resembled those of United Parcel Service drivers. Even worse, the brown uniforms were easily confused with those worn by the outside contractors who provided cleaning services. Just as traffic control seemed to be settling in as a predictable set of solvable problems, the world of Port Authority law enforcement was turned upside down on February 26, 1993. It was lightly snowing on a Friday afternoon when suddenly at 12:18, a huge explosion rocked the foundation of the Twin Towers of the World Trade Center in lower Manhattan. It turned out that there was a bomb hidden in a van that had been parked in the subbasement parking garage. Ambulances, police cars, and fire engines all descended on downtown Manhattan to deal with the emergency.47 As the subsequent investigation unfolded, the trail led to Sheikh Omar Abdel-Rahman, a blind Egyptian Muslim cleric, who preached from his Journal Square mosque in Jersey City. An FBI investigation with the help of an Egyptian informant learned of a plot to set off five bombs within a short period of time, destroying the United Nations, the George Washington Bridge, and an FBI building, as well as the Lincoln and Holland tunnels. Rahman and nine of his followers were arrested in 1993. Two years later, in October of 1995, he was convicted of seditious conspiracy and sentenced to life in prison.48 Although Sheikh Omar was removed as a threat, there was real fear that others would take his place. Now the game had completely changed. In previous years, the Port Authority had simply been concerned with keeping traffic moving. It had studied the influence of vehicular speed and spacing on tunnel capacity. It had studied the expectancy of multiple vehicular breakdowns in a tunnel. These were all rational and solvable problems. Suddenly, the authority had to deal with a potential catastrophe. It was clear that as national icons, the Holland and Lincoln tunnels were vulnerable—national symbols being obvious terrorist targets because their destruction shakes the legitimacy of the country that is attacked.49 “We’re target-rich, as the FBI keeps telling me,” said Chief Joseph Morris of the PAPD. “The department has been moving forward in doing more than just taking care of public order. Now we’re much more important in protective security.”50 In response to the new threat, the Port Authority did what it could to protect the tunnels. However, it is not easy to defend key pieces of infrastructure

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through which so many people transit. The public was told that security had been strengthened and that police refresher training had been stepped up, but spokespeople for the Port Authority declined to specify the measures that had been taken.51 What was obvious to everyone, though, was that officers at the tunnels were stopping and searching more vehicles, especially unmarked trucks and rental trucks, before they were allowed to enter the tunnels.52 What was not so obvious was that this show of increased security was carried out mainly to reassure the public that the Port Authority was “doing something” about the threat. How effective can a stop-and-search operation be? You certainly cannot stop every truck, because commerce would come to a halt. So what do you do? Stop every other truck? Stop every tenth truck? No matter what number you pick, the truck loaded with TNT may very well slip through the net. In essence, the police were given an impossible and demoralizing task. Imagine standing at a windswept tunnel entrance in the dead of winter, pulling over random trucks. Shivering in the cold, you ask the driver, “Wh-wh-what have you got in that truck?” You ask for the trucker’s bill of lading, driver’s license, and registration. Then you make a report of the name of the driver, the name of the trucking company, the license plate, and the destination, as well as the date and time of the stop. If everything is in order, you let the trucker proceed. If he seems nervous or uncertain or if he cannot produce a bill of lading, you might ask him to get out and open up the back of the truck. Fortunately, in the post-9/11 world, a wave of patriotism swept blue-collar America. Even though they were delayed, truckers almost always were cooperative. They understood the need for enhanced security. However, the stop-and-search operations took place on the approach apron to the tunnel after the truck had already passed through the toll gates. The truck drivers were stopping on the command of a police officer who held up his hand as a signal to stop. But what if a suicidal terrorist with a bombladen truck simply decided to ignore the officer’s order and hit the accelerator? Could such a determined driver actually be stopped? The searches were so fruitless and the job was so frustrating that many cops understandably started phoning in sick. To be fair, the task of watching over tunnel traffic throughout the 1990s to detect potential terrorists was very difficult. It was basically a surveillance task: monitoring the behavior of incoming motorists, especially truckers, trying to determine what was normal and what was out of the ordinary. If there were any doubts about the importance of this work, such doubts were shattered on Tuesday, September 11, 2001, when the Twin Towers of the World Trade Center were destroyed by terrorists. The Port Authority Police

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Department was especially hard hit; it suffered the largest loss of police officers in American history—thirty-seven officers. The loss was larger than that suffered by the New York Police Department and a larger percentage than that sustained by the Fire Department of New York.53 “Life ain’t never gonna be the same,” said Gus Danese, the president of the Port Authority PBA.54 Reeling from their, the Holland and losses, there was little time for the surviving Port Authority police officers to grieve. There was work to be done. As New York City struggled to restore order and critical services Lincoln tunnels, as well as the Brooklyn Battery Tunnel, were closed immediately following the attacks.55 By Friday, September 14, the Lincoln Tunnel was reopened with police officers and dogs trained to sniff explosives at the entrances. However, with the Holland Tunnel closed, traffic was extremely heavy, and it backed up onto the approach roads and highways.56 In the weeks following the attacks, it took a long time for things to bounce back to normal. Traffic in the city was barely moving because there were police checkpoints everywhere. Officials kept most people out of lower Manhattan partly for their protection against the vast dust clouds that followed the collapse of the Twin Towers, a brew of toxins, asbestos, and pulverized concrete. Most of the 5 square miles of lower Manhattan below Fourteenth Street was closed to the public, with national guardsmen and police officers standing guard at blue sawhorses along Fourteenth Street. Impromptu memorials sprang up everywhere with flowers, candles, and flyers looking for missing people. There was an unprecedented swelling of patriotism. It seemed that everyone was displaying the American flag at their businesses and on their cars. There were posters for blood drives everywhere.57 Lower Manhattan continued to be off-limits to most people because it was considered to be a war zone. Rescue and recovery workers had to carry out their work without interference. Streets had to be cleared of debris. There was an understandable fear that there might be additional attacks of some kind. Sightseers and casual visitors were kept away for their own good. With both the Holland and Brooklyn-Battery tunnels closed, the pressure on the other bridges and tunnels was extreme, with resulting congestion. To end the gridlock, authorities put in place a restriction on drivers without passengers, beginning on Thursday, September 27, 2001. If you wanted to drive into midtown or lower Manhattan, you had to carry at least one passenger. Police officers at bridges and tunnels turned away lone drivers. Mayor Rudolph Giuliani said that public transportation “would be the best and most sensible way to come into Manhattan.”58 Finally, on October 15, 2001, more than a month after the attacks, the Holland Tunnel was reopened for traffic from New Jersey. Police officers with bomb-sniffing dogs carried

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out spot checks on cars. The crackdown on cars with only one occupant continued.59 Gradually, the restrictions were eased. By November 29, 2001, the single-occupant prohibition on cars coming into the city by way of the Holland Tunnel was applied for only four hours, from 6:00 a.m. to 10:00 a.m., on weekdays. No restrictions were applied for westbound vehicles going to New Jersey. However, trucks with four or more axles were still not allowed to use the Holland Tunnel.60 In the fall of 2002, for about six weeks, there was a new and unnerving development. Someone started leaving empty luggage at key symbolic targets all over the city—including the Lincoln and Holland tunnels as well as Grand Central Terminal and the Port Authority Bus Terminal. Specifically in the Holland Tunnel, the perpetrator might discard a small suitcase along the near wall in the gutter. A passing motorist might notice the out-of-place object and report it to the police. In such a case, the eyewitness would be detained (courteously) so as to aid the investigation. Then all traffic would be stopped in that tube as officers came to investigate with bomb-sniffing dogs. If the dog sniffed a bomb, then a bomb squad would be called in to remove the suitcase and detonate it elsewhere. But that never happened. Instead, the suitcase was always empty, or stuffed with newspaper. Typically, the suitcase would be sent to the FBI for further investigation, looking for a name or a fingerprint or any kind of clue. Usually, they found nothing of the kind. Who was placing suitcases in suspicious places? Was it an idle mischief-maker? Was it Internal Affairs from the police department checking on police efficiency? Police at the tunnels suspected that someone was watching them, perhaps terrorists. Perhaps they were timing how long it took for the police to arrive. Maybe they were planting dummy suitcases so that the police would become complacent. In any event, it is doubtful that a bomb small enough to fit into a suitcase would critically damage the tunnels. But perhaps such a bomb would be intended to kill the first responders. In such a case, the tunnel would become a crime scene, and traffic would be stopped. Travelers would be frightened, commerce would grind to a halt, and the economic damage would be severe. In 2003, the situation at the Hudson River crossings seemed to be almost returned to normal. Police truck inspections were mainly focused on safety problems such as bald tires, worn-out brakes, or cracked windshields. But on March 20, 2003, with the American-led invasion of Iraq, police patrols were increased at all of the bridges and tunnels. The stepped-up truck inspections predictably led to traffic snarls. Truckers were annoyed with the delay of being pulled over, being asked for their license and registration, and requested to open their cargo doors. But a spokesman for Mayor Michael R. Bloomberg

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said, “When New Yorkers see the precautions we have put into place, they should feel assured that the city is doing everything in its power to protect them and feel free to live their lives.”61 A major change took place in December of 2005 with the installation of an Intelligent Transportation System (ITS) in the Holland Tunnel. In brief, the ITS represented an upgrade of the technology that the Port Authority had first put into operation forty years earlier . New state-of-the-art technology included infrastructure sensors and improved video detection systems, providing data lane by lane on vehicle speeds, gaps, and stopped vehicles. With this new system, Port Authority management felt that it was no longer necessary to have personnel on duty in the Holland Tunnel. An era had come to an end. Ever since the opening of the Holland Tunnel back in 1927, there had always been someone there on duty—twenty-four hours a day, seven days a week, for seventy-eight years. First it was the Holland Tunnel Police, followed by the Port Authority Police, then the Facilities Operations Agents, and finally the Tunnel and Bridge Agents. It is a familiar story in American business. We all know that technology saves money and displaces workers. The Port Authority invested a great deal of money in ITS with the expectation of reaping financial benefits by reducing staffing. It is part of a nationwide trend: The industry standard is now unmanned tunnels. Such is the case, for example, at both the Big Dig Tunnel in Boston and at the Hampton Roads Tunnel in Virginia. At the Holland Tunnel, no employees lost their jobs; instead, they were reassigned. There is still plenty of work, since the Holland Tunnel maintains two fully staffed emergency garages, one on the New York side and the other on the New Jersey side. These garages provide jobs for some forty-eight agents and ten “chiefs,” who are the civilian equivalent of sergeants on the police force. As this is written, the more heavily traveled Lincoln Tunnel is still staffed with Tunnel and Bridge Agents, though at a very minimum level, generally with just one agent per tube. In the future, even these jobs may vanish due to ever more sophisticated technology. During the long-drawn-out war in Iraq, tunnel commuters learned to resist or ignore scaremongering bulletins coming out of the Bush administration. At the same time, the PAPD, working closely with the other agencies, most notably the NYPD and the New Jersey State Police, has become much more sophisticated in dealing with the threat of terrorism. We now know that it is foolish to focus too much time and money on the last line of defense—the hardworking and courageous cops at the entrance to the tunnels. Rather, the best way to protect commuters from terrorist attacks is to stop the attacks from being planned in the first place. We have to focus our

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efforts on information gathering and intelligence. Moves are already quietly under way to forge cooperative relationships with other police departments around the world and to infiltrate terrorist groups. As a French counterterrorism expert explained, “Unless you can arrest [terrorists] before they get to execution stage, your chances of averting bloodshed and death come down to luck.”62

chapter 6

I

Road Hazards threats to life and property

It’s only natural for us as human beings to worry about passing through any tunnel, let alone an underwater tunnel. We see that ominous black tunnel opening. We feel that the tunnel is too long and too dark. Some people even suffer from clinical tunnel phobia. They experience shortness of breath, palpitations, chest pains, and trembling. Notwithstanding those everyday fears and clinical phobias, traffic experts tell us that traveling through a tunnel is statistically safer than driving on an open road in the countryside in the sun. That reassuring advice is counterintuitive, but the explanation might be that people driving through tunnels are paying more attention to their driving.1 Most of the time, motorists pass through the Holland and Lincoln tunnels with complete safety, but there are underlying risks that we usually do not normally think about. In this chapter, we first deal with hazards that are natural, such as flooding. We then follow up with hazards that are unintentional and human-related such as collisions and fires. We will deal with intentional terroristic acts in a later chapter.

A recent major study under the leadership of Professor Guy Nordenson of Princeton University indicates that, within the next fifty years, the waters of the New York–New Jersey Upper Bay may rise by as much as a foot due to global warming. In the next hundred years, the rise might be as much as two feet. This dramatic sea level rise will undoubtedly lead to an increase in flooding. It’s not just the increase in sea level that alarms experts; rather, it’s the combination of rising sea levels with the increased number and severity of storms such as hurricanes. The destructive power of hurricanes comes from their high wind speeds and accompanying storm surges. The New York City region is said to be highly susceptible to storm surge, with adverse impacts on the transportation infrastructure.2 99

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According to the Environmental Defense Fund, most New York City subway and tunnel entrances are only slightly above sea level, as are the three major airports. This situation leaves them vulnerable to rising seas and flooding from hurricanes. It is predicted that, as the planet Earth warms over this century, weather extremes will be more frequent and storms more violent. As the sea level rises, storm surges are likely to go farther inland and do more damage. In these discussions, scientists often use the term “a one-hundredyear flood.” For most of us, as laypersons, that seems to mean that we don’t have to worry because that flood won’t happen until one hundred years go by. Alas, that’s not what the term means. It means that in any given year, there is a 1 percent chance of such a flood. Even worse, what’s called a hundred-yearflood today could easily become twice or even four times more frequent, with the increase in sea level and water temperature.3 Environmentalists predict that frequent flooding could shut down tunnels, subways, major roadways, and airports, ruining business and bringing the city to its knees. A look at past storms gives us some idea of what may lie ahead. Consider the Great Northeaster of December 11, 1992, that flooded airports and roadways and resulted in nine deaths. The National Weather Service called this storm “one of the epic storms of all time,” and it caused insured losses of $850 million. The total damages came to nearly $2 billion. High storm surges caused mandatory evacuations in some coastal areas, and the Red Cross sheltered 300,000 people. The FDR Drive was flooded, and rescue divers were called in to rescue trapped motorists.4 During that storm, in the Hoboken, New Jersey, PATH station, floodwaters poured down staircases and filled the tracks with water. As a result, commuter service between New Jersey and New York City was canceled for ten days.5 What kind of damage might we expect in the future? Let us consider a worst-case scenario. Experts predict that a Category 3 hurricane, with sustained winds of 111 to 130 miles per hour, could create storm surges that would flood Kennedy Airport, LaGuardia Airport, and the Lincoln Tunnel. Rescue efforts would be paralyzed, and millions would be trapped in a situation reminiscent of the fate of New Orleans, wrecked by Hurricane Katrina in 2005. What about a less severe Category 2 hurricane, with sustained winds of 96 to 110 miles per hour? This storm could swamp the Holland Tunnel and shut down major highways such as the FDR Drive and the Brooklyn Belt Parkway. Low-lying areas like Jersey City, the West Village, Battery Park City, and Tribeca would be flooded.6 The problem of climate change and rising sea levels is not unique to the New York–New Jersey region. Fifteen of the world’s largest cities lie in flood

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zones, and many of them are way ahead of the United States in dealing with the problem. Cities such as Amsterdam, Copenhagen, Singapore, and Hong Kong have already employed climate scientists, hydraulic engineers, and designers to come up with solutions. Fortunately, if belatedly, the American design community has started to address this urgent challenge facing our largest city. In July of 2010, I had the opportunity to visit an exhibition at the Museum of Modern Art (MoMA) in New York entitled “Rising Currents: Projects for New York’s Waterfront,” an exploration of infrastructure solutions to higher sea levels. The exhibition was put together by teams of engineers, landscape designers, artists, environmentalists, and urban planners. The collaborative installation dramatized the issues with models, drawings, and explanatory text.7 The first thing I noticed was a measuring stick painted on the wall indicating how much the sea would rise in the next hundred years. It was a simple, but unforgettable, aid to understanding. The obvious solution to the problem of climate change and the rise of sea level is to build a single, massive structure to prevent storm surge. Simply cutting off the flow of water is an appealing concept in its simplicity. Such structures have been planned for London, Venice, and Rotterdam, but the MoMA design team took a different approach. They pointed out that depending on a single system can be risky, and they cited as evidence the failure of the levees in New Orleans after Hurricane Katrina. The MoMA design team argued for a defensive strategy that relied on soft infrastructure. The concept was to make the city resilient to the impact of flooding, rather than fortified against it. A key idea was to construct a series of man-made wetlands as a natural buffer along the New Jersey and Brooklyn waterfronts in areas that are currently susceptible to flooding and that were once marshlands.8 Another proposal called for the construction of detached piers for the central region of the harbor to be built on shallow shoals. Normally, we think of a pier as a place for a ship to dock, but these piers were proposed simply as breakwaters, oriented perpendicularly to the direction of the waves in order to diminish their velocity and mitigate storm impact. In addition, the designers called for implementation of an archipelago of artificial islands in shallow areas like Bay Ridge, Gowanus Flats, and the southern end of Manhattan. These could be constructed by placing caissons at the perimeters, to be filled in with soil from excavation projects or from dredge spoils or from earth and rock dug from subway tunnel construction. In a similar fashion, decommissioned subway cars could be used to construct artificial reefs. The purpose of the islands and reefs would be to provide a field of obstructions to break up the wave energy of storm surges.9 Viewing the MoMA exhibit gave me reason

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to believe that we have the tools to cope with the problem of climate change and sea rise. The challenge will be to summon the political will to use these tools before it’s too late.

Let us now turn from the hazard of flood to the hazard of fire. Despite the tunnels being designed to be as safe as possible, despite careful monitoring of the traffic flow, despite litter pickup, despite efforts to enforce traffic regulations, accidents and fires do occur within the Holland and Lincoln tunnels. A tunnel fire has the potential for being an immense disaster. Apart from the injuries and loss of life, fire damage to a tunnel can be enormously expensive. Naturally, the repair costs are substantial, but effects on the transportation infrastructure are huge. A tunnel could be out of service for months after a fire.10 There is always the danger of human error. Most drivers are sufficiently intimidated by the claustrophobic experience of driving through a tunnel to mind their manners and stay in line at a reasonable speed. But there are always a few aggressive drivers who are willing to take chances by opportunistically weaving from lane to lane in an effort to pass at high speeds. Sometimes, of course, they lose control and slam into one of the side walls— spinning around and scattering the tunnel floor with debris. Meanwhile, the following cars brake furiously, causing a chain reaction of rear-end collisions, a situation that looks like a demolition derby on the ever-watchful security cameras. Fortunately, most accidents are minor and not so spectacular. In addition to the problem of human error, there is the problem of transporting dangerous cargo. To begin with, road tunnels, such as the Holland and Lincoln, are at a greater risk than rail tunnels because cars using gasoline are more volatile than trains running on electricity or using diesel fuel. More importantly, the Port Authority must regulate the transportation of hazardous materials at its tunnel and bridge facilities. Due to the enclosed space of a tunnel, fires can have a devastating effect on users. The principal dangers are gas and smoke production. Even low concentrations of carbon monoxide are highly toxic in the confined space of a tunnel. The U.S. Department of Transportation (DOT) governs the transportation of explosives and other hazardous materials. The list of such classified materials is lengthy and technical, but in brief it covers flammable and combustible liquids and solids as well as explosives and gases. The list also includes toxic, infectious, radioactive, and corrosive materials. Trucks carrying such cargo are required to follow detailed regulations regarding packaging, marking, labeling, and describing all hazardous materials. As one might

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expect, in general there is a blanket prohibition against transporting hazardous materials via the Holland Tunnel, the Lincoln Tunnel, and the Lower Level of the George Washington Bridge. But it is possible to transport hazardous materials lawfully across the Upper Level of the George Washington Bridge, the Bayonne Bridge, the Goethals Bridge, and the Outerbridge Crossing—under certain restrictions. Briefly, the restrictions require prior permission and transit during off-peak hours.11 It goes without saying that the regulations were written for those who wish to follow the law. It is an entirely different matter, of course, if you have a driver trying to save time and money by sneaking illegal goods through a tunnel. Not to mention the even more dreadful prospect of a deliberately caused incident. The Holland Tunnel opened to traffic on Sunday, November 13, 1927. Officials did not have to wait long for the first accidental fire. It took place three days later on Wednesday, November 16: An eastbound truck, headed for New York, in the south tube, suddenly caught fire. Tunnel police, using portable fire extinguishers, were able to put out the blaze within fifty seconds. The fire was out before the big, double-ended crash truck from the New York side arrived. The smoke from the burning truck was quickly extracted through vents at the top of the tunnel. The crash truck had been specially designed to run in either direction in order to avoid loss of time turning the apparatus around. Highly specialized and operated by electricity, it had two fully equipped front ends with two sets of controls and two drivers. Thus, it could go forward or backward with equal ease. This emergency vehicle hitched onto the burning truck and hauled it out. There were no injuries from fire or smoke, and traffic was quickly restored to normal.12 Minor fires continued to occur throughout the 1920s and 1930s, but most were easily handled. Typically the smoke would disappear through the upper air ducts, enabling firefighters to get closer to the blaze and with less danger. The fire would be put out, and the damaged vehicle towed away by a crash truck. Most incidents could be cleared within twenty minutes.13 Part of this good record could be attributed to suitable equipment and proper training. For example, the Port Authority was among the first to adopt the use of Foamite, a patented powder that mixed with water produces firesuppression foam. Its role was to cool down the fire and to coat the fuel, preventing its contact with oxygen, thus suppressing the combustion.14 Frequent planning and practice gave first responders the knowledge and confidence to handle most situations. A typical fire drill might be conducted at an empty lot at Thirteenth and Provost streets in Jersey City, near the entrance to the tunnel. Gasoline might be poured over a battered old automobile. A match would be thrown and a great flame would rise up. A fire truck would pump

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6.1. This 20-ton-capacity hydraulic wrecker, parked outside the Holland Tunnel Headquarters and Maintenance Building, was custom-fabricated on an International chassis by Weld Built of Wyandanch, Long Island, New York. The short 98-inch wheelbase allowed the wrecker to turn around in the confined space of the tunnel. It was capable of towing cars, trucks, and buses. It had front bumper winches as well as the standard rear boom. The truck also carried firefighting equipment and rescue tools for emergency work. In the background is the Union Terminal Cold Storage warehouse, which was destroyed by fire in March 2002. Courtesy of Historic American Engineering Record.

a mixture of Foamite powder and water onto the fire, which would be promptly smothered. All that would be left was the charred remains of the old car, covered with the creamy mixture.15 As the years rolled by, the Holland Tunnel had many fires, but none of them serious. Most of these were car fires, common to the fire service everywhere. Tunnel personnel trained on safe and effective techniques for extinguishing these routine fires. They learned how to approach the scene cautiously, to use the reach of the hose stream. Instructors taught them what happens when the fire reaches the fuel tank and how best to open hoods and trunks. More than twenty years passed, and nothing serious ever happened, but it is always dangerous to become complacent. May 13, 1949, started much like any other spring day in New York City. It was a Friday, and the earth was starting to come back to life after a long cold winter. The first flowers were starting to bloom, and New Jersey commuters had to put in only one more day of work before a nice weekend of gardening

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and other suburban pleasures. At 8:30 a.m. a perfectly ordinary-looking tractortrailer rig carrying eighty 55-gallon drums of carbon disulfide entered the New Jersey portal, or south portal, of the Holland Tunnel, headed for lower Manhattan. There was no way for the tunnel police to know that the heavily loaded truck was carrying chemical drums, because the trailer was fully enclosed and had none of the required placards—colorful, standardized diamond-shaped signs—to warn of the dangerous cargo. Had the police known the contents of the truck, they would have turned it around and ordered it to use one of the bridges in lieu of the tunnel. As it happens, carbon disulfide is particularly nasty stuff. It is an amber-colored, volatile liquid, commonly used as the main ingredient of viscose, rayon, and cellophane. There are two main problems with carbon disulfide. In the first place, it is highly flammable, with a very low ignition temperature. In the second place, it is considered life-threatening at high levels because it affects the nervous system. Suddenly, one of the drums fell off the truck and broke open. The vapor released from the drum ignited when it came into contact with a hot surface, most probably a brake drum or an exhaust pipe. The fire started about a third of the way into the tunnel. The truck rolled to a stop in the left lane. A series of fires and explosions broke out in the crowded thoroughfare. Quickly, four trucks in the adjacent right lane caught fire and were abandoned. The fire spread rapidly, and five additional trucks in a tight group stopped about 350 feet to the rear also caught fire. The tunnel was filled with the sound of the crackling of the fire and the falling of ceiling tiles. Heavy black smoke curled up toward the ceiling vents. Meanwhile, New Jersey–bound oncoming drivers, unaware of the danger, continued to enter the tunnel, contributing to the congestion. Panicked drivers behind the fire were unable to drive forward or backward, so traffic west of the fire rapidly backed up to the New Jersey side as some 125 automobiles, trucks, and buses became gridlocked. It is difficult for us to imagine the state of mind of those trapped motorists. Traveling through a tunnel is normally boring, except during an emergency when it is frightening. As Jim Shields of the University of Ulster has written, tunnels “are often perceived as complex, confining, visually monotonous, and even boring. The environments created have no natural lighting, reduced visibility, and often poor visual accessibility. People confined by such environments may feel claustrophobic and fear entrapment. In other words, tunnels and subterranean environments for many people are alien environments; they are places where they would rather not be.”16 The first responders were Port of New York Authority police officers stationed in the tunnel. They reported the blockage at 8:48 a.m., and they

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began helping drivers escape. Firefighters—and the police were trained in firefighting—are taught from day one that their first obligation is to rescue civilians. Rescue has priority; fire suppression can follow. In the case of a tunnel fire, there are complicating factors. Firefighters have to push people to take action. At first people do not perceive themselves to be in any immediate danger, so they do not choose to evacuate immediately. The people caught in the fire are usually not familiar with the frightening environment of a tunnel, and they have no idea how to escape. In an emergency, people may be very reluctant to abandon an expensive new car or tractor-trailer. Shields points out that people tend to remain with their vehicles, even as smoke envelops the tunnel. Passivity is a big problem. Another factor is commitment—people traveling through a tunnel are usually intent on reaching their destination. They have a flight to catch, a business meeting to attend, or a rendezvous with a lover. Their desire to reach their destination dulls their perception of risk.17 On May 13, officers quickly had to communicate with the civilians and take them from the smoke-filled south tunnel to the safety of the north tunnel by means of horizontal cross-passages, technically called adits, a term borrowed from mining. The average person caught in a tunnel fire who wants to escape will normally want to exit by the same way he came in, upward by the entrance portal. Wrong. As you walk up the steep gradient toward your entrance portal, the smoke will become thicker. The officers first advised Port Authority supervisors at the control room of the fire at 8:56 a.m. The supervisors, in turn, ordered crews to enter the New Jersey portal to help motorists there to evacuate. They began to reverse vehicles out of the tunnel as fast as they could. Meanwhile, another three-man emergency crew drove the wrong way, or west, along the south, or eastbound, tunnel to fight the fire where it had begun. They started fighting the fire with standard 1.5-inch hose, the most commonly used size for fighting interior fires; the measurement refers to the interior diameter of the hose when it is filled with water. But Port Authority supervisors quickly realized that the scope of this fire in confined conditions required outside help. The Jersey City Fire Department (JCFD) received an alarm at 9:05 a.m., and the Fire Department of New York City (FDNY) was notified seven minutes later, at 9:12 a.m. Time was of the essence. Dispatchers at FDNY instantly recognized the seriousness of the situation. Here was a big fire in an enclosed space filled with life-threatening fumes. It was not a routine alarm; the situation called for dispatching an elite rescue company. Sirens blaring, that unit, with its red finish polished to a high shine, rapidly drove west through the westbound tube. Firefighters piled out of their rig and then crossed over by means of an adit, and took over from

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a very relieved Port Authority emergency crew, setting up a command post in the north tunnel at a cross-passage near the fire. The command post had responsibility for monitoring water supplies and coordinating incoming aid. It was the center of feverish activity. Medical help from both New York and New Jersey was rushed to the scene. Meanwhile, inside the south tunnel, the air was toxic and the heat was intense, but firefighters who had trouble breathing quickly realized that they could get fresh air by staying very low and breathing in at the curb-level fresh-air openings. Realizing the magnitude of the fire, the FDNY rescue company command post sent out a second alarm at 9:30 a.m., activating four engine companies. Responsible for fire suppression, or “putting the wet stuff on the red stuff,” engine companies carry hoses and hook up to hydrants. Two ladder companies were also summoned. Ladder trucks are supposed to search for victims and ventilate the blaze, though in this case they would depend on the tunnel’s ventilation systems. The main water supply for fighting this ferocious fire would come from the tunnel fire main, a 6-inch water pipe cast directly into the concrete lining of the tunnel. The fire main continued to function throughout the operation, but it was supplemented by the FDNY fire engines, or pumpers, using high-capacity, cotton-jacketed, 2.5-inch hoses. Using such a heavy hose is hard work. A 50-foot length weighs 71 pounds, and when filled with water weighs 178 pounds.18 Meanwhile, on the New Jersey side, there was a robust response from the Jersey City Fire Department. They quickly sent an engine company, a truck company, and a rescue company. The vehicles rolled out of firehouses across Jersey City—red lights flashing and sirens screaming. Firemen on the rigs started clipping their coat rings closed and put on their gloves. As they approached the tunnel, they could smell smoke. Upon arriving at the scene, the battalion chief sized things up. He had to quickly read the fire, think about where it was and where it might go. Decisions had to be made based on incomplete knowledge. Questions raced through his mind. The situation was grave. The battalion chief sent out a second alarm. To fully understand the problem of fighting tunnel fires, we have to review some basic firefighting science. Firefighters have to deal with the paradox of ventilation. If there is too little ventilation, the firefighters cannot see what they are doing because there is too much smoke. Conditions can deteriorate to the point where neither evacuation nor firefighting is possible. In such a case, the only option would be to let the fire burn out and to accept the loss of life and property.19 Too much ventilation and you run the risk of fanning the flames. The editors of The Handbook of Tunnel Fire Safety explain the paradox in layperson’s terms: “For centuries, people have known that blowing on a

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fire helps to get it going. However, many people will blow on a lit match to put it out. These two examples highlight the two main conflicting influences that ventilation has on fire: that of enhancing burning by providing additional oxygen at the fire location, but also reducing burning by cooling the fuel.”20 It’s a delicate balance, so ventilation was very much on their minds as firefighters began their attack. Fortunately, there was already a ventilation system built into the tunnel. All road tunnels require ventilation to flush the tunnel of pollutants. In the event of a fire, the same exhaust system can be used to extract smoke. The ventilation fans are rotary bladed machines that maintain a continuous air flow. These fans are driven by electric motors.21 Lieutenants started issuing orders. “Let’s go. Move in! Move in!” Firefighters established hose lines. It was hard physical work, “humping hose” through a half mile of abandoned vehicles, especially with dense smoke making it hard to breathe and hard to see. They reached the group of trucks just behind the principal fire and extinguished the fire there. Port Authority officials realized the need to ventilate the tunnel as thoroughly as possible, and at 9:45 a.m. they cranked up the ventilation fans to full capacity. The increased ventilation worked. Now firemen realized they could fight the fire without masks. It was more comfortable, and visibility was improved. Now their approach to the fire scene was limited only by the level of radiant heat. It worked for a while, but then two exhaust fans were disabled by heat at 1,000F; however, the third fan was kept in service by quick-thinking workers who applied a water spray. It was a frightening situation made worse by the sudden collapse of the ceiling at the immediate fire scene. Battalion chiefs from both sides of the river begin to fear the worst. What if the tunnel structure were to fail? Firefighters were ordered to use water to cool the interior of the tunnel out of fear that the intense heat might weaken the lining. Meanwhile they dispatched fireboats to monitor the Hudson River to look for telltale gigantic bubbles that would indicate tunnel failure and collapse. Fortunately, the tunnel remained intact. The initial problem for the JCFD was gaining access to the fire scene, since the tunnel was clogged with abandoned vehicles. They started towing them out of the tunnel. It took about an hour to complete the process, but by 10:15 they were able to drive two pumpers east to the fire site, joining forces with the FDNY. Working together, the two fire departments were able to control the fire by 1:00 p.m. It had taken a full four hours. After the fire was extinguished, the firemen regrouped for what is called “salvage and overhaul” duties—basically cleaning up the mess. First, all the hoses had to be uncoupled, drained, straightened, and repacked onto the

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pumpers. Then portable lights and fans were placed in the area to be cleaned up. Smoldering debris was removed. The unpleasant work took place in a hot, steamy, burned-out tunnel. The work went on all Friday afternoon, and then unexpectedly some residual carbon disulfide and turpentine reignited at 6:50 p.m. It was quickly put out with 5-gallon foam extinguishers. The cleanup work resumed and continued throughout the evening until past midnight. Six hundred and fifty tons of debris were removed. All in all, the fire suppression effort had involved more than 250 people, twenty-nine firefighting units, twenty medical units, seven supervisory units, and four Consolidated Edison emergency trucks with special equipment. It had been a costly fire. Dozens of cars were lost. Ten trucks with their cargoes were completely destroyed, and thirteen others were badly damaged. Six hundred feet of tunnel wall and ceiling were destroyed. All cable and wire connections through the tube were disrupted by the fire—affecting American Telephone and Telegraph Company, New Jersey Bell, and Western Union. Officials estimated the damage at $1 million in 1949 dollars, more like $7.5 million dollars today. There were sixty-six injuries, twenty-seven of which required hospitalization. Those injured were sent to Beekman, Bellevue, or Saint Vincent hospitals in New York City or to the Jersey City Medical Center. Amazingly, there were no civilian fatalities.22 On Friday, May 13, 1949, the day of the fire, the damaged eastbound tube was out of service from nine in the morning all through the day and night. It remained closed all day and night Saturday, and it did not reopen until Sunday afternoon. Meanwhile, on Friday the westbound tube had been closed for only five hours. Of course, with all these closures, the volume of traffic was way down.23 The Holland Tunnel Fire of 1949 was a rare event that focused the attention of both the public and lawmakers on the dangers of transporting volatile and noxious chemicals through vehicular tunnels. Ordinary people wondered why the problem had not been considered before and what should be done about it. Without this catastrophic fire, it is unlikely that any attention would have been paid to the problem.24 Shortly after the tunnel was reopened, Austin J. Tobin, executive director of the Port Authority, called for a tightening of the rules governing dangerous cargoes. Tobin explained that the offense at the time was only considered a misdemeanor, punishable by a fifty-dollar fine and five days in jail. Restraining his very real anger, Tobin simply said that the penalties were “obviously inadequate.” Tobin went on to ask the legislatures of New York and New Jersey to make this kind of violation a felony. Tobin could only suggest this legislation. The heavier penalties would have to be provided for by statute.25

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In the aftermath of the fire, some experts argued that the best way to prevent future disasters would be to turn to the Interstate Commerce Commission (ICC), whose regulations applicable to the transportation of dangerous cargoes would be enforceable by the federal courts. All well and good, said the critics, but the ICC had a staff of only twenty people responsible for ensuring compliance with the rules for some 4,500 trucking companies in the district made up of New York, New Jersey, and Connecticut. In the end, the most direct method available to the Port Authority was to inspect trucks and turn away those found to be loaded with dangerous cargo. Port Authority police did check up on suspicious-looking trucks, but it was a tough task with some sixteen thousand trucks daily passing through the Holland and Lincoln tunnels. In actual practice, police could only spot-check about 1 percent of the trucks.26 A couple of weeks after the disaster, two bills were indeed introduced at a special session of the New Jersey legislature—one in the senate and one in the assembly. In essence, the legislation called for increasing the penalties from a nominal $50 fine and five days in jail to a maximum of $5,000 and seven years in jail.27 Under the circumstances, common sense would suggest that the two bills would be quickly passed, then reconciled in a conference session, and sent along to the governor for his signature. But in practice, the legislative process turned out to be predictably slow. Reconciling the upper chamber version with the lower house version was tedious and time-consuming because of the different institutional cultures of the two bodies. Not to mention that nothing would be finalized until the New York legislature concurred. Meanwhile, quietly behind the scenes, the trucking lobby was doing its best in both states to stall, delay, modify, and weaken the legislation. In theory, the slowness of the legislative process is good because it ensures that the resulting legislation is sound and fair. However, in this case, the public safety was placed in abeyance while the legislators dithered.28 Indeed, it was almost a year before the New York legislature dealt with the problem. Not until March of 1950 did Albany come around to upgrading the penalties for the transportation of dangerous cargoes in tunnels.29 The ruinous 1949 fire not only attracted the attention of both state legislatures; it also could not be ignored by federal authorities. A month after the fire, U.S. Attorney Alfred E. Modarelli of the District of New Jersey announced an investigation to determine criminal responsibility, if any, for the chemical explosion and fire in the Holland Tunnel. United States attorneys are basically federal prosecutors with enormous power and a great deal of discretion. Given the magnitude and scope of the disaster, it would have been difficult for Modarelli to overlook the event. The initial investigation

