The wire age was arriving—big wires to carry the world’s heavy loads; fine wire to solve its molecular problems. The day of the hammer was done.
CHAPTER II
THE PIONEER
Since Columbus the centuries have been gathering speed. At first it came slowly, for the need was not yet. Today a thought is born and tomorrow it is a giant, parting seas and moving mountains. The waste of yesterday is turned into the raw material of new manufacture, with its million wheels moving faster and faster. But back of it all, inevitably and eternally, is a busy human brain and unsatisfied energy.
Wire rope had lingered, waiting for civilization’s loads to grow. The artisans of old had woven cut wires together to make the trinkets of their time, little dreaming of the might that lay hidden in the fibres of the iron, and their world went on hoisting stone for its pyramids by prodigious multiplication of garlic-fed man-power. It seems strange to the high-speed mind of today that five hundred years could have passed, after the drawing of wire was invented, before necessity put it into the mind of a wire-drawer that with wire, as with other things, strength lay in union. And yet the human race had been making rope since the morning stars sang together.
In 1831, when France was picking herself up from the dirt and disorder of another revolution and the German princes were strangling in the universities the growing call for “liberty and union,” young men of brains and ambition began to leave the German states for America, where there was free air and elbow room.
JOHN A. ROEBLING COMES TO AMERICA
In a company of such, John A. Roebling journeyed from Muhlhausen in Saxony, and took up a tract of land in western Pennsylvania. He carried a degree of civil engineer from the Royal University in Berlin; but there were “back-to-the-landers” even in those days, and he set about farming in the thrifty German way, founding for nucleus a little town which at first was named Germania, but afterward came to be called Saxonburg.
Fate seems to have ordained that Roebling’s engineering skill should not remain fettered to a Pennsylvania plow handle. The system of canals and portages which afterward evolved and merged and built itself into the Pennsylvania Railroad was digging its ditches and dams and building haulways through the obstinate distances of that hard-ribbed state, past the hopeful hamlet of Saxonburg and fatefully under the eyes of the young German engineer. The result was never in doubt. He abandoned the plow to his compatriots and plunged into the problems of construction, where he belonged.
HAULING CANAL BOATS UP THE PORTAGE RAILWAY
The skeptic who scoffs at fatalism will find it difficult to explain why the particular engineering work that was brought to Roebling’s door should involve the weary hauling of the Pennsylvania Canal’s boats up the Portage Railway, which Bertrand, one of Napoleon’s generals, had built to overcome the Pennsylvania ridges; or why, just as the bulk and clumsiness and inefficiency of the huge hemp cables were eating into his active mind, a casual paper from Germany should convey the fact that some fellow in Freiburg in Saxony—where wire drawing had birth—had made a strong rope by twisting wires together.