May | June 2006 Volume 80 Issue 3 |
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Feature Article Fifty Years in the Fast Lane By Michael S. Sweeney First came the pavement. Then came the traffic. And then came a revolution in the American lifestyle, for good or ill. A half-century after President Dwight D. Eisenhower signed his name on June 29, 1956, to the bill creating the National System of Interstate and Defense Highways, America's answer to the Egyptian pyramids has altered the pace—and the face—of the nation. Interstate highways nurtured the growth of suburbia. They led to population shift. They redefined the vacation, the business trip and the trek to college. They breathed life into new chains of motels, restaurants, gas stations and stores. And by knitting together the nation's cities with more than 46,000 miles of pavement, interstates became the lifeblood of America's economy. The American Society of Civil Engineers has called the completed system one of the top 10 achievements of the 20th century. Everything has a price, though. Use of personal cars replaced mass transit and—gasp!—walking to work. America is still balancing the ledger by assessing the decay of downtown, the cost of pollution and fossil fuel consumption, and our growing waistlines. Still, few would want to return to life before the interstates. A century ago, urban areas claimed the only hard-surfaced roads, and pavement ended at the edge of town. The first coast-to-coast auto trip, in 1903, took 63 days, much of it traversing rocky passes and trackless rangeland in the Midwest. “Wholly unclassable, almost impassable, scarcely jackassable,” read a notable complaint about typical American roads. Multi-state, hard-surfaced roads began in 1916 with the Lincoln Highway, which followed much the same route as today's Interstate 80. As automobiles improved and the network of roads expanded in the 1920s and ‘30s, travelers still struggled. Routes typically veered into congested city centers, lacked multiple lanes and plunged into thickets of stoplights and intersections. Long-distance drivers caught a break when the Pennsylvania Turnpike, the first state-run toll superhighway, opened in 1940. Travelers enjoyed 160 miles of smooth, reinforced concrete with two lanes in each direction. Drivers' willingness to pay a small fee for use of the turnpike encouraged other states, mostly in the Northeast, to create their own. But a series of toll roads among a handful of states was a far cry from a national web of pavement to all major cities in all regions. By agreeing to create the Interstate Highway System, the federal government committed to building the equivalent of hundreds of Pennsylvania Turnpikes to a uniform code of construction. States picked the routes, supplied 10% of the money and agreed to maintain the highways. In turn, the federal government provided the grand plan and the remaining funding. The Bureau of Public Roads set strict rules for the interstates. Perhaps most significantly, the pavement had to be entirely free of intersections. Instead of fighting stoplights and cross traffic, motorists would exit and enter at controlled points of access. The first section of the new system that opened to the public was eight miles of Interstate 70 between Topeka and Maple Hill Corner, Kansas, in November 1956. The event passed virtually unnoticed, meriting only a tiny story in the local paper. Learning curve The interstate's new kind of driving experience initially mystified Americans. In Denver, motorists hesitated to use the new Interstate 25. A radio traffic reporter told the Rocky Mountain News that the thought of merging or changing lanes on I-25 at high speed “scared the heck” out of drivers. (Modern readers may have their own opinions on whether anything has changed since then.) In Nebraska , a writer who identified herself as a “farm wife” told the readers of the North Platte Telegraph-Bulletin of the wonders of the new I-80. When she first ventured onto the interstate, she marveled at the lack of dust, as well as the ease of driving on a divided highway. “No cars coming toward you, fewer bright lights to blind one, no worry about cross traffic,” she told readers. As the attraction of smooth, unhindered travel drew more drivers, the experience of changing lanes and checking signs at high speed became almost automatic. Drivers began talking of travel in terms of time instead of distance. That held true, of course, until the interstates designed to hasten travel became magnets for congestion in their own right. Perhaps it was a sign of things to come when Interstate 495, the Capital Beltway in Maryland, opened to traffic in 1964. The ribbon-cutting ceremony caused a huge traffic jam. Five years later, the interstate system allowed thousands to drive to Abilene, Kansas, for President Eisenhower's funeral, but many could not reach the ceremony itself because of a three-mile traffic jam. As the interstate system entered middle age, drivers approached it with mixed feelings. It nurtured confidence but little romance. Before the interstates appeared, songwriters penned odes to the open road. Bobby Troup wrote Route 66 while traveling along the celebrated old road to the California coast. The pop-rock group America sang about Ventura Highway, and Bob Dylan immortalized Minnesota's Highway 61. But the sameness of the Interstate Highway System, where one interchange looked pretty much