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sought to learn why Boyce Motor Lines of Jersey City failed to use the required “Danger—Explosives” signage.30 Meanwhile, the fire had caught the attention of the insurance industry. In the summer of 1949, the National Board of Fire Underwriters—a bureau founded by fire insurance companies to work for fire prevention and loss control—issued a special report on the transportation of dangerous chemicals and explosives. In addition to calling for more severe penalties for violators, the board suggested “a safe routing plan.” Such a plan would divert dangerous cargoes away from tunnels to safer routes. Clearly the best path would be over land-based highways. Should a water crossing be absolutely necessary, passing over bridges during off-peak hours would be preferable to passing through tunnels. An explosion in a confined tunnel would do more damage than an explosion on an open bridge where the force of the explosion would be somewhat dissipated through the air.31 During the summer of 1949, while the activities of legislators, lawyers, and underwriters were grabbing the headlines, workers were quietly going about the work of repairing the eastbound tube of the Holland Tunnel. For fifty-six hours after the fire was put out in May, the eastbound tube was shut down for debris to be removed. The damage extended 500 feet east and 200 feet west of the original fire. Over the summer, the contractor had to replace 700 feet of walls and walkways, with their assorted power and communications cables. In addition, the affected roadbed had to be repaved. The repairs were carried out during weekday nights while traffic was handled in both directions in the north tube. By the end of August, everything was cleaned up nearly as good as new.32 With arrival of fall, the criminal case against the trucking company responsible for the fire was building. In September, the federal grand jury opened an investigation and began calling witnesses. Government officials argued that the movement of the explosive chemical carbon disulfide through congested thoroughfares was in violation of ICC regulations in addition to those of the Port Authority.33 In October, the federal grand jury brought an indictment against Boyce Motor Lines, accusing the company of six counts of unlawfully transporting the dangerous chemical through the Holland Tunnel in violation of ICC regulations.34 Then in January of 1950 an indictment was brought against the J. T. Baker Chemical Company of Phillipsburg, New Jersey, the manufacturer of the of the carbon disulfide.35 Meanwhile, the Port Authority had filed civil suits for $800,000 damages against both Boyce and the Baker. These suits were finally settled for $300,000 in June of 1950.36 Though the civil case against Boyce Motor Lines was settled, the criminal case continued to wind its way through the courts. The regulation read, “Drivers

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of motor vehicles transporting any explosive, inflammable liquid, inflammable compressed gas, or poisonous gas shall avoid, so far as practicable, and, where feasible, by prearrangement of routes, driving into or through congested thoroughfares, places where crowds are assembled, street car tracks, tunnels, viaducts and dangerous crossings.” But the company argued that its truck traveling from Cascade Mills, New York, to Brooklyn, could not possibly have reached its destination without traveling over or through “congested thoroughfares, places where crowds are assembled, street car tracks, tunnels, viaducts, and dangerous crossings.” In other words, the law was too all-inclusive to be enforced. At first the company’s position was upheld in federal district court, but later the Court of Appeals for the Third Circuit reversed this finding. The matter then went all the way to the Supreme Court, which agreed in October of 1951 to review the case.37 The intent of the law was clear enough. Drivers were supposed to avoid dangerous routes. But the language of the law admitted a bit of wiggle room when it said that the alternate route had to be “practicable and feasible.” No wonder the case ended up in the Supreme Court. It simply was not clear-cut. After much disputation, in January of 1952, the Supreme Court finally sustained the ICC’s regulation directing truck drivers transporting flammables to avoid heavily traveled routes as “practicable and feasible.” The majority opinion was written by Justice Tom C. Clark, who held that the regulation was not too vague for proper enforcement.38 A repeat of the 1949 fire is highly unlikely now. Port Authority police are more vigilant at tunnel entrances. Legal penalties for violators have been increased. Major trucking firms are keenly aware of the regulations. Truck drivers themselves know of the dangers, and they can refuse illegal assignments. If a truck driver becomes aware that his employer is violating federal law regarding safety, he is legally protected by the Surface Transportation Assistance Act, a federal law that protects drivers who face retaliation for trying to get their employers to comply with vehicle safety laws. Granted, it’s scary and risky to speak up, but the law is on the side of the whistleblower. What if a driver is fired for reporting a violation? The law says that, in such a case, the driver may file a charge with the Occupational Safety and Health Administration that could result in getting reinstated and receiving back pay and benefits, as well as attorney fees and costs.39 Notwithstanding increased awareness and all the new laws, fires still do occur, but most of them are minor. More than fifty years were to pass before there was another major fire that shut down the Holland Tunnel. This time, the fire was not in the tunnel itself but in a warehouse adjacent to the

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New Jersey entrance portal. The structure occupied an entire city block, about 300 feet by 500 feet. The warehouse, made up of four sections interconnected by stairwells, was so close to the tunnel, and fire burned for so long, that fire apparatus had to be parked right at the entrance, closing all traffic for days. It was a neglected building at 580 Henderson Street, about 75 yards from the tunnel, just waiting to burn. A big sign on the building read, “Union Terminal Cold Storage Co.” It had been vacant for years; it was a firefighter’s worst nightmare. The plumbing—water, sprinkler, and waste pipes—had been ripped out of the building and sold for scrap, making fire protection systems useless. The building had no windows except for two small ones located between floor levels in the stairwell. Lining the outer walls were 5 inches of flammable cork material attached with an adhesive material. Placed over the cork was an additional 5 inches of polystyrene insulation. In effect, the entire building had been designed to serve as a giant refrigerator for seafood wholesalers. Making matters worse, there were six elevator shafts, most with missing doors, creating open shafts. Fire broke out on Friday, March 22, 2002. The fire was reported just before noon at 11:54 a.m., by a Port Authority police officer. Pumpers rolled out of the nearest Jersey City firehouse, sirens wailing. They arrived on the scene where the fire was roaring in the warehouse, a seven-story red-brick building on the north side of the toll plaza. As the trucks rolled up, the men could feel the heat. The air was filled with black, nasty, carcinogenic smoke. The first units to respond were responsible for rescue operations. The plan was to rescue by aerial ladder all visible people who were trapped. Next, a search was started for others who might be trapped inside the building. Fire trucks blocked the toll plaza in an effort to put out the fire, and the Port Authority closed the Manhattan-bound lanes. There are many unknowns in this kind of fire, and officials were worried about the building’s stability.40 The fire department radio was buzzing with talk between the chief on the scene and the dispatcher. The fire just would not quit. The tunnel remained closed for hours as the fire kept burning. The fire found its way into cork insulation of the building on the lower floors and climbed up to the seventh floor. Jose Cruz, deputy director of the Jersey City Fire Department, explained, “It’s a refrigeration building, so it retains cold, and it retains heat, so it’s like an oven in there.”41 It turned out that at least six homeless people had been living in the abandoned structure. Two homeless men were rescued from a crude apartment they created for themselves, then arrested for trespassing, although they were not suspected of starting the fire. A fifty-year-old woman named Sage had been living on the roof of the building, a place she called the penthouse.

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She said that although the building was damp and cold, it was not all that bad. “I had the nicest spot. I was with the birds. I had a nice view of the Empire State Building. I had the stars and the moon,” she said wistfully as the wrecking crew was tearing down the building. She went on to explain that even though her five neighbors were either alcoholics or crack addicts, they would never have started the fire that destroyed their own home.42 The warehouse fire was one big inferno. A second alarm went out, and then a third. After five hours, when conditions inside the building became too dangerous, the chief on the scene evacuated his firefighters. Searches for victims had been completed. Just let it burn, he thought. It was the right call; there was no need to put the men at risk. Jose Cruz explained, “Right now, one of our concerns is that the building might come down. Hopefully, the fire will consume the combustibles, and we’ll get back into the building and extinguish the fire.”43 Later a fire captain, Jim Whalen, said that a “post 9/11 attitude” might have affected the chief’s decision. He explained, “If one guy dies, you’re cautious for a month. If two guys die, you’re cautious for two months. If 343 die . . .” He couldn’t finish the sentence. Perhaps the chief also remembered the deaths of six firefighters in Worcester, Massachusetts, in 1999, when a similar cold-storage warehouse collapsed.44 The fire burned through Friday night and all day Saturday and into Saturday night, when a demolition crew was summoned to begin tearing the building down. Heavy-duty cranes were brought in, and they started chipping away at the warehouse from the top down. Officials had hoped that opening up the building would give them a chance to pour on more water to put out the fire, but once it was exposed, it seemed that the fresh air just fed the fire. “The more you vent it, the more it spreads,” said the crew chief for the demolition company. Sunday morning dawned, and the fire continued. It was Palm Sunday, and many firefighters would have rather been in church with their families. Then, about 11:00 a.m., the fire spread across a passage connecting to a second warehouse. According to eyewitnesses, plumes of smoke were readily visible from the George Washington Bridge, some twelve miles away. On Sunday afternoon, the fire roared just four feet away from equipment that was used to ventilate the tunnel. By 6:30 p.m., firefighters were pushing themselves beyond pain and exhaustion. When a fire lasts this long, firefighters cannot be sent home after a normal shift; the shifts have to be extended. Firefighting teams were now rotating on twenty-four-hour shifts. Andy Newman, a New York Times reporter, dubbed the blaze “the Fire That Would Not Go Out.” Jersey City was so short-handed that firefighters were called in from neighboring towns

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to stand by in order to respond to other fires that might break out in Jersey City. One firefighter at the warehouse blaze told a reporter, “I wish the building would collapse so we could go home.” He almost got his wish. Sure enough, at 7:00 p.m., the top part of the second building next door collapsed with a loud, deep, hollow sound followed by a cloud of dust.45 The fire was still burning on Monday morning, so New Jersey commuters were urged to use the Lincoln Tunnel, the George Washington Bridge, and the Staten Island bridges. Or better yet, to take mass transit into Manhattan. Jose Cruz said, “I would stay away from the Holland Tunnel because it’s going to be maddening.”46 Firefighters were still at work on Monday afternoon. “We’re going to be working through the day, through the night,” said Jersey City Mayor Glenn D. Cunningham. “Our goal is have this area open as soon as humanly possible.”47 As the fire continued to burn, the public was asking what was taking so long. Fire officials tried to explain that it was unsafe to send firefighters into an unstable building. Especially since the attacks of 9/11, no one wanted to put lives at risk. “It’s a vacant building,” said Jersey City Fire Chief Rick Eggers. “It’s not worth a life.” Meanwhile, some commentators feared that closing the tunnel would result in monstrous traffic jams, but that was not the case. Things went surprisingly smoothly. Different explanations were offered for the lack of significantly longer delays. In the first place, it was a week of religious holidays; so many commuters were on vacation. Wednesday, March 27, was Passover; and Sunday, March 31, was Easter Sunday. Secondly, many commuters had learned to adapt and change their routes quickly in the wake of the 9/11 disruptions. Also, Arthur Imperatore, president of New York Waterway, put on additional ferries to help deal with the crisis. In addition, some commuters altered their usual schedule in order to avoid the peak rush. For example, Ken Read of Madison, New Jersey, delayed his commuting for two hours. “I just delayed to avoid the agony,” he said. “I decided to spare myself the pain.”48 The fire continued to burn through Monday night, but by Tuesday it was under control. Though the fire was still smoldering, the Port Authority partly reopened the Holland Tunnel on Tuesday evening. Just after 6:00 p.m., they were able to open three of the nine eastbound lanes. The reopened lanes were the ones farthest from the smoking warehouse still surrounded by fire apparatus and demolition machinery, and they could only be used by drivers with E-ZPass. “We had good news today with the opening of three lanes,” said Mayor Cunningham. “And, hopefully, tomorrow we’ll have more good news.” Crews continued working around the clock with heavy machinery to tear down the two involved warehouses and to truck away the debris. By the end of the week, things were nearly back to normal.49

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In the wake of the warehouse fire, James P. Fox, New Jersey’s transportation commissioner, called for a study of all buildings near tunnels and bridges to learn of any potential safety hazards. “Based on what we’re seeing here, we’re obviously going to have to look at old structures like this being so close to bridges and tunnels. We obviously have learned something from this.”50 Looking back at the history of the Port Authority tunnels over many years, it is clear that there have been two spectacular fires—the chemical fire of 1949 and the warehouse fire of 2002. Both of these took place at the Holland Tunnel. Until now, the Lincoln Tunnel has been spared from catastrophic fire. Of course, on a day-to-day basis, huge fires are very unusual. Far more typical are car fires. The Lincoln and Holland tunnels each have one or two car fires nearly every year, and for a long time they were considered routine incidents. Crash trucks are equipped with booster lines—hoses that are 1 inch in diameter and rubber jacketed—and a built-in booster tank holding 500 gallons of water, about a dozen bathtubs full. Booster lines are extremely convenient because they are stored on reels. The hose can be extended to fight the fire, and when the firefighting is complete, the hose can simply be reeled in. When the men return to headquarters, they fill up the booster tank again. Firefighters do not have to unpack heavy canvas-jacketed hose and hook it up to a hydrant, fight the fire, unhook the hose from the hydrant, then drain the hose, and repack it onto the truck. There is more to fighting car fires than meets the eye. It used to be very simple, but changes in recent years in the design and construction of automobiles have forced changes in the way the Port Authority fights car fires. Manufacturers have introduced new materials and components to improve performance, to increase fuel economy, and to enhance crash resistance. However, these same materials and components make fighting car fires more difficult and dangerous. For example, the cars of today are made with more plastic parts in order to reduce vehicle weight and enhance fuel economy. But when plastics burn, they add to the fuel available to the fire, and they produce a witch’s brew of thick, toxic smoke. In addition, there is the problem of explosion. To be sure, on television and in the movies, burning cars always erupt into a spectacular fireball at the moment the fire reaches the fuel tank. So firefighters sometimes mistakenly believe the car explosions take place “only in the movies.” The danger of this is that firefighters may be lulled into a false sense of security. True, such explosions are rare, but they can and do take place.51 The worst accident that ever befell the Holland Tunnel did not happen in real life. It happened in a Hollywood movie. Rob Cohen directed and Sylvester Stallone starred in the 1996 film Daylight, an urban underwater

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disaster movie with dramatic special effects.52 In the film, a couple of hopped-up jewelry thieves rob a dealer in the Diamond District on West Forty-seventh Street in Manhattan. They flee south in their getaway car, but they are quickly pursued by an NYPD patrol car. To elude the police, they duck into the Holland Tunnel, where they drive recklessly through dense traffic, finally hitting a truck full of explosives in the middle of the tunnel. The impact sets off a tremendous blast and a slowly rolling fireball that consumes nearly everything in both directions. The tunnel is weakened and blocked off at both portals, trapping a group of survivors in the middle. The situation is desperate, and it was nicely summed up by the picture’s tagline, “No Air. No Escape. No Time.” Just as all this happens, a limousine driver named Kit Latura, played by Sylvester Stallone, is approaching the Holland Tunnel. We quickly learn that he used to have a much more important job. He is the disgraced ex-chief of the Emergency Medical Services, and the only person on the scene with the know-how and experience to deal with the situation. He has to quickly find a way to bring out the survivors before their air runs out or the tunnel collapses and floods. Risking his life, he manages to reach them by rappelling down through the ventilation shaft, past four giant exhaust fans. Stallone reaches a group of trapped civilians—an interesting assemblage of characters including a beautiful but unsuccessful playwright, a quarreling family, a handful of young prisoners released from a corrections van, a Port Authority cop, and an affectionate elderly couple with a Weimaraner dog. Stallone successfully deals with fire, poisonous gases, explosions, collapsing tunnel walls, and terrifying flooding. The civilians freak out when their hiding place is invaded by rats, but they should have known that the rats would lead them to an escape route.

chapter 7

I

If You See Something, Say Something dealing with the threat of terrorism

As we have seen, construction on the Holland Tunnel began in 1920 and on the Lincoln Tunnel in 1934. In those earlier and simpler days, protecting the tunnels against terrorist attacks was not a consideration. In the first few decades of the twentieth century, the United States seemed to be safe from foreign assaults. We were protected by mighty oceans to the east and west, and by the presence of friendly nations to the north and south. The Port Authority might worry about accidents and fires in the tunnels, but no one was worried about deliberate, destructive attacks or sabotage. However, in the post-9/11 environment, the threat of terrorism is a constant concern. We ask ourselves, “Where will the next attack occur?” Of course, the scenarios are unlimited. The Department of Homeland Security has prepared lists of possible targets that include tunnels, dams, chemical plants, skyscrapers, and reservoirs.1 Security experts classify the Holland and Lincoln tunnels as critical infrastructure, meaning that “their continued smooth functioning is so necessary to the security, prosperity and psyche of the nation that a devastating attack against any of them would be catastrophic for the country as a whole.”2 Those of us who use the Holland and Lincoln tunnels on an everyday basis cannot help but be aware that we are passing through potential targets. If we were truly fearful about using the tunnels, we could not function. So we fight to avoid letting our fears push us into a state of paranoia and paralysis. Yet most of us, if we are truly honest with ourselves, do feel some anxiety. These feelings were brilliantly captured by Peggy Noonan, a New York City resident and best-selling author of seven books on American culture, in a column written for the Wall Street Journal. Noonan explained that our thinking about 118

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terrorism is not exactly rational. Our fears are fed by a steady barrage of unnerving newspaper reports from the Middle East, so we free associate. She provided an example: I should get a new dress for the graduation at the Saks sale. They could blow up the Lincoln Tunnel. Meg would love one of those little Chanel knockoffs from the street vendor. If New York is bombed while we’re in Boston, where will we stay?3 Noonan went on to explain that New Yorkers are resilient but that the official government warnings are not very helpful. Officials don’t know what’s going to happen, but they make an announcement anyway so that if something bad happens, they can tell you that you were warned. Noonan says that we won’t know about the “Next Big Bad Thing” until after it happens because al Qaeda does not announce its attacks in advance. She wrote, “When I go through the Lincoln Tunnel at a relatively quiet time in terms of government warnings, I think, ‘Nothing will happen today, it’s quiet.’ When I go through the Lincoln Tunnel at a terror alert time I think, ‘Nothing will probably happen today, there’s security all over and the terror-cell guys in Jersey City are probably playing cards.’ Then I emerge from the tunnel and realize I’ve been thinking about nothing but terrorism.” Experts tell us that tunnels make tempting targets because of their economic importance and because many people are there at predictable times. Because of our exposure to movies and television, when we consider the threat of terrorism in connection with the tunnels, we tend to think right away of explosions and fires. The most obvious threat is a large improvised explosive device delivered to a tunnel by a truck. In actual practice, professional tunnel managers must be on guard against a wide range of potential threats, which include the introduction into a tunnel of chemical, biological, or radiological agents. Tunnel managers must also be alert to the threat of cyber attacks against the command and control systems as well as the threat of an underwater attack on the tunnel shell from above.4 Chemical weapons do not depend on explosive force; instead they rely on a weaponized toxic chemical that could be introduced into the vent shafts of a tunnel. There are a number of different types. First, there are nerve agents, which damage people’s nervous systems. These are deadly and fast acting, and exposure takes place through the respiratory tract and the skin. Second, there are blister agents, which include phosgene and mustard gas, absorbed through the eyes, skin, and lungs. Blister agents were first introduced in World War I. Third, there are blood agents, including hydrogen cyanide and arsine, which quickly diminish the ability of the body to absorb oxygen into the bloodstream. Fourth, there are choking agents, including chlorine and ammonia, which interfere with the breathing process. If left untreated,

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victims may succumb to asphyxiation. Finally, there are irritant agents, which are intended to incapacitate people temporarily. These include pepper spray, Mace, and tear gas, which cause tearing, coughing, and throat irritation.5 Biological agents include disease-causing viruses and bacteria. These biological weapons—weaponized versions of such things as botulism, smallpox, and anthrax—have been used in germ warfare. They are intended to kill or incapacitate people. Bioterrorism is perhaps more scary than the use of chemical agents, but biological agents are less likely to be employed by terrorists. A report by the Transportation Research Board described biological agents as having “high damage potential and low probability.” In theory, these agents could be released into the air through the vent shafts of a tunnel, but in practice they are difficult to produce, handle, and deliver.6 A radiological attack would be designed to cause radiation poisoning without depending on nuclear fission or nuclear fusion. Such an attack would come from what is commonly called a “dirty bomb.” The idea would not be to kill people so much as to render the tunnel unusable by making it too dangerous to transit because of the elevated radiation levels. Cleanup would be very difficult. Lengthy remediation would be involved, with a longterm closure of the tunnel most likely. However, similar to biological agents, radiological material is very difficult to manufacture, to handle, and to deliver. So there is low probability of terrorists actually employing this kind of weapon. Besides, it can be just as deadly to the terrorists as to their intended victims.7 Increasingly, tunnel managers worry about the threat of cyber attacks. Tunnel control centers use computer technology to monitor the tunnel’s safe operation. Terrorists might employ hackers who would try to access the tunnel’s computers or networks by circumventing their security systems, for the purpose of causing damage or disruption. Tunnel operators depend on all kinds of closed-circuit television sets, air quality testing instruments, and traffic monitors for the smooth running of a tunnel. The introduction of a virus into the tunnel’s network would be very disruptive.8 Furthermore, there is always the possibility, however remote, of a maritime incident for both the Holland and Lincoln tunnels. Both are subaqueous tunnels located under the Hudson River, a navigable waterway. A large ship equipped with explosives could be deliberately sunk over one of the tunnels, and then the explosives could be detonated by remote control, possibly damaging the outer shell of the tunnel, resulting in water intrusion. Another scenario might involve the dropping of a depth charge, with similar results. Moreover, there is the outside possibility of a passing ship dragging an anchor, which could puncture the outer shell of the tunnel.9

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Finally, we should take into account the unfortunate possibility of sabotage to a tunnel’s mechanical, electrical, and communication systems. Saboteurs could, for example, disrupt the supply of electricity to a tunnel. The loss of electricity would disable the pumps that remove accumulated water as well as the fans that provide fresh air. In addition, the tunnel would go dark, and the closed-circuit televisions used to monitor traffic would be knocked out. In all likelihood, the control center would have to be evacuated for the safety of the employees. The loss of electricity might well cause tunnel operations to be suspended until it could be restored.10

When did we first start thinking about terrorism all the time? It is difficult to determine. Some might argue that it began on October 23, 1983, when there were simultaneous suicide attacks on American and French compounds in Beirut, Lebanon. The U.S. Marine Corps barracks there was destroyed, killing 241 Americans. Others might cite October 7, 1985, when Palestinian terrorists hijacked the passenger liner M/S Achille Lauro. The terrorists killed Leon Klinghoffer, an elderly and paraplegic American, and then threw him overboard. Still others might point to December 21, 1988, when a bomb destroyed Pan Am Flight 103 over Lockerbie, Scotland, as it flew from London to New York, killing all 259 people on board, including 189 Americans.11 But I believe that we can trace the beginning of the modern age of domestic terrorism back to Friday, February 26, 1993. The often-told story remains gripping and compelling. Snow was lightly falling in Manhattan when suddenly, at 12:18 p.m., a tremendous explosion shook the foundation of the North Tower of the World Trade Center. A bomb hidden in a rental van had exploded, causing a shower of glass and concrete debris to fall. Screams of innocent victims followed, and then the wails of sirens from ambulances, police cars, and fire engines resounded throughout downtown. Six people were killed, and more than one thousand were injured.12 At first, the cause of the blast was not known. Some thought it might have been a transformer explosion. Bomb specialists from the ATF, the FBI, and the NYPD were sent to the scene to investigate. They quickly determined that the tremendous explosion was far greater than one that would have been caused by a transformer. The collapsed floors of the underground garage made for a messy and dangerous crime scene. Picking through the rubble was tricky because if you removed one piece from the pile, it might cause the whole thing to collapse. One expert said it was like playing pick-up sticks, a game of both physical and mental skill in which sticks must be removed from a pile without disturbing the remaining ones.

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In a stroke of good luck, a technician found fragments from the vehicle that carried the bomb. Amazingly, there was a piece of an axle that had the vehicle identification number (VIN). This key piece of information led them to a Ryder truck rental location in Jersey City. Investigators quickly figured out that the vehicle had been rented by Mohammed Salameh. Oddly, Salameh reported the van stolen. One week after the explosion, he naively returned on March 4 to get his deposit back. The FBI was waiting for him, and he was arrested. In time the whole gang was rounded up.13 To be sure, the Salameh story is satisfying as a tale of law enforcement: The FBI caught the perpetrator in just one week. But as time went by, thoughtful observers began to ask questions. Wouldn’t it be better to investigate terrorist groups and penetrate them with spies and informers? Wouldn’t it be better to anticipate and prevent acts of terror before they occur? Despite widespread agreement within the rank and file of the FBI that more needed to be done to fight terrorism, there was a significant setback during the Clinton administration in March of 1995. At that time, Deputy U.S. Attorney General Jamie S. Gorelick issued her now-famous “wall” memorandum.” In that memo she expressed a legal opinion that effectively cut criminal investigators off from intelligence information.14 Although the “wall” memo made legal sense at the time in terms of nailing down criminal convictions, it would turn out later to be a colossal blunder that tied the hands of the FBI in preventing domestic terrorism. Meanwhile, there continued to be friction between the CIA and the FBI. The CIA was in the business of conducting investigations for gathering intelligence. The FBI was primarily in the business of conducting investigations for developing prosecutions. The two agencies were not sharing information. They were not even allowed to discuss a case with each other.15 At first glance, it seemed that the solution was easy. Congress’s Joint Intelligence Committee should tell the FBI and the CIA that they should share information. This, however, is easier said than done. The cultures and missions of the two agencies are very different. Basically, the FBI handles the homeland; the CIA handles the rest of the world. But the differences go far beyond that simple distinction. The FBI is a law enforcement organization that primarily is—or was—out to catch crooks. The CIA is an intelligence agency that is supposed to tell policy makers what should concern the United States offshore. The former is after successful convictions; the latter is after successful predictions. If the CIA learns that a plot against the United States is under way, the agency is understandably reluctant to share that information right away because doing so might compromise sources. Spooks and G-men operate differently. FBI agents want to string ’em up, while CIA agents want to

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string ’em along. Some experts go so far as to say that the two agencies should not even try to cooperate and that any such effort is doomed to failure.16 This difference in approach was dramatized in a major Hollywood action movie, The Siege (1998). An FBI agent and a CIA officer are together in an unmarked car watching a terrorism suspect take his dinner in a Lebanese café in Brooklyn. As the suspect finishes up his meal and is about to pay his bill, there is an opportunity to arrest him, and the FBI agent wants to pounce. The dialogue goes like this: CIA Officer: You might consider leaving him alone. FBI Agent: Why would we consider that? CIA Officer: Well, you can plan like a cop and haul him in now and get your arrest. Or you can try to let him lead you to the really big fish.17

What actually seems to have happened in the last few years is that, in the counterterrorism effort, the FBI has slowly begun to change. The mission is now focused on prevention. The change came from the ideas of Director Robert S. Mueller III, appointed by President George W. Bush in September of 2001. Trying to turn the FBI around has been compared to changing the course of a giant ocean liner. It has not been easy. Now the temptation of quick arrest is resisted. Getting to know a suspect and pursuing leads is preferred so as to uncover more cells and plots. Mueller made these changes aggressively. Some agents grumbled and complained, but Mueller was not running a popularity contest. He insisted that his was a better way to protect the country.18 In the wake of the 1993 World Trade Center bombing, the Port Authority tightened its security on the George Washington Bridge as well as at the Lincoln and Holland tunnels. These Hudson River crossings were obviously potential targets of terrorism. Indeed, there had been some concern after 1993 over the possibility of the deliberate detonation of a truck carrying explosives through one of the tunnels. As a result, the Port Authority installed roadbed sensors that alerted officials whenever a vehicle stopped in the middle of free-flowing traffic for more than a few moments. In addition, of course, there were cameras throughout both tunnels to monitor traffic. But the principal deterrent was the periodic random inspection of trucks to prevent the transport of either explosives or compressed gas. Still, there was a lingering question: Was it possible to blow up a Hudson River tunnel? Experts tell us that it would be very difficult indeed. True, tunnel explosions can cause extensive damage and loss of life, but destroying a tunnel is unlikely. Let us be quite clear: An explosion in one of the tunnels could cause a great deal of damage. The Federal Highway Administration

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(FHA) has said that tunnel security is a matter of national security policy. Heightened concern is especially important for “signature” facilities such as the Holland and Lincoln tunnels. In the conclusion of an official report the FHA wrote, with italics for emphasis, “The threat is real: attacks at choke points could be devastating.”19 There is no question that a large blast could quickly destroy hundreds of feet, in either direction out from the explosion, of the roadway, side walls, and ceiling. An explosion would be likely to trigger prolonged fire, and exposure to high temperatures would damage the concrete lining of the tunnel. There would be some loss of compressive strength and some spalling—the forcible ejection of material from the surface of the concrete.20 Nonetheless, tunnel engineers I have talked with maintain that such an explosion would be unlikely to actually puncture the outer tunnel wall, resulting in water intrusion. In other words, there is a big difference between damaging a tunnel and flooding a tunnel. Granted, saying that an event is “unlikely” is not the same as saying that it is “impossible.” Still, there are sound reasons to believe in the blast resistance of the tunnels.21 Let us envision a deliberate explosion set off by a terrorist in one of the tunnels by a truck bomb. The sudden release of energy would create high air pressure and a short-duration shock wave, accompanied by high temperature and the release of gases. Many cars and trucks would be destroyed, and high-velocity fragments would cause further damage. Extremely high pressure would destroy the shell of the tunnel as well as cause cratering and spalling of the concrete lining. The fire would spread with high velocity because of the confinement. Heat from the fireball would emerge from the portals. It is not a pretty picture. However, part of the energy of the blast would be absorbed by the shell of the tunnel—the roadway, the walls, and the ceiling. In addition, both tunnels are open at both ends without any lateral partitions, so the force of the blast, following the path of least resistance, would extend rapidly toward either portal rather than being focused on the tunnel wall.22 Looking back at 1993, we tend to remember the terror attack that succeeded and to forget the one that was foiled. We recall the 1993 World Trade Center bombing with some clarity. We remember that the bomb was detonated in an underground garage of the North Tower, and it opened up a large hole through five sublevels of the basement. The explosion instantly cut off the center’s main electrical line, so there was no power for either the emergency lights or the elevators. Those in the elevators were trapped, and those in the stairwells, which were not pressurized, suffered from thick smoke in utter darkness.23 Bad as that attack was, an even worse one was planned for later that year. According to Time magazine, there was a loosely organized group of

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terrorists that came up with an apocalyptic plan. The idea was to trigger two explosions in the Holland and Lincoln tunnels under the Hudson River, “crushing motorists inside cars turned to twisted junk, killing many more by spreading intense heat, smoke, and noxious fumes throughout the enclosed spaces of the tubes. Thousands dead, thousands more injured, the nation’s biggest city in a wild panic.”24 This time the plan was thwarted. A team of FBI agents and NYPD officers broke into a Queens garage at 1:30 a.m. on July 1, 2003. They caught five men leaning over 55-gallon barrels, mixing fertilizer and diesel fuel into an explosive paste with large wooden spoons. These five, along with three others collared in raids on apartments, were charged with conspiracy and held without bail. This time everything went perfectly for the FBI. The arrests were not premature; the conspirators were allowed to proceed with their plans right up to the very edge. Yet they were arrested before they were able to inflict any actual damage. How to account for this extraordinary success? The FBI had a confidential informant inside the group helping the federal agents to maintain close surveillance. He was Emad Salem, a former Egyptian military officer.25 The use of confidential informants in law enforcement work is tricky. On the one hand, a good informant can find out in a few minutes what would take days for an outside investigator to learn. On the other hand, the informant must be admonished not to provoke criminal activity. Salem was the ideal informant. He had been part of the inner circle around Sheikh Omar AbdelRahman, the blind Egyptian cleric who was spiritual leader to the men in the ring. According to insiders, Salem was motivated partly by the payment of some $250,000 for his efforts. But mainly he agreed to help the FBI because he thought that the conspirators were betraying the cause of Islam.26 Emad Salem, tall and muscular, lived on Manhattan’s Upper West Side with his European-born wife and two children. He was able to work his way into Sheikh Omar’s confidence by posing as a supporter of El Sayyid Nosair, the Egyptian who had been accused, and later acquitted, in the 1990 murder of Rabbi Meir Kahane, an Israeli and founder of the Jewish Defense League. Gradually, he took on the twin roles of translator and bodyguard for the sheikh. Salem bragged to the sheikh’s followers that he was a weapons and explosives expert. He showed them photos of people being tortured back in Egypt. So great was the conspirators’ trust of Salem that he became the chief bomb maker for the inept ragtag group, not that it was all that hard to do. All that was needed to make this bomb was nitrate fertilizer mixed with fuel oil and a blasting cap.27 Arguably the twin events in New York of 1993—a successful attack on a skyscraper and a narrowly avoided one on the tunnels—raised American

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consciousness about the ever-present threat of domestic terror. Yet for a while, New York was spared, though the rest of the United States was not. On April 19, 1995, a truck bomb destroyed the Murrah Federal Building in Oklahoma City, killing 168 people. The following year a pipe bomb exploded in Atlanta during the Olympics on July 27, 1996, killing one person and wounding 111.28 This drumbeat of domestic terrorism was quickly reflected in mainstream popular culture, most notably in the movies. Here we turn again to the 1998 action film The Siege, starring Denzel Washington, Annette Bening, and Bruce Willis, which, though it has been criticized for exaggerations and simplifications, is quite thought-provoking. To be sure, the Holland and Lincoln tunnels are not specifically named as targets in this film; however, it underscores how vulnerable New York City’s infrastructure is to terrorist attacks. In the film, terrorist cells make a series of increasingly destructive attacks. The storyline makes it clear that the underlying cause of the attacks is shortsighted American foreign policy, but the focus is on the FBI’s response to the New York City attacks. In this nightmare scenario, hostages are being held aboard a bus containing a bomb. Arriving on the scene is FBI Special Agent Anthony Hubbard, played by Denzel Washington, accompanied by his agreeable Arab American partner Frank Haddad, played by Tony Shalhoub. Hubbard is able to persuade the hijackers to release the children on the bus, but further attempts at negotiation fail, and everyone still aboard the bus is killed—some two dozen casualties. Next comes the deadly bombing of a Broadway theater, packed with dignitaries and celebrities. In a third incident, a lone gunman takes the children in an elementary school classroom hostage. The brave and resourceful Hubbard, in a surprise move, breaks into the room where the children are being held, rolls onto the floor with drawn gun, and takes out the terrorist. In the fourth and final assault, the terrorists bomb the offices of the FBI Counterterrorism Division at One Federal Plaza, killing some six hundred people.29 How to deal with all this mayhem? The film lays out at least three conflicting strategies. One point of view is espoused by the enigmatic CIA operative and Middle East expert Elise Kraft, played by Annette Bening, who uses charm and guile to draw out informants. Patriotic and loyal in her own way, she is reluctant to share her information with the FBI. Still another point of view is represented by Army General William Devereaux, played by Bruce Willis, who ends up favoring the imposition of martial law. Of course, the hero, Anthony Hubbard, advocates the slow and patient method of law enforcement. In spelling out these conflicting points of view, the film does a fine job of dramatizing the real puzzle facing policy makers.

