The old Jamestown Bridge was closed, obsolete and in disrepair, but yesterday it was in the spotlight as its center span was demolished.

01:09 AM EDT on Wednesday, April 19, 2006

BY ARTHUR GREGG SULZBERGER
Journal Staff Writer

The final moments of the old Jamestown Bridge had been carefully choreographed. Rhode Island's political leaders each had a hand on the plunger -- the type used to set off explosions in cartoons. Shortly before 11 a.m. as the crowd began a final countdown, the group pushed the handle.

For a long second nothing happened. The plunger was a fake and the group's timing was off.

Then on the Jamestown Shore, with no fanfare, a man with a lousy view of the explosion pressed the button that took out the old Jamestown Bridge.

The main span of the old bridge shook. A string of bright orange flames burst along the rusty crown of steel like a volley of cannons firing toward open ocean. As the explosion thundered down the Bay, the bridge fell, half-hidden behind a wall of smoke.

Journal photo / Frieda Squires

Built in 1940 for $3 million, the old Jamestown Bridge came crashing down into the Bay yesterday as part of a $19.5-million demolition project that used 75 pounds of explosives on the center span.

For Scott Gustafson, who has blown more than 250 bridges as the owner of Demtech, it was a rush and, yes, a relief. "It takes quite a few Rolaids the last few minutes, there's a lot riding on it," said Gustafson.

For Frank Corrao, a state Department of Transportation engineer who is overseeing the phased $19.5-million demolition project, it was a job well done. "It went exactly as planned. It couldn't have gone any better."

And now, 66 years after it first opened and 14 years after it closed, Rhode Island won't have the old Jamestown Bridge to kick around anymore.

Once derided as a "Bridge to Nowhere" and "Jamestown's Folly," the two-lane span was the longest in New England when erected in 1940, replacing the ferry and providing the first convenient link between the island and the mainland. The narrow lanes, topped with an infamous metal grate and steep inclines on both sides, earned a reputation as the scariest stretch of road in the state.

In 1992, with the opening of the adjacent Jamestown-Verrazzano Bridge, the old Jamestown Bridge was closed, obsolete, in disrepair, and derided as an eyesore.

But yesterday, the rusty old bridge was a star. More than 1,000 people packed into the public viewing area set up at the Universtiy of Rhode Island's Narragansett Bay Campus; hundreds of Jamestown residents gawked from the Watson Farm; front yards along both coastlines filled with family and friends.

On Cottrell Road, politicians and reporters gathered on the large, well-manicured lawn of Ken D'Ambrosio, the president of a communications firm and a friend of the governor, for speeches and a perfect view of the explosion.

Governor Carcieri called the moment "bittersweet" and admitted to liking the old bridge, adopting the affectionate tone reserved for a problem that one will not have to deal with any longer.

Sen. Lincoln D. Chafee -- who earned the praise of the rest of the congressional delegation for securing the funding for the long-delayed bridge demolition -- tried to capture the celebratory spirit of the crowd by whistling the "Colonel Bogey March," the war tune made famous in The Bridge Over the River Kwai, which features the demolition of another bridge. The dry burst of air that followed, however, made it sound like he was whistling through a mouthful of crackers. After failing to catch the tune, Chafee laughed and conceded, "I can't whistle."

One of the surprise dignitaries at the event was Gerard Kaiser, whose grandfather, a Jamestown resident, perhaps more than any other person, turned the bridge from an idea to a reality. For nearly a decade, Louis Kaiser battled for popular support and federal funding for the controversial $3-million project. When Kaiser died just months before the bridge was completed his son, Theodore, hammered in the final "golden rivet" (actually brass) amid great fanfare. Before he died in 2000, Theodore Kaiser reminded his own son of their history with the bridge.

"He wanted me to be here representing the family," said Gerard Kaiser, 50, who now lives in Middletown.

Kaiser, along with two men who worked on the bridge as it was being constructed, were brought on stage to participate in the faux demolition.

The crowd raced through the countdown leaving a dramatic pause between the plunger being pushed -- will it work? -- and the sight of the bridge silently breaking apart. The sound followed, arriving with enough of a delay to catch people off guard. As the boom echoed down the Bay -- heard as far away as Matunuck -- the crowd began to chatter.

"Oh my lordy," declared Edgar Cormier, who helped construct the bridge in the summer of 1940. "Bye, bye bridge."

"Do we know how to throw a party!" exclaimed DOT Deputy Director William "Chuck" Alves.

"I want to do it again," said 10-year-old Aristidis Spatharakis. "I want to do it again."

As the brisk winds carried the smoke down the Bay, a tangle of steel beams poked out from the water. And through the 1,100 foot gap, the slender concrete arc of the Jamestown-Verrazzano Bridge was visible, no longer hidden behind the towering steel truss of its old neighbor.

The new bridge which had been closed for safety, was open to traffic within the hour. It suffered no damage in the explosion, said Corrao.

Over the next weeks, the bridge debris will be fished out of the water. One section of the bridge which failed to separate and is hanging off one of the piers will be removed by workers, said Corrao, and does not pose a safety threat. The rest of the bridge will be removed in a series of blasts over the coming months.

asulzber@projo.com / (401) 277-7405

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