like another, inspired few poets. John Steinbeck derided the screaming signs, heavy traffic and high speed of the superhighways in his book Travels With Charley. “When we get these thruways across the whole country, as we will and must, it will be possible to drive from New York to California without seeing a thing,” he wrote. An entrepreneur's dream So much traffic could not help but attract opportunity. First through construction, and later through services and transport, interstates meant money. Car sales and fuel consumption boomed. As Americans drove more, they bought more gas, contributing more money to the fund that built the interstates, which produced more miles of pavement and created even more demand for auto travel. Around and around the cycle went, until the interstates became substantially complete in the mid-1970s and maintenance overtook construction as a priority. According to Kenneth Jackson, author of Crabgrass Frontier: The Suburbanization of the United States, interstate highways rank as the greatest influence on urban life since the advent of the automobile. Consider the family vacation as one example. Before interstates existed, the typical summer trip resembled a safari. Families often woke before dawn to travel as many miles as possible before the midday heat rose from the ground. Lunch was often prepared before leaving home and eaten at a roadside picnic table. The restaurants and lodgings available would be different in each town. With the advent of the interstate system, the family vacation could easily reach farther than the nearest mountain or beach. Interstates helped Americans see more of their country—and at the same time, removed much of the distinctiveness of different areas. Entrepreneurs established recognizable business chains at every exit ramp, attracting motorists and their dollars. In 1952, the first Holiday Inn opened in Memphis, charging $4 for a single room and $6 for a double. Just 10 years later, the company had 400 locations—the first coast-to-coast mega-chain of motels. Restaurateurs also began offering franchises, among them McDonalds, Waffle House and Kentucky Fried Chicken, to lure travelers with the certainty of familiar food far from home. New business hubs and communities sprang up along the interstates. These communities were designed to be passed through, not settled in, with travelers' money their only lifeblood. In 2003, assessing the economic impact of superhighways on neighboring communities, the New York Times described the interstates as “a linear economy on wheels, a distinct and self-sustaining 51st state … that generates life and commerce along shoulders and evaporates four or five miles beyond them.” “Interstate business is what keeps this town going,” a Henryetta, Okla., bank employee told the Times. “Our culture revolves around cheap and quick.” Cheap. Quick. Fitting descriptions for the interstate lifestyle, 50 years after the first ribbons of pavement marked the system's birth. Thanks to Eisenhower's superhighways, millions of Americans work in one place, live in another and play in a third. Their stores, restaurants and motels look much alike from coast to coast. They feel they must have a car to travel just about anywhere they want to go. And chances are, when they go there, they take the interstate. Dr. Michael S. Sweeney is head of the Department of Journalism and Communication at Utah State University. He previously worked at newspapers in Texas and Missouri. He has published four books, including On the Move, which chronicles the development and impact of American transportation.
While events are taking place across the country to celebrate the 50th anniversary of the interstate system, Colorado will be recognizing the state's five interstates (I-25, I-70, I-76, I-225, I-270) by sharing fascinating facts and tales about each. Some of Colorado 's interstate highlights include amazing engineering feats such as the Eisenhower Tunnel and Glenwood Canyon on I-70, and more recently, the T-REX Project on I-25 in the Denver metro area. The Eisenhower Tunnel is the highest point on the interstate system, at 11,155 feet. It's also the highest vehicular tunnel in the world. And well traveled: After it was completed in 1973, it took the Eisenhower Tunnel only four months to carry its one-millionth vehicle; three months later, it carried its two-millionth vehicle. To celebrate 50 years of the interstate system, and more specifically, Colorado's role in interstate development, the Colorado Department of Transportation and its partners—including AAA Colorado, the Colorado State Patrol, the American Society of Civil Engineers, Colorado Contractors Association, and the Federal Highway Administration—will provide a variety of tools and activities for everyone's enjoyment. A traveling exhibit will be available to cities, counties and other organizations for display. Several events will be held to coincide with a national convoy that will be crisscrossing the country. A celebration event is also in the works at the Eisenhower Tunnel in June. For celebration updates, as well as for historical information, stories and photos (past and present) go to www.dot.state.co.us/50Anniversary/ Lastly, we want to hear from you. Email editor@colorado.aaa.com and tell us in 100 words or less what your most loved or hated stretch of interstate is and why. We'll print the most engaging ones in an upcoming issue of EnCompass. |