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In November of 1998, when The Siege was released, New Yorkers could be forgiven for dismissing the movie as a screenwriter’s nightmare, strictly a work of fiction. After all, in real life, the damage to the World Trade Center from five years earlier had been repaired. The ruined steel and concrete had been replaced, and the Twin Towers had been given a complete $700 million makeover. The electrical systems and elevators had been upgraded. The Windows on the World restaurant was renovated and reopened to a brisk business in 1996. Numerous safety improvements had been made—including battery-operated emergency lights and luminescent paint in the stairwells and an upgrading of the fireproofing on the floor trusses. It seemed that the terrorists had given the World Trade Center their best shot, and they had failed.30 Then came September 11, 2001, and our worldview changed. We had firmly entered the Age of Terror. These attacks dramatically changed the transHudson transportation system. Needless to say, the principal target had been the Twin Towers of the World Trade Center. Though the Lincoln and Holland tunnels were not themselves targets, their traffic patterns were disrupted. Almost immediately, three hundred members of the New Jersey National Guard were mobilized to augment the Port Authority police in patrolling the portals of the Lincoln and Holland tunnels. The guardsmen dressed in military fatigues and carried M-16 rifles. Their presence made for a theatrical show of force, even though in fact their rifles had no bullets. After all, these young people were soldiers, not law enforcement personnel. Arming them with live ammunition might have just created problems. In the wake of the attacks, the traffic patterns of both tunnels were altered. The Holland was closed to all but emergency traffic for almost a month. Restrictions were placed on the Lincoln Tunnel. With the World Trade Center destroyed, with plumes of smoke billowing upward, and with lower Manhattan covered with thick gray dust, officials had to quickly take all kinds of unprecedented steps. The area below Fourteenth Street was declared a “Frozen Zone.” Nonresident civilians could not enter the area at all. Emergency personnel had to present a color-coded identification card to get by security checkpoints with blue barricades manned by police officers. At Canal Street there was another set of checkpoints with yet another kind of ID card required. The idea was to limit access to everyone except those who had to be there. Ground Zero had become a work zone for rescue and recovery, and officials did not want people getting in the way.31 Under these circumstances, the Holland Tunnel presented a unique problem. Although it was a major artery leading into the city, the outlet led precisely into the Frozen Zone. It was simply not acceptable to be dumping cars

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into that area. It also must be understood that in those frightening early days, officials felt that New York was under attack. No one knew when or where the next attack might come. So it was decided to keep the Holland Tunnel closed to normal traffic just in case something else were to happen, though emergency lanes were kept open so that manpower and equipment located at staging areas in New Jersey could be rapidly mobilized and dispatched to the scene without fighting civilian tunnel traffic. Contemporary newspaper accounts captured the mood of New Yorkers in those frazzled days immediately following 9/11. Columnist Dan Barry of the New York Times wrote about police officers who were physically and emotionally exhausted responding to false bomb scares. He wrote about fatigued mass transit officials who struggled to keep a broken system running. There were bomb scares at Grand Central Terminal, Macy’s, and LaGuardia Airport. All three New York–area airports were completely closed. Traffic barely moved, with police checkpoints everywhere. Subway service was limited out of fears that vibrations caused by trains might weaken or even topple buildings in lower Manhattan. Despite the inconvenience, most people stayed calm. Motorists were often stuck in traffic for long periods of time, but few honked impatiently. People riding crowded subways were generally polite to one another.32 Meanwhile, severe restrictions were put in place at the Lincoln Tunnel. Passenger cars with only one person were not permitted to use the Lincoln between 6:00 a.m. and 12:00 noon. Commuters rapidly adapted. Some adjusted their commuting hours; other changed their route; still others doubled up and carpooled. For example, David Morales, a doorman on the Upper West Side, started leaving his Guttenberg, New Jersey, home by 5:15 every morning in order to get through the Lincoln Tunnel before 6:00 a.m. He told a reporter that the inconvenience did not bother him. “As long as we’re safe, that’s what counts.”33 Some motorists tried to get around the prohibition on single-occupant cars not by carpooling but by trickery. Violators would keep cardboard cutouts or mannequins in their trunks ready to be propped up in the passenger seat to avoid single-occupancy rules. This cat-and-mouse game made additional work for law enforcement. To create an atmosphere of fairness, police had to be vigilant in detecting violators and to make a show of on-site ticketing. The perception of enforcement was a key to managing the problem. The police had an advantage in that traffic had to slow at the tollbooths, giving them a chance to observe vehicle occupants closely, but there were still hazards to perception such as bad weather or tinted windows.34 With the Holland Tunnel closed and with the Lincoln Tunnel restricted, large numbers of commuters gave up, and switched to New York Waterway

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ferries or the PATH, a rapid transit railroad linking Manhattan with northern New Jersey. In the aftermath of 9/11, the PATH station at the World Trade Center was closed. It normally handled sixty-six thousand riders per day. Many of them turned to using the PATH station at Thirty-third Street in Manhattan instead. “There’s a lot of people on PATH. The trains are very crowded and we strongly encourage employers to stagger hours so we can thin out the crowds occurring during typical rush hours,” said Steve Coleman, a Port Authority spokesman. “Our busiest terminal doesn’t exist anymore, so the entire PATH ridership is switching over to one terminal instead of two.”35 Meanwhile, New York Waterway, a private ferry system providing commuter service between Manhattan and New Jersey, saw a large increase in ridership. It had been founded in 1986 by Arthur E. Imperatore, who added a number of ferries in the fall of 2001. “Many, many new people are coming onto the ferries. We know this because of the questions they are asking about how they get to certain places,” Imperatore said. Riders wishing to take the ferry were advised to leave early since the parking lot in Weehawken had been filling up quickly during rush hour. “We still have some rush-hour capacity left on most lines,” Imperatore said. “But from Weehawken to midtown and from Hoboken to downtown, we’re filling boats to capacity during peak hours.”36 While the ferries and PATH trains were terribly crowded, the approach to the Holland Tunnel in Jersey City looked abandoned. After the hijackers crashed into the World Trade Center, officials closed the Holland Tunnel to everything but emergency traffic. The businesses along Twelfth Street (the eastbound lanes) and along Fourteenth Street (the westbound lanes) suffered a collapse in their profitability. They had depended on a steady stream of cars and trucks passing by. Especially hard-hit was the Tunnel Diner, a classic factory-built diner with a 1950s interior and a neon-and-chrome exterior. Regulars knew that it was just outside the Holland, and you had to stay in the right lane when exiting the tunnel. Like most classic diners, it was known to be greasy but authentic. It was celebrated for its bacon-and-egg sandwiches in the morning and for its home-cooked beef stew and meat loaf in the evening. Not a fancy place, but it provided steady employment for its staff right up until September 11. “I don’t know what to do. I’m behind in my bills,” said Michael Lignos, an owner of the diner. “I never thought to get insurance for them closing the tunnel. I never thought they’d close the tunnel.”37 It was the same at the nearby Gulf station on the eastbound side known for “last gas in New Jersey.” Normally, this was a great business since gas is always

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cheaper in New Jersey than in New York. But the owner, Allay Choudhary, was forced to shut down for a month and lay off two employees. “They closed the tunnel, and there was no access, and that was it,” Choudhary explained. Then things got worse. While the station was closed, thieves broke into the repair shop and stole some five thousand dollars’ worth of diagnostic equipment. “Nobody was here, and somebody took advantage of the situation,” Choudhary said.38 During the emergency, most of the gas stations closed, but Dunkin’ Donuts on the eastbound side managed to stay open. However, business was off by some 70 percent, according to clerk Himanshu Patel. Normally, trucks would line the street in the early morning. Drivers would run in for coffee and donuts. Now trucks were not allowed in the tunnel. Patel said that he missed his regular customers. He knew them not by name, but by their preferences. The guy who always ordered a bagel and cream cheese. The guy who had a weakness for jelly-filled donuts. Now they were all gone. He could only hope that soon the restrictions would be lifted, and the fleets of trucks and taxis and limousines would resume dropping by.39 Meanwhile, up at the Lincoln Tunnel, truckers willingly submitted to security checkpoints every time they entered Manhattan. “I’ve only been cursed at, like, five times,” said a police sergeant, examining trucks. Some trucks were allowed to roll through the checkpoint, but others had to stop and roll up the back door of the truck for an inspection. “We use our own judgment,” said the sergeant, who joked with many of the truckers. “If the truck says ‘furniture,’ and the driver says he’s carrying fruit, we’ll check.” The inspections and resulting delays took a toll on trucking companies, ranging from movers to importers. “It’s been very difficult,” said Darin Suarez, a dispatcher at a trucking firm based in South Kearny, New Jersey.40 The transportation delays cut heavily into profits. There were all kinds of traffic tie-ups caused by tunnel closures and restrictions. Especially troubled were firms that tried to deliver goods and people. To illustrate, let us take the case of Joe Cho, president of Hyundai Electronic. When his drivers left his Chelsea-area warehouse loaded with electronic gear to deliver to retailers, they hit terrible traffic snarls. On some days, they were only able to make two or three deliveries. “I lose money,” said Cho. “I don’t know what to do. I just pray to the gods. We can’t pay the rent, and we have a lot of bills.”41 Also losing money were moving van companies. A trip that once took an hour might now take two hours, or even four hours on a bad day. “If I charged my customers for four hours, I would lose work,” said Keith Verdeber, operations manager for Astro Moving and Storage Company. “I charge them for an hour and a half.” Particularly hard-hit were limousine

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drivers, many of whom saw their pay drop by two-thirds. As if that were not bad enough, often angry customers would yell at them for being stuck in traffic. “I tell them it’s not good for their health to get so upset,” said Philip Wasser, a limo driver in New York for thirty-five years. “This is the worst I have ever seen in my life.” Since he was only making four or five trips a day instead of twelve to fifteen, his pay declined from $725 a week to $250 a week. “I am trying to get a second job,” Wasser said. “I am looking to work as a doorman at night. I will do anything for a couple of dollars.”42 To put it briefly, the travel restrictions put in place after September 11 in what has been called “the central trans-Hudson corridor,” or the Lincoln and Holland tunnels, diverted traffic to “the northern corridor,” or the George Washington Bridge, and “the southern corridor,” made up of the Outerbridge Crossing, the Goethals Bridge, and the Bayonne Bridge. Clearly, the prolonged closure of the Holland Tunnel combined with truck inspections and single-occupancy vehicle restrictions at the Lincoln Tunnel significantly decreased traffic through the central corridor. Fortunately, however, the northern and southern trans-Hudson corridors were able to pick up the slack, demonstrating to urban planners that the regional vehicular system did have “considerable resilience.”43 Slowly, the system came back to nearly normal. The process took two years. By May of 2002, the New Jersey National Guard was able to stop patrolling the portals of the Lincoln and Holland tunnels. In fact, they had never replaced the Port Authority Police Department, which had primary responsibility for tunnel security all along.44 Then, on November 17, 2003, the Port Authority ended the 6:00 a.m. to 10:00 a.m. weekday ban on single-occupant automobiles at the Holland Tunnel into New York City. This action was in conjunction with the mayor’s announcement that there would no longer be a ban on single-occupant automobiles entering Manhattan below Fourteenth Street. However, the Port Authority continued to prohibit all tractor-trailers and trucks with more than three axles from the Holland Tunnel in both directions. Why have such tough restrictions on trucks at the Holland Tunnel? Compared with all the other crossings including the Lincoln Tunnel and the George Washington Bridge, the Holland Tunnel is the most restrictive with regard to trucks because of the relatively narrow traffic lanes and low ceiling heights. Yet, at the same time, buses were allowed and encouraged to use the Holland Tunnel in both directions in order to promote greater use of mass transit by commuters and to ease congestion in lower Manhattan.45 Even as life seemed to be getting back to normal, people who lived near the tunnel portals remained jittery. Whether they lived in Weehawken or Jersey City or Manhattan made no difference. They were all in close proximity to

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obvious targets within the largest city in the country, the city that is the center of our financial markets and the home of the United Nations. So it was understandable that when Weehawken residents heard a loud blast that made their windows shake early in the morning of October 7, 2004, they immediately assumed that terrorists were trying to sneak a bomb into the Lincoln Tunnel. Authorities responded by sending large number of federal, state, and local officers to the scene. “This came in as a car bomb,” said New Jersey State Trooper Stephen Jones. “We weren’t taking chances.”46 Subsequent investigation showed that the explosion had not been a terrorist attack but rather an accident. It seems that a twenty-seven-year-old sheet metal worker, Giles Lison, had been sitting in his Volkswagen parked near his home when the car exploded. Investigators concluded that the blast was most probably caused by a leaky tank of acetylene, a highly flammable compressed gas used in cutting and welding metals due to the high temperature of the flame, found in the car. Acetylene is known to explode with extreme violence. The victim’s charred body was found in the car. What set off the explosion was never determined. It could have been a cigarette, the car’s ignition switch, or something else. “All we know right now is that it was a tragic accident,” said Weehawken Police Department Deputy Director Robert Zucconi.47 Just because there are false alarms like this from time to time does not mean that authorities can let down their guard. Operations to prevent and deter terrorism continue, but most of these day-to-day activities are carried out quietly and never reported to the media. Federal agents may spend months, even years, watching individuals plotting an attack. The agents monitor Internet chat rooms and e-mail messages used by suspected terrorists. They may tap telephones and infiltrate the groups with informers. Law enforcement officials try to keep their investigations under wraps for as long as possible. Only when the terrorists have chosen targets, acquired the necessary resources, and are about to attack—only then do they take down the operation. It’s only in that last phase that we, the public, learn of the plot. Such was the case in July of 2006, when the Federal Bureau of Investigation and the New York Police Department announced that they had uncovered a serious plot by foreign Islamic suicide bombers to blow up the Holland Tunnel while the scheme was still in the planning stage. What the terrorists had hoped to do was to cause a colossal flood in lower Manhattan in order to cripple the financial district. The idea was to detonate explosives inside the tunnel so as to blast a hole through to the river. The resulting torrent of water would then engulf the streets of the financial district.48 Perhaps the terrorists had been watching too many disaster movies. Experts quickly said that the would-be bombers had a great plan, except it

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would not work. Even if the terrorists had major explosives and sophisticated knowledge of blast effect, it is doubtful that the explosion would have penetrated the tunnel wall, protected by thick layers of concrete and cast iron. And then, even if the blast were able to pierce the tunnel wall, there is nothing in Manhattan that is below sea level. “It might flood the Holland Tunnel, but that’s all it’s going to flood,” said Army Corps of Engineers expert Allan McDuffie. “It’s not going to get any higher than the level of the surrounding water.” The lowest points in the neighborhood surrounding the entrance to the Jersey-bound Holland Tunnel are exactly 10 feet above sea level.49 “There are ways that the city could get flooded, especially lower Manhattan, but I don’t think this is one of them,” said Irwin Redlener, head of the National Center for Disaster Preparedness at Columbia University. “It seems a little far-fetched. It’s not like the water is above the island. It doesn’t quite make sense.”50 In the end, the plot was disrupted as a result of good intelligence, a source of satisfaction for law enforcement and New York City residents. “We did not wait, and we do not wait, until the fuse is lit; we swoop in as early as possible,” Secretary Michael Chertoff of the Department of Homeland Security said of the event at a news conference. “We were not at a point where we were concerned that something might happen imminently. There was a never a concern that this would actually be executed.”51 Stand-up comedian and late-night television host Jay Leno wasted no time in taking advantage of the news. In his monologue, he was quoted as saying, “Authorities in New York City have foiled a plot by terrorists to blow up the Holland Tunnel. There was one awkward moment when officials informed President Bush the Holland Tunnel was safe and Bush then thanked the Dutch authorities for their help.”52 Of far more concern to U.S. officials than a plot to explode a conventional bomb in a tunnel to cause a flood is the “dirty bomb” scenario. According to the U.S. Nuclear Regulatory Commission, a dirty bomb, or radiological dispersal device (RDD), combines a conventional explosive, like dynamite, with radioactive material. Experts figure that in such a device there would probably not be enough radiation to kill people or cause severe illness. However, it could contaminate up to several city blocks, creating fear and panic, as well as requiring costly cleanup. Officials explain that a dirty bomb is not a nuclear weapon. Such a bomb would not be a weapon of mass destruction, but rather a weapon of mass disruption.53 The first significant dirty bomb scare occurred in August of 2007. The threat was picked up by DEBKA, an Israeli opensource military intelligence Web site.54 Although most of its information is attributed to unidentified

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sources, the site has a reputation for accuracy. DEBKA monitors learned of the scheme from a rush of electronic chatter on al Qaeda sites on Thursday, August 9, 2007. By Friday the story hit U.S. Web sites, and by Saturday it was published in U.S. newspapers. One of the al Qaeda communications said that the attacks would be carried out “by means of trucks loaded with radio-active material against America’s biggest city and financial nerve center.” Another message made clear both the threat and the motivation for the operation: “The attack, with Allah’s help, will cause an economic meltdown, many dead, and a financial crisis on a scale that compels the United States to pull its military forces out of many parts of the world, including Iraq, for lack of any other way of cutting down costs.”55 Even though the New York Police Department was deeply skeptical of the unverified reports, it had no choice but to take action. There was a huge NYPD response with helicopters, boats, and trucks searching the city for radioactive devices. Because the NYPD knew that this mobilization would attract attention, officials decided to announce it publicly. On Canal Street, a major approach artery to the Holland Tunnel, a checkpoint was set up. More than a dozen police officers stopped vehicles so that a radiological detection team could scan them. Predictably, traffic came to a crawl, but there were surprisingly few complaints. “This is fine. In fact, it’s great,” said Kenny Rodriguez, who was moving some furniture in a truck. “They’re protecting us from all the bad things that could happen. I have no problem with it. It’s keeping us safe.”56 After a few days, when nothing was found, the dirty bomb terror scare that had spooked the city was forgotten. Over time, users of the trans-Hudson tunnels have been hit with a seemingly endless series of apparent threats. There have been numerous false alarms when a suspicious package startles someone who reports it to the police, and later the package is determined not to be a problem. Eventually, repeated false alarms cause commuters to become exasperated with the authorities who are trying to protect them. Such was the case on a Friday afternoon, October 3, 2008. One can easily imagine the situation of a typical Manhattan office worker eager to get home at the end of the workweek. The phrase TGIF, “Thank God it’s Friday,” comes to mind. With an upcoming weekend, many hapless motorists headed for the outbound Lincoln Tunnel. Some had plans for dinner parties; others planned just to relax. But it turned out to be a painful commute with lengthy delays as police investigated a suspicious package on I-495 West. Port Authority police shut down the Weehawken exit between 4:00 p.m. and 7:00 p.m. Commuter buses at the Port Authority Bus Terminal in Manhattan were held as thousands of angry people fretted over the delay. Even after things were cleared

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up, there was another hour or two of residual delays. The suspicious package turned out to be a harmless bottle.57 The following day, on Gothamist, a popular daily blog covering New York City, frustrated commuters expressed their rage at the Port Authority. Tamar wrote, “What a complete waste of time. I was stuck in that standstill for two hours. . . . We got into the tunnel after 4:00 p.m. and didn’t get out until after 6:25. I heard from my aunt who was headed in the same direction that they closed the tunnel behind us (she ended up taking the Holland Tunnel to get into NJ). All that for a fucking bottle?” Then Murph wrote, “The ‘if you see something, say something’ campaign has made some people paranoid. . . . What else is liquid going to be held in but a bottle? It’s just litter.”58 The insults and abuse kept coming to the Port Authority. Steven wrote, “Three hours needed to investigate a bottle? Then the Port Authority decides to close everything down during rush hour on a Friday no less. The Port Authority is useless just like the MTA.” Another blogger wrote, “The Port Authority should all be fired and made to fight in Iraq. Useless scumbags.” Hugo wrote, “Why is the PA wasting time with this sort of thing? . . . There is no terror threat. This is another stunt by George Bush to boost his ratings in his final days.” Someone else summed up the situation nicely: “The terrorists have won.”59 At first glance it certainly appeared that the Port Authority Police were a bunch of incompetent screwups. But after looking into the matter, it’s clear how complex the situation really was. If we re-create the scenario, we can better appreciate how the police were placed in a difficult situation. Let us assume that a concerned westbound motorist, exiting the Helix of the Lincoln Tunnel, spots a suspicious-looking bottle by the side of the road. He uses his cell phone to make a 911 call and reports the bottle, saying, “It wasn’t there this morning when I came in. It’s there now, and I’m concerned. You ought to check it out.” The message is relayed to the tour commander at the facility, a lieutenant. Now the lieutenant is on the spot. Thoughts race through his mind. Is it a liquid bomb? How did it get there? Was there a note with it? If opened and exposed to the air, will it explode? Is this just a primary device designed to attract dozens of cops to the scene before a secondary device explodes, killing them all? Is it wrapped in tape? Does it have a timer attached to it? Do I dare to just pick it up myself? Can I order a cop to pick it up and get rid of it? How do we dispose of the bottle? Who is going to open the bottle? The prudent thing to do is to call the bomb squad to investigate the suspicious bottle. But does he tell his officers, “The bomb squad is on its way, but I’m going to let traffic continue to flow past the hazard”? There are safety implications of taking no action. Clearly, if there really is a danger, then he

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must stop the flow of traffic in order not to expose innocent motorists to the risk of an explosion. Of course, stopping traffic during a Friday afternoon rush hour is going to seriously inconvenience thousands of people. To make matters worse, the Port Authority Police Department does not have its own bomb squad. Instead, the PAPD relies on mutual aid agreements with other police agencies, which agree to lend assistance across jurisdictional boundaries in emergency situations. So our lieutenant must await the bomb squad from the local cooperating police department, which may take some time to arrive on the scene. In any event, by Monday night, police in New Jersey had arrested one man and were looking for another in connection with placing a suspiciouslooking, dark-painted plastic bottle along the I-495 approach to the Lincoln Tunnel. The bottle had been attached to a concrete traffic median. The man claimed that the whole thing was just a joke. Nonetheless, police eventually charged Lawrence Fellippello, thirty-nine, of Vernon, New Jersey, and Michael McCimlisk, twenty-six, of Hamburg, New Jersey, with making terroristic threats. “What these men perpetrated was no laughing matter,” said Port Authority Police Superintendent Samuel Plumeri, “and we’re sending a clear message here by treating this matter seriously.” Shortly afterward, Hudson County Prosecutor Ed DiFazio said the case would be presented to a grand jury.60 Later a senior Port Authority official, who declined to be identified, told me, “The Port Authority is a target-rich facility. We always try to move our traffic safely and quickly, but if there’s a conflict between the two, we will always err on the side of safety—especially since 9/11. Because we depend on the mutual aid from other agencies with the specific resources to deal with this kind of threat, there are sometimes delays. We sincerely regret the inconvenience to our motoring public, but we must always make safety our top priority.”

chapter 8

I

Rush Hour Frustration dealing with traffic congestion

A recurring theme in the American experience is our love of mobility, our love of the freedom of the open road. It’s an idea that can be traced from Walt Whitman’s iconic “Song of the Open Road,” first published in 1856, through Jack Kerouac’s novel On the Road, first published in 1957. Even today, automobile advertising seems to promise “wind in our hair and a guaranteed uplift in our sexual performance.”1 But it’s hard to feel like an alpha male behind the wheel of a car stuck in traffic, cursing the other drivers causing us to be late for that important meeting. For commuters trying to make it through the Lincoln or Holland on the way to work, driving is not liberating, sexy, or fun. There are, of course, many ways to make use of the trans-Hudson tunnels. New Yorkers may leave town for a weekend getaway on a Friday evening and return home on a Sunday evening. To be sure, there are a few reverse commuters—New Yorkers who commute to work in New Jersey. And there are New Jerseyans who may actually enjoy using the tunnels in the expectation of going into the city to dine and take in a Broadway show. But in this chapter we will focus on the most difficult and congested trips—those made by New Jersey commuters who must use the tunnels, either as drivers or aboard a bus, to get to work and to return home, Monday through Friday, during the morning and evening rush hours. Predictably, this is the group that is least satisfied with their tunnel experiences. These are the people who listen to talk radio, glance at billboards, travel with coffee, and complain about gas prices.2 Our typical New Jersey commuters with unquittable New York jobs sense that they have no choice. Because housing in Manhattan is so expensive, they feel forced to live far out in the sticks away from their jobs. Plus, the farther out they move, the bigger the house they can afford. So they buy the dream house, perhaps in Phillipsburg, New Jersey, on the border with Pennsylvania, a 70-mile commute. Real estate agents say, “Drive until you qualify,” meaning 137

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you travel away from the workplace until you reach a place where you can afford to buy.3 At first the decision seems worth it because of the improvement in quality of life. But then they get used to the new place, and the initial charm fades away. Experts call this phenomenon “hedonic adaptation,” the tendency of people to remain at a relatively stable level of happiness despite an improvement in their situation. Our commuters are now locked into a longer commute. And here’s the catch: The longer the commute, the more variability. Some days take longer, others less time. Psychologist Daniel Gilbert explains, “You can’t adapt to commuting, because it’s entirely unpredictable. Driving in traffic is a different kind of hell every day.”4 The long commute is not just a New Jersey phenomenon, it is nationwide. The number of Americans who travel ninety minutes to work is now at 3.5 million, according to the Census Bureau, which defines this as an “extreme commute.”5 Ideally, most people would prefer to live closer to work in order to get home more quickly and to have more time to play with their kids, spend time with their spouses, coach soccer, argue about politics, play cards, watch a school play, drink in a bar, or pray in church. In other words, socialize with other people. However, finding a large, affordable home in a very good public school district typically requires living farther from the office.6 New Jerseyans in particular are leaving home earlier and earlier to get to work on time. This “commuting creep” has a tremendous impact on everyday life—affecting everything from what we have for breakfast to when we expect our newspaper to be delivered. For example, take the case of Elliot Bloom of Denville, New Jersey. He leaves his home at 5:15 a.m. to get a head start on the traffic into Manhattan. As a result, his commute takes forty-five minutes, as opposed to the ninety minutes it would take during rush hour. He spends the early morning running in Central Park as training for his marathon passion. He then arrives at his office at 9:00 a.m. “I could’ve chosen the path of ‘woe is me’ and fight the traffic and let it destroy my life,” he says. “Instead, I’ve turned it around and made it a positive for my health and a hobby I enjoy greatly.”7 Some commuters like Bloom say that they like the time in their cars being alone to collect their thoughts, to listen to their favorite music, or chat with friends on the (hands-free) phone, but most long-distance commuters complain bitterly. They may love their exurban McMansions, but they find themselves not eating well because they are driving during breakfast time and dinner time. Their love lives suffer because the only thing they crave at night is sleep. Their spouses tell them they are monsters until they have had two beers. There are many suggestions out there on how to make a long commute

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seem shorter. You could use the time to learn a new language on tape—but, as blogger Penelope Trunk points out, it’s unlikely you will really master it. At best, all you will end up learning to say is something rather simple. You might say to a shopkeeper, “How much does this cost?” or to someone attractive, “Do you want a date?”8 Trunk goes on to explain that commuting seems less stressful if someone else drives. Such is the case for Ronny Byrd, who lives in Burlington, New Jersey, south of Trenton. Byrd, a vault custodian for the Bank of New York, boards a bus bound for Wall Street every morning. If the New Jersey Turnpike and the Holland Tunnel are not backed up, he reaches his destination in two hours. Byrd, who used to live in the Canarsie section of Brooklyn with his wife, Valerie, and their four children, said, “We never could have afforded a home big enough for all of us that was closer to New York.” So the couple bought a six-bedroom house in Burlington, 75 miles south of midtown, for $250,000 back in 2005.9 Whether your commute is short or long, you still have to navigate the approach roads in order to pass through the tunnels. Traffic engineers have studied the approaches to the Lincoln and Holland tunnels in order to figure out how best to achieve the safe and efficient movement of motorists. They use complex mathematical formulas based on lane flow, maximum speed, and density. But there is a limit to what they can do: increased density reduces traffic flow. Though engineers do their best to minimize delays, their efforts are cold comfort to people such as the salesman who is late for a power breakfast with an important customer in midtown or the lawyer who misses her daughter’s first piano recital in suburban New Jersey.10 Let us consider a typical New Jersey commuter on her way to work in Manhattan in the very early morning. Before leaving the house, she has already checked the traffic cam on her home computer. Once on the highway, she may be listening to News Radio 88’s every-ten-minutes traffic report. It’s actually quite predicable. Of course, the announcer talks so fast that the report would be gibberish to an out-of-towner.11 There’s an accident on the Long Island Expressway with associated rubbernecking delays; a jackknifed tractor-trailer on the Cross-Bronx Expressway; a broken-down tractor-trailer on the George Washington Bridge; sun glare making motorists slow down on the eastbound Staten Island Expressway; heavy volume reported on the northbound New Jersey Turnpike; a thirty-minute delay inbound at the Lincoln Tunnel and twenty minutes at the Holland.12 One bright spot in our typical traffic report is this reassuring word from the CBS reporter, high above the fray in his helicopter: “Mass transit is on or close to schedule.” Commuters who use mass transit often feel morally

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superior to those in private cars. For example, Christine Beidel of Rutherford, New Jersey, in a letter to the Bergen Record, wrote: “A few weeks ago . . . I happened to glance out the window of the 190 NJ Transit bus that I take to and from work every day. I looked at the thousands of cars waiting to go through the Lincoln Tunnel, and it dawned on me that more than 90 percent of them contained only a driver: one person in each of those thousands of cars. I wondered at the selfishness of these commuters who are more attached to their cars than to the environment.”13 In addition, mass transit users can use the time more productively because they don’t have to drive. They can read the newspaper, do crossword puzzles, watch a movie on a small laptop, or check e-mail on a smartphone. If mass transit represents good citizenship, why do motorists prefer to drive into the city via bridges and tunnels? The answer is not hard to find. Even a dedicated train user like William C. Vantuono concedes that “American motorists prefer to hide themselves in sport-utility vehicles, minivans, and luxury cars, complete with a premium sound system with a compact disc changer and a cassette thrown in for good measure, six-way power seats with memory, leather upholstery, two-zone climate controls, tinted windows, and a cell phone.”14 Many motorists just prefer the convenience and solitude of their own vehicles. Even though it’s slow going, it’s comfortable. Generally, mass transit is more punctual and reliable than travel by private automobile. Commuter trains have their own right-of-way, ameliorating the congestion problem. Commuter buses negotiate the tunnels better because they have their own dedicated lanes. However, commuting on mass transit can also be very frustrating. One Bergen County commuter who had traveled the same bus line for twenty-five years reported that most buses failed to run according to the bus company’s own published schedule. He said that the buses frequently broke down and sometimes left passengers stranded. Dispatchers, he said, seldom had useful information and sometimes were downright rude. Another commuter, Jay Fishkin of Fair Lawn, told a rather shocking story. He boarded a bus bound for New York and was walking down the aisle looking for a seat when he saw a seat covered with feces. He told the driver, who covered the seat and turned on the air-conditioning to cope with the odor. What else could the driver have done? The driver simply did what he could under the circumstances. It was not the driver’s fault, but someone should have checked on the condition of the bus before it was put into service. Later, Fishkin reported the incident to customer service, and he was met with indifference. Infuriated, Fishkin wrote to a higher-level customer service

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agent. The result? No response. It seems that the New Jersey Department of Transportation does require buses to pass safety inspections, but it does not deal with matters such as on-time performance, cleanliness, employee attitude, or adequate air-conditioning and heat.15 Some good citizens who once used mass transit have returned to their cars. But the problem remains: How do you get around the worst congestion? Local knowledge helps. Where is the secret entrance to the Holland Tunnel? Behind the Newport Mall, of course.16 Besides local knowledge, you have to listen to the radio. There are several regional radio stations that offer traffic reports. Depending on which button you push, you can get “traffic on the ones,” “traffic on the eights,” or “New Jersey traffic every fifteen minutes.” The whole point of listening, for most commuters, is to be alert to traffic jams at Hudson River crossings or approach roads, so as to be able to alter one’s route. For example, if a commodity trader from New Jersey is trying to drive to Wall Street, he might normally use the Holland Tunnel. However, with enough advance warning, he might switch to the Lincoln if the Holland were totally jammed. But there is a real problem in depending on radio announcements. With many area roads to cover, radio stations tend to give brief and incomplete reports, most of them not relevant to a given driver. To address the problem of sketchy radio reports, there are now real-time traffic reports available to be delivered to the commuter’s car. General Motors offers traffic information through its OnStar service, available in more than thirty GM cars and trucks. The motorist simply pushes the OnStar button and says, “Get my traffic.” The system, which depends on globalpositioning-satellite receivers placed in each OnStar vehicle, responds by reporting on how many traffic incidents it finds, then provides more details on request. Other carmakers offer similar systems. Of course, drivers today may rely on any one of a number of brand-name GPS navigation systems or satellite radio. Up-to-the-minute traffic reports are handy, but increasingly commuters who use the trans-Hudson tunnels have a simpler strategy: getting up earlier in the morning and heading home later in the day. Commuters can cut their travel time by getting an early start. Manhattan-bound commuters are almost certain to face substantial delays between 7:00 and 9:00 a.m. By the same token, commuters returning to New Jersey will face delays between 4:00 and 6:00 p.m. It wasn’t always this way. Back in 1978, a driver could come into Manhattan by either the Lincoln or Holland Tunnel at 7:00 a.m. without a delay at the toll plaza. Now, as more motorists set out earlier and leave later, they find themselves facing the same old congestion, motivating others to make even earlier and later trips.17

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With so many cars with New Jersey license plates pouring into Manhattan by way of the Lincoln and Holland tunnels every weekday morning, city drivers tend to believe that it’s the people from the suburbs who are making their lives miserable. New Jersey drivers get no respect in Manhattan. Take New York cabbies—at least the ones who speak English—they always seem to be yelling, “#@%&x*# JERSEY DRIVER!”18 But the idea that it is New Jerseyans swamping the streets of Manhattan turns out to be mistaken. More than half the drivers who come into Manhattan each weekday actually come from the other four boroughs. Experts call this misperception “the suburban myth,” the idea that suburbanites make up the majority of the commuters who drive to work in Manhattan. The actual numbers are quite surprising. The greatest number of people who drive to work in Manhattan every day are from Queens and Brooklyn. Next are the commuters who already live in Manhattan, followed by commuters from the Bronx and Staten Island. The suburban area with the most commuters is Nassau County. Dead last in this count is Bergen County, New Jersey.19 With the rise of blogs and social networks in recent times, there are now a great many rough-and-tumble personal opinions on the Internet. There we can find reviews, ratings, and recommendations for shops, restaurants, doctors, hotels, and so forth. Here ordinary people have the chance to express their opinions on just about everything. Naturally, some of the reviews are coarse or event vulgar, but they are refreshing in their absolute fearlessness.20 To learn more about how ordinary people feel about their experiences using the trans-Hudson tunnels, I turned to Yelp, Inc., a Web-based company that provides business ratings and user reviews of restaurants, shops, doctors, hotels, and so forth. The site also provides customer reviews of highways, bridges, and tunnels. A significant advantage of using the Yelp site is that it does not censor negative reviews, so you get a balanced picture including both praise and criticism. Regular users take some responsibility for their comments by posting a photo plus their first name and last initial. Normally, they rate a given business or service with a score of from one to five stars. Let us begin by taking a look at what motorists on Yelp have had to say about using the Lincoln Tunnel. People seem to enjoy writing about their tunnel experiences, whether it’s to complain about the difficulty or to boast about their own efficiency in dealing with the problems. Some brag about their smooth and manageable commutes via the Lincoln Tunnel; others view it like a chronic illness.21 Out-of-towners tend to have a more favorable impression of the Lincoln Tunnel. For example, Sean from Washington, D.C., wrote, “I gave the tunnel 3 stars because I think it’s really pretty. The stone entrance is really grand and kind of art deco. The skyline view from

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the entry ramp is really amazing and gives you something to look at while you wait.”22 New Jerseyans are predictably more cynical and disillusioned with the tunnel. For example, Jeff of Saddle River wrote a review of the Lincoln Tunnel that read like a parody of a restaurant review. Among other things, he wrote, “Bring some food for the picnic. You can be in the tunnel for awhile. The traffic during the peak hours is just awful. I recommend non-smelly dry food. Drink at your own risk. You may need mobile urinating devices or diapers.” Of the service, he wrote, “It gets you from one side to the other.” Of the décor, “It’s ok. It can definitely be better.” Of the speed, “Shlow!” In conclusion, “Since it did get me across the river, I’m going to list it as 2 stars.”23 Some motorists, like Dan of Miami, Florida, find the tunnel claustrophobic. For people like him, there is a feeling of no escape, a feeling of panic. He wrote, “I’m not a big fan of tunnels to begin with, but the Lincoln tunnel gets packed a lot. Every time I go through there, I feel like the walls are closing in. It’s poorly ventilated and is swamped with angry vehicles.”24 Others, like Mia of Orlando, Florida, get fed up because of the delays. She wrote, “The Lincoln Tunnel should be renamed Lincoln Parking Lot. Take the Holland if you ever wanna get through.”25 Perhaps the most sassy and bold comment on the Lincoln Tunnel was posted by Irene, who personified the tunnel and complained, “I hate you, tunnel. You make me late for work all the freaking time! Wassup with that, anyway? It’s really claustrophobic in there when you’re stuck in traffic too. . . . I take the stupid bus to the stupid port authority. . . . At least I got to work on time today. You get an extra star, Mr. Tunnel, just for that.”26 As befits a consumer evaluation, most of the writers on Yelp evaluate their Lincoln Tunnel experiences in general terms, as a routine day-to-day activity. But what about the unusual, the unexpected? For example, it’s bad enough to suffer a tire blowout on the highway, but what if it happens in the Lincoln Tunnel? We all know that a tire blowout can lead to a serious accident, and we know that we are supposed to check our tire pressure once a month. We also know that we should have our tires regularly inspected and that we should change worn tires promptly. But what if we forget? A reporter from the Bergen Record addressed that problem. Jeffrey Page wrote, “If you never have had the pleasure of having a tire blow somewhere around the middle of the Lincoln Tunnel where New Jersey gives way to New York, you don’t know what sheer terror is.” Of course, you are not supposed to panic if a tire blowout occurs. You are not supposed to brake hard or jerk the wheel, either of which can lead to a collision. Instead you are supposed to decelerate slightly and hold the wheel steady. Okay, suppose you do all that.

