01:03 AM EDT on Wednesday, April 19, 2006

BY RANDAL EDGAR, KATIE MULVANEY and THOMAS J. MORGAN
Journal Staff Writers

J.R. Culotta of Westerly got up at 2 a.m. and arrived about 3:30. He breathed a sigh of relief as he parked at the University of Rhode Island's Narragansett Bay Campus and looked around.

There was only one other car.

"I was really surprised," he said. "I thought 3:30, 4 o'clock was going to be too late."

David Fisher of Pawtucket had the same reaction as he pulled in around 4 with his son, Sean.

"I wanted to make sure we got a good spot," he said.

They arrived in plenty of time to find good viewing locations, and so did more than 1,000 revelers who streamed into URI's Bay Campus in Narragansett, the official public viewing area for the old Jamestown Bridge demolition.

Another 600 watched in Jamestown, at Watson Farm, while others watched from some 50 boats, including two ferries, on the Bay

Journal photo / Kris Craig

Brooke Santilli, left, and Erica Baire, both of Cranston, watch from the URI Bay Campus as the Jamestown Bridge is demolished yesterday. The center span of the old bridge hit the water before the sound of the explosion was heard on the shore.

For all who came, the demolition was a spectacle not to be missed, a chance to say goodbye to a piece of Rhode Island history that carried terror-filled memories and yet somehow managed to endear itself with its striking profile.

At the Bay Campus, three miles away, spectators brought cameras, camcorders and binoculars, hoping to preserve the event and get close-up views as the execution approached.

Larry Trimble, 52, and Lyn Parenteau trekked all the way from Burrillville, arriving at 6:45 a.m.

Parenteau took the day off from her job at the state Department of Corrections. Trimble, who is retired, brought a 35-mm camera and a telescope.

With his camera focused on the bridge's center truss, Trimble focused on the telescope, studying the old bridge, monitoring traffic on the new bridge and watching boats in the water. When people saw a helicopter overhead, Trimble told them it was News Chopper 12.

Trimble's memories of the old bridge weren't good ones. Sometimes he would stop and let tailgating cars pass before getting on. One time when traffic was backed up, he turned around and drove home through Newport.

When he did go across, he tried not to think too much.

"I used to look at the lines on the road and the taillights ahead of me," he said.

John Boiardi, 36, of Warwick, arrived about 7 a.m. with a lawn chair, a bin of corn muffins, a camera and new pair of binoculars that takes photos. It was his first visit to the Bay Campus.

Like many watchers, he had planned to take last Tuesday off, switching days when the demolition was postponed.

"It's going to take a while to get used to, driving over the new bridge and the old bridge not being there," said Boiardi, a delivery driver for AAA Southern New England. "I remember walking on the new bridge, before they let traffic on it. What a feeling that was, looking over at the old bridge."

The most dramatic pre-blast moment came when a kayak carrying a father and his 16-year-old daughter capsized. They were picked up by a Coast Guard boat. There were no injuries.

"They got turned around to their side and got hit by a wave," said Coast Guard Petty Officer 1st Class John Purington. The kayak was one of many seen on the water, despite a northeast wind of about 25 knots, Purington said.

At about 10:52 a.m., a Department of Transportation employee with a bullhorn called a five-minute warning for the campus spectators. At about 10:56, he called "less than a minute."

All eyes were fixed on the bridge, but the minute ticked for more than 60 seconds.

"C'mon," a boy shouted. "This is the longest minute in history."

Then the bridge truss lit up like a match and crumbled just as quickly into the water.

In Narragansett and in Jamestown and in boats on the Bay, people clapped and shouted "Wow!"

Then there was a thunderous boom.

Many spectators were impressed with the precision.

"Talk about surgical," said Jerry L'Heureux, 59, of Jamestown, admiring the gaping hole where the highest span of the bridge had stood.

L'Heureux's friend, Bill Gleavey, of Cranston, estimated that the demolition took about a second and a half, based on the 10 frames he shot.

He and L'Heureux, postal workers in North Kingstown, took the day off to watch.

"Now you know why it's worth burning a day of vacation," he said.

On the Cuttyhunk, a ferry from New Bedford, passengers were engulfed by an acrid cloud of smoke, whipped by the relentless wind.

People coughed and reached for tissues. Fortunately, the stink was shepherded past quickly by the same wind that brought it.

An announcement by the captain brought some levity to the situation: "There will be complimentary champagne to compensate for the loss of the bridge."

Cheers erupted.

"It scared me," 12-year-old Allie Peck, a Cuttyhunk passenger, said of the demolition. "A huge boom happened like 10 seconds after."

Over in Narragansett, 10-year-old Sean Fisher thought the demolition "was awesome."

While people filed out of the campus, J.R. Culotta proudly showed people his video. Larry Trimble looked through his telescope.

"I can see debris in the water," he said, noting pieces of the metal frame toward the North Kingstown side of the main truss that were sticking out of the water.

In Jamestown, some were disappointed, having turned away for a split second and missing the detonation altogether.

Don Mays, of Newport, staked out a corner on the hillside at Watson Farm hours before the demolition. Much to his chagrin, he didn't hear a second blow from a tugboat that alerted people that the blast was coming. He was fiddling with his video camera when the bridge was detonated. He shook his head in frustration.

Most walked away with a sense of excitement at having witnessed a bit of history.

"Next time they demolish something in Rhode Island, you'll see us there," Gleavey said as he headed to his car.

redgar@projo.com / (401) 277-7418

kmulvane@projo.com / (401) 277-7417

tmorgan@projo.com / (401) 277-7488