By james art 
We have WWI steel shortages to thank for our floating bridges.
The story on the first floating bridge on Lake Washington begins with a man shaving.
Homer M. Hadley, a 34-year-old civil engineer, had spent years thinking about what he considered one of the greatest engineering challenges around the Northwest—how to bridge the vast, deep, muddy Lake Washington, bringing the wealth of the East to the fledgling metropolis of Seattle. Then, as he was running a razor across his sore face one morning, it occurred to him.
Hadley now understood something the average citizen did not: concrete floats. That morning in 1920, he recalled his work for the Fleet Emergency Corporation during the First World War. A shortage of steel had forced the government to get creative, which sometimes meant making barges out of reinforced concrete. Of course, the barges were heavier than the steel ships, but they stayed afloat. After seconds, a solution appeared in Hadley’s mind. Why not string a series of concrete barges from the west shore of the lake to Mercer Island to form a floating bridge?
Excited, Hadley began drawing a design. Little did he know that it would take two decades, the Great Depression, and Edward R. Murrow’s brother to make his plans a reality. And little did he know the extent to which these plans would fundamentally reshape the Eastside—and the region as a whole.
Already in 1920 The Eastside was hardly the healthy set of suburbs it is today. It was better known for chicken and strawberry farms. But Seattle, then at the height of its population, was in dire need of fresh produce. A regular ferry service across the lake has been running since 1880, but a trip to the city and back can take all day. He could go around Renton if he wanted to, but it wasn’t very efficient.
Pontoon bridges – bridges made of boats or floats – have been around since ancient times, but there had never been one made of concrete before. Hadley’s plan was designed to meet the unique problems of Lake Washington. Carved out by a glacier thousands of years ago, the lake is miles across and about 214 feet at its deepest point. Another 100–200 feet of clay and mud lies below it. It’s not a floor you can sink pilots into very easily – or at all.
In October 1921, Hadley formally proposed his floating bridge idea at a meeting of the American Society of Civil Engineers. But the public—and the bankers Hadley needed to finance his plan—didn’t exactly buy it.
“I talked to James D. Hogue, a Seattle capitalist, about my idea, but he … looked at me like a fool,” Hadley later said Seattle Times. Critics called the plan “Hadley’s Folly.” People thought that a floating bridge made of concrete would surely sink.
For a while, it looked like Hadley’s idea was certainly the case.
Newspaper editors were skeptical. But Homer M. Hadley had the last word.
Other plans for a bridge has come and gone. One of the earliest, designed to make numerous bridges from war surplus wooden vessels left in Lake Union. But high construction and maintenance costs have put a damper on the proposition. Later plans also ran into problems, especially when it became unclear whether the city of Seattle even had jurisdiction over Lake Washington.
And the critics of any kind bridge plan multiplied. The Navy was opposed, claiming it would interfere with seaplanes coming from the Puget Sound Naval Station at Sand Point. Conservationists felt that any structure in the blue depths of the lake would destroy its scenic beauty. The Seattle Times was among the loudest of these voices. A 1930 editorial, printed in black box on the front page, said the city council was trying to “destroy” the lake. It concluded: “For the sake of common sense, PREVENT THIS SAFE DESTRUCTION!”
The times you don’t have to they were so noisy. The Great Depression would soon freeze all bridge calls. But the Depression also ushered in the New Deal, which included the creation of Public Works Administration funding for major infrastructure projects.
Something else changed in the 1930s. In 1937, the Washington State Legislature created the Washington Toll Bridge Authority, giving it sole authority to build any bridge across any body of water in the state. Previous plans to locate a bridge authority across Lake Washington in Seattle or King County have run into confounding obstacles. Now it was clear how to move the ball.
Meanwhile, the Eastside was also changing. Besides the berry farms, most of the activity was centered in the shipyards in Houghton (now part of Kirkland). The shipyards have gained fame as the birthplace of the MV aerodynamic ferry Kalakalathen won two contracts with the US Coast and Geodetic Survey to build oceanographic chart ships. As World War II approached, shipyards began to mobilize, bringing workers and their families to the East Side. It soon became clear that the region simply could not survive without a crossing of the lake.
When Hadley learned that the Washington Toll Bridge Authority planned to survey the area for the best site for the bridge, he saw his chance. He turned to State Highway Superintendent Lacey W. Murrow—the older brother of Edward R. Murrow and a future Air Force brigadier general. Headley explained that he had already found the narrowest part of the Mt Baker ridge, potentially saving millions when it came time to build the tunnel to approach the lake.
Murrow was on board. And when he ordered his staff to evaluate Hadley’s plan, they did too. But there was a complication. Until then, Hadley worked for the Portland Cement Association, a non-profit organization whose motto was “the expansion and promotion of the use of concrete.” If Hadley had been involved in the bridge, it might all have looked like just a loud gig for his client. Murrow encouraged Hadley to take a back seat, promising him that he would eventually get credit.
Construction began on December 29, 1938, financed with $3.8 million in Public Works Administration money and a $5.5 million bond to be paid off from tolls. When the bridge finally opened on July 2, 1940, to a jubilant crowd of 3,000, Hadley appeared in the official brochure as only one of more than 100 members of the “Dedication Committee.” But his foresight paid off: the bridge was erected and was the largest floating bridge of its time.
About 12,000 vehicles passed through on the first day. The trip to the Eastside now only took about 15 minutes, and soon real estate brochures were trumpeting lines like “Across the Bridge to Graceful Living.” Eastside acres once used for cattle grazing have been converted into homes and shopping centers. With an abundance of cheap land and, quite recently, a wave of returning GUs, subdivisions flourished. It took just six years for Bellevue Square’s first tenants to open.
In 1963, the original Evergreen Point Floating Bridge opened between Seattle and Bellevue. And in 1989, a third floating bridge was laid across the lake, carrying westbound traffic on I-90 and the turning lanes during rush hour. In the end, Hadley got what he deserved. Thanks to a campaign by a group of University of Washington alumni, this span was renamed the Homer M. Hadley Memorial Bridge in 1993.