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Of course, there are no breakdown lanes, no parking lots, no driveways, no means to get out of the way of oncoming traffic. What next? Page wrote, “Will they see that you’ve stopped? Will they notice your flashing lights? Will they slow down? In this world of fluorescence, smelly air, and intense noise, you can only hope.”27 What is the motorist supposed to do? Page posed this question to a Port Authority spokesperson, who offered some soothing and reassuring advice. If there is a way to get the vehicle out of the tunnel without damage you should do so. The spokesperson continued, “If not, just sit there because assistance will soon come.” The reporter was not convinced. Sitting there sucking up deadly fumes and listening to noise bouncing off the walls while cars are flying by is distressing at best. Page asked, “Is it better to sit in Tunnel Hell waiting for extrication, or is better to drive out and most likely have to shell out for a new tire and wheel? It takes nerves of steel to just sit there.”28 In terms of user reviews, the Holland Tunnel did not do much better. Let us start with Jessica of New York City. She clearly does not like the Holland Tunnel because of the delays, but she is insightful enough to realize that the delays are the result of heavy traffic rather than an inherent problem with the tunnel itself. She wrote, “Wow, what a disaster the Holland Tunnel is. I give it two stars because the disaster it is on both sides of the water isn’t its own fault, but the fault of urban planners who didn’t plan. Granted, in 1930, nobody could have foreseen NYC as it is now, but still.”29 Most fair-minded observers note that the traffic problem is not so much in the Holland Tunnel itself but in the approach roads. Hank of Jersey City wrote of the eastbound approach, “From the NJ to the NY side, eight lanes with usually the outer one or two on either side for cash/EZ Pass and the center EZ Pass lanes are open (mostly) traverse down to a very messy two lanes. Careful of squeezing past here—accidents are simple enough to come by.”30 In his brief comment, Hank addresses a persistent problem. It seems that many New Jersey drivers are so aggressive that they prefer to “squeeze” rather than take the more civilized approach of the alternate merge. For the outbound, or New York to New Jersey, side of things, let us return to Jessica for a remarkably accurate description. She wrote, with a distinctive New York attitude, “It seems that every street in Tribeca converges with a tunnel entrance or egress. Watts, Varick, Laight, Broome, Canal, Spring and others are all impacted by traffic flowing in or out. The worst delays are from West Street and Canal. Two lanes on the left feed into the tunnel, and the right lane is supposed to allow through traffic to continue east. I say ‘supposed’ because as you know, any opening in traffic to a NJ driver means that it is fair game for them to pursue their own ends. . . . Don’t even get me

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8.1. Two Port Authority Police officers monitoring traffic at the New Jersey entrance of the Holland Tunnel on June 24, 1935. Courtesy of the Port Authority of New York and New Jersey.

started with the mothers with the doublewide strollers weaving between the cars. Who has kids in Tribeca? Move to NJ—that’s what it’s there for.”31 What really sets Jessica off is the motorist who has not mastered the alternate merge. She exasperatedly explains, “An alternate merge is when two cars reach the same point at the same time and only one car can move forward. This is decided by whichever car’s lane went first. You alternate. Left lane, one car; right lane, one car. This challenges the brightest minds NY and NJ possess. The best way to deal with this clusterfuck is to simply take a valium before you leave the house.” An amusing but dangerous idea. Most of the posted comments about the Holland Tunnel arise out of frustration and are focused on the delays. Such comments are neither fair nor balanced. They are simply negative rants. For example, here is what Dan of Miami, Florida, had to say: “Trying to get into Manhattan from Jersey City using the Holland Tunnel is simply a futile effort. You will be plagued by the kind of traffic available only in nightmares. You can never predict exactly how bad it’s going to be. Being stuck in that tunnel is a terrible feeling that I don’t want to elaborate on.”32 It gets worse. Alex of New York City was angry because he was eager to get to Newark Airport on time. In his comment, he suggested a name

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change: “Holland may as well be renamed ‘Hell Tunnel’ or ‘Tunnel of Delay’ as this scary gateway from New York to New Jersey has been the source of many headaches for people having to commute though here. I have nearly missed flights by having to go through here and I can’t imagine having to go through here each day.”33 Another outspoken critic was Irene of Brooklyn, who wrote, “Ugh. This tunnel is seriously the bane of my existence. When I was stuck in South Jersey, it added a good hour to my commute. Now, when I have to get back to the city from Newark, it looms ahead of me like an evil snake hole. You might go in OK, but you never know how long it will take to come out. Evil evil evil.”34 Perhaps the most revealing post was made by Jill of New York City. In her story, she complains about the annoying behavior of another driver, “a jerkoff.” At the same time, she appears to be blissfully unaware that her own driving is extremely aggressive and provocative. While passing through the Holland Tunnel, she became annoyed with the car in front of her because the driver was going too slow and overusing the brake. In her version of the story, she wrote: “As a tunnel, it’s not bad, except what’s this business about not

8.2. Traffic flowing into the New York entrance of the Holland Tunnel. There are no toll booths, since westbound to New Jersey is always free. The bust of Clifford Milburn Holland on the left is partially obscured by the sign “Hazardous Materials Checkpoint.” Courtesy of the Historic American Engineering Record.

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changing lanes? I did anyway. I had to. I was being chased by a jerk-off who got very angry when I laid my hand on the horn for him to hurry the fuck up because he kept slamming on his brake. In the middle of the commute through the tunnel.”35 In her narrative, Jill shows no patience with the other driver. Traffic expert Tom Vanderbilt explains that the person on the receiving end of our anger may have no idea of the problem. As the recipient of an unsolicited honk, the other guy may well have responded with defensive anger—What?! So what happens next? Jill continues her story. “He flips me off, and I retort by making a fist with my hand and simulating a blow-job motion back and forth near my mouth, then point to him as if to say, ‘You, sir, suck dick.’ I did this over and over again until he switched lanes and tried to run me into a brick wall.” Again, Jill seems to have no awareness of her own overreaction to a rude gesture. She could have just given the guy the finger back, and let the whole thing go by. Instead, she escalates the conflict with an extraordinarily hostile gesture and then expresses surprise the other driver tries to retaliate.36 Jill concludes her narrative in a kind of theatrical storytelling in which everyone else is to blame for bad or boorish behavior, even though deep down she knows that she was literally out of line: “People around here are lunatics and a menace to the road. The Holland Tunnel is too narrow, they have concrete dividers that come way too close to the vehicle, and you can’t switch lanes. Fuck that. I hope I don’t get a ticket because I was weaving in and out.” Yelp did not start covering Manhattan until 2008, but there have always, of course, been complaints and delays at the cross-Hudson tunnels. For example, let us consider a sampling of three problems from the early 1990s. It’s become conventional wisdom that New York City is a symbol of American liberalism, so it’s not surprising that there have been many protests here over the years. There have been protests against war, against sweatshops, against animal cruelty, against immigration policy, and against gun violence. Protestors in favor of abortion rights back in 1992 tried to shut down the Holland Tunnel by blocking entrances along Varick Street in the late afternoon at the start of a holiday weekend on July 3. Traffic was tied up for about forty-five minutes but was cleared by 5:00 p.m.37 Motorist opinion was mixed; some took the delay in stride. For example, Simon Watson, a thirty-seven-year-old from Rochester who found himself in a tie-up on Watts Avenue while on his way to Pennsylvania, said, “I respect people’s willingness to put their bodies on the line. It’s a right of citizens to demonstrate. But I’m glad I’m sitting in the shade.” On the other hand, a burly construction worker said, “I live in Woodbridge, N.J., and I want to go home. This place is no good for this sort of thing. I’ve been waiting to get

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home since 3 o’clock.” When the reporter asked him about the abortion rights issue, he waved his hand dismissively.38 A year later, in the summer of 1993, commuters noticed a foul smell and clouds of flies around the entrance to the Holland Tunnel in Jersey City. No one knew the source of the problem. Then the cold weather came, and the problem went away. In the spring of 1994, the problem resurfaced, and investigators finally got to the bottom of the problem. It was a stomach-turning tale. Health inspectors entered an abandoned warehouse and found hundreds of dead rats and piles of fish that had been there, rotting, for nineteen months. It seems that there were two large freezer vats filled with fish. The owners had simply turned off the freezers and abandoned the building. Meanwhile, rats chewed through the insulation to get at the spoiled fish. After eating the poisonous fish, the rats died. Eventually, the rats and the fish were dumped safely in a landfill.39 Then in December of 1993, Pulitzer Prize–winning journalist Anna Quindlen wrote about the problem of commuters being solicited by homeless panhandlers at the approach to the Holland Tunnel. With her trademark wisdom and humor, she described a panhandler who hung out near the entrance to the tunnel: “He wears camouflage clothes, the man who works the cars waiting to pass through the Holland Tunnel, and a sign that says ‘Homeless Vet.’ Tucked beneath his arm, or what’s left of it since he lost the part below the elbow, is a military helmet, inverted now into a beggar’s bowl. But he never asks for money, and his black eyes bespeak not entreaty but anger.” Quindlen went on to ask questions. Was this guy really a wounded vet? Or did he lose his arm in an automobile accident? Did the camouflage clothes come from an army-navy store? Quindlen used this one example to speculate on the nature of charity, posing difficult questions about what society should do about sidewalk sleepers, crack addicts, and violent criminals.40 Though rotten fish and poverty-stricken beggars can be dismissed as mere annoyances, what really riles commuters is delay. Flights are missed, bosses are angry, spouses are annoyed, children are disappointed, meals grow cold and the list goes on. There have always been delays at the tunnels. Back in the 1930s, the New Jersey State Public Utilities Commission launched a vigorous campaign to keep defective buses off the roads, setting up inspection checkpoints at the New Jersey end of both the George Washington Bridge and the Holland Tunnel. Over a single weekend in 1934, inspectors stopped and examined 673 buses. Some 68 were in such bad condition that they were sent back to New York, while 168 were simply advised to make repairs. Most of the problems were with the brakes. Motorists fumed while traffic backed up behind the stopped buses. Of course, it would have been even worse had the

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inspections taken place on a weekday. Fortunately, today both New York and New Jersey have regular systematic bus safety inspections so there is no need to set up border checkpoints.41 A useful way to think about delays at the trans-Hudson tunnels is to consider an ordinary object, the typical kitchen funnel, which can be described as a pipe with a wide, conical mouth and a narrow stem. In this metaphor, the narrow stem is the tunnel itself and the conical mouth represents the several approach roads. Or, as one weary Port Authority cop stationed at the New Jersey entrance to the Lincoln Tunnel told me, “Every morning it’s the same thing. We are trying to stuff one hundred pounds of potatoes into a seventyfive-pound sack.” Frequent tunnel users know that the actual delays are often on the approach roads. Once you get inside the tunnel, traffic often flows surprisingly smoothly and rapidly (unless there is a blockage inside the tunnel or extreme congestion at the exit). Given this insight, we should take a brief look at the approach roads used by the typical New Jersey commuters. Let us start with the approach roads used for the Holland Tunnel. It’s a complicated story, but at the risk of oversimplification let us just say that there are two principal approaches—either by means of the Pulaski Skyway or by means of the Newark Bay Extension of the New Jersey Turnpike. The Pulaski Skyway is a 3-mile stretch of elevated highway that connects the outskirts of Newark with the edge of Jersey City. It’s called a “skyway” because it is actually a series of cantilever truss bridges that travel high above the New Jersey Meadowlands. The idea behind the Skyway, which was designed in the late 1920s and built in the early 1930s, was to provide access to the Holland Tunnel without using the narrow and crowded streets of Jersey City. Building it took fifteen lives, $21 million, a labor war, and a murder trial. There was really no precedent for an automotive elevated highway, so the design was loosely based on what was already known about elevated railroad bridges. When it was opened in 1932, it was celebrated as a wonder of modern engineering. But problems soon became apparent. Trucks were banned because the lanes were too narrow. Accidents were frequent. The view from the Skyway has been described by Steven Hart as “a vista of storage tanks, container farms for tractor-trailers, and sparkling dioxin-tainted river water.”42 After emerging from the Pulaski Skyway, the motorist enters New Jersey Route 139, a state highway in Jersey City that, in effect, extends the Pulaski Skyway east to the Holland Tunnel; in other words, Route 139 is a Pulaski Skyway–Holland Tunnel connector. Here the roadway begins a transition from elevated to depressed below surface level and curves southeastward toward the Holland Tunnel. As the motorist proceeds eastward, the roadway begins to pass underneath Upper New Jersey Route 139, carrying westbound

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traffic. This section is known as the “Covered Roadway.” Residents of Jersey City call this road the “Divided Highway” because of its two levels. At the very end of the eastbound connector, the roadway comes out from under the upper level. For those who dare to look, there are huge gas stations and boxy warehouses on either side. Steven Hart has described the scene as “a Hobbesian wilderness recast in asphalt—a wasteland of automotive bullies, where every car trip is nasty, brutal, and long.”43 Here New Jersey Route 139 merges with Interstate 78 traffic coming in from the far right off the New Jersey Turnpike Newark Bay Extension. This is the end of the freeway. Next you pass through the tollbooths and try to squeeze into one of the tunnel lanes. The Holland Tunnel was completed in 1927, and the Pulaski Skyway opened to provide easy access from the New Jersey side five years later. For a time, all went well, but by the 1950s the commute time had doubled. So planners started thinking about building a new highway. It was in 1954 that the New Jersey Turnpike Authority began construction of an 8-mile-long turnpike extension from Exit 14 at the Newark Airport to the Holland Tunnel in Jersey City. At $120 million, it was a costly undertaking, working out to about $15 million per mile. At the time, it was the most expensive toll highway ever built. It was designed to have interchanges in Bayonne, in Jersey City, and at the entrance to the Holland Tunnel. The entire turnpike extension was completed in September 1956. Shortly afterward, the Newark Bay Extension was designated as part of Interstate 78. At the end of the turnpike extension east to the Holland Tunnel, I-78 runs along Twelfth Street eastbound and along Fourteenth Street westbound through Jersey City.44 It’s now been more than fifty years since the Newark Bay Extension of the New Jersey Turnpike was first opened to traffic. How successful has it been in alleviating delays at the Holland Tunnel? Let us turn to the Web site Rate the Roads to find out. This site is a guide for providing information on highway conditions throughout the United States and Canada. Roads are judged on several criteria including safety, congestion, pavement condition, clarity of signage, and aesthetics. According to the site, the road did pretty well in all categories except congestion: “East of the NJ Turnpike, I-78 becomes the Newark Bay Extension, which at four lanes to the Holland Tunnel usually has between a half-hour and an hour delay during normal travel hours.”45 Let us now turn to the approach to the Lincoln Tunnel. Plans for that tunnel and its approach were first announced in 1930. Designing the approach was a challenging engineering problem because of the New Jersey Palisades, a line of steep cliffs along the west side of the Hudson River. How could the designers get the vehicles from the top of the bluff to descend to the level of

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8.3. Aerial view of morning rush hour traffic in Weehawken on the New Jersey approach to the Lincoln Tunnel, known as “the Helix” or “the Corkscrew.” The roadway spirals in a full circle before arriving at the toll booths in front of the three tunnel portals. Note the baseball diamond on the left above the tunnel entrance and, within the loop, the large parking area for buses and the heliport atop the building. Courtesy of the Port Authority of New York and New Jersey.

the tunnel entrance? The original proposal called for a land tunnel extension from the toll plaza west through Bergen Hill ending at Tonnelle Avenue in North Bergen. Then designers came up with a cheaper and more visually exciting concept—a 360-degree “helix” or “corkscrew” that spiraled around in a full circle before arriving at the tollbooths in front of the tunnel portals. The Helix is much beloved by regular tunnel patrons because they get a magnificent view of the Manhattan skyline coming and going.46 Every once in a while, the Helix makes the news. Traditionally, August has been a slow news month for various reasons including vacations and the congressional recess. So it’s not surprising that the Helix was very much in the news on an otherwise slow news day in August of 2000 because of a lost dog. Rush-hour traffic came to a halt as Phoebe, a speedy Italian greyhound, led police on a wild and comical chase up and down the busy approach ramp before finally being captured. It seems that Phoebe’s owner, Peter Salazano, had been walking her near his Hoboken apartment around 7:45 a.m. when she was frightened by a backfiring truck. Escaping her collar, she started running north. Somehow Phoebe ran all the way up to the Lincoln Tunnel. The police were alerted, but they were no match for swift Phoebe. When police at the top

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of the Helix chased her on foot, Phoebe ran down to the bottom. When police there chased her, she ran back up. Newscasters had great fun portraying the police as the Keystone Kops, which was a bit unfair since they finally did humanely save the poor dog from certain death by traffic.47 Back to our story of the Lincoln Tunnel approach road. The 2.6-mile-long roadway through North Bergen, Union City, and Weehawken was designated NJ 3 and opened in December 1937. Built to pre-interstate standards, the road has six lanes that are only 11 feet wide, a lack of shoulders, and insufficient acceleration and deceleration lanes. The seldom-reached speed limit is 50 miles per hour, except for the Helix , where it is 40 miles per hour. In 1952 the approach was extended west to hook up with Exit 16 of the newly opened New Jersey Turnpike in Secaucus. Even though the link between the New Jersey Turnpike and the Lincoln Tunnel was not up to the customary standards, it was made part of the Interstate Highway System in 1958 and for a time was designated as I-495. However, with the cancellation of the Mid-Manhattan Expressway, intended to carry I-495 through New York City to the Queens Midtown Tunnel and onto the Long Island Expressway, the link was demoted to NJ 495 in 1989.48 Among experts who follow this sort of thing, there is lively debate about reinstating the I-495 designation. The road would have to be upgraded, and it could be done, but it would be difficult and expensive. Blogger and highway buff K. C. Jackson explains the problem: “The highway cannot be built to interstate standards without complete disruption to northern Hudson County. There is no room to make the lanes twelve feet wide while adding interstate-standard shoulders and acceleration-deceleration ramps. To make such room, the bedrock on which the entire region is built upon would have to be blasted away. . . . Such extensive work would cause chaos to the residents of North Bergen, Union City, Weehawken, and Hoboken in the immediate vicinity of the highway.”49 There is a widely held view among highway experts that little can be done to alleviate congestion on the NJ 495 approach to the Lincoln Tunnel. For example, Steve Anderson maintains a Web site that provides information on highway conditions throughout the United States with commentary on such things as safety, congestion, pavement condition, clarity of signage, and aesthetics. With regard to the approach to the Lincoln Tunnel, Anderson writes, “I do not see how this highway was ever meant to be I-495. Cut through the rocks of New Jersey’s Palisades, six lanes are squeezed on a roadway that can barely handle four, and with Interstate-standard shoulders and lane widths, would only have two lanes! To make matters worse, not only do the rock cuts prevent widening, but from its inception this highway has also needed at least

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ten lanes, and the problem is worsening. There are chronic delays in BOTH directions, usually lasting from twenty minutes to an hour.”50 An unusual delay took place along the NJ 495 approach back in September of 1995. A homeless man threatened to jump from an overpass on the approach to the Lincoln Tunnel, tying up rush hour traffic for nearly two hours. The situation took emergency workers somewhat by surprise, since NJ 495 is not a well-known suicide magnet like the Empire State Building or the George Washington Bridge. Police spotted Jose Vicet, then age thirty-six, standing on the Central Avenue overpass in Union City five stories above the highway at about 7:00 a.m. He seemed poised to jump. Police and emergency crews tried to talk him down, without success. Distraught over his homelessness and his recent loss of a job, Vicet insisted on talking with an elected official who might help him. Fortunately, Union City Mayor Bruce Walter, on his way to work, had heard about the standoff on the radio, and he rushed to the scene. Eventually, Walter was able to get Vicet to climb down. Police then took Vicet to the Jersey City Medical Center for observation. Many motorists were inconvenienced that morning, but most were philosophical about the need to help someone in distress.51 Some New Jersey commuters get a head start on the approach road to the Lincoln Tunnel by living closer to Manhattan, especially those living along what real estate agents are now calling the “Gold Coast” of northern New Jersey. In effect, you can “cut in line” for NJ 495 if you live in Edgewater, Guttenberg, or West New York. These are tiny municipalities squeezed between the Palisades to the west and the Hudson River to the east. Years ago this was an area of brownfields, formerly occupied by factories, warehouses, docks and railyards. Today you find lots of high-density “luxury” residential buildings, complete with concierge service, fitness rooms, and swimming pools. But there’s a catch. If you live in one of these buildings and you want to go south in order to get to the Lincoln Tunnel, you would first have to turn left on River Road, which is impossibly bumper-to-bumper. “It’s a game of chicken,” said Michael Ferber, who moved with his wife from Ridgewood to the Edgewater Colony. “It’s hard enough to make a right turn. To make a left would be suicide.”52 In stark contrast to the luxurious planned communities along River Road with their panoramic views of Manhattan is one of the ugliest roads in northern New Jersey—Tonnelle Avenue, which runs roughly north and south for 6 miles about thirty blocks west of the Hudson River, through Jersey City and North Bergen, linking the Lincoln Tunnel approach to the north with the Holland Tunnel approach to the south. It is known for seedy motels with neon signs advertising Jacuzzis and rooms with mirrored ceilings. Along with

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the motels are hubcap shops, junkyards, cemeteries, truck stops, auto body repair shops, and weary-looking warehouses.53 The avenue has two numbers and two spellings. It’s numbered Routes 1 and 9 and is spelled Tonnelle Avenue in North Bergen but Tonele Avenue in Jersey City. The road is named for the first chairman of the North Jersey District Water Supply Commission, John Tonnelle or Tonele. He spelled it both ways himself, leading to everlasting typographical confusion. To drive it, commuter Rich Korn says, “One needs hair trigger nerves, pinpoint reflexes, the disposition of a middle linebacker, and the mindset of a high roller.”54 Korn went on to explain to a reporter how he deals with slow vehicles in front of him as he is traveling south to Jersey City. Since he cannot pass, he accelerates into a jug handle for a left turn off Tonnelle. Then, rather than crossing the road, he turns off the jug handle back onto Tonnelle, thus ending up ahead of the slow traffic. Asked about the legality of this procedure, Lieutenant Ralph Simeone of the North Bergen traffic squad said, “If you use the jug handle and wind up beating a red light, you have passed a red light and you can get a ticket. If the light’s green, you can be nailed for careless driving.”55 Navigating the approach roads to the Lincoln Tunnel is nearly always difficult, and sometimes it’s best not to even try, especially when repair crews are doing repaving work. Motorists get a bit of a break since such work is usually done over the weekend, with plenty of advance warning. Such was the case on the first weekend of October back in 1997. The Port Authority encouraged people to either use public transit or postpone unnecessary travel that weekend. “Obviously, the work has to be done,” said Port Authority spokesperson Terry Benczik. “We’ve been doing the bulk of the work overnight, but this is some paving work, and they basically need to scratch off the surface layers of roadway, put down an adhesive, do waterproofing, and put on a new surface, and it takes a lot of time and you can’t do it in an overnight chunk.”56 The nice thing about paving delays is that they are scheduled and predictable. On the other hand, the weather is difficult to predict. A major winter snowstorm can paralyze traffic. One such memorable snowstorm took place in January of 1987. Transportation virtually came to a halt. The storm originated in the Gulf of Mexico, and it gathered force as it picked up Atlantic moisture on its way north, eventually dumping up to sixteen inches on New York, New Jersey, and Connecticut. According to contemporary accounts, the worst local tie-ups were at the Lincoln Tunnel, where westbound traffic ground to a halt for nearly four hours, thanks to clogged New Jersey highways. Imagine being trapped in your car for four hours with no food, no water, and no bathroom. Shorter delays were reported at the Holland Tunnel

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and the George Washington Bridge, but the situation was bad enough that Governor Thomas Kean declared a state of emergency in New Jersey.57 Sometimes the winter weather problem is not a snowstorm but freezing rain, which is perhaps even worse, certainly more frightening. Such a storm left a treacherous layer of ice on the roads of the region in December of 1992. As the rain hit cold pavement, it froze. There were hundreds of fender benders on both sides of the Hudson. The New Jersey Turnpike was described as a 30-mile parking lot extending from New Brunswick past the Holland Tunnel and the Lincoln Tunnel, all the way to the George Washington Bridge. “People were crashing everywhere,” said Debbie Werner, a dispatcher for Bob’s Towing in Tenafly, New Jersey, “They were driving like maniacs. They’d just drive until they crashed.” Of course, there was no black ice within the trans-Hudson tunnels themselves, but that was small comfort because of the congestion at the exits. John Kampf, a spokesman for the Port Authority, said, “It was total gridlock.”58 While winter weather brings delays from snow and ice, summer weather presents its own challenges. In the late afternoon of August 14, 2003, electrical transmission lines running through Ohio shut down, thanks to toppled trees that caused Cleveland-area power lines to suddenly draw more energy. Blackouts started to spread across the system, and New York City was left without electrical power. All this happened on one of the hottest days of the year with temperatures in the 90s. It reminded people of 9/11. Gridlock at tunnels and intersections. Nonworking cell phones and traffic signals. People stuck in elevators and stranded in subways. The fire department was overwhelmed with phone calls. Police were on street corners trying to direct traffic. At first existing traffic was allowed to pass through the tunnels, but shortly thereafter the tunnels were closed since both the lighting and the ventilation systems depended on electricity. A construction worker named Greg gave a firsthand account: “I was one of the last cars to go through the Holland Tunnel. It was really wild to be able to drive through there in the dark, with only headlights lighting things up. Some people were so stupid that they didn’t turn their headlights on, out of force of habit.”59 Some regular commuters who work in Manhattan and live in New Jersey take advantage of the well-known delays at the trans-Hudson tunnels to fabricate plausible alibis to tell their spouses after they stop off for some hankypanky on their way home. Exiting from either the Lincoln or the Holland Tunnel, it is easy to pass through the previously described Tonnelle Avenue in Jersey City, where women in tight miniskirts and high heels attract attention by standing outside motels and waving at the sea of passing cars. At times,

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these women amuse themselves by nearly causing accidents as drivers brake to take a look. The scene was aptly described by New York Times reporter Evelyn Nieves: “There are lonely truckers from Kalamazoo. Traveling salesmen. Nine-to-five schmoes who can blame traffic for getting home late. Throw in the hourly-rate motels with the condom dispensers in the lobbies, and what more could a working girl ask for?”60 Only a few automobile commuters are regular patrons of the working girls, but nearly all take advantage of the flexibility of driving to take care of errands on their way home. They may pick up clothes at the cleaners or buy a gallon of milk or pick up a prescription or return a book to the library. In the future, we may look back on such flexibility with nostalgia. The day may come when nearly all of us will be forced to accept mass transit as the population grows and no more tunnels are built. Every day, 315,000 New Jerseyans cross the Hudson River and commute to New York City by bus via the Lincoln Tunnel, the Holland Tunnel, and the George Washington Bridge, reducing the number of cars on the road by about 200,000. If every bus rider chose to drive a car, it would increase regional traffic by 84 percent, polluting our air and bringing the economy to a halt. Many of those riders go through the Lincoln Tunnel every weekday morning during the peak period (6:00 a.m. to 10:00 a.m.) using the 2.5-mile-long exclusive bus lane (XBL) giving commuter buses a direct route to the tunnel, avoiding regular rush hour traffic and significantly reducing travel time. The XBL carries more passengers than any other roadway in America. The XBL is one of three westbound lanes of NJ 495, but it is converted to the eastbound direction as needed. Running from the New Jersey Turnpike to the Lincoln Tunnel, the XBL was created in 1971, and much has changed since then. At that time, Richard Nixon was still president, gasoline cost forty cents a gallon, and there were a million fewer people living in New York City. But the capacity of the Lincoln Tunnel bus lane has remained the same. Environmentalists have argued very convincingly for that to change. They point out that between 2000 and 2007, bus ridership increased 18 percent, and it is likely to increase another 18 percent by 2030, meaning that seats will have to be found for 56,000 more bus riders. To handle the increased load, it has been suggested that the Port Authority add another exclusive bus lane in the morning. It has also been suggested that such a lane should also be added in the afternoon. Logic seems to be on the side of the environmentalists. Since the carbon footprint of a bus rider is one-fifth that of those driving a car, encouraging bus ridership would be a positive step toward alleviating pollution and global warming. More bus ridership would mean less wear and tear

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on our roads, less fuel consumption, cleaner air, and less congestion on our streets.61 The argument for encouraging bus ridership by adding more exclusive bus lanes is logical and persuasive. But is it politically feasible? In theory, the Port Authority has control of the Lincoln Tunnel and could push through these reforms. In practice, the Port Authority serves under the guidance (and veto power) of the governors of New York and New Jersey. I suspect that the problem of traffic congestion will become much worse before there is the political will to make the necessary changes. As has often been said, advocates of mass transit are often advocating it for other people, not themselves.

chapter 9

I

Tunneling Through the Arts a survey of creative endeavors

Remember that iconic Saul Steinberg cartoon map on the cover of a 1976 issue of the New Yorker magazine? In the drawing, “The World as Seen from New York’s 9th Avenue,” the artist captured perfectly the hubris, the arrogance and ignorance, of New Yorkers. Steinberg has us looking west over Tenth Avenue and the Hudson River into the rest of the United States. To our left is Mexico; to our right is Canada; and in the distance is the Pacific Ocean. New Jersey is portrayed as a thin buffer between New York and the rest of the country. The only other states mentioned are Texas and Utah; the only other cities mentioned are Chicago, Las Vegas, and Los Angeles. With such a limited view of the country, it is not surprising that the Holland and Lincoln tunnels loom large in American film, literature, and the other arts, which are dominated by the New York City cultural elite.1 Much as the rest of us may object, New York City is the self-proclaimed national center for literature, publishing, music, film, theater, dance, and visual art. Most of these creative people are jammed into Manhattan because they do not want the stigma of living in the outer boroughs. When they want to escape to the “real” America west of the Hudson in their own cars, they must use either the Lincoln or Holland Tunnel, unless they want to go out of their way to use the George Washington Bridge or the Verrazano-Narrows Bridge.

In dealing with the arts, I have followed the lead of other American Studies scholars. For the most part, I have set aside the position of aestheticians that the arts should be defined narrowly. Instead, I have embraced a larger spectrum of art forms and examined them from a cultural point of view. This debate on levels of culture has a long history in America. Alexis de Tocqueville tried to understand how democracy worked in a system that had 158

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done away with the aristocracy. Could democracy and excellence coexist? This is a question that continues to bedevil scholars and intellectuals. The conclusion reached by Tocqueville was that it was doubtful that democracy in America would be hospitable to high aesthetic quality. He may well have been correct. So it depends on your point of view. If you wish, you may conclude that we are living through the end of history. But I prefer to think that we have entered an era of pluralism and equality.2

A notable example of the Holland Tunnel in popular culture is the 1996 film Daylight, starring Sylvester Stallone. The story premise is that the Holland Tunnel has collapsed at both ends because of a multiple-vehicle crash. Some young thieves are fleeing from a robbery, their car racing through the tunnel to get away from the police. They unwittingly crash into a convoy of trucks carrying some illegal highly toxic flammable material. There is a spectacular fiery explosion. We are introduced to a large group of innocent characters who have to find a way out, including a beautiful young woman. Naturally, there is considerable time pressure because the tunnel is about to collapse. Stallone plays the role of the disgraced former head of New York City’s Emergency Medical Services who bravely tries to rescue those in danger of entombment, even those who question his authority and his competence. Our misunderstood hero has to find a way out through hidden passages to save himself and all the other people. Although movie critics generally prefer intellectual films that explore important ideas or portray heart-touching situations, they were remarkably kind to this action thriller, giving it full credit for what it was. For example, Susan Stark of the Detroit News wrote, “You’ve got fire, flood, and mud. You’ve got poisoned air, frazzled electrical connections, crumbling masonry. You’ve got rats. What’s not to like?” Similarly, Gary Arnold of the Washington Times summarized the film by writing, “Vivid apprehensions about death by collision, crushing, suffocation, and conflagration are confirmed in a matter of minutes and then enhanced by fears of drowning.” Finally, Melinda Miller of the Buffalo News paid this film the ultimate compliment by comparing it to a couple of horror classics when she wrote, “‘Daylight’ will do for tunnels what ‘Jaws’ did for the beach and ‘Psycho’ did for showers: You won’t drive under the water again for a long time, not if you can help it.”3 It would have been easy for these critics to dismiss Daylight as simply another formula disaster movie. Clearly it followed the recipe calling for a handsome hero and a damsel in distress, along with a group of clueless civilians. But the critics did not write it off so quickly. They understood

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what director Rob Cohen was trying to do in this film. Cohen was exploiting a very real, widespread fear: the horror of entombment and the feeling of being powerless and paralyzed in a tunnel. Daylight works because viewers can readily identify with the innocent motorists thanks to their own specific experiences of having driven through such a tunnel themselves.4 The film reminds us that disaster can strike out of the blue, and that no place is secure. Viewers cannot help but identify with the situation of the victims. Here are ordinary people going about their daily business, and suddenly they are faced with total, apocalyptic destruction. It is tempting to go one step further and to suggest that the success of this film is that it allows us to have our cake and eat it too. We have the momentary thrill of identifying with the threatened victims; but, when the movie is over, we find that they and we are safe and sound. There is some evidence that the film Daylight has had a lasting impact on popular culture. Take, for example, the 2004 book by Meg Cabot, author of the best-selling Princess Diaries series for teens. Cabot lives in New York City, where most of her fiction is set. The fifth volume in the series, Princess in Pink, features fourteen-year old Mia Thermopolis, a high school freshman with much on her mind. She is the newest writer on the school paper, and her miraculous completion of first-year algebra is just around the corner. She is also about to get a new baby brother or sister. Plans are under way for Mia’s fifteenth birthday party at a fancy restaurant. Mia’s mom wants to go to BJ’s Wholesale Club in Jersey City to buy supplies for the party, but her stepfather is afraid that terrorists might set off a bomb in the Holland Tunnel just as Sylvester Stallone was trapped in the movie Daylight. Mia explains, “Then Mom might go into labor prematurely and have the baby with the water from the Hudson River gushing all around.”5

I discovered a marvelous little collection of short stories entitled Second Thief, Best Thief: Tunnel Bar by Anthony Olszewski. All of the eight stories take place in and around an inner-city tavern called the Tunnel Bar, just outside the Holland Tunnel in Jersey City. It’s a bar that does not have ferns. The author, a native born at the Margaret Hague Maternity Hospital in 1956, has unimpeachable credentials to speak for Jersey City. The book is clearly autobiographical since the author actually worked as a bartender at the familyowned Tunnel Bar. The stories are set in the late 1970s, when Jersey City was postindustrial and not yet gentrified. This was a time before the pretentiously spelled Newport Centre was built, and the Hudson River waterfront was full of abandoned warehouses and railroad yards.

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Olszewski’s short stories come out of a bartender’s oral storytelling tradition, so they are really miniature anecdotes that are quickly sketched and come right to the point. The stories are written in the hard-boiled style of Dashiell Hammett. The characters talk and act as real people do. The main customers at the Tunnel Bar are from the Jersey side of the Holland Tunnel— truck drivers, warehouse workers, and factory laborers. These regulars are supplemented by others who stop off after traveling through the tunnel from time to time. The narrator for the stories is the bartender, Sal Jr., clearly a stand-in for the author. Sal is a hard-hearted and disillusioned observer of the human condition. At one point, he gives us a vivid description of the interior of the bar: Late one night a belligerent wino, upset with the tavern owner’s “attitude,” threw a brick through one of the panes of glass. The hole was boarded over and—since the glass was never replaced—remained so. In an attempt to prevent burglary, metal bars from a scrap yard were bolted behind the intact glass in the one window and behind the plywood covering the space left by the other. After decades of cigarette smoke, a layer of yellow tar covered everything except for the rows of shiny bottles on the counter behind the bar.6

Through the narrator, we meet the gin mill crowd, an interesting cast of characters. There’s the homeless James O’Leitnin, who hangs out at the bar, seated by the phone. He takes it on himself to answer the phone on a regular basis, “having assumed the imaginary job of bar receptionist.” Then there’s a big ex-convict named Hal, who, at six feet four inches and 260 pounds, intimidates any who might argue with him. In the old days, Hal’s specialty was armed robbery, but now he’s content to do enforcer work for loan sharks and bookies. Olszewski has a good ear for local dialect; he captures the flavor of Jersey City with his wit and wordplay. The characters are often con men. They defraud their marks by exploiting their weaknesses, such as greed and dishonesty. But there’s some humor in the old saying “You can’t cheat an honest man.” Like the short story writer O. Henry, Olszewski is fond of the clever surprise ending. Typically, the author puts one of his low-life characters into some impossible jam, and then extricates him at very end with a wry twist. In one story a homeless man, Vinny Buchelle, is accused by detectives from the Jersey City police of rape, murder, and kidnapping. Things look bad for Vinny. How is he going to get out of this one? (I don’t want to spoil the surprise.)

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Reading this collection of short stories set right outside the portal of the Holland Tunnel on the Jersey side, we get the feeling that anything can go wrong in this dingy spot. In 1978 perennial best-selling author Stephen King published The Stand, an enormous book weighing in at 832 pages. The story premise was that the U.S. Army had been developing some kind of super-flu in a top-secret germ warfare laboratory in Nevada. There is a glitch in the system and the virus begins to spread. Fully 99.4 percent of humanity is destroyed in a very short time, killed by the government-created virus that mutates too fast for the body to defend itself. Early in the novel, one of the few surviving people is Larry Underwood, a drugged-out rock star trying to get his life back together. Larry finds himself nearly alone in New York City, surrounded by millions of dead people whose rotting bodies create an almost unbearable smell. Larry breaks into a sporting goods store, steals a backpack, loads it with freeze-dried foods, and heads for the Lincoln Tunnel on foot. Driving is impossible because the streets are frozen rivers of automobiles; their decaying drivers slumped over their steering wheels. Larry enters the tunnel with considerable fear. As he walks along the catwalk, he realizes that he must walk and crawl over piles of dead bodies. He imagines that he will encounter the Morlocks from H. G. Wells’s The Time Machine. Soldiers had been stationed in the tunnel to block the exits, but it no longer matters: they are all dead. Finally, he gets to the mouth of the tunnel, and finds the tollbooths all empty. Larry says, “There’s fresh air. In fact, New Jersey never smelled so good.” Having escaped from New York, Larry now becomes one of the surviving wanderers, trying to find other survivors in order to reestablish a social framework.7 No one knows exactly why some authors like Stephen King are able to write one best seller after another while other journeyman authors turn out quite readable books that languish in terms of sales. Take, for example, Richard Sand’s novel Tunnel Runner, published in 2000. I see it as an example of perfectly respectable formula fiction, a riveting thriller. To be sure, the storyline and the characters are so familiar that the narrative is predictable. Granted, this is an obscure title, but the author has plenty of loyal fans who want to relax with a good book and not be disappointed. Predictability is a key to successful escape fiction. To tell the truth, I was first attracted to this novel because of the title, which I see as a play on words. According to the Urban Dictionary, a tunnel

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runner is defined as “An individual who runs through a city’s transit tunnels with the intention of exploration, tagging, or escape while dodging security patrols and trains.” The Urban Dictionary then proceeds to give us a couple of sample sentences to provide context. Here’s the first: “The police have been arresting any tunnel runners they catch trespassing in the subway system.” And here’s the second: “Fucking pigs chased me while I was doing a tunnel run last night.”8 In contrast to the dictionary definition, our protagonist in the espionage thriller Tunnel Runner, known simply as Ashman, is not a teenager with a can of spray paint enjoying a night on the town; rather he is defined right away in a subtitle as “the hunter, the hero, the killer.” Ashman is a former U.S. Army captain, a veteran of the Special Forces in Vietnam, obsessed by his memories of tunnel warfare. The tunnels, of course, were used by the Viet Cong guerrillas as hiding places during combat. The author writes: Ashman saw an endless sea of underground enemy in the vast subterranean Vietnam space that the tunnel led to. It was an inside-out space, hollowed out for vast factories, hospitals, whole cities living underneath the surface of the earth. There were ladders with false tops, kitchens, aid stations, conference rooms, sleeping rooms and bomb shelters with conical roofs. Ashman had been sent into the tunnels and underground living spaces to kill the Viet Cong’s “Bob Hope,” who did subterranean vaudeville shows.9

Since his army days, Ashman has joined up with the Central Intelligence Agency. The recruiter told him, “Same job, better pay, better clothes, and you get to shit indoors.”10 Over the years, he has made enemies. In fact, the book opens with Ashman’s dawning realization that someone, and we don’t know who, is out to kill him. As a result, he is constantly on the move, trying to outrun his killer. His evasive maneuvers often take him underground; hence he becomes the “tunnel runner.” Most of the hero’s travels take place in the Middle Atlantic States, and the author has a good eye for local color. His descriptions of the Nigerians stealing phone numbers at the Port Authority Bus Terminal, the bland rest stops along the New Jersey Turnpike, and the tranquility of the tree-shaded Philadelphia suburbs all ring true. What works especially well is the author’s use of the tunnel, any tunnel, as a recurring motif. It seems that there are tunnels everywhere to haunt him, and they almost always threatening and dangerous. At one point, Ashman is taking a long taxicab ride out from Philadelphia west to Valley Forge, and he asks the cabbie about the fate of a mutual acquaintance, Jack Doyle. The cabbie replies, “Yeah, Jack Doyle. He was flat on his back for a month. Then he stood home for a while. Moved to Queens. Got a job in the Lincoln Tunnel.

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You know, in one of them little booths. They only let him down for so long, like divers.”11 Again and again, the author uses a tunnel to connect different scenes and to drive home the idea that life is dark and mean. At another point in the novel, Sabatino, one of the villains, needs to cross over from Manhattan to pick up an arsonist for a piece of dirty work. Along the way, he runs into a problem: “Sabatino was not happy when they met because he had been stuck in the Holland Tunnel for an hour. One of the tunnel cops couldn’t stand life in the little booth any more and ran onto the road and then couldn’t move.”12

We are all familiar with such twentieth-century children’s literature classics as the poems and stories about the bear Winnie-the-Pooh and his friends in the woods written by A. A. Milne, as well as the many books with colorful illustrations of characters engaged in imaginative fantasies in rhyme written by Dr. Seuss. Easily overlooked is the obscure minor gem entitled The Chicken in the Tunnel, written by Jane Thayer and illustrated by Tony Palazzo. It’s a book clearly intentionally written for children, lavishly illustrated, and intended to be read from front to back in a single sitting. The central character is a very young rooster named Squawky owned by a farmer named Mr. Hay. As the story begins, Mr. Hay is about to take a load of chickens in his truck to market in New York. Squawky naively thinks that this would make a wonderful trip, and he asks to be taken along. Mr. Hay tells Squawky that he is too little, but Squawky insists. So he is put in one of the cages, and he is loaded aboard the truck. When the truck gets halfway through the Lincoln Tunnel, Squawky becomes alarmed at the traffic noise, changes his mind, and squeezes out of his cage. Loose in the tunnel, Squawky is spotted by a little girl in the back seat of her father’s car. The girl tells her father that there is a chicken in the tunnel, but her father is dismissive of her report. At length the father is convinced of the truth of the story, and he reports that there is a chicken in the tunnel to a policeman. The policeman, of course, is skeptical. All of the grown-ups seem to be dimwitted and slow to catch on to the truth. Eventually, the authorities realize that there is indeed a chicken in the tunnel; they stop the traffic, capture the chicken, and return him to the farmer, who takes Squawky back home, where presumably he lives happily ever after. As we analyze the story, we find that it follows a traditional formula for children’s literature. The story begins with an abrupt and conventional introduction: “Squawky was a chicken. He was quite little.” We learn that he lives

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on a farm owned by Mr. Hay, but the setting is vague. We might assume that this farm is located in southern New Jersey, but the setting is never made explicit, so it is left open to interpretation. Squawky, the central character, is anthropomorphic. He has opinions and feelings, and he has no problem speaking in grammatical English. Squawky is given his share of the dialogue. For example, when setting off for the trip, he boasts, “I am going to market in New York!” As is customary in children’s literature, the author makes good use of the repetition of phrases. When the little girl tells her father about the chicken, he replies, “A chicken in the tunnel? Nonsense!” Finally convinced, the father reports the chicken to a nearby policeman, who says, “A chicken in the tunnel? Nonsense!” The father insists so the policeman finally goes to a telephone on the wall of the tunnel and phones the sergeant, who says, “A chicken in the tunnel? Nonsense!” How could so many grown-ups be so wrong? It makes for a gratifying read for a small child, who can identify with the little girl in the back seat, who knows what she saw, even is she is disbelieved. Finally and predictably, there is a happy ending. The Port Authority police capture Squawky and return him to Mr. Hay. After a long drive through peaceful country roads, they arrive back at the farm: “Squawky could tell by the cool country air, the quiet black night, and the sleepy sounds of the chickens on their roosts that he was safely home!” Not only do we have a happy ending, we also have a moral lesson. Farmer Hay tells Squawky, “Next time you’d better know where you’re going before you start!”13

When prose falls short, we turn to poetry. I hope, in a book like this, the writing conveys information to the reader. We learn that the Holland Tunnel was completed in 1927; the Lincoln Tunnel, with all three tubes, in 1957. But sometimes we want more. The poet conveys his feelings, his observations, and even his imagined experiences. To borrow a nautical metaphor, our prose is the ballast of the ship, but our poetry is the sail. Poetry broadens and deepens our understanding. A perfect example can be found in the poetry of Hart Crane who used the Brooklyn Bridge as the basis for his epic poem The Bridge, published in 1930. Influenced by both Walt Whitman and T. S. Eliot, the poem was a tribute in verse to that great suspension bridge spanning the East River, linking Brooklyn to Manhattan. Do we have a Hart Crane for the Holland or Lincoln Tunnel? Not yet, but we have an embryonic beginning. In thinking about this problem, I turned to my poet friend, Joel Lewis of Hoboken. Joel writes often about New Jersey in his poetry. Though he disavows being a regional writer, it is a fact that he grew

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up and continues to live in Hudson County. He has a B.A. and an M.A. from William Paterson University in Wayne, New Jersey, as well as a master’s degree in creative writing from City College of New York. He works the names of New Jersey cities and streets into his work and finds poetic inspiration in such unlikely places as the Hackensack Meadowlands or the refineries along the New Jersey Turnpike. Like most real-life poets, Joel Lewis has a day job. After obtaining a master’s degree in social work from Yeshiva University, he found employment as a social worker in New York City. From his experience working with families shattered by drugs and AIDS, he finds himself sympathetic with the problems of the working class. Thus he is more interested in places like Paterson and Newark than in Somerset Hills or Rumson. Critics have sometimes drawn a parallel between Joel Lewis’s love of northern New Jersey and William Carlos Williams’s love of Paterson.14 When Lewis started out to write serious poetry in the 1970s, he found a lack of encouragement, so he sought out communities of writers. He began to attend readings and workshops at Saint Mark’s Bookshop on New York City’s Lower East Side, where there was a community of students, academics, artists, and ardent readers. He sought out mentors like the poet Ted Berrigan and his second wife, Alice Notley, who provided him with support and encouragement. In a 1999 interview at Rutgers, Joel Lewis explained how it is possible to hold down a job and be a successful poet. He said that the key is selfdiscipline, and he went on to explain, “My job, right now, is in social work. I find myself writing at two a.m. some nights. . . . Best advice I’ve ever seen about trying to work and trying to write comes from the great newspaper writer Pete Hamill: When you come home from work take a nap, then get up and write.”15 In that same interview, Lewis provided his readers with some clues about how he works. He said that much of his own writing is based on collage-like effects, which results in “the resonance of placing things seemingly disparate against each other.” He described his work as striving for “a rough, inelegant, neo-Abstract, Impressionist surface.” He went on to say, “Really, there are only about seven or eight different themes in poetry. It’s all in how you say it. ‘Howl’ by Allen Ginsberg was saying something about the world in 1955 as perceived by an unknown, Jewish, homosexual poet with left-wing leanings, but it was also structurally interesting.”16 Addressing his young readers at Rutgers, Lewis said that there is no time like the present to take up poetry. Poets can get their work out on the Internet. Desktop publishing makes publishing easy and affordable.

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You can go to your local mega-bookstore, drink coffee, and meet poets doing their readings. “So what is so terrific about poetry?” Lewis answered his own question: “It is cheap and portable. No tubes of paint, no darkroom equipment, no blocks of marble to chip away at. Books? You can haunt used bookstores, use the library or borrow books from friends and never give them back . . . and if no one wants to publish your sheaf of brilliant squibs of energy—do it yourself! If it was good for Whitman, it should be good enough for you.”17 Let us see how this poetic theory actually works when Joel Lewis grapples with the bi-state tunnels. (First, let me point out that I have not found any New York poets dealing with the tunnels. They have too much disdain for New Jersey to be bothered, but Lewis doesn’t mind getting down and dirty.) In one stanza of his autobiographical poem “Jaywalking Across the Red Sea,” Lewis describes leaving his New York City day job during the evening rush hour. He observes the threatening weather and the crowded traffic enduring the daily grind of leaving the city, though he himself bypasses that unpleasantness by taking the ferry: Storm clouds again a smudge of damson above the Lincoln Tunnel helix shifting pink streaks beneath that & way below: the world-that-is-called rush hour folks in BMWs, jalopies, buses & vans getting ready to walk the American gangplank again I escape by boat but remain a fellow cog in the volitional economy of the brightways, my helping profession a part of the procession prophesized in the Book of Lacks.18

In this stanza, Lewis gets across his mood at the end of his typical workday in New York City. He needs to cross the Hudson River to get to his home in Hoboken. It’s unpleasant drudgery. He is walking “the American gangplank.” Yet he is doing it of his own free will as part of “the volitional economy.” He is tired and frustrated with social work, the “helping profession.” Yet he realizes that this work is his fate because it was, he says mockingly, “prophesized in the Book of Lacks,” an apocryphal sacred text about people who lack things, which is to say, poor people, those in need of a social worker. In another poem, Joel Lewis takes up the Holland Tunnel, or more specifically, its creator, the great engineer Clifford Milburn Holland. This short

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poem of five stanzas is called “A Crutch for a Crab” and is reproduced here in its entirety with the permission of the author: Traffic sheds reminiscence so save a thought to Clifford M. Holland, the genius of the first vehicular tunnel that allowed subsilt passage beneath the Hudson. Holland worked & worked & worked until the greater bosses said: “You look tired. Go home & take a rest.” Which he did. Forever & which finally solved the problem of what to name the tubes that glue Tribeca & the old Horseshoe District into a continual birth of traffic plus a rarely noticed bust of an above-average guy who could’ve honestly said: “This job is killing me!” like many say daily. His family remembers that Holland loved to talk while eating that he hated ketchup bottles because they ruined the symmetry of his dining room table. Mr. Holland made the river bed humble public ground where the commuter’s air is scrubbed & rendered potable every 42 seconds.

The poem works on many levels, evoking both emotional and sensual responses, employing familiar poetic devices. Let us start with the title, “A Crutch for a Crab.” Apart from its obvious alliteration, the title is packed with meaning. Clearly, crabs do not need crutches to cross a river. They can do so with ease, without any artificial help. Humans, on the other hand, do need some form of artificial help, such as a tunnel (which is our “crutch”). We are told that this is a “subsilt passage,” an alliterative phrase that rolls off the tongue. We are told that “Holland worked & worked & worked.” Repetition gets the idea firmly across. Holland himself was told, “You look tired. Go home & take a rest.” This is the sort of pro forma sympathetic utterance that any boss might say to any employee on any day. It’s almost a cliché, so we are surprised by the next line, delivered like a body blow: “Which he did. Forever.”

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We are told that the Holland Tunnel was built to link “Tribeca & the old Horseshoe District,” a fresh way to link Manhattan and Weehawken. The poet uses fresh language for old and familiar ideas to get us to think things through and see the world in a new way. “Tribeca,” the name of a neighborhood in Manhattan, is a portmanteau, or blend of three words: “Triangle Below Canal Street,” the area bounded by Canal Street, West Street, Cortland Alley, Broadway, and Chambers Street. The poet, confident in his intimate knowledge of North Jersey geography, refers to the “Horseshoe,” which is found on Shippen Street, a cobbled double hairpin leading to Hackensack Plank Road and Shippen Street Steps, where we find at the bottom Weehawken’s original town hall. Lewis tells us that “Holland loved to talk while eating.” In other words, he was a man of energy and enthusiasm, an ambitious multitasker, who cared more about getting things done than about social niceties. The poet also tells us that “he hated ketchup bottles because they ruined the symmetry of his dining room table.” Which is a way of saying that he was neat and tidy, a fanatic about order. Only a man terribly methodical in planning and performing would notice such a small detail upsetting the order of the household. Thus, in the few short lines of “A Crutch for a Crab,” Lewis gives us a glimpse into Holland’s character as well as paying tribute to his great accomplishment.

The critically acclaimed HBO series The Sopranos began on January 10, 1999, and ran for six seasons and eighty-six episodes until it ended on June 10, 2007. With as many as 13.4 million viewers for a given episode, it was well received and the most watched program on television for its time slot. The successive seasons of the series were linked by the presence of continuing characters—including Tony Soprano, played by three-time Emmy winner James Gandolfini—though the weekly episodes were usually self-contained. Another important linking device was the now-famous opening montage for every show, beginning with a brief shot of the tiled ceiling of the Lincoln Tunnel. Then we see that it is Tony Soprano driving out of the north tube of the tunnel. Family man he may be, but at the moment he emerges from the dark depths below the Hudson, he is the embodiment of evil—grim, vulgar, corrupt, racist, sexist, and murderous. He whips around the Helix and grabs the turnpike toll ticket from the dispenser with confidence and contempt. With music in the background, Tony drives on and we see the northern stretches of the turnpike, the rusting and abandoned factories, and the toxic waters of the Meadowlands.

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During the height of the popularity of the show, a New York City–based tour company offered a four-hour Sopranos-themed tour of northern New Jersey. As the tour bus curved out of the Lincoln Tunnel into New Jersey, the tourists could see what Tony Soprano saw during the opening credits of the show. For forty dollars, a fan could visit numerous recognizable sites including the real home of Bada Bing (a strip club called Satin Dolls) in Lodi and a fake storefront that Tony often visited in Kearny. At Satin Dolls, the bus stopped so guests could purchase hats, T-shirts, and shot glasses with the Sopranos logo.19

According to CyberMuse, an art education research site, public art is “an artwork designed to be installed in a public space, often outside.”20 Historically, we think of public art in terms of civic statuary, monuments, and memorials, but the definition began to expand under Franklin D. Roosevelt’s administration with the creation of the Works Progress Administration. Drawing on the contemporary vocabulary of art criticism, public art is often referred to as “site specific,” and it often is based on “public-private partnerships.” I would argue that a conceptual breakthrough took place back in 2000 when the art community took a fresh look at the built environment on the Hudson River waterfront and took notice of something that had been there all along for the past eighty years—the Holland Tunnel ventilation tower at the end of Pier 34 near Canal Street and the West Side Highway. So here is this huge 100-foot tall landmark structure staring us in the face. What can we do with it to make it artistic, to draw attention to it? Then there was an “Aha!” moment. Why not light it up? A plan was drawn up to bathe the tower with 62,000 watts of floodlights to be turned on every night for the ten days preceding Operation Sail, the parade of ships that entered New York Harbor to celebrate Independence Day. The tower was lit by forty-two metal-halide fixtures that emitted a white glow, supplemented by a yellowish cast from twenty sodium bulbs.21 The public arts community was behind the project, but the owner of the Holland Tunnel tower was, of course, the Port Authority. The installation never would have happened without the acquiescence of the Port Authority, which sometimes drags its heels when it comes to innovation. This time, the agency got on board, thanks to one particular Port Authority official who pushed for it, Stephen J. Fiorelli, an engineer who handled operations for the Holland Tunnel. Sometimes even in an unwieldy bureaucracy a single person can make a difference. Fiorelli was able to persuade his boss, Ken Philmus, to push ahead with the idea. “It’s breathtaking,” said Philmus, the director of

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tunnels for the Port Authority. “It won’t be lit up like a skyrocket, but it will be more muted.”22 This laudable effort to stage something within the public space won the endorsement of the Hudson River Park Trust, the public benefit corporation responsible for the park’s design, construction, and operation. Its president, Robert Balachandran, said, “We are hugely supportive of the lighting plan, which will turn this national historic landmark into a signature element of the Hudson River Park.”23 Looking back at the summer of 2000, it now seems like our last summer of innocence before 9/11. Perhaps because I was a huge fan of Operation Sail, I had seen that illuminated tunnel tower in the week before the ships arrived, and I thought it was really neat. One might wonder why the tower has not been illuminated since. Granted, some might object if it were to be lit all the time, but why not light it up for special holidays like the Fourth of July? The answer is simple—the project had lost its champion. Steve Fiorelli worked on the sixty-fourth floor of One World Trade, the North Tower. On September 11, 2001, after the attack, as he made his way down the staircase, the building collapsed. Three days later, on Friday night, his body was found in the rubble.24

Back in the 1920s when the Holland Tunnel was being designed and built, not a whole thought of thought was devoted to the aesthetics of the project. After all, these were engineers, who were not worried about beauty. They just wanted to get the job done. Part of their work was to design a system of approaches to, and exits from, the Holland Tunnel on the Manhattan side. It was not easy, because it often involved overriding the existing gridiron plan and buying up expensive real estate to do so. The design of the roadways stressed the functional over the decorative. The decision was made to place the exit rotary within the city block bounded by Laight Street on the north, Ericsson Place on the south, Varick Street on the east, and Hudson Street on the west. Originally, this block, known as Hudson Square, was part of the land owned by Trinity Church. In 1803, the church constructed Saint John’s Chapel on the east side of Hudson Square, which gradually became known as Saint John’s Park. Even though Saint John’s Chapel was demolished in 1919 for subway construction and the widening of Varick Street, the name of Saint John’s Park stuck. As a result, the Holland Tunnel Rotary is still sometimes called Saint John’s Rotary.25 When the Holland Tunnel opened in 1927, no one was particularly concerned about giving the motorists something beautiful to look at on their way entering Manhattan. Some fifty years were to pass before anything was done

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about this concern. Then, in 1980, Richard Serra, a minimalist sculptor known for working with large-scale assemblies of sheet metal, was given a commission to place an outdoor sculpture within Saint John’s Rotary. The first step for Serra was to evaluate the site, a terribly busy and confusing locale. Here is what Serra had to say about the location: “I have always thought of the Rotary as being a turntable, a cartwheel, a bottleneck extension of the New Jersey Turnpike, a highway roundabout at the exit of the Holland Tunnel, and the entrance to Manhattan, a place where cars continually turn and cross lanes in apprehension of changing directions as they enter New York, coming from New Jersey, a space polluted by exhaust fumes, a scene of incessant change, a hub, a place of rush hour glut, a place of disorientation and permanent rotation, where, at various times of the day, the density of traffic screens the inner center of the Rotary.”26 In other words, Serra had to come up with something on a massive scale, something that would not be lost in the hubbub of traffic. He settled on a steel construction that was 200 feet long and 12 feet high, the plates bent in a curvilinear manner to mirror the curve of the traffic circle. The plates were rolled by Bethlehem Steel in Burns Harbor, Indiana, and were fabricated by the Sun Shipyard in Chester, Pennsylvania. Serra gave his creation the title of St. John’s Rotary Arc. He justified the non-representational aspect of his work, explaining, “The Rotary site has no romantic, historical, aesthetic, or symbolic reference.” As motorists passed the sculpture on their left, as they went around the circle counterclockwise, the steel would appear to be convex, but by the time they reached the opposite side of the circle, it would appear to be concave. It was meant to be seen while moving. It filled a 200-foot arc within an 800-foot circle, and the 12-foot height mirrored the height of the passing trucks. As Serra explained, “The inclusion of the Arc in the Rotary gives a sculptural definition to the place. Size, scale, and placement of the work respond to the topographical features of the site.”27 St. John’s Rotary Arc had a good run from 1980 until it was destroyed in 1987. The next notable sculpture at the rotary was a 70-foot bright red steel sculpture, Joie de Vivre, installed in 1998 by the New York sculptor Mark di Suvero. People started calling it “the Big Red X,” which is exactly what it looked like, though di Suvero was unhappy with a reporter who used that term. “It’s not an X,” said the sculptor, “There’s no X in it! It’s a series of tetrahedrons that are open at the ends. Yes, of course, I call it a piece. A sculpture. Yes, of course, it can be taken apart and put back together. That’s what’s unique about these pieces [his life’s work]: They can be disassembled.”28 The work was in place at the exit of the Holland Tunnel from 1998 to 2003, when it was moved to make way for road construction. It is now permanently located at

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Zuccotti Park, formerly known as Liberty Plaza Park, in front of the Equitable Building at 120 Broadway in the Financial District of lower Manhattan. For a time, it seemed as if there might always be some kind of sculpture in place at the Holland Tunnel Rotary. The Port Authority completed an eighteen-month, $12 million renovation of the exit plaza in December of 2004. By the spring of 2005, officials were looking for something to replace the sculpture that had been there before construction began. The Port Authority worked with the Lower Manhattan Cultural Council (LMCC), which devised a juried selection process. After a lengthy procedure consulting with gallery owners and museum curators, they named Peter Lundberg, widely acclaimed for his monumental concrete and steel sculptures. The proposal was for three 30- to 50-foot-tall sculptures weighing about 40 tons each to be placed on the site for a ten-year period. According to the sculptor they looked like “rough, organic, solid massive forms.” The pieces were to be placed in the ground so “they look like they’re coming out of the Earth.”29 Everything seemed all set for the new sculptures to be installed. Then the people at the LMCC told Lundberg that there was one more step, a mere formality. The sculptor was asked to make a presentation to the local Community Board to get their endorsement for the project. Of course, the Community Board was made up of laypeople rather than art critics, and it turned out to be a hard sell. One member said that he only liked sculpture with straight lines. Another said that Lundberg’s work was the “ugliest thing I have ever seen.” Still another said that motorists emerging from the tunnel would, upon seeing the work, be “scared to death.” It seemed that the board was dominated by those with a fear of the unknown and a dislike for nonrepresentational art. After an acrimonious meeting, the board voted five to four against the project. This was not a binding vote, but the Port Authority lost enthusiasm for the project—figuring that, if the community did not want it, there was no need to go to the bother and expense. The project died, and it is unlikely that there will ever be another piece of sculpture in the Holland Tunnel Rotary.30 Although the loss of sculpture can be seen as an aesthetic setback, credit must be given to the Port Authority for the upgrade of the rotary that was completed in December of 2004. Coming out of the Holland Tunnel from New Jersey into Manhattan can still be stressful, especially if you are not familiar with the area or if you are not certain where you want to go. Fortunately, the new overhead signs are very clear, with crisp white lettering on large green backgrounds. Still, you have to make up your mind quickly. This rotary is not for the faint of heart. Exit 1 is for Route 9-A or West Street with an immediate right-hand turn. Exit 2 is marked for Uptown or Hudson

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Street, next right. Exit 3 is marked for Brooklyn, second right. Exit 4 is for Downtown, third right. There is much to like, including new decorative streetlights as well as benches and trees along Varick Street, not to mention curbs and sidewalks that were added for pedestrian safety.31 To be sure, it would be nice to have some sculpture at the center of the rotary; however, the Port Authority did hire Scott A. Levy, principal landscape architect of Scott Alan Design. Levy came up with a design that placed a berm, a raised mound of earth, as a focal point at the center for the display of canopy trees, flowering shrub beds, and seasonal plantings. Most agree that the outcome is aesthetically pleasing.32

A staple of New York City humor is the Jersey Joke, referring to the state as neither trendy nor cool, but rather undistinguished and beneath notice. New Yorkers, with all the modern conveniences, tend to feel that the city is the place to be, where things are happening. New York comedians can be heard with regularity saying such things as “The only difference between New Jersey and a banana republic is that New Jersey doesn’t grow any bananas.” Woody Allen in his movie Sleeper said, “I believe there’s an intelligence to the universe, with the exception of certain parts of New Jersey.”33 Another Jersey Joke, collected by Barbara Stepko, suggests that for celebrities, it’s an embarrassment to be linked with New Jersey: “The Lincoln Tunnel—a great invention because it lets you go to Jersey without being seen.”34 If the joke is the simplest form of humor, a step up in complexity is the humorous skit, or short play or sketch. The seemingly immortal Saturday Night Live, with its sketches that parody American popular culture, premiered on NBC-TV back in 1975. Sure enough, by the third season, they got around to a skit featuring the Holland Tunnel. The scene opens on two attractive young women, Lynn and Barb, playing Ping-Pong in an apartment complex recreation room. They are joined by Georg and Yortuk, two wild and crazy guys, brothers from Czechoslovakia, unfashionably dressed in loud, unbuttoned polyester shirts. The two brothers desperately and awkwardly try to pick up the two girls, who are totally unimpressed. In an unsuccessful effort to bond with the girls, the two brothers demonstrate their clumsy and ridiculous disco dance moves. The brothers are very insistent about meeting up later with the girls, who are eager to shake them off. The ensuing dialogue goes like this: Lynn: I’ve got an idea! Do you know the Holland Tunnel? Georg: Of course! We swing there often!

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Lynn: Meet us in the middle of the Holland Tunnel. Do you know the man in the glass booth? Georg: Naturally! Yortuk: Yeah! He knows our names—Georg and Yortuk! Lynn: Well, you go there, and park there, and wait for us. Georg: Okay! We’ll have a swinging time!35

Another popular humor genre is the parody of the press release. In 2004, the Spoof ran a satirical piece that played on the widespread confusion about the naming of the Holland Tunnel. It turns out that many people, not realizing that the tunnel was named for Clifford Holland, assume that it must be named in recognition of the Netherlands. Of course, this is not an unreasonable assumption. After all, New Amsterdam was a seventeenth-century Dutch colonial village that served as the capital of New Netherland. Only later did the settlement become New York. Building on the mistaken assumption about the name, the Spoof ran a story under the headline “Netherlands Reclaims NY’s Holland Tunnel, Will Legalize Marijuana, Prostitution.” According to the story, the Netherlands would close the tunnel and turn it into half brothel and half head shop. The reporter quoted an “official” statement that read, in part, “Since New York once belonged to the Dutch as New Amsterdam and the tunnel is named after the famous country renowned for its windmills, tulips, and Heidi-like milk maids, the country had legal rights to New York’s major artery connecting the Big Apple with the Garden State.”36

Sigmund Freud famously wrote that any tunnel-like object represents the vagina, and since the Internet hosts unconditional free speech, it is not surprising to find all kinds of sexually oriented material referencing the tunnels on the Internet. Let us begin with off-color and bawdy definitions, of which there are many, so many that I will only present three. First, there is the phrase “shoving it into the Lincoln Tunnel,” which is defined by SexLexis.com as “Sometimes preceded by like, an American catchphrase expressing a man’s feeling of penile inadequacy in satisfying a woman with a large vagina, also implying that he has derived no pleasure from the encounter.”37 Second, a similar term, “holland tunnel,” is defined by the Urban Dictionary as “A term for a female (or a female’s vagina) who has had an abundance of sex. She pulled off her pants & I was staring into a holland tunnel.” Our final term is “holland tunnel hand job,” which is defined by the Urban Dictionary as “a low cost and professional hand job performed by a

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transvestite prostitute. Last night I got ‘holland tunnel hand job’ from Eileen (frank) and it only cost $10.”38 Some people seem to seek out sexual adventures with their partners in strange, random, and crazy places and then brag about those encounters on the Internet. Most such accounts are both brief and anonymous. For these adventurers, the tunnels seem to hold a special attraction. Number 6 on a list of “The Top 10 Wildest Places You’ve Had Sex” was this: “My boyfriend and I had sex in the Lincoln Tunnel going into New Jersey. You’re not supposed to switch lanes in a tunnel but I think he couldn’t help it! We almost caused an accident that night but I think we both would have died happy.”39 Of course, there is no way to confirm an anonymous account like this, but it makes for a good story. By way of contrast, there are a few such accounts where at least one of the participants does not hide his or her identity. YouTube offers exhibitionists a chance to upload and share videos of themselves at least pretending to have sex in strange and novel locales. Most of these videos are short and amateurish, such as the one made by the boasting Dominican rapper who goes by the name of Minus P. He styles himself as the “King of the Heights,” a reference to Washington Heights, a New York City neighborhood in the northern reaches of the borough of Manhattan. In his two-minute-seven-second video, we see him driving through the Holland Tunnel in the company of an unnamed girlfriend. The accompanying dialogue seems to suggest that the couple is having sex, though the video images are very unclear on that point. True, there are some suggestive images. The girlfriend seems to have removed her skirt, and we see her bare legs, white panties, and patent leather shiny black high-heel shoes. We never see her face, and we never learn her name. Minus P is shown wearing a white T-shirt and white ball cap, worn backward. Throughout the video, he never removes his seat belt. The camera switches back and forth in the darkened car between Minus P, the girlfriend, and the view through the windshield. Though we never actually see any sexual contact, the girlfriend is quite vocal and suggestive in her dialogue; though it’s not always easy to make out, it goes something like this: Girlfriend: How do you pull the seat back? Minus P: I don’t know. Girlfriend: I want to lay back. I want you. How do you pull the seat back? Tell me how you push the seat back. Minus P: There’s a little thing on the side that you pull up. You pull it up and then you push the seat back. Girlfriend: All right, so I want to go back. Give it to me, bubbee. I want to have you in front of me.

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Minus P: You’re gonna make me crash. You’re fucking hot. You’re one hot looking woman. Girlfriend: [Moan] Give it to me, bubbee. Oh yeah, fuck me. Fuck me in the ass. Minus P: Are you crazy? Girlfriend: Yeah, baby. [Moan] Minus P: By the time we end up, we’re gonna get arrested. [View of the interior of tunnel.] Minus P: All right, we are about to leave the tunnel. Put your clothes back on. We don’t want to get arrested Minus P: [Aside] She’s hot. I think I’m in love. Girlfriend: No you’re not. You’re not! You prefer a porn star. Minus P: That’s true. You’re both crazy. Girlfriend: Yeah, we’re both crazy, but we are two different kinds of crazy. She’s a porn star, crazy. I’m a Dominican, crazy. I’m a real Dominican.40

Given these examples, we may conclude that Freud was right about tunnels. On the other hand, sometimes a tunnel is just a tunnel.

chapter 10

I

The Light at the End of the Tunnel the future of the tunnels For most of us as we approach lower Manhattan by way of the Holland Tunnel, the remarkable pioneering accomplishment of Clifford Holland is the last thing on our minds. We don’t feel admiration and wonder as much as annoyance at the bottleneck. We are not marveling at the fact that we are driving 94 feet below the surface of the Hudson River in the company of many other vehicles emitting deadly fumes. We tend not to think about the fact that this was the world’s first successful ventilated automobile tunnel. We forget that, in its day, this engineering marvel was considered both risky and brilliant.1 If we have come off the New Jersey Turnpike at Exit 14C, we pass on an elevated viaduct for a final approach to Twelfth Street and the Holland Tunnel. We are snug against a tall building on our right. Oh, my God! We look to our left and there’s two lanes packed with cars coming from the Pulaski Skyway by way of New Jersey 139. We are going to be delayed by a series of traffic lights because those guys have to commingle with us. How inconvenient and annoying! We’re trying to go east, but it’s a regular obstacle course. There’s a traffic signal at Erie Street. As we are stopped there, we can see a huge Amoco gas station sign ahead, and we catch a glimpse of the entrance of the Holland Tunnel in the distance. We deal with another traffic signal at Manila Avenue, and yet another at Marin Boulevard. There’s a stressful bottleneck at the toll plaza, and then another bottleneck at the western portal of the Holland Tunnel. Whew! We finally make it into the tube, and our speed picks up as the cars space themselves out. In a similar fashion, as we approach the Lincoln Tunnel, we seldom stop to think about the fact that it is really three tunnels side by side, or that it took over twenty years to build. We just want to get where we are going. Our approach to the Lincoln Tunnel is usually a little bit less frustrating than 178

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dealing with the Holland because at least here, as we begin the slow crawl down the Helix, cut through a wall of granite back in 1937, on a clear day with a blue sky above, we get a breathtaking view of the Manhattan skyline over our left shoulder. The Corkscrew spirals in a full circle as it descends from the heights of Weehawken to river level. Some of my friends say it’s the only nice thing about driving to work. That spectacular sight has been called a “world-class amenity,” and it is so important that it has been declared a national landmark in order to prevent any new construction from blocking the view.2 We as motorists of the twenty-first century might be forgiven if, in our frustration at chronic delays, we hope for the construction of another vehicular tunnel in the future. As we shall see, that’s unlikely to happen. So what will the future be like, then? To be sure, transit officials tell us that today the trans-Hudson bridges and tunnels are already saturated. The “rush hour” has been getting longer. It now stretches from 6:00 a.m. to 10:00 a.m. and lasts from about 3:00 p.m. to 7:00 p.m. Commuters keep driving into the city earlier and earlier in order to beat the traffic. According to the Port Authority, traffic at the Holland and Lincoln is now up substantially between 5:00 a.m. and 6:00 a.m. “We’re reaching the capacity of the city to absorb comfortably the journey to work in the core south of 59th Street,” said Robert Paaswell, director of the University Transportation Research Center at CUNY. “As that occurs, as people pay a higher price, people will move elsewhere or employers will move elsewhere.”3 To be sure, the principal problem of mind-numbing traffic is that there are simply too many cars on the road during rush hour. We have all seen situations where cars inch toward the tunnels while the air is heavy with exhaust. The problem is often exacerbated by long-overdue repairs that result in lane closures. “There are really two related traffic problems: infrastructure maintenance, which hasn’t been done over the years as it should have been, and road capacity and congestion,” said Franklin E. White, the New York State transportation commissioner.4 The cost of traffic congestion can be measured not only in lost time for commuters but also in the cost of dirty air to New Yorkers. When city streets are congested, smog- and soot-reduction goals are not met. Scientists have long known that air pollution from cars and trucks is bad for people’s health. Stop-and-go traffic causes up to three times as much dangerous pollution as does free-flowing traffic. Those living close to busy streets have an increased risk of cancer, heart disease, lung disease, and asthma attacks.5 Could we relieve all this congestion and its related problems with the construction of an additional trans-Hudson vehicular tunnel? The outlook for

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that solution is not good. In the first place, at present there is no money for new infrastructure. And even if those funds were magically to become available, the cost of acquiring land and right-of-way in an urban area is just about impossible. Besides, planners say that new construction would send the wrong message, encouraging more driving. “We won’t build more vehicle tunnels into Manhattan, because there’s no room for more vehicles in Manhattan,” said Anthony J. Barber, the director of tunnels, bridges, and terminals for the Port Authority.6 Some urban planners have said that another vehicular tunnel is not needed because, in the future, the price of gasoline will be so high as to completely discourage travel by automobile. We had a glimpse of that future back in 2008 when we struggled with gas at four dollars a gallon. During that spike in prices, it looked as if people might move closer to their jobs or start carpooling. People started shopping closer to their homes, and college students took more online courses. Parking garages in congested midtown Manhattan suddenly had plenty of available spots. People began at least to think about turning in their gas-guzzling sports utility vehicles. Of course, when prices fell, people began reverting to their old ways.7 Transportation experts seem to agree that the easiest way to cut congestion would be to implement congestion pricing, a system of charging motorists a surcharge in the most crowded part of the city during hours of peak demand. Electronically controlled toll systems have been successfully applied in a few places such as London and Stockholm. Mayor Michael Bloomberg first proposed such a scheme in December 2006. The idea was to cut traffic and air pollution in the dense central business district by getting more commuters to use mass transit. The plan called for charging most drivers eight dollars to drive below Sixtieth Street between 6:00 a.m. and 6:00 p.m. Truck drivers would have paid twenty-one dollars. The revenues from such pricing could be used to help subsidize subways and buses. From the beginning, the plan, though highly rational, was very controversial. It enjoyed support from civic, labor, and environmental organizations, but it was strongly opposed by politicians from the outer boroughs and the city’s suburbs. Opponents saw the measure as “elitist” since it mainly benefited well-to-do Manhattanites.8 The city applied for a grant from the U.S. Department of Transportation to implement the plan, and the application was well received in 2007. The proposal was approved by the New York City Council in March of 2008 and seemed to have a decent chance of passage until it came to Albany. The deadline for the State Assembly to approve the plan was April 7, 2008, but the Democratic Conference of the State Assembly refused to take a vote on the proposal because they felt it had no support.9

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New York City had come close to getting a congestion pricing plan, but the plan of 2006–2008 was ahead of its time. I foresee that eventually such a plan will come to New York. Congestion will drop, and the average speed will increase. Gridlock will be reduced, and the quality of life will be improved. There will be hundreds of millions of dollars of new revenue, which will be invested in better transit. New bicycle paths will be installed. The system will be tweaked so that toll rates will be raised or lowered at different locations over the course of the day and for different days of the week. Alas, we may have to wait a long time to see congestion pricing implemented in New York City.

There was another bold plan that came close to being implemented. A new tunnel, since abandoned, was planned to be built under the Hudson River, linking New Jersey and New York. But it was not for cars. The proposed tunnel would have been a rail tunnel, the first of its kind in more than one hundred years. The planning took a long time, as reflected by the fact that its name kept changing. It was originally called, perhaps straining for a pronounceable acronym, Access to the Region’s Core (ARC). Then it morphed into the Trans-Hudson Express; finally it was called, in straightforward language, the Mass Transit Tunnel. Whatever the name, it was to have been the biggest transportation project in generations. For a time, it looked as if this visionary project would really happen. In fact, groundbreaking for the new tunnel took place in June of 2009 alongside a highway in North Bergen, New Jersey. At that time, officials said that the tunnel would take eight years to finish and would cost $8.7 billion. The project had gotten a kick-start of $130 million from the economic stimulus package signed by President Barack Obama in February 2009. Planners believed that the project would create more than 5,600 construction jobs. “In addition to creating thousands of jobs and promoting mobility and regional competitiveness in the global economy for decades to come, the Mass Transit Tunnel will provide enormous environmental benefits by taking thousands of cars off the road,” said New Jersey’s then-governor Jon S. Corzine.10 The ambitious plan called for twin single-track tubes, side by side, about 4 miles in length, requiring the excavation of 2 million cubic meters of rock and soil. Workers were to bore through the Hudson Palisades, under the river, and into the bedrock of Manhattan. The new tunnels would have been roughly parallel to the existing century-old pair that feed into New York’s Penn Station from the west, already at the breaking point, handling their maximum capacity during peak hours. Upon arrival, there simply are not

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enough stairways, escalators, and elevators to handle the crowds. The platforms are much too narrow for passengers to get out quickly. Because of the severe crowding, trains are often delayed, especially during the evening rush hour. Conductors often cannot load the passengers fast enough to stay on schedule. It’s a nightmare for dispatchers since one breakdown can cause the whole system to back up. If the new tunnel had been finished, passengers would have arrived at an underground cavern, a three-level expansion of Penn Station about 180 feet below Thirty-fourth Street between Sixth and Eighth Avenues. The expanded station would have been two city blocks long, and it would have had wider and longer platforms with more escalators and less crowding. The proposed concourse could have provided direct connections to the Sixth Avenue lines (N, Q, R, W, B, F, and V) at Herald Square, where PATH trains could also have been accessed. It would also have had direct connections to the Seventh Avenue lines (1, 2, and 3) and to the Eighth Avenue lines (A, C, and E). The project would have allowed New Jersey Transit to more than double its capacity from twenty-three trains per hour to forty-eight trains per hour. The project was originally expected to be completed by 2018, as a joint venture

10.1 Rendering of the proposed six-track passenger station, known as the New York Penn Station Expansion, under Thirty-fourth Street, connecting with Pennsylvania Station. The proposed station was to have been the New York City terminal for the ARC Tunnel, a project killed by Governor Chris Christie on October 7, 2010. Courtesy of THE Partnership.

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of NJ Transit and the Port Authority, with each contributing $3 billion. The remaining $3 billion was to have come from the Federal Transit Administration.11 The ARC Tunnel proposal made a great deal of sense. Since 1982, the number of passengers taking NJ Transit trains to New York Penn Station has quadrupled to 46 million trips a year. Experts expect that number to double again in the next twenty years. Arthur D. Silber, former chief of NJ Transit’s aborted ARC Tunnel Project, explained that the continued demand for commuting has been driven by two major factors: “Manhattan continues to be a world-class center of commerce, offering a multitude of employment opportunities. Meanwhile, New Jersey offers a range of attractive homes in communities featuring an enviable quality of life. The result of this close bi-state relationship is that commuting rail ridership outstrips the carrying capacity of the existing rail tunnels, creating a bottleneck that inconveniences passengers and threatens regional prosperity.”12 Here was a project that was twenty years in the making, with support from both Democrats and Republicans. It would have created 6,000 short-term jobs and perhaps as many as 40,000 long-term jobs, sweetened with $3 billion in federal matching funds. Incredible as it sounds, on October 7, 2010, New Jersey Governor Chris Christie pulled the plug on the already started project. “The only prudent move is to end this project,” Christie said at a Trenton news conference. “I can’t put taxpayers on a never-ending hook.”13 It was a tremendously controversial decision, with some calling it “smart” and others calling it “outrageous.” The leading newspaper in the state, the Star-Ledger, editorialized the next day, “The governor’s decision to kill the Hudson River tunnel will go down as a blunder of historic proportions. It will stunt the state’s job market, depress home values, and leave us with nightmarish traffic jams and dirtier air.” Others were even more outraged, calling Christie a “bully” and a “cold-hearted fat slob.”14 Tunnel advocates were left fuming. Why would Christie make such a short-sighted, irresponsible, and foolish decision? It did not take long for political experts to come up with the answer. The decision was all about politics; Christie had his hopes on becoming the Republican presidential nominee in 2012. Rutgers University political scientist Ross Baker said, “Particularly among the (out-of-state) deficit-minded Republicans and independents, this will be enormously popular. They don’t have to commute to New York, and Christie has become a fiscal hero.”15 Democratic lawmakers were furious with the governor. Assembly Transportation Chairman John Wisniewski (D–Middlesex) said, “In one massive, careless swoop, Gov. Christie has destroyed economic development

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in the region, crushed job creation in New Jersey and put public safety at risk for decades to come.”16

As a result of the cancellation of the ARC Tunnel project, there will be fewer transportation options into Manhattan. New Jerseyans will have to rely on the already crowded century-old tunnels built by the Pennsylvania Railroad back in 1910 as well as the aging and jammed Holland and Lincoln tunnels that have served us so well for so long. The tunnels may not be beloved, but they have facilitated commerce and made life easier for millions of us who have enjoyed the comfort, privacy, and convenience of traveling in our own cars. For many years we were able to indulge our insatiable appetite for fossil fuels. We enjoyed our auto-dependent lifestyles. But what lies ahead? Most of the time, we are so grounded in the realities of the present that it is difficult for us to engage in open-minded thinking about the future. We tend to assume that unfettered access to our gas-guzzling cars is a God-given right, part of the natural order. It seems that only a reckless prophet would be willing to predict the death of the automobile. For the foreseeable future, Americans will continue to need their cars to get around the sprawling suburbs found on either coast. How much greater the need for cars and trucks to knit together the vast open spaces in midcontinent. In a rural setting, cars do provide mobility, but what about the cities? To get a glimpse of the future, let us look at what has already happened in Europe. It seems that the United States has lagged behind in developing a better and more diversified transport system. Take London, for example, where congestion pricing has already reduced traffic and air pollution. According to global environmentalist Lester R. Brown, until recently the average speed of an automobile in London was about the same as that of a horse-drawn carriage of a century ago. Then, in 2003, the city introduced a congestion fee of five pounds (about USD$8 at the time) on all cars entering the city center between 7:00 a.m. and 6:30 p.m. Suddenly, the number of vehicles was dramatically reduced, allowing traffic to flow more freely while reducing pollution and noise.17 According to Brown, during the first year that the new fee was introduced, the number of bus riders into central London rose by an astonishing 38 percent, and vehicle speeds on key routes increased by 21 percent. Two years later, in July of 2005, authorities increased the fee to eight pounds (about USD$12). The money from the congestion fee was used to improve public transit. Since the congestion charge was adopted, the number of bicycles has increased by a whopping 66 percent. Bicycle advocates argue that the city

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benefits from less congestion and less pollution, while the individual benefits from better physical fitness and less inclination toward obesity. Another compelling argument is that, in traffic, six bicycles can replace the space taken by a single car. For parking, the advantage is even more remarkable. You can fit twenty bicycles in the space needed by one car.18 A particularly striking example of a successful urban bicycle plan can be found in Paris. It was implemented by Mayor Bertrand Delanoë, who was elected in 2001. Express lanes were created for bicycles, and a city-sponsored bicycle rental program was established. There are now more than twenty thousand bicycles available at some fourteen hundred docking stations spaced throughout the city. Cyclists, using credit cards, have a choice of daily, weekly, or annual rates that range from about a dollar a day to forty dollars a year. In the first two years of the program, some 48 million trips were taken, not only relieving congestion but actually improving the quality of life. Regular users report that the bike riders, unlike motorists, socialize and chat along the way, especially when stopped at traffic lights.19 Having seen what can be done in Europe, let us return to the United States. There are some signs of a shift in American attitudes toward changing the way we deal with transportation in our cities. According to Norman Garrick, an associate professor of civil engineering at the University of Connecticut, two recent events seem to signal the beginning of the end of the automobile’s ascendancy in American life. In Portland, Oregon, in February of 2010, the city council approved a new bike plan with the goal of raising the percentage of people riding bikes from 6 percent, already the highest of any big city in the United States, to 25 percent. About the same time, the Department of Transportation in New York City announced the permanent closing of a portion of Broadway to vehicle traffic. Garrick points out that the number of vehicles per person peaked in 2001. Similarly, the number of miles driven in the United States for each person peaked in 2004. Taken together, these statistics suggest a major change in American culture.20 Do we dare to suggest that we are seeing the beginning of a new postautomobile era in Manhattan? Do we really need private cars in the central business district? Granted, we are still going to need trucks to deliver food to restaurants and goods to retailers, but such trucks could be restricted to nighttime hours. There’s a growing trend among residents of Manhattan to favor pedestrians and cyclists over automobiles. Of course, at present the odds are stacked against those who would ban automobiles from the central business district. Motorists from the outer boroughs are opposed to any ban that might limit their freedom to travel by private car to Manhattan. The same goes for commuters from Westchester, Rockland, and Putnam counties

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in New York State, as well as for those from Hudson, Bergen, and Passaic counties in New Jersey. All those people in the New York metropolitan area are well represented by their local legislators, who can be counted upon to block any restriction on their freedom of movement. At the same time, we cannot count on the Port Authority’s altruism to limit the number of cars traveling through the Holland and Lincoln tunnels. To be sure, the Port Authority sometimes does the right thing. For example, it has been proactive in providing for exclusive bus lanes for commuters at the Lincoln Tunnel. For that, it deserves high marks. But let us not forget that there are limits to the Port Authority’s largesse. It has no power to tax, so it is forced to rely on tolls, fees, and rents; and the tunnels are cash cows. The Port Authority will be reluctant to act against its own interest by limiting the number of vehicles using the tunnels. At present, it seems that the only people interested in limiting vehicular traffic in the central business district are Manhattan residents and urban planners, both of whom can be easily maligned by opponents as “elitists.” Before we give up on this idea, though, let us look twenty-five to fifty years out. Eventually, we might reach the tipping point when everyone is fed up with bumper-to-bumper gridlock, horn honking, and cursing. There will be a widespread backlash against the car. People may begin to realize that the car, despite its promise of freedom, has reduced their quality of life. Then, perhaps ever so gradually, the Port Authority might be forced to tighten the screws on the individual motorists using the tunnels. At first there might be steep and confiscatory price hikes for rush hour use to damp down the volume. Then there might be mandatory carpooling—requiring two, three, or even four passengers per vehicle. Who knows? Eventually, at the endgame, the Port Authority might be forced by the two states to prohibit private automobiles altogether. Perhaps commercial vehicles, needed to deliver critical goods, would still be allowed, along with authorized government vehicles such as police cars, fire trucks, and ambulances. Even here, the vehicles and their drivers might need to be prescreened and preauthorized to guard against the danger of terrorism. Of course, the future is hidden from us, but we can extrapolate from present trends. In my disturbing vision of our post-petroleum future, private use of the Holland and Lincoln tunnels will become a distant memory. Children will marvel at their grandparents’ stories of the good old days, when they could just hop in their cars, drive into Manhattan, park the car, and take in a prixfixe dinner and a Broadway show on the spur of the moment. Was it ever really that easy?

Notes

introduction 1. “Trolley Tunnel Open to Jersey,” New York Times, February 26, 2008. These tunnels are now part of the Port Authority Trans-Hudson (PATH). 2. The complete story of the Pennsylvania Railroad’s efforts to deliver its passengers into Manhattan without the use of Hudson ferries is well told in Jill Jonnes, Conquering Gotham: A Gilded Age Epic: The Construction of Pennsylvania Station and Its Tunnels (New York: Viking, 2008). 3. Daniel Gross, Forbes’ Greatest Business Stories of All Time (Hoboken: Wiley, 1997), 75–82. 4. Michael Aaron Rockland, The George Washington Bridge: Poetry in Steel (New Brunswick: Rutgers University Press, 2008), 7. 5. Laurie Pawlik-Kienlen, “The 9 Most Common Phobias in Psychology,” Suite 101.com, February 18, 2007, http://psychology.suite101.com/article.cfm/the_most_ common_ phobias, accessed June 27, 2010. 6. “My Insane Fear of Tunnels,” I’m Not Obsessed, June 10, 2008, http://www .imnotobsessed.com/node/45605, accessed June 27, 2010. 7. K. G. Gotestam and S. Svebak, “Treatment of Tunnel Phobia: An Experimental Field Study,” Cognitive Behaviour Therapy 39, no. 3 (September 2009): 146–152. 8. John H. Lienhard, “The Holland Tunnel,” The Engines of Our Ingenuity, episode no. 1698, http://www.uh.edu/engines/epi1698.html, accessed June 21, 2010. 9. Ian Fisher, “Tunneling into a World of Danger,” New York Times, November 28, 1993. 10. Thomas Kelly, Sandhogs (Brooklyn: Soft Skull Press, 2008), 10. Sandhogs was originally published under the title Payback (New York: Knopf, 1997). 11. Ibid., 11. 12. “The Holland Tunnel’s First Year,” New York Times, November 15, 1928. 13. “Rank Tunnels First in Wonders of the City,” New York Times, July 23, 1929. 14. James Barton, “A Tunnel? Holland Named a U.S. Historic Landmark,” New York Times, June 27, 1994. 15. Thomas R. Flagg, “An Investigation into the Location of the Weehawken Dueling Ground,” http://duel 2004.weehawkenhistory.org/flagg.pdf, retrieved July 5, 2010. 16. “Weehawken Dueling Grounds Marker,” dedicated July 11, 2004, http://due12004 .weehawkenhistory.org/dedication.php, accessed 5 July 2010. 17. Charles H. Winfield, History of Hudson County, New Jersey (1874; Englewood: Bergen Historic Books, 1995), 201.

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notes to pages 7–19

18. Ian Frazier, “Route 3: What I Saw on the Road Through New Jersey,” New Yorker, February 16, 2004. 19. Jack, “Lincoln Tunnel,” posted February 24, 2006, on Citynoise, http://citynoise .org/article/3115, accessed June 22, 2010.

chapter 1 — it can’t be done: planning for the holland tunnel 1. Theodore P. Shonts, “To Reconstruct Our Port: An Elaborate Plan,” New York Times, November 1, 1914. 2. James T. Fisher, On the Irish Waterfront: The Crusader, the Movie, and the Soul of the Port of New York (Ithaca: Cornell University Press, 2009), 53. 3. James Glanz and Eric Lipton, City in the Sky: The Rise and Fall of the World Trade Center (New York: Times Books, 2003), 47–48. 4. Haynes Johnson, foreword to Malcolm Johnson, On the Waterfront (New York: Chamberlain Bros., 2005), vi–vii. 5. Johnson, On the Waterfront, 15–17. 6. Ibid., 21–22. 7. Philip Lopate, Waterfront: A Journey Around Manhattan (New York: Crown Publishers, 2004), 57–58. 8. Fisher, On the Irish Waterfront, 38–39. 9. Ibid., 41–50. 10. “Motor Truck Men to Hear River Plan,” New York Times, March 7, 1914. 11. “Millions Saved on Mild Winter,” New York Times, April 6, 1919. 12. “Marine Workers Strike Paralyzes New York Harbor,” New York Times, March 5, 1919. 13. “Why New York Needs a Vehicular Tunnel,” New York Times, March 9, 1919. 14. John Alexander Low Waddell, Economics of Bridgework: A Sequel to Bridge Engineering (New York: John Wiley and Sons, 1921), 56. 15. “Tunnel Instead of Bridge,” New York Times, January 19, 1913. 16. “Tunnels Not Bridge Favored to Jersey,” New York Times, April 22, 1913. 17. “Tunnel Highways to Jersey Likely,” New York Times, November 18, 1913. 18. Andrew Dunn, Tunnels (New York: Thomson Learning, 1992), 13. 19. Carl C. Gray, The Eighth Wonder (Boston: B. F. Sturtevant, 1927), 15. 20. E. A. Byrne, quoted in John Walker Harrington, “Hudson Under-River Roadway,” New York Times, June 15, 1919. 21. “Major Gen. Goethals Favors Hudson River Tunnel,” New York Times, January 27, 1918. 22. “New Board to Plan for Jersey Tunnels,” New York Times, June 9, 1917. 23. “Urges New Tunnel Under the Hudson,” New York Times, March 18, 1918. 24. “Contract Is Signed for Vehicular Tube,” New York Times, September 28, 1919. 25. “Interstate Tunnel Bodies Organize,” New York Times, July 2, 1919. 26. Harrington, “Hudson Under-River Roadway.” 27. “New Hudson Tube Work to Be Pushed,” New York Times, June 22, 1919. 28. Philip Taubman, “Top Engineers Shun Military; Concern Grows,” New York Times, June 25, 2008. 29. Harrington, “Hudson Under-River Roadway.” 30. Gray, Eighth Wonder, 21–22 31. Ibid., 23–24. 32. “Asks $28,669,000 for Jersey Tube,” New York Times, February 15, 1920. 33. Henry Petroski, Engineers of Dreams (New York: Alfred A. Knopf, 1995), 227–235. 34. Ibid., 232–233.

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35. Ibid., 233. 36. “Hudson Twin Tubes Best, Says Gen. Dyer,” New York Times, March 20, 1920.

chapter 2 — a breath of fresh air: building the holland tunnel 1. “Contract Is Signed for Vehicular Tube,” New York Times, September 28, 1919. 2. “Trinity Plot Sold in Old Greenwich,” New York Times, October 27, 1920. 3. “Many Lower Greenwich Village Landmarks Doomed by the Jersey Vehicular Tunnel,” New York Times, October 31, 1920. 4. Ibid. 5. Steven Hart, The Last Three Miles (New York: New Press, 2007), 25. 6. “Work on Vehicular Tunnel Commences,” New York Times, April 1, 1922. 7. Clifford Holland had married Anna Coolidge Davenport (1885–1973) on November 5, 1908. 8. Henry Petroski, Engineers of Dreams (New York: Alfred A. Knopf, 1995), 236–237. 9. Ibid., 236. 10. “Silent on Tunnel Work,” New York Times, June 2, 1922. 11. Hart, Last Three Miles, 26–27. 12. Ibid., 27. 13. Booth and Flinn Company, 70 Years of General Contracting, 1876–1946 (Pittsburgh: privately published, 1946). 14. “Death and Taxes,” Time, August 28, 1950. 15. “Work Begins on New Tunnels Under River,” New York Times, October 11, 1914. 16. “Under-River Tunnel Headings Meet,” Public Service Record 3, no. 12 (December 1916). 17. “Last Down-Town Tunnel Holed Through,” Public Service Record 4, no. 7 (July 1917). 18. “Work Begins Today on Jersey Tunnel,” New York Times, March 31, 1922. 19. New York Times, March 31, 1922. 20. “Will Give 10,000 Work for a Year,” New York Times, April 9, 1922. 21. Red Deutsch, “Post #63,” Downtown Jersey City List, posted October 5, 2008, http://jclist.com/modules/newbb/viewtopic.php?post_id176683, accessed July 6, 2010. 22. New York Times, April 9, 1922. 23. Elaine Landau, Tunnels (New York: Scholastic, 2001), 11–13. 24. William Morris, ed., The American Heritage Dictionary of the English Language (Boston: Houghton Mifflin, 1982), 1194; Lewis Carroll, Alice Through the Looking Glass; William Allan Neilson, editor in chief, Webster’s New International Dictionary of the English Language, 2nd ed. (Springfield, Mass.: G. & C. Merriam Company, 1939), 2312. 25. “Work Begins on New Tubes Under River,” New York Times, October 11, 1914. 26. Ibid. 27. Ibid. 28. Ibid. 29. Ibid. Most of us have experienced a mechanism similar to the air lock in everyday life. In New York and other northern cities where the temperature can be very cold in the winter, it is common to encounter two doors in a sort of air-lock configuration at building entrances. Although these doors are certainly not airtight, they do keep the loss of heated air from the building at a minimum. Of course, revolving doors work much the same way. 30. Ibid. We now know that decompression sickness is caused by inert gases that have dissolved in bodily liquids and tissues. As air pressure is reduced, the gases come out of

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solution and form bubbles in the body. The principal inert gas in normal atmospheric air is nitrogen. Physicists tell us that when the pressure of a gas over a liquid is decreased, the volume of gas dissolved in the liquid will decrease. An everyday example of this phenomenon occurs whenever we open a soft drink can or bottle. At the time of manufacture, carbon dioxide gas is placed into the container with the liquid. When we open the container, we can hear the gas escaping and we can see bubbles forming. See Brian Andrew Hills, Decompression Sickness (New York: John Wiley and Sons, 1977). 31. “First Shield Set Up for Vehicular Tunnel,” New York Times, October 15, 1922. 32. “Shield Starts Bore for Hudson Tunnel,” New York Times, October 27, 1922. 33. Ibid. 34. Sandhog Project, http://sandhogproject.com/sandhogs/index.html, accessed June 13, 2010. 35. NYC Sandhogs Local 147, “LIUNA History,” http://www.sandhogs147.0rg/historyliuna.aspx, accessed July 7, 2010. 36. “Driving Our First Motor Highway Under Hudson Sandhog’s Biggest Job,” New York Times, December 10, 1922. 37. “Big Hudson Tunnel Ready in 36 Months,” New York Times, January 1, 1923. 38. “Big Tunnel Caisson Slides from Ways,” New York Times, December 6, 1922. 39. Ibid. 40. “Trip of Big Caisson Stiff Job for Tugs, New York Times, January 31, 1923. 41. “Fight the Hudson Tides to Bore Vehicle Tunnel,” New York Times, October 21, 1923. 42. Port Authority of New York and New Jersey, “The History of a Unique Engineering Achievement—The Holland Tunnel,” undated and unpaginated booklet. 43. Waldemar Kaempfert, “The Holland Tunnel Is a Modern Marvel,” New York Times, October 9, 1927. 44. Stephen Johnson and Roberto T. Leon, “Holland Tunnel,” Encyclopedia of Bridges and Tunnels (New York: Facts on File, 2002). 45. “Driving Our First Motor Highway Under Hudson Sandhogs Biggest Job,” New York Times, December 10, 1922. 46. “Bids to Ventilate Holland Tunnel,” New York Times, December 6, 1925. 47. Port Authority, “History . . . Holland Tunnel.” 48. “Blow-Out Floods Vehicular Tube,” New York Times, April 4, 1924. 49. Henry Petroski, To Engineer Is Human: The Role of Failure in Successful Design (New York: Vintage Books, 1992), 9. 50. “Employment Gains; Wages Up a Trifle,” New York Times, April 20, 1924. 51. “Sandhogs Strike in Hudson Tunnel,” New York Times, April 10, 1924. 52. “C. M. Holland Dies After Breakdown,” New York Times, October 28, 1924. 53. Richard G. Weingardt, Engineering Legends: Great American Civil Engineers (Reston, Va.: American Society of Civil Engineers, 2005), 45. 54. “Blast Joins Halves of Vehicular Tube; Meet Within an Inch,” New York Times, October 30, 1924. 55. Edward C. Burks, “Pioneer Designer of Tunnels,” New York Times, July 19, 1967. 56. “A Tunnel? Holland Named U.S. Historic Landmark,” New York Times, June 27, 1994. 57. “The Holland Tunnel,” New York Times, August 18, 1926. 58. “Smith and Moore Meet in Tunnel,” New York Times, August 22, 1926.

chapter 3 — winning acceptance: grand opening of the holland tunnel 1. “Would Bar Horses from Holland Tubes,” New York Times, March 27, 1927. 2. “Tunnel Rates in Abeyance,” New York Times, October 27, 1927.

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3. “Toll Scale Is Fixed for the Holland Tunnel,” New York Times, November 2, 1927. 4. Ibid. 5. “How It Feels to Ride in the Holland Tube,” New York Times, October 2, 1927. 6. Daniel J. Boorstin, The Image: A Guide to Pseudo-Events in America (New York: Athenaeum, 1971), 11. 7. “Coolidge Will Open Holland Tube Today,” New York Times, November 12, 1927; “Child to Open Holland Tube,” New York Times, November 9, 1927. 8. “Coolidge Will Open Holland Tube Today.” 9. “Holland Tunnel,” Time, November 21, 1927. 10. Waldo Walker, “The Holland Tunnel Justifies Its Builders,” New York Times, November 20, 1927. 11. Ibid. 12. Tom Vanderbilt, Traffic: Why We Drive the Way We Do (New York: Alfred A. Knopf, 2008), 119–130. 13. Walker, “Holland Tunnel Justifies Its Builders.” 14. “Port Authority Control of Tunnel Is Opposed,” New York Times, February 10, 1927. 15. “Dense Fog in Harbor Paralyzes Shipping,” New York Times, December 14, 1927. 16. “Truck Tube Widens Materials Market,” New York Times, October 10, 1927. 17. “Rail Ferries Hurt by Holland Tunnel,” New York Times, December 20, 1927. 18. “Holland Tube Tolls $173,914 in 2 Weeks,” New York Times, November 29, 1927. 19. “Holiday Rush in Tunnel,” New York Times, December 28, 1927. 20. “Holland Tunnel Tolls Now Exceed $2,000,000,” New York Times, May 13, 1928. 21. “8,517,689 Vehicles Used Tube in Year,” New York Times, November 14, 1928. 22. C. G. Poore, “Holland Tunnel Rounds Out a Successful Year,” New York Times, November 11, 1928. 23. “Our New Tube Is a Sight,” New York Times, February 5, 1928. 24. Ibid. 25. Ibid. 26. “Urges a Vehicle Tube for West 42nd Street,” New York Times, December 22, 1928.

chapter 4 — let’s build another one: construction of the lincoln tunnel 1. “State Boards Urge New Hudson Tunnel,” New York Times, December 29, 1928. 2. “Under the Hudson River,” New York Times, January 10, 1930. 3. Ibid. 4. “A Sensible Merger,” New York Times, April 8, 1930. 5. “Port Authority Bills Signed by Roosevelt,” New York Times, April 14, 1930. 6. “Port Merger Bills Passed in Jersey,” New York Times, April 16, 1930. 7. “J. F. Galvin Heads Port Authority,” New York Times, May 9, 1930; Julius Henry Cohen, They Builded Better than They Knew (New York: Julian Messner, 1946), 293. 8. “New Tunnel Urged in Traffic Census,” New York Times, July 1, 1930. 9. “New Tunnel Is Named,” New York Times, June 20, 1930. 10. “Port Body Upholds Hudson Tunnel Plan,” New York Times, January 13, 1931. 11. “Two States Speed 38th Street Tube Bills,” New York Times, January 30, 1931. 12. “Midtown Tube Bill Signed by Governor,” New York Times, March 5, 1931. 13. Arthur M. Schlesinger Jr., gen. ed., The Almanac of American History (Greenwich, Conn.: Brompton Books, 1993), 457–458. 14. John Dos Passos, The Big Money (New York: Library of America, 1996), 1205. 15. Edward Robb Ellis, The Epic of New York City (New York: Coward-McCann, 1966), 532–534.

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notes to pages 61–72

16. “Hudson Tube Plan Held Up for a Year,” New York Times, March 5, 1932. 17. “Port Body Defends Hudson Tube Plan,” New York Times, September 12, 1932. 18. “Buses and a New Tunnel,” New York Times, September 1, 1933. 19. “Hudson Tunnel Tests to Begin Next Week,” New York Times, October 27, 1933. 20. Cohen, They Builded Better than They Knew, 264–265. 21. “Engineers Named for 38th Street Tube,” New York Times, November 19, 1933. 22. “G. B. Montgomery, Tube Builder, Dies,” New York Times, March 17, 1938. 23. “New Tunnel Work Begins Thursday,” New York Times, May 13, 1934. 24. “Fetes in 2 States Start Hudson Tube,” New York Times, May 18, 1934. 25. Ibid. 26. “Honesty in New York,” Time Magazine, November 9, 1931. 27. “Fetes in 2 States Start Hudson Tube.” 28. Barbara Westergaard, New Jersey: A Guide to the State (New Brunswick: Rutgers University Press, 1987), 359–360. 29. “Fetes in 2 States Start Hudson Tube.” 30. “Col. Henry Waite, Engineer, 76 Dies,” New York Times, September 2, 1944. 31. “Fetes in 2 States Start Hudson Tube.” 32. Ibid. 33. Ibid. 34. L. H. Robbins, “Over and Under the Rivers: Two Mighty Projects Start,” New York Times, April 15, 1934. 35. “38th St. Tube Bids to Be Opened Feb. 6,” New York Times, January 2, 1934. 36. Robert J. Jenny, “Shafts,” in Tunnel Engineering Handbook, ed. John O. Bickel and T. R. Kuesel (Malabar, Fla.: Krieger Publishing, 1992), 212. 37. Robbins, “Over and Under the Rivers.” 38. “38th St. Tube Bids to Be Opened Feb. 6.” 39. L. H. Robbins, “Under the Hudson with the Sandhogs,” New York Times, March 17, 1935. 40. Jenny, “Shafts,” 212. 41. “Tunnel Caisson in Place Tuesday,” New York Times, July 15, 1934. 42. “600-Ton Caisson for the 38th St. Tunnel Floated Here on Tide and Put into Place,” New York Times, July 18, 1934. 43. Ibid. 44. “Tunnel Caisson in Place Tuesday.” 45. “End of Boring Near in Midtown Tube,” New York Times, July 16, 1935. 46. “Strike Threatens on Public Works,” New York Times, July 28, 1934. 47. Ibid. 48. “Police Act to List All Union Leaders,” New York Times, July 29, 1934. 49. Ibid. 50. “Contractors’ Men Defer Strike Vote,” New York Times, July 31, 1934. 51. Amy Fried, “The Forgotten Lindsay Rogers and the Development of American Political Science,” American Political Science Review 100, no. 4 (November 2006): 555–561. 52. “Labor Board Acts in Tunnel Strike,” New York Times, August 5, 1934. 53. “Tunnel Strike Settled,” New York Times, August 25, 1934. 54. “Blaze in 39th Street Aids Tube Project,” New York Times, October 27, 1934. 55. Robbins, “Under the Hudson with the Sandhogs.” 56. “Pass Half-Way Mark on Tunnel,” New York Times, May 28, 1935. 57. “Tunnel Work Set Record,” New York Times, June 11, 1935. 58. “Hudson Tunnel Rushed,” New York Times, June 23, 1935. 59. “Hudson Sandhogs Set Tunnel Mark,” New York Times, August 3, 1935.

notes to pages 72–81

193

60. “Sand Hogs Ready to ‘Hole Through,’” New York Times, August 2, 1935. 61. Ibid. 62. Donald N. Tanner, “Tunnel Finish,” in Bickel and Kuesel, Tunnel Engineering Handbook, 456–476. 63. “One Barrier Remains in New Hudson Tube,” New York Times, September 1, 1936. 64. “Midtown Tunnel Is Holed Through,” New York Times, September 2, 1936. 65. “Midtown Tube Work Far Past Schedule,” New York Times, October 2, 1936. 66. “Approach to Tunnel Is Shown in Model,” New York Times, November 21, 1936. 67. “New ‘Exit’ for City,” New York Times, December 6, 1936. 68. John O. Bickel, “Service Buildings,” in Bickel and Kuesel, Tunnel Engineering Handbook, 477–482. 69. “39th Street Tube Gets the Name of Lincoln,” New York Times, April 17, 1937. 70. Lee Cooper, “New Trade Center Likely to Develop,” New York Times, December 19, 1937. 71. “Lincoln Tube Open for Traffic Dec. 22,” New York Times, October 16, 1937. 72. “Lincoln Tube Tolls Fixed by Authority,” New York Times, December 13, 1937. 73. “Slow Trucks Barred from Lincoln Tube,” New York Times, December 7, 1937. 74. “Feeders Mapped for Lincoln Tube,” New York Times, December 12, 1937. 75. “Interstate Bus Lines to Use Lincoln Tunnel,” New York Times, December 14, 1937. 76. “Lincoln Tunnel Ready for Cars,” New York Times, December 19, 1937. 77. “Texts of Addresses of Officials at the Formal Opening of the Lincoln Tunnel,” New York Times, December 22, 1937. 78. “Lincoln Tunnel Is Opened with Festive Ceremonies,” New York Times, December 22, 1937. 79. “Pageantry to Open the Lincoln Tunnel,” New York Times, December 19, 1937. 80. “Pageantry to Open New Tunnel Today,” New York Times, December 21, 1937. 81. “Texts of Addresses of Officials at the Formal Opening of the Lincoln Tunnel.” 82. “New ‘Exit’ for City,” New York Times, December 6, 1936. 83. “3,700 Use Tunnel in First 12 Hours,” New York Times, December 23, 1937. 84. Ibid. 85. “7,661 Cars Use Tunnel,” New York Times, December 23, 1937.

chapter 5 — law and order: the role of the port authority police 1. Bertram Reinitz, “Jams Are Brief in Holland Tube,” New York Times, January 15, 1928. 2. James Lardner and Thomas Reppetto, NYPD: A City and Its Police (New York: Henry Holt, 2000), 200–201. 3. “Traffic in Tunnel 40 Percent Trucks,” New York Times, November 15, 1927. 4. “Tunnel Shows Gain in Commercial Cars,” New York Times, November 16, 1927. 5. C. G. Poore, “Holland Tunnel Rounds Out a Successful Year,” New York Times, November 11, 1928. 6. Leslie C. Edie, “Expectancy of Multiple Vehicular Breakdowns in a Tunnel,” Journal of the Operations Research Society 3, no. 4 (November 1955): 513–522. 7. “Eight Gets Summonses in the Holland Tunnel,” New York Times, December 30, 1927. 8. “Million Cars Use Tunnel,” New York Times, January 2, 1928. 9. Edie, “Expectancy of Multiple Vehicular Breakdowns.” 10. Leslie C. Edie, “Operations Research in a Public Corporation,” Operations Research 5, no. 1 (February 1957): 111–112.

194

notes to pages 82–93

11. “Give Holland Tubes Don’ts,” New York Times, January 27, 1928. 12. “Driver Beaten in Row with Police in Tunnel,” New York Times, August 13, 1928. 13. “Tunnel Policemen Held for Brutality,” New York Times, August 22, 1928. 14. Ibid.; “Indicts Patrolmen in Tunnel Beating,” New York Times, August 23, 1928. 15. “Sift Defense Fund for Tunnel Police,” New York Times, August 31, 1928 16. “Perjury Is Charged in Tunnel Inquiry,” New York Times, September 2, 1928 17. “Convict Policeman of Beating Autoist,” New York Times, October 12, 1928. 18. “Tunnel Policeman Gets 3-Year Term,” New York Times, June 25, 1929. 19. Lardner and Reppetto, NYPD, 233. 20. George James, “Policing the Port Authority’s Domain,” New York Times, May 9, 1999. 21. “Knights of the Crossing,” New York Times, October 31, 1935. 22. “New Signal System in Holland Tube Today,” New York Times, January 7, 1936. 23. “2 Policemen Win Awards,” New York Times, June 9, 1944. 24. “Highway Danger Signals,” New York Times, October 1, 1944. 25. Jane Holtz Kay, Asphalt Nation (New York: Crown Publishers, 1997), 226. 26. Robert C. Doty, “Traffic Piles Up for Blocks Around in Week-End Tunnel, Bridge Crush,” New York Times, August 11, 1951. 27. “Span, Tunnel Facilities Swamped by Returning Week-End Autoists,” New York Times, July 17, 1951. 28. “Police in Holland Tunnel to Test Tiny Catwalk Car for Patrol Duty,” New York Times, August 7, 1954 29. Edie, “Operations Research in a Public Corporation.” 30. Edward C. Olcott, “The Influence of Vehicular Speed and Spacing on Tunnel Capacity,” Journal of the Operations Research Society of America 3, no. 2 (May 1955): 147–167. 31. “Trucks to Ease Tube Jam,” New York Times, June 24, 1950. 32. Joseph C. Ingraham, “Traffic to Shift at Holland Tube,” New York Times, June 1, 1954. 33. “Air, Bridge Traffic Moved by Experts,” New York Times, January 17, 1951 34. Edwin T. Ewen, “Life of a Cop in the Sewers,” New York Times, October 30, 1960. 35. Ibid. 36. “Port Police Vote to Report Today but Not to Work,” New York Times, July 19, 1973. 37. Ibid. 38. “Judges Bar Police Protest at Tunnels and Airport,” New York Times, July 20, 1973. 39. Edward C. Burks, “Slow-Driving Port Police Cause Snarls in Tunnels,” New York Times, July 21, 1973. 40. “Job Action,” New York Times, July 21, 1973. 41. Edward C. Burks, “Port Police Return to Jobs After Judge Renews Strike Ban,” New York Times, July 28, 1973. 42. “Tunnel Civilians Like New Jobs,” New York Times, July 21, 1973. 43. Seth S. King, “Computers to Aid Tunnel Traffic,” New York Times, December 15, 1967. 44. Joseph C. Ingraham, “Lincoln Tunnel Gets TV System,” New York Times, September 2, 1965. 45. “Holland Tunnel Gets a Test Lane,” New York Times, July 30, 1984. 46. Sadly, Officer Donald A. Foreman was one of the first responders who died on 9/11. 47. Jim Dwyer and David Kocieniewski, Deidre Murphy, and Peg Tyre, Two Seconds Under the World (New York: Crown Publishers, 1994). 48. Peter Lance, 1000 Years for Revenge: International Terrorism and the FBI (New York: HarperCollins, 2003).

notes to pages 93–103

195

49. Mark Juergensmeyer, Terror in the Mind of God (Berkeley: University of California Press, 2000). 50. Mark Daly, “Port Authority Cops Display New Spirit,” Chief Civil Service Leader, September 13, 2002. 51. Richard Perez-Pena, “U.S. Steps Up Precautions at Its Offices and Airports,” New York Times, October 2, 1995. 52. Emily M. Bernstein, “Security Strengthened at Hudson River Crossings,” New York Times, July 20, 1993. 53. Lieutenant William Keegan Jr., Closure: The Untold Story of the Ground Zero Recovery Mission (New York: Simon and Schuster, 2006), 3. 54. Daly, “Port Authority Cops Display New Spirit.” 55. Eric Lipton and Richard Perez-Pena, “Still Reeling from Losses, New York Looks for Makeshift Solutions,” New York Times, September 13, 2001. 56. Randy Kennedy, “Closings Snarl Travel to Manhattan Again,” New York Times, September 14, 2001. 57. Dan Barry, “Normality Proves Elusive Amid Bomb Scares and Transit Woes,” New York Times, September 14, 2001. 58. Jayson Blair, “City, Noting Traffic Decrease, Continues Lone Driver Rules,” New York Times, October 1, 2001. 59. “Subject to Inspection,” New York Times, October 16, 2001. 60. Susan Saulny, “More Restrictions Are Eased for Drivers,” New York Times, November 29, 2001. 61. William A. Rashbaum and James Barron, “Threats and Responses,” New York Times, March 20, 2003. 62. Amanda Ripley, “Can We Spot the Threat?” Time, July 16, 2007.

chapter 6 — road hazards: threats to life and property 1. Federal Highway Administration, Prevention and Control of Highway Tunnel Fires, Report No. FHWA/RD-83/032, May 1984, 29–31. 2. Guy Nordenson, Catherine Seavitt, and Adam Yarinksy, On the Water: Palisade Bay (Ostfildern, Germany: Hatje Cantz Verlag, 2010), 11–18. 3. Environmental Defense Fund, “Bracing for Flooding in New York City,” http://www.fightglobalwarming.com/page.cfm?tagID1299, accessed July 17, 2010. 4. Nor’easter History, “The Great Nor’easter of 1992,” http://www.ocean-beach.com/ weather_norester_history.htm, accessed July 18, 2010. 5. Environmental Defense Fund, “Bracing for Flooding.” 6. Ibid. 7. Alanna Malone, “Design Teams Propose Solutions for ‘Rising Currents,’” Architectural Record, January 6, 2010, http://archrecord.construction.com/news/daily/ archives/2010/100106rising_currents.asp, accessed July 18, 2010. 8. Nordenson, Seavitt, and Yarinsky, On the Water, 94–102. 9. Ibid., 110, 112–114. 10. Arthur G. Bendelius, “Fire Protection,” in Tunnel Engineering Handbook, ed. John O. Bickel and T. R. Kuesel (Malabar, Fla.: Kreiger Publishing, 1992), 619–630. 11. Port Authority of New York and New Jersey, Hazardous Materials: Transportation Regulations at Tunnel and Bridge Facilities, undated 32-page booklet. 12. “Tunnel Fire Engine,” New York Times, November 27, 1927; “Stop Fire Quickly in Holland Tunnel,” New York Times, November 17, 1927. 13. “Truck Ablaze Under River,” New York Times, May 20, 1928. 14. “La France,” Time, November 26, 1934.

196

notes to pages 104–114

15. “Fire Quickly Put Out in Holland Tube Test,” New York Times, July 31, 1936. 16. Jim Shields, “Human Behavior in Tunnel Fires,” in The Handbook of Tunnel Fire Safety, ed. Alan Beard and Richard Carvel (London: Thomas Telford, 2005), 329. 17. Ibid., 323–342. 18. Dennis Smith, Report From Engine Co. 82 (New York: Warner Books, 1972), 94. 19. Stuart Jagger and George Grant, “Use of Tunnel Ventilation for Fire Safety,” in Beard and Carvel, Handbook of Tunnel Fire Safety, 144–183. 20. Richard Carvel and Alan Beard, “The Influence of Tunnel Ventilation on Fire Behaviour,” ibid., 184. 21. Art Bendelius, “Tunnel Ventilation—State of the Art,” ibid., 127–143. 22. My account of this fire is closely based on “The Holland Tunnel Chemical Fire Report,” by the National Board of Fire Underwriters, in Federal Highway Administration, Prevention and Control of Highway Tunnel Fires, and on Stephen Jefferson and Roberto T. Leon, “Holland Tunnel,” in Encyclopedia of Bridges and Tunnels (New York: Facts on File, 2002). 23. “Staff Commended by Port Authority,” New York Times, May 18, 1949. 24. Compare with Thomas A. Birkland, After Disaster (Washington, D.C.: Georgetown University Press, 1997), 3–4. Birkland argues that disasters can become “focusing events” that influence the public policymaking process. 25. “Heavy Fines Asked to Protect Tunnel,” New York Times, May 17, 1949. 26. “After the Explosion,” New York Times, May 18, 1949. 27. “Action on the Tunnel,” New York Times, June 2, 1949. 28. For more on the slowness of the legislative process, see Sotirios A. Barber and James E. Fleming, Constitutional Interpretation: The Basic Questions (New York: Oxford University Press, 2007), 50. 29. “Classified as Felony,” New York Times, March 15, 1950. 30. “U.S. Studies Tube Blast,” New York Times, June 25, 1949. 31. “Tunnel Fire Brings Safety Demands,” New York Times, July 30, 1949. 32. “Holland Tube Repairs Nearly Done; Full Service Promised for Holiday,” New York Times, August 30, 1949. 33. “Tunnel Blast Inquiry,” New York Times, September 21, 1949. 34. “Company Indicted for Tunnel Blast,” New York Times, October 5, 1949. 35. “Chemical Firm Indicted in Holland Tunnel Blast,” New York Times, January 10, 1950. 36. “Authority Gets $300,000,” New York Times, June 9, 1950. 37. “Review Set on Blast in Holland Tunnel,” New York Times, October 16, 1951. 38. “High Court Backs Tube Blast Trial,” New York Times, January 29, 1952. 39. The law referred to here is Section 405 of the Surface Transportation Assistance Act of 1982 (STAA), 49 U.S.C. 31105, as amended by section 1536 of the Implementing Recommendations of the 9/11 Commission Act of 2007, Pub. L. 110–53. My interpretation of this law is from Workplace Fairness, “Whistleblowing and Retaliation,” http://www.workplacefairness.org/truckingwhistleblowers, accessed July 11, 2010. 40. “Fire Forces Partial Closing of Holland Tunnel,” New York Times, March 23, 2002; Timothy J. Kearney, “Cold Storage Warehouse Fire: Learning from Worcester,” Fire Engineering, July 2002, 55–58. 41. Ibid. 42. Andy Newman, “Inbound Traffic Jams Likely as Blaze Nears Tunnel Spreads,” New York Times, March 25, 2002. 43. Justo Bautista, “Building Fire Forces Closure of Inbound Holland Tunnel,” Bergen Record, March 23, 2002. 44. Newman, “Inbound Traffic Jams.”

notes to pages 115–122

197

45. Ibid. 46. Peter Pochna, “Fire Near Holland Tunnel Spreads,” Bergen Record, March 25, 2002. 47. Richard Lezin Jones, “Inbound Holland Tunnel Remains Closed as Fire Lingers,” New York Times, March 26, 2002. 48. Ibid. 49. Richard Levin Jones, “Some Inbound Holland Tunnel Lanes Reopen,” New York Times, March 27, 2002. 50. Jones, “Tunnel Remains Closed.” 51. Bill Gustin, “New Fire Tactics for New-Car Fires,” Fire Engineering Magazine, April 1996. 52. The tunnel in Daylight is never named in the movie, possibly to avoid a lawsuit from the Port Authority, but abundant hints in the screenplay indicate that the tunnel is clearly based on the Holland Tunnel.

chapter 7 — if you see something, say something: dealing with the threat of terrorism 1. Stephen Flynn, America the Vulnerable: How Our Government Is Failing to Protect Us from Terrorism (New York: HarperCollins, 2004), 1–17. 2. Clark Kent Ervin, Open Target: Where America Is Vulnerable to Attack (New York: Palgrave Macmillan, 2006), 146. 3. Peggy Noonan, “Let’s Catch Them Now,” Wall Street Journal, May 27, 2004. 4. Transit Cooperative Research Program (TCRP Report 86) and National Cooperative Highway Research Program (NCHRP Report 525), Transportation Security, vol. 12, Making Transportation Tunnels Safe and Secure (Washington, D.C.: Transportation Research Board, 2006), 4–9. 5. Ibid., 12–13. 6. Ibid., 13–14. 7. Ibid., 14. 8. Ibid. 9. Ibid., 14–15. 10. Ibid., 15. 11. Marc Miller and Jason File, Terrorism Factbook (Peoria, Ill.: Bollix Books, 2001), 8–9. 12. Jim Dwyer and David Kocieniewski, Deidre Murphy and Peg Tyre, Two Seconds Under the World (New York: Crown Publishers, 1994). 13. Simon Reeve, The New Jackals: Ramzi Yousef, Osama bin Laden, and the Future of Terrorism (Boston: Northeastern University Press, 1999), 27–36. 14. Gorelick was addressing apparent problems with the use of intelligence information in criminal proceedings. By way of background, the FBI performs both criminal and counterintelligence functions. And there are two types of warrants—criminal warrants and warrants under the Foreign Intelligence Surveillance Act (FISA). It was well known that FISA warrants were easier to obtain. Sometimes, however, a case would begin as an intelligence investigation but lead to a criminal prosecution. Then in court the defense could argue that the government had abused FISA and had improperly used the lower standard, and therefore the evidence obtained under FISA could not be allowed in court. In response to this problem, Gorelick issued the “wall” memo setting up a wall between criminal investigators and intelligence gatherers. The idea was to block defendants from arguing that evidence had been unfairly gathered against them. Later that year, Gorelick’s “wall” concept was further formalized, extended, and memorialized in a “Procedures Memorandum” signed by Attorney General Janet Reno on July 19, 1995.

198

notes to pages 122–129

Center for Grassroots Oversight, “Context of July 19, 1995, ‘Wall’ Memo Cuts Criminal Investigators Off from Intelligence Information,” http://www.historycommons.org/ context, accessed July 24, 2009. 15. Ronald Kessler, The Terrorist Watch: Inside the Desperate Race to Stop the Next Attack (New York: Crown Forum, 2007), 19–23. 16. Daniel Franklin, “Spooks vs. Suits: Why the FBI and CIA Don’t Cooperate, and Why They Shouldn’t,” Slate, October 14, 2002. 17. The CIA officer is played by Annette Bening, and the FBI agent is played by Denzel Washington, in the 1998 film The Siege. Screenplay by Lawrence Wright, Menno Meyjes, and Edward Zwick. 18. Kessler, Terrorist Watch, 24–28. 19. U.S. Department of Transportation, Federal Highway Administration, Recommendations for Bridge and Tunnel Security, September 2003, http://www.fhwa.dot .gov/bridge/security/brp06.cfm, accessed July 13, 2010. 20. Ian A. Fletcher, Stephen Welch, Jose Torero, Richard O. Carvel, and Asif Usmani, “Behaviour of Concrete Structures in Fire,” Thermal Science 11, no. 2 (2007): 37–52. 21. Vahan Tanal, senior consultant with Parsons Brinckerhoff, specialist in marine geotechnical engineering, telephone interview with the author, July 13, 2010. 22. Iver Peterson, “Specter of Terror: Precautions; Security Was Stepped Up at Two Tunnels and Bridge,” New York Times, June 25, 1993; Richard Forsen, Tunnel Explosion Characteristics, Swedish Defence Research Agency, Tumba, Sweden, undated report, http://www.istss.se/en/Documents/ISTSS2008/Day3/P28_Fors%C3%A9n_ISTSS_2008 .pdf, accessed August 30, 2009. 23. Tom Matthews, “A Shaken City’s Towering Inferno,” Newsweek, March 8, 1993. 24. George J. Church and Richard Behar, “The Terror Within,” Time, July 5, 1993. 25. Ibid. 26. Ibid. 27. Tom Morgenthau and Tom Masland, “The New Terrorism,” Newsweek, July 5, 1993. 28. Miller and File, Terrorism Factbook, 8. 29. The plot of the 1998 film The Siege with its multiple attacks on New York City targets is eerily reminiscent of the real-life attacks carried out in the 1970s and 1980s by the Fuerzas Armadas de Liberación Nacional Puertorriqueña (FALN, Armed Forces of Puerto Rican National Liberation), a paramilitary organization that advocated independence for Puerto Rico. This group took responsibility for the bombing of the historic Fraunces Tavern on Pearl Street in lower Manhattan, killing four people and injuring more than fifty on January 24, 1975. FALN was also implicated in multiple attacks that took place on New Year’s Eve 1983 on targets that included a downtown police headquarters, a local FBI office, a prison, and a federal courthouse. Bruce Hoffman, When the Lights Go Out, and Never Come Back On (Upland, Pa.: DIANE Publishing, 1987), section I, chapter 3, page 6. 30. James Glanz and Eric Lipton, City in the Sky: The Rise and Fall of the World Trade Center (New York: Henry Holt, 2003), 232–233. 31. Allan Lichtenstein, ed., Travel Trends: A Transportation Data Newsletter for the New Jersey Region 1, no. 2 (Summer 2002). 32. Dan Barry, “After the Attacks: The Scene; Normality Proves Elusive Amid Bomb Scares and Transit Woes,” New York Times, September 14, 2001. 33. Amanda Paulson, “In New York, More Traffic—But Less Attitude,” Christian Science Monitor, October 3, 2001. 34. Daniel Sforza, “Commuting,” Bergen Record, November 13, 2003. 35. “More Opt for PATH into NYC,” Hudson City, September 20, 2001. 36. Ibid.

notes to pages 129–137

199

37. Adam Lisberg, “Businesses near Holland Tunnel into New York Hurt by Closings,” Bergen Record, October 16, 2001. 38. Ibid. 39. Ibid. 40. Ibid. 41. Tom Fredrickson, “Transportation Delays Dent Profits,” Crain’s New York Business, October 8, 2001. 42. Ibid. 43. Lichtenstein, Travel Trends, 5. 44. John Holl, “Briefing: A Nation Challenged; National Guard Patrols,” New York Times, May 5, 2002. 45. Port Authority Press Release Number 146–2003, “Traffic Advisory—SingleOccupant Auto Ban to End at the Holland Tunnel,” November 12, 2003. The Lincoln Tunnel has a height restriction on trucks of 13 feet and a width restriction of 8 feet 6 inches, with the additional prohibition of trucks in the center tube of the tunnel and the prohibition of propane in any tube. The Holland Tunnel has a height restriction on trucks of 12 feet 6 inches and a width restriction of 8 feet. Hence, only 2- and 3-axle single-unit trucks are permitted. No tractor trailers and no trucks with 4 or more axles are permitted. Propane is prohibited. 46. Jeffrey Gettelman, “A Blast, and Lincoln Tunnel Neighbors Think ‘Bomb!’” New York Times, October 8, 2004. 47. Ibid. 48. Jim Kouri, “Terrorist Plot to Bomb New York’s Holland Tunnel Uncovered,” American Daily, July 7, 2006. 49. Adam Lisberg, “Good Plan, Experts Say, Except It Wouldn’t Work,” New York Daily News, July 7, 2006. 50. Ibid. 51. Al Baker and William K. Rashbaum, “3 Held Overseas in Plan to Bomb Hudson Tunnels,” New York Times, July 8, 2006. 52. Bulletin News Network, Frontrunner, July 11, 2006. 53. United States Nuclear Regulatory Commission fact sheet, “Dirty Bombs,” March 2003. 54. The word debka refers to an Arab folk dance. 55. Riehl World View, “The NYC Dirty Bomb Threat,” August 10, 2007, www.riehl worldview.com. 56. Leo Standora, “Cops on Fast React After Terror Scare,” New York Daily News, August 11, 2007. 57. Jen Chung, “Suspicious Package  Hours of Delay at Lincoln Tunnel,” Gothamist, October 4, 2008, http://gothamist.com/2008/10/04/suspicious_package_causes_hours_ of.php, accessed August 30, 2009. 58. Ibid. 59. Ibid. 60. Pete Donahue, “Lincoln Tunnel Terror ‘Spoof ’ No Joke; NJ Man Held,” New York Daily News, October 7, 2008; Seth Augenstein, “Two Locals Charged with Lincoln Tunnel Hoax,” New Jersey Herald, October 8, 2008.

chapter 8 — rush hour frustration: dealing with traffic congestion 1. Jonathan Guthrie, “An Industry Running on Romance Alone,” Financial Times, July 23, 2009. 2. Nick Paumgarten, “There and Back Again,” New Yorker, April 16, 2007, 58–61.

200

notes to pages 138–145

3. Ibid. 4. Tom Vanderbilt, Traffic: Why We Drive the Way We Do (New York: Alfred A. Knopf, 2008), 141. 5. Tom Weber, “Long Commutes and Family Time,” Wall Street Journal, April 9, 2007. 6. Paumgarten, “There and Back Again,” 64. 7. Larry Copeland, Haya El Nasser, and Paul Overberg, “As Commutes Begin Earlier, New Daily Routines Emerge,” USA Today, September 12, 2007. 8. Penelope Trunk, “Long Commutes Stall Careers, Lives,” The Brazen Careerist, http://www.bankrate.com/brm/news/career/20040301a1.asp, posted March 1, 2004, accessed August 20, 2009, 9. Elsa Brenner, “Bigger Houses, Longer Commutes,” New York Times, May 21, 2006. 10. Commuting examples drawn from Jay Romano, “The State of the Manhattan Commute,” New York Times, March 15, 1992. 11. Paumgarten, “There and Back Again,” 66. 12. William C. Vantuono, “Mass Transit,” Railway Age, January 1, 2000. 13. Christine Beidel, “Survivors Reflect,” Bergen Record, September 23, 2001. 14. Ibid. 15. Jeffrey Page, “Commuters Contribute to Annals of Aggravation,” Bergen Record, May 18, 2003. 16. Helene Stapinski, “Proudly Answering to ‘Jersey Girl,’” New York Times, April 4, 2004. 17. Richard Levine, “New York Rush Hours Grow Earlier and Later,” New York Times, September 9, 1987. 18. George James, “Road Rage, a New Jersey State of Mind,” New York Times, May 7, 2000. 19. William Neuman, “Cars Clogging New York? Most Are from the City,” New York Times, January 12, 2007. 20. Joe Queenan, “Amazon Reviewers Take On the Classics,” Wall Street Journal, August 25, 2009. 21. Paumgarten, “There and Back Again,” 58. 22. Sean O., “Driving into Manhattan,” August 3, 2009, Yelp, ed. Jeremy Stoppelman, http://www.yelp.com/biz/lincoln-tunnel-weehawken. All Yelp reviews were accessed between August 9 and August 20, 2009. 23. Jeff K., “It’s a Tunnel,” August 3, 2009, Yelp, ed. Jeremy Stoppelman, http://www.yelp.com/biz/lincoln-tunnel-weehawken. 24. Dan B., “I’m Not a Big Fan,” September 2, 2008, Yelp, ed. Jeremy Stoppelman, http://www.yelp.com/biz/lincoln-tunnel-weehawken. 25. Mia K., “Lincoln Tunnel,” January 25, 2007, Yelp, ed. Jeremy Stoppelman, http:// www.yelp.com/biz/lincoln-tunnel-weehawken. 26. Irene F., “I Hate You,” January 25, 2007, Yelp, ed. Jeremy Stoppelman, http:// www.yelp.com/biz/lincoln-tunnel-weehawken. 27. Jeffrey Page, “A Blowout in the Tunnel and Other Little Joys,” Bergen Record, October 13, 1997. 28. Ibid. 29. Jessica F., “Wow, What a Disaster,” June 14, 2007, Yelp, ed. Jeremy Stoppelman, http://www.yelp.com/biz/holland-tunnel-jersey-city. 30. Hank C., “What Can I Say?” June 29, 2009, Yelp, ed. Jeremy Stoppelman, http://www.yelp.com/biz/holland-tunnel-jersey-city. 31. Jessica F., “Wow, What a Disaster.” 32. Dan B., “Holland Tunnel,” September 2, 2008, Yelp, ed. Jeremy Stoppelman, http://www.yelp.com/biz/holland-tunnel-jersey-city.

notes to pages 146–158

201

33. Alex S., “Hell Tunnel,” December 5, 2007, Yelp, ed. Jeremy Stoppelman, http://www.yelp.com/biz/holland-tunnel-jersey-city. 34. Irene F., “Holland Tunnel,” November 19, 2007, Yelp, ed. Jeremy Stoppelman, http://www.yelp.com/biz/holland-tunnel-jersey-city. 35. Jill M., “First Review,” July 30, 2009, Yelp, ed. Jeremy Stoppelman, http://www.yelp .com/biz/holland-tunnel-jersey-city. 36. For more on the psychological nature of road rage, see Vanderbilt, Traffic, 20–25. 37. Catherine S. Manegold, “Abortion-Rights Backers Protest at Holland Tunnel,” New York Times, July 3, 1992. 38. Ibid. 39. “Rotten Reasons for Tunnel Stench,” New York Times, March 18, 1994. 40. Anna Quindlen, “The Unworthy,” New York Times, December 16, 1993. 41. “Jersey Turns Back Buses,” New York Times, August 27, 1934. 42. Steven Hart, The Last Three Miles (New York: New Press, 2007), 52–55. 43. Ibid. 44. “New Jersey Turnpike—Newark Bay (Hudson County) Extension Historical Overview,” NYC Roads, ed. Steve Anderson, Eastern Roads, http://www.nycroads.com/ nj-turnpike_newark-bay, accessed August 13, 2009. 45. “Interstate 78 New Jersey,” Rate the Roads, ed. Steve Anderson, Eastern Roads, http://www.ratetheroads.com/NJ/I-78, accessed August 13, 2009. 46. “NJ 495 Freeway Historic Overview,” NYC Roads, ed. Steve Anderson, Eastern Roads, http://www.nycroads.com/roads/NJ-495, accessed August 13, 2009. 47. Mitchell Maddux, “Dog Artfully Dodges Tunnel Traffic,” Bergen Record, August 2, 2009. 48. “NJ 495 Freeway Historic Overview.” 49. Ibid. 50. Ibid. 51. Seamus McGraw, “Rescue of Suicidal Man Shuts Road to Lincoln Tunnel,” Bergen Record, September 15, 1995. 52. Laura Fasbach, “Rough Ride on River Road,” Bergen Record, December 29, 2000. 53. Jonathan Miller, “Road and Rail,” New York Times, July 18, 2004. 54. Jeffrey Page, “Dealing with a Wax Apple,” Bergen Record, October 7, 1991. 55. Ibid. 56. Pat R. Gilbert, “Weekend Tunnel Jams Expected,” Bergen Record, October 1, 1997. 57. Robert D. McFadden, “Stark Beauty and Disruptions,” New York Times, January 23, 1987. 58. Ronald Sullivan, “Rain  Cold  Treacherous Trips for Commuter,” New York Times, December 29, 1992. 59. “2003 Blackout, Five Years Later,” Gothamist, August 14, 2008, http://gothamist .com/2008/08/14/2003_blackout_five_years_later.php, accessed August 13, 2009. 60. Evelyn Nieves, “Working Girls Keep Finding a Way Back,” New York Times, October 12, 1997. 61. Michael Graham Richard, “The Bus-Only Lane Is Maxed Out,” June 30, 2009, TreeHugger, http://www.treehugger.com/files/2009/06/nyc-holland-tunnel-needs-moretransit-bus-lanes-video,php accessed August 30, 2009.

chapter 9 — tunneling through the arts: a survey of creative endeavors 1. “World as Seen from New York’s 9th Avenue,” http://strangemaps.wordpress .com/2007/02/07/72-the-world-as-seen-from new-yorks-9th-avenue, accessed June 21, 2010.

202

notes to pages 159–174

2. My thinking on the role of the arts in contemporary America has been heavily influenced by Vera L. Zolberg, Constructing a Sociology of the Arts (Cambridge: Cambridge University Press, 1990), ix–xii and 29–52. See also Judith R. Blau, “High Culture as Mass Culture,” in Art and Society: Readings in the Sociology of the Arts, ed. Arnold W. Foster and Judith R. Blau (Albany: State University of New York Press, 1989), 429–439. 3. Susan Stark in “The Screening Room: What Other Critics Are Saying,” Seattle Times, December 6, 1996; Gary Arnold, “‘Daylight’ at the End of the Tunnel,” Washington Times, December 6, 1996; Melinda Miller, “Tunnel Vision,” Buffalo News, December 5, 1996. 4. Roger Ebert, “Daylight,” Chicago Sun-Times, December 6, 1996. 5. Meg Cabot, Princess in Pink (New York: HarperCollins, 2004), 73. 6. Anthony Olszewski, Second Thief, Best Thief: Tunnel Bar (Jersey City: GET NJ, 2006), 7. 7. Stephen King, The Stand (New York: Doubleday, 1978). 8. “Tunnel runner,” Urban Dictionary, http://www.urbandictionary.com/define.php? termtunnel%20runner, accessed June 23, 2010. 9. Richard Sand, Tunnel Runner (Dallas: Durban House, 2000), 132–133. 10. Ibid., 17. 11. Ibid., 142. 12. Ibid., 203. 13. Jane Thayer, pseud. of Catherine Woolley, The Chicken in the Tunnel (New York: William Morrow, 1956). 14. “Interview,” Anthologist: The Literary and Fine Arts Journal of Rutgers College, Fall 1999, 37–51. 15. Ibid. 16. Ibid. 17. Ibid. 18. Joel Lewis, “Jaywalking Across the Red Sea,” in Learning from New Jersey (Jersey City: Talisman House, 2007), 120. 19. Janet Frankston, “‘Sopranos’ Tour Showcases Hit Sites,” AP Worldstream, March 10, 2006, http://www.highbeam.com/DocPrint.aspx?docld1P1:119654183, accessed June 26, 2010. 20. CyberMuse, “Teachers Lesson Plans: Glossary,” cybermuse.gallery.ca/cybermuse/ teachers/plans/global_glossary_e.jsp?langId1000&letterP, accessed June 23, 2010. 21. Denny Lee, “Residents Say Lighted Tower Will Mar Beauty of River,” New York Times, June 25, 2000. 22. Ibid. 23. Ibid. 24. Jeffrey C. Mays, “Stephen J. Fiorelli,” http://www.legacy.com/Sept11/Story.aspx? PersonalID94218&location2, accessed June 23, 2010. 25. “Forum: St. John’s Rotary,” Wired New York, http://wirednewyork.com/forum/ showthread.php?t5129&p125125&viewfull1, accessed June 26, 2010. 26. Richard Serra, Writings, Interviews (Chicago: University of Chicago Press, 1994), 119. 27. Ibid., 121, 120. 28. Jerry Tallmer, “The Man Behind Life’s Joy,” Downtown Express 19, no. 3, June 2–8, 2006. 29. “Tunnel Envision—Artsy Statues at Holland Exit,” New York Post, April 24, 2005. 30. Peter Lundberg, telephone interview with the author, June 26, 2010. 31. Port Authority of New York and New Jersey, “Port Authority Completes Holland Tunnel Rotary Improvements,” press release, December 29, 2004. 32. “Resume,” Scott Alan Design, Hamburg, New Jersey, http://www.scottalandesign .com/landscape-design-resume.html, accessed June 26, 2010.

notes to pages 174–184

203

33. Michael Aaron Rockland, “Image,” in Encyclopedia of New Jersey, ed. Maxine N. Lurie and Marc Mappen (New Brunswick: Rutgers University Press, 2004), 401–402. 34. Barbara Stepko, “Which Exit?” In Style, March 1, 2004, 318. 35. Saturday Night Live, “Two Wild & Crazy Guys,” September 24, 1977, transcript, http://snltranscripts.jt.org/77/77/afestrunks.phtml, accessed June 22, 2010. 36. Zooguy, “Netherlands Reclaims NY’s Holland Tunnel, Will Legalize Marijuana, Prostitution,” Spoof, October 15, 2004. http://www.thespoof.com/news/spoof.cfm? headlines2i6821, accessed June 22, 2010. 37. “Sexual Dictionary,” http:www.sex-lexis.com/Sex-Dictionary/shoving, accessed June 22, 2010. 38. Urban Dictionary, http://www.urbandictionary.com/define.php?termholland% 20tunnel, accessed June 22, 2010. 39. “The Top 10 Wildest Places You’ve Had Sex,” http://voize.ny/uncategorized/ crazy-sexy-strange-the-top-10-wildest-places-youve-had-sex, accessed June 22, 2010. 40. “Girl Stripping at the Holland Tunnel with Minus P,” http://www.youtube.com/ watch?v9uj4Bzev8A, accessed June 22, 2010.

chapter 10 — the light at the end of the tunnel: the future of the tunnels 1. Samantha Levine, “Tunnel Visionary: Holland Tunnel Engineer Clifford Holland,” U.S. News and World Report, June 30, 2003. 2. Guy T. Baehr, “Settlement on New York–Area Office Project Preserves a Commute with a View,” Knight Ridder/Tribune Business News, January 26, 2000. 3. Philip Lentz, “Billion $ Gridlock: Cost of Traffic Congestion is Soaring,” Crain’s New York Business, June 26, 2000. 4. Andrew L. Yarrow, “Commuters Agonize as Road Repairs Spread,” New York Times, September 24, 1990. 5. Environmental Defense Fund, All Choked Up: Heavy Traffic, Dirty Air, and the Risk to New Yorkers, March 2007, http://www.edf.org/page.cfm?tagID1285, accessed January 20, 2011. 6. Yarrow, “Commuters Agonize.” 7. “Gas Prices Spur Consumer Buying Change,” Intelligencer, July 27, 2008. 8. Michael Gormley, “New York Lawmakers Ditch Plan for Congestion Pricing in Manhattan,” AP Worldstream, April 8, 2008. 9. Nicholas Confessore, “$8 Traffic Fee for Manhattan Gets Nowhere,” New York Times, April 8, 2008. 10. Patrick McGeehan, “Groundbreaking Set for New Jersey Transit Tunnel Under Hudson,” New York Times, June 8, 2009. 11. “Trans Hudson Ceremony,” Railway Gazette, July 1, 2009; William C. Vantuono, “Reconquering Gotham,” Railway Age, April 30, 2010. 12. Arthur D. Silber, “New York–New Jersey’s Mass Transit Tunnel Moves Ahead,” Mining Engineering, March 1, 2008. 13. Mike Frassinelli and Josh Margolin, “Christie Buries the Tunnel,” Star-Ledger, October 8, 2010. 14. “The Tunnel Blunder,” Star-Ledger, October 8, 2010; Jason Fagone, “Mad Man,” Philadelphia Magazine, December 2010. 15. Josh Magolin and Matt Friedman, “Why Governor Changed His Mind,” StarLedger, October 8, 2010. 16. Frassinelli and Margolin, “Christie Buries the Tunnel.” 17. Lester R. Brown, Plan B 4.0: Mobilizing to Save Civilization (New York: W. W. Norton, 2009), 148.

204

notes to page 185

18. Brown, Plan B. 4.0, 148–151; Molly O’Meara, Reinventing Cities for People and the Planet, Worldwatch Paper 147 (Washington, D.C.: Worldwatch Institute, June 1999), 14–15. 19. Brown, Plan B. 4.0, 149. 20. Norman Garrick, “The End of the Automobile Era?” http://www.planetizen .com/node/43731, accessed June 12, 2010.

Index

Page numbers in italics refer to illustrations. Abdel-Rahman, Omar, 93, 125 Achille Lauro hijacking, 121 adits, 106 The Aeneid (Virgil), 2 The Age of Innocence (Wharton), 1 air locks, 31, 32, 189n.29 al Qaeda, 119; websites, 134 Amalgamated Clothing Workers of America, 68 ammonia, 119 anchor dragging, 120 Anderson, Steve, 152 anthrax, 120 ARC (Access to the Region’s Core) tunnel proposal, 181–184, 182 Arnold, Gary, 159 arsine, 119 artificial islands and wetlands, 101 Atlanta Olympics, pipe bombing at (1996), 126 Baker, Ross, 183–184 Baker Chemical Company, 111 Balachandran, Robert, 171 Barber, Anthony, 180 Barry, Dan, 128 Baths of Caracalla, 34th St. Penn Station modeled on, 2 Bayonne Bridge, 103, 131 Bazone, John, 23 Beals, Allen E., 54 Bedloe’s (Bedlow’s) Island, 36 Beidel, Christine, 140

Beirut, marine barracks bombing (1983), 121 Bell, Daniel, 10 Benczik, Terry, 154 “the bends,” 26, 42. See also decompression sickness Bening, Annette, 126, 198n.17 Bennett, John J., 75 Bergen Hill, 151 Bernard, James, 82–83 bicycles: and London congestion fee, 184–185; Paris plan, 185; Portland (OR) plan, 185 Big Dig, Boston: tunnel unmanned, 97; 2006 ceiling collapse, 41 The Big Money (Dos Passos), 60–61 biological agents, 120 blasting, 70, 70–71 blister agents, 119 Bloom, Elliot, 138 Bloomberg, Michael R., 96–97, 180 blowouts, in tunnel excavation, 30, 40–41 Boettger, Theodore, 49, 58 bomb scares, 128, 133–136 bonds, Port Authority, 59, 61, 84 Boorstin, Daniel, 49 Booth, James J., 25, 27 Booth and Flinn construction company, 25, 37, 42 bottlenecks: commuter rail, 183; postwar, tunnels as, 86; trans-Hudson tunnels as, 149; tunnel plazas as, 52 botulism, 120

205

206 Boyce Motor Lines, 111 Boyle, John F., 25, 50 Boyle Plaza, Jersey City, 25 Bray, William “Bill,” 64–65 Bridge and Tunnel Commission of New York, 15, 19. See also Tunnel Commission The Bridge (Crane), 165 bridges: cost of, vs. tunnels, 13–14; designated National Historic Landmarks, 6; psychology of, 2–3. See also individual bridges Brooklyn-Battery Tunnel, 95 Brooklyn Bridge, 6, 31, 165 “Brother, Can You Spare a Dime?” (Harburg/Gorney), 61 Brown, David, 41 Brown, Lester, 184 “brown shirts” (FOAs), 90–91 Brunel, Marc, 14 brutality, police, 82–84 Bunner, Albert, 83 Burr, Aaron, duel with Hamilton, 6–7 buses, 140; defective, 148–149; exclusive bus lanes (XBLs), 156, 186; Helix parking area, Weehawken, 151; Lincoln Tunnel tolls, 75 Bush, George W., 123 businesses, tunnel-related: in fiction, 160–162; post-9/11 slowdown, 129–131 Byrd, Ronny and Valerie, 139 Byrne, Edward A., 18–19 Cabot, Meg, 160 caisson disease, 26. See also decompression sickness caissons: Holland Tunnel, 35–36; Lincoln Tunnel, 66–67; transported by barge, 37, 66; use of, in flood-preventive earthworks, 101 Caracalla, baths of, 34th St. Penn Station modeled on, 2 carbon disulfide, 105 carbon monoxide, 4, 37–38, 39 Catan, Omero C., 78 Catskill Aqueduct, 59 catwalks, Holland Tunnel, 85; rail cars, 86–87, 87 Central Intelligence Agency (CIA), 122–123, 197n.14

index central trans-Hudson corridor, 131. See also Holland Tunnel; Lincoln Tunnel Chaudhary, Allay, 130 chemical weapons, 119 Chertoff, Michael, 133 The Chicken in the Tunnel (Thayer/Palazzo), 164–165 chlorine, 119–20 Cho, Joe, 130 choking agents, 119 Christie, Chris, 182, 183–184 cinema: Daylight, 116–117, 159–160; Holland Tunnel in, 159–160; The Siege, 123, 126, 198n.17 circular shield method, in tunnel excavation, 14–15, 29–30, 69–71 Clark, Tom C., 112 Clark Street Tunnel, 25 claustrophobia, 3–4, 142 closed-circuit television, in tunnels, 91 coal, and the 1917–1918 freeze, 12, 15 Cohen, Rob, 116, 160 commuters: and approaches to trans-Hudson tunnels, 149–156; economics and psychology of, 137–139; mass transit, 156–157; on mass transit, 139–140; strategies, 141 computer terrorism, 120 condemnations, for tunnel approaches, 21–22 Coney Island, 6 congestion, 179; and Holland’s twin-tube design, 19–20; on I-78, 150; postwar rise in, at tunnels, 86; regulated by tolls, 47; at tunnel plazas, 52, 141 congestion fees: London, 184; proposed for Manhattan, 180–181 construction crane collapses, Manhattan (2008), 41 Coolidge, Calvin, 42, 50, 50–51 the Corkscrew (Weehawken), 74, 151, 151, 179. See also the Helix Corzine, Jon S., 181 costs, in bridge-vs.-tunnel debate, 13–14 Crane, Hart, 165 crash trucks, 116; Holland Tunnel, 103, 104 Crecca, Daniel J., 88 crime: payoffs to police, 79; prostitution, 155–156; racketeering, 9–11, 68;

index terrorism (see terrorism); waterfrontrelated, 9–12 critical infrastructure, 118 “A Crutch for a Crab” (Lewis), 168–169 Cruz, Jose, 113, 114, 115 Cunningham, Glenn D., 115 cyanide gas, 119 cyber attacks, 120 Danese, Gus, 95 Davidson, William J., 36 Davies, John Vipond, 13 Daylight (film), 116–117, 159–160 dead animals, Jersey City, 148 debka, 199n.54 DEBKA website, 133–134 decompression sickness (“the bends”), 26, 31, 42, 189–190n.30 decoy luggage, 96 Delanoë, Bertrand, 185 demonstrations, protest, at cross-Hudson tunnels, 147–148 Denker, George, 82–83 Dennin, Kenneth, 81 Department of Homeland Security, 118, 133 DiFazio, Ed, 136 “dirty bomb” scenario, 133–134 di Suvero, Mark, 172 Dock Builders, Pile Drivers, and Foundation Workers Union, 67 Dos Passos, John, 60–61 Doyle, Peter A., 68 dragging anchor, 120 Duck, George H., 11 Duel Ground, Weehawken, 7 Dunkin’ Donuts, on Jersey City tunnel approach, 130 Durand, Frank, 75 Dyer, George R., 19–20, 47, 58, 63 East River tunnels, 30, 62 Edge, Waltyer Evans, 15 Eggers, Rick, 115 Egner, Ann Boyle, 50 Empire State Building, as suicide magnet, 153 Engineers of Dreams (Petroski), 18 The Engines of Our Ingenuity, radio series (Leinhard), 4 “E-rooms,” 88–89

207 Everett, Harry L., 49 exclusive bus lanes (XBLs), 156, 186 Facility Operations Agents (FOAs), 90–91 Falconer, R.C., 24 FALN (Fuerza Armadas de Liberación Nacional Puertorriqueña), 198n.29 FDNY, see Fire Department of New York City FDR Drive, flooding of, 100 Federal Bureau of Investigation (FBI), 122–123, 132, 197n.14 Federal Highway Administration, 123–124 Federal Intelligence Surveillance Act (FISA), 197n.14 Federal Shipbuilding and Dry Dock Company, 66 Feldner, A. C., 39 Fellipello, Lawrence, 136 Ferber, Michael, 153 Ferguson, Frank G., 59–60, 65 ferries: fares, vs. tunnel tolls, 47, 48; as freight hauling bottlenesck, 9, 11, 12; increased commuter use of, post-9/11, 128, 129; revenue impact of Holland Tunnel opening, 55; service augmented during Union Terminal Cold Storage fire, 115 films, see cinema Finnen, Joseph, 82–83 Fiorelli, Stephen J., 170, 171 Fire Department of New York City (FDNY): and the 1949 Holland Tunnel fire, 106–107, 108 fire drills, Port Authority, 103–104 firefighting: by HTPD, 80; by PAPD, 86, 89 fires: car, in tunnels, 116; and hazmat transport, 102–103; in Holland Tunnel’s first year, 80, 103; of 1949, Holland Tunnel, 104–112 Fisher, James T., 10 Fishkin, Jay, 140–141 Flinn, George H., 24, 26, 27, 28–29, 36 Flinn, William, 25 flooding, 99–102 Foamite, 103, 104 FOAs. See Facility Operations Agents fog, 54 Food Workers Industrial Union, 68 Ford, Henry, 2

208 Foreman, Donald A., 92 Fox, James P., 116 Fraunces Tavern bombing (1975), 198n.29 Frazier, Ian, 7 Freeman, Gertrude V., 52 Freeman, Milton H., 22, 23, 43–44, 51 Freeman Square, Manhattan, 51 freeze of 1917–1918, 11–12, 15 freight: ferrying of, 9, 11, 12; rail, 9 Galvin, John F., 59 gangsters, and the waterfront, 9–10 Garrick, Norman, 185 George Washington Bridge, 58, 74, 103, 123, 131, 148, 153, 155 Gilbert, Daniel, 138 Giles, Harold, 75 Ginsberg, Allen, 166 Glanz, James, 9 Gleim, Charles S., 61, 72 Goethals, George W., 15, 17, 18, 21 Goethals Bridge, 84, 103, 131 Gopher Gang, 65 Gorelick, Jamie S., 122, 197n.14 Gothamist blog, and the Lincoln Tunnel bottle bomb scare, 135 GPS navigation systems, 141 graft, 79 Great Bridge, see George Washington Bridge Great Depression, 60–61 Great Northeaster of 1992, 100 Great White Way, 6 Gulf of Mexico oil spill of 2010, 41 Gulf station, on Jersey City tunnel approach, 129–130 Hague, Frank, 10, 11, 22, 23, 25, 28, 49 Hamill, Pete, 166 Hamilton, Alexander, duel with Burr, 6–7 Hampton Roads Tunnel, Virginia, 97 Handbook of Tunnel Fire Safety, 107–108 Hart, Steven, 25, 149, 150 hazardous materials, 102–103, 146 hazards: fire, 102–117; flooding, 99–102 hedonic adaptation, 138 height restrictions, trans-Hudson tunnels, 199n.45 the Helix (Weehawken), 74, 151, 151. See also the Corkscrew Henderson, Yandell, 40

index high-occupancy vehicle (HOV) restrictions, 91–92, 95, 128 Hitra Tunnel (Norway), 3–4 Hoffman, Harold G., 77 Holland, Anna, 23, 52 Holland, Anne H., 36 Holland, Clifford Milburn, 4, 16, 16–17, 21, 51, 146; and the Brooklyn subway tunnels, 26; dies, 42; and Holland Tunnel groundbreaking, 22–24, 24; in Lewis’s “A Crutch for a Crab,” 167–168; on progress of tunnel excavation, 34 Holland Tunnel, 7–8, 62, 74; approach roads, 148; beneficiaries of, 54; bomb plots, 124–125, 132–133; closed during Union Terminal Cold Storage fire, 115; completed, 5–6; construction fatalities, 49, 76; cross-sectional mock-up, 45; as a curiosity, 55–56; decoy luggage left in, 96; designated a National Historic Landmark, 6; excavation, 27–35; in fiction, 5, 163–164; in film, 159–160; financial viability of, 53–55 (see also Holland Tunnel: tolls); fires and fire prevention, 80, 103–117; first vehicular traffic, 52–53; groundbreaking, 22–24; hazmat transport prohibited, 103; height restriction, 199n.45; highoccupancy vehicle (HOV) restrictions, 95; holing through, 43, 43; in humor, 174–175; Intelligent Transportation System, 97; land condemnations for, 21–22; Manhattan plaza widened (1954), 88; Manhattan rotary upgrade (2004), 173–174; minimum speed limit established, 87; New Jersey groundbreaking, 24; New Jersey portal, 145; New York portal, 146; opening ceremonies, 49–51, 50, 51; panhandlers at approaches to, 148; in poetry, 167–169; post-excavation engineering, 44, 45; post-9/11 security, 127–128, 129; pre-construction engineering debate, 14–20; pre-opening VIP tours, 45–46; public art at, 170–173, 174; rules and regulations, 48; sandhog strike, 41–42; security tightened after 1993 WTC bombing, 123; in sex metaphors, 175–176; signal system, 85; sneak previews for reporters, 48–49; south tube, 33; in suggestive Minus P.

index video, 176–177; tolls, 47–48, 53–54; traffic control, 145; ventilation system, 35–41, 45; Yelp reviews, 144–147 Holland Tunnel Police Department (HTPD): brutality allegations, 82–84; creation and jurisdiction of, 79; merged with PAPD, 84; public relations, 81–82; and traffic control, 80–81 Hoover, Herbert, 60, 75 Horn, George, 78 “the Horseshoe,” Weehawken, 169 “Howl” (Ginsberg), 166 HTPD. See Holland Tunnel Police Department Hudson and Manhattan Railroad, 12, 44. See also PATH trains Hudson County political machine, 23–25. See also Hague, Frank Hudson River, as barrier to freight flow, 9–12 Hudson River Bridge and Tunnel Administration (NJ), 15, 19. See also Tunnel Commission Hudson River caisson, Holland Tunnel, 37, 38 Hudson River Park Trust, 171 Hudson River Vehicular Tunnel, 16, 27. See also Holland Tunnel Hudson Tubes, 1, 12, 44 Hurricane Katrina levee failures, 41, 101 hurricanes, 99, 100; Katrina, 41, 100, 101 hydrogen cyanide, 119 ice, 54. See also freeze of 1917–1918 Ickes, Harold, 61 Imperatore, Arthur E., 115, 129 l’Inferno (Dante), 2 informants, and terrorism prevention, 125 Intelligent Transportation System (ITS), in Holland Tunnel, 97 International Longshoremen’s Association, 11 Interstate 78, 150 Interstate 495, New Jersey, 152–153; exclusive bus lane (XBL), 156 Interstate Commerce Commission, 110, 112 Iraq, invasion of, 96 islands, artificial, 101 Iverson, Eric, 66

209 Jackson, K. C., 152 Jacobs, Charles M., 14 “Jaywalking Across the Red Sea” (Lewis), 167 Jersey City Fire Department (JCFD): and the 1949 Holland Tunnel fire, 106–107, 108; and the Union Terminal Cold Storage fire, 113–116 Johnson, Charles, Jr., 67, 68, 69 Johnson, Haynes, 10 Joie de Vivre (di Suvero), 172 Jones, Stephen, 132 jug handle strategy, Tonnelle Ave., 154 Kahane, Meir, 125 Kampf, John, 155 Kean, Thomas, 155 Kelly, Thomas, 5 Kerouac, Jack, 137 kickbacks and paybacks, 11 King, Stephen, 162 Klinghoffer, Leon, 121 Korn, Rich, 154 Laborers International Union of North America (LIUNA), 35 La Guardia, Fiorello Henry, 63, 75 Larson, Morgan Foster, 58 Lawless, Joseph F., 86 legislation: creating Port Authority, 84; Federal Intelligence Surveillance Act (FISA), 197n.14; funding Port Authority, 53; hazmat transportation, 109, 110; merging Tunnel Commission into Port Authority, 53; National Industrial Recovery Act, 61; Surface Transportation Assistance Act, 112 Lehman, Herbert Henry, 75, 76–77 Leinhard, John, 4 Leno, Jay, 133 levee failures, Hurricane Katrina, 41, 101 Levy, Samuel, 63 Lewis, Harold M., 55 Lewis, Joel, 165–169 Liberty Island, 36 Liberty Plaza Park, Manhattan, 173 Lignos, Michael, 129 Liller, William G., 68

210 Lincoln Tunnel, 6, 7–8; approach roads, 150–156, 178–179; blasting, 70; bomb plots, 124–125; bottle bomb scare (2008), 134–136; construction fatalities, 76; excavation, 65–66, 69–72; exclusive bus lanes (XBLs), 186; in fiction, 162, 163–164; groundbreaking, 62–65; hazmat transport prohibited, 103; height restriction, 199n.45; holing through, 72; jurisdictional strike threat, 67–69; minimum speed limit established, 87; naming of, 74; opening ceremonies, 76–78; in poetry, 167; post-excavation finish work, 72–74; post-9/11 security, 127, 128; preliminary negotiations, 57–62; “preview” inspection, 75; roadway slab, 71; security tightened after 1993 WTC bombing, 123; as sex metaphor, 175; tolls, 75; in TV drama, 169; Yelp reviews, 141–144 Lipton, Eric, 9 Lison, Giles, 132 loading racket, 10–11 Lockerbie, Scotland, Pan Am bombing over, 121 London: congestion fees, 184; transThames tunnel, 14 Long Island Rail Road, 37 Lundberg, Peter, 173 Mace, 120 Manhattan-Brooklyn IRT tunnel, 44 Marine Corps barracks bombing, Beirut (1983), 121 Marine Workers’ Affiliation strike, 1918–1919, 12 maritime incidents, 120 mass transit, 139–141, 156–157; encouraged by congestion pricing, 180–181. See also buses; railroads Mass Transit Tunnel proposal, 181–184 McCimlisk, Michael, 136 McCormack, William J., 11 McDuffie, Allan, 133 Meany, Charles T., 78 Meister, J. G., 64 Midtown Hudson Tunnel, 60, 74. See also Lincoln Tunnel Midtown Vehicular Tunnel, 6. See also Lincoln Tunnel

index Miller, Melinda, 159 Minus P., 176–177 Modarelli, Alfred E., 110 Model T Ford, 2, 56 Montague Street Tunnel, 25, 26–27 Montgomery, George Breck, 62, 65 Moore, Arthur Harry, 46, 49, 51, 63 Morales, David, 128 Morris, Joseph, 93 Motor Truck Association of America, 53–54 Motor Truck Club, 11 “Mister Big” (William J. McCormack), 11 Mueller, Robert S., III, 123 Murrah Federal Building bombing, 126 mustard gas, 119 National Board of Fire Underwriters, 111 National Industrial Recovery Act, 61 nerve agents, 119 Netherworld, myths of, 2, 69 Newark Bay Extension, New Jersey Turnpike, 150 New Jersey National Guard: 104th Engineers, Company D, and Lincoln Tunnel groundbreaking, 62; 112th Field Artillery, Battery A, and the Lincoln Tunnel opening, 77; tunnel portal patrol, post-9/11, 127, 131 New Jersey State Public Utilities Commission, defective-bus detection campaign, 148–149 New Jersey Turnpike: Lincoln Tunnel link, 152; Newark Bay Extension, 150; in 1992 blizzard, 155 Newman, Andy, 114 New Orleans levee failure, in Hurricane Katrina, 41, 101 New Year’s Eve attacks (1983), by FALN, 198n.29 New York National Guard, Seventy-first Regiment: at Lincoln Tunnel groundbreaking, 63; Park Avenue armory, 49 New York Penn Station Expansion, 182 New York Police Department: and 2006 bomb plot, 132; and 2007 “dirty bomb” scare, 134 Nieves, Evelyn, 156 nitrogen, and decompression sickness, 190n.30

index Noonan, Peggy, 118–119 Nordenson, Guy, 99 northern trans-Hudson corridor, 131. See also George Washington Bridge Nosair, El Sayyid, 125 Occupational Safety and Health Administration (OSHA), 112 oil spill of 2010, Gulf of Mexico, 41 Olszewski, Anthony, 160, 161 Olympics, Atlanta, pipe bombing at (1996), 126 OnStar system (GM), 141 On the Road (Kerouac), 137 Operation Sail, 171 O’Rourke, John F., 19 OSHA, see Occupational Safety and Health Administration Outerbridge Crossing, 84, 103, 131 Paaswell, Robert, 179 Page, Jeffrey, 142–144 Palazzo, Tony, 164 the Palisades, 150 Panama Canal, 15 Pan Am Flight 103, blown up over Lockerbie, Scotland, 121 panhandlers, at Holland Tunnel approach, 148 PAPD. See Port Authority Police Department Paris bicycle plan, 185 Patel, Himanshu, 130 PATH trains: flooding of Hoboken station, 100; rerouting of, post-9/11, 129. See also Hudson and Manhattan Railroad payoffs to police, 79 peak load problem, ferries, 55 Pennsylvania Railroad: East River tunnels, 1–2; Hudson River tunnels, 1–2, 36–37; revenue impact of Holland Tunnel opening, 55 Pennsylvania Station, Manhattan: modeled on Baths of Caracalla, 2 pepper spray, 120 Petroski, Henry, 18, 41 Philmus, Ken, 170–171 phobia, tunnel, 3–4, 99 Phoebe (runaway greyhound), 151–152 phosgene, 119

211 photoelectric cells, in tunnel roadways, 91 Plumeri, Samuel, 136 police booths: Holland Tunnel, 88; Lincoln Tunnel, 73 police walkway, 44. See also catwalks; sidewalks portals, tunnel: “the Helix,” Weehawken, 151; Holland Tunnel, 145, 146; post-9/11 security of, 127, 131–132, 132 Port Authority Bus Terminal, Manhattan, 134 Port Authority of New York and New Jersey, 53, 57, 58; bonds, 59, 61, 84; creation of, 84; Facility Operations Agents, 90–91; sues Boyce Motor Lines and Baker Chemical, 111; Tunnel and Bridge Agents (TBAs), 93, 97; Tunnel Commission merged into, 59 Port Authority Police Benevolent Association, 1973 slowdown by, 89–90 Port Authority Police Department (PAPD), 84–85, 85; antiterrorism measures by, 93–94, 95–96, 97–98; boredom among, 89; and the catwalk cars, 87; fatalities on 9/11/2001, 94–95; and the Lincoln Tunnel bottle bomb scare (2008), 134–136; medals, 85–86; Police Academy, 88; and post-9/11 tunnel security, 131; steps up patrols after Iraq invasion, 96; stop-and-search operations, 95 Portland cement, 28 power failures, 155 Pratt, Theodore D., 53–54 press coverage: Bergen Record, on Lincoln Tunnel commute, 142–144; of demise of ARC tunnel proposal, 183; Holland Tunnel sneak previews, 48–49; of Lincoln Tunnel opening, 78; reviews of films about the tunnels, 159–160 Princess in Pink (Cabot), 160 Prohibition, 79 prostitution, 155–156 protest demonstrations, at cross-Hudson tunnels, 147–148 public art at the Holland Tunnel, 170–173, 174 Public Service Commission (New York), 17, 26 Public Works Administration, 57, 61, 64 Pulaski Skyway, 149–150, 178

212 Queensboro Bridge, 6 Queens-Midtown Tunnel, 74 Quindlen, Anna, 148 Quinn, Michael L., 22–23 racketeering, 9–11, 68 radiological attack, 120, 133 railroads: catwalk cars, Holland Tunnel, 86–87, 87; Central of New Jersey, 55; Erie, 55; freight, and the waterfront, 9; Hudson and Manhattan, 12, 44; Lackawanna, 55; New York Central, 55; Pennsylvania, 1–2, 36–37, 55; revenue lost to Holland Tunnel, 55; temporary, in Holland Tunnel, 32, 33 railroad tunnels: fire risk, 102; Hudson Tubes, 1, 12; Mass Transit Tunnel; (ARC) proposal, 181–184; Pennsylvania Railroad, 1–2 Rate the Roads website, 150 Read, Ken, 115 Reconstruction Finance Corporation, 61 Redlener, Irwin, 133 Redwood, Harry, 43 Redwood, Norman, 43 Reno, Janet, 197n.14 repaving, and tunnel approaches, 154 “Rising Currents” exhibit, MoMA, 101 River Road, Bergen County, 153 roadbed sensors, 91, 123 road rage, 146–147 Robbins, L.H., 69–71 Rockland, Michael Aaron, 3 Rodriguez, Kenny, 134 Rogers, Lindsay, 68–69 Roosevelt, Franklin D., 58, 59 Route 3, New Jersey, 152 Route 139, New Jersey, 149–156 Ruby, James, 81 “rush hour,” lengthening of, 179 Ryan, Joe, 11 Ryan, John F., 49 sabotage, 121 Saint John’s Rotary, Manhattan, 171 St. John’s Rotary Arc (Serra), 172 Salameh, Mohammed, 122 Salazano, Peter, 151 Salem, Emad, 125 Sand, Richard, 162

index sandhogs, 4–5, 31, 32, 34–35, 40–41; Lincoln Tunnel, 67–69 Sandhogs (Kelly), 5 Saturday Night Live! Holland Tunnel sketch, 174–175 Second Thief, Best Thief: Tunnel Bar (Olszewski), 160–162 Serra, Richard, 172 Seventy-first Regiment, New York National Guard: at Lincoln Tunnel groundbreaking, 62, 63; Park Avenue armory, 49 sex, and the tunnels, 175–177. See also Tonnelle Avenue Shalhoub, Tony, 126 shield method, excavation by, 14. See also circular shield Shields, Jim, 105 sidewalks, Lincoln Tunnel, 73. See also catwalks The Siege (film), 123, 126, 198n.17 Silber, Arthur D., 183 Simeone, Ralph, 154 Singstad, Ole, 23, 44, 61–62, 81–82 smallpox, 120 Smillie, Ralph, 62 Smith, Al, 46, 49, 51 snowstorms, 154–155 “Song of the Open Road” (Whitman), 137 The Sopranos (TV series), 169–170 southern trans-Hudson corridor. See also Bayonne Bridge; Goethals Bridge; Outerbridge Crossing speed limits, minimum, in trans-Hudson tunnels, 87 Spoof parody Holland Tunnel press release, 175 Stallone, Sylvester, 116, 117, 159 The Stand (King), 162 Stark, Susan, 159 Staten Island Shipbuilding Company, 35–36, 37 Statue of Liberty, 6 Steam and Operating Engineers Union, 67–68 Steinberg, Saul, 158 stop-and-search operations, PAPD, 94. See also truck checks storm surge, 99–101 Straus, Solomon, 26–27

index strikes: jurisdictional, threatened at Lincoln Tunnel, 67–69; Marine Workers’ Affiliation (1918–1919), 12; PAPD slowdown (1973), 89–90; sandhog (1924), 41–42 Stripling, Harry, 72 “suburban myth,” among Manhattan drivers, 141 subways, New York, 6; extension into Kings County, 25–27; tunnels, 44 “sugar,” in police work, 79 suicide magnets, 153 Surface Transportation Assistance Act of 1982, 112, 196n.39 Tammany Hall, 21 Tartarus, 69 tear gas, 120 terrorism: anxiety about, 118–119; bomb scares, 133–136; decoy luggage, 96; destruction of the World Trade Center, 94–95; by FALN, 198n.29; in film, 126; foiled plots, 124–125, 132–133; methods and materials, 119–121; and post-9/11 tunnel closures, 127–131; preventive planning, 97–98; tunnels plot of 1993, 124–125; World Trade Center truck bombing (1993), 93, 121–122, 124 Thames River tunnel (1843), 14 Thayer, Jane, 164 theft, from waterfront, 10 The Time Machine (Wells), 162 Titans, myth of, 71 Tobin, August J., 108 Tocqueville, Alexis de, 158–159 tolls: Holland Tunnel, 47–48, 53–54 (see also Holland Tunnel: financial viability of); Lincon Tunnel, 75 Tomkins, Calvin, 9 Tonnelle (Tonele), John, 154 Tonnelle Avenue, 151, 153–154, 155–156 traffic control, and the tunnels, 80–81, 91–92, 145. See also congestion Traffic Institute, Northwestern University, 89 traffic reports, 141 Transportation Research Board, 120 transverse flow ventilation method, 40 Tribeca, 169 Triborough Bridge, 68

213 truck bomb scenario, 124. See also World Trade Center: truck bombing (1993) truck checks, 123, 130 Trunk, Penelope, 139 Tunnel and Bridge Agents (TBAs), 93, 97. See also Facilities Operations Agents tunnel approaches: condemnations for, 21–22; Holland Tunnel, 149–150, 154–155, 178; Lincoln Tunnel, 150–156, 178–179; and panhandlers, 148 Tunnel Commission, 21, 24, 25, 49, 58, 59 Tunnel Diner, 129 tunnel jacking excavation method, 30. See also circular shield method tunnel liner, 32, 33, 33–34 tunnel plazas: as bottlenecks, 52; congestion at, 141; Holland Tunnel, 25, 88; Lincoln Tunnel, 73–74 tunnel portals: “the Helix,” Weehawken, 151; Holland Tunnel, 145, 146; post-9/11 security of, 127, 131, 132. See also the Helix Tunnel Runner (Sand), 162–164 tunnels: circular shield excavation, 14–15, 29–30; cost of, vs. bridges, 13–14; East River, 17, 30, 37, 62; hazards (see hazards); Hudson Tubes, 1, 12, 44; Manhattan-Brooklyn IRT subway, 44; and Netherworld myths, 2; New York subway, to Brooklyn, 25–27; psychology of, 2–4, 99; railroad (see rail tunnels); Thames River (1843), 14; unmanned, 97 Turner, Daniel L., 26 underworld, see crime; Netherworld Union Terminal Cold Storage warehouse, 104; destroyed by fire, 112–116 University of Illinois, miniature tunnel at, 39 Valentine, Lewis J., 68, 83–84 Vantuono, William C., 140 ventilation, 4; and firefighting, 107; Holland Tunnel, 37, 37–41, 38, 39, 45, 108; Lincoln Tunnel, 66 Verdeber, Keith, 130 Vicet, Jose, 153 Waddell, John Alexander Low, 13 Waite, Henry Matson, 64, 67

214 Walter, Bruce, 153 War Department, and the bridge-vs.tunnel debate, 13 War Labor Board, and the MWA strike, 12 Washington, Denzel, 126, 198n.17 Wasser, Philip, 131 waterfront, 9–10 Watson, Simon, 147 weather, as commuter challenge, 154–155 Weehawken: and the Burr-Hamilton duel, 6–7; “the Helix,” 151; “the Horseshoe,” 169; pickets by SOEU Local 825, 67–68; tunnel groundbreaking, 62, 64 Werner, Debbie, 155 West, tunnels as gateways to, 8 wetlands, man-made, 101 Whalen, Jim, 114 Wharton, Edith, 1 White, Franklin E., 179 White, George A., 86 Whitman, Walt, 137

index Willis, Bruce, 126 Wisniewski, John, 183–184 Woolworth Building, 6 Works Progress Administration, 170 “The World as Seen from New York’s 9th Avenue” (Steinberg), 158 World’s Fair of 1939, 72 World Trade Center: destroyed, 94–95; truck bombing (1993), 93, 121–122, 124 World War I, and the freeze of 1917–1918, 12 wrecker, hydraulic, 104 XBLs (exclusive bus lanes), 156, 186 Yale University, carbon monoxide studies at, 40 Yelp website: on Holland Tunnel, 144–147; on Lincoln Tunnel, 141–144 Zimmerman, Arnold, 83 Zucconi, Robert, 132 Zuccotti Park, Manhattan, 172–173

About the Author

Angus Kress Gillespie teaches American Studies at Rutgers University in New Brunswick. A Fulbright professor and a New York Times best-selling author, he has written on subjects ranging from skyscrapers to superhighways. He is particularly interested in the cultural implications of large-scale architectural and civil engineering projects. In addition he has written for numerous publications including New Jersey Monthly and the Star-Ledger.