"Crossing" A Bad Bridge

This column originally appeared on Aug. 3, 2008

It was old, corrupt Noah Cross who laid down the law (in the film “Chinatown”) on how detestable things can grow more accepted over time when he told private investigator Jake Gittes, “ 'Course I’m respectable. I’m old. Politicians, ugly buildings and whores all get respectable if they last long enough.”

But I don’t think that any amount of time is going to help the new bridge over the Brandywine Creek on South Creek Road in Cossart.

The new bridge was erected — and when I say erected I mean it in the most bureaucratic, industrial sense of the word imaginable — to replace the old Pylesville Twin Bridge. The Pylesville span was nothing remarkable, and it was certainly crumbling. If there ever was a bridge in Pennsylvania that deserved the classification “structurally unsound,” the Pylesville bridge would certainly be the Barack Obama of bridges: a leading candidate.

But it had its own certain charm, probably because it had, as Cross put it, lasted long enough. It was built in 1925, when guys with first names like Harris and Coulson were county commissioners. It had none of the rural grandeur of the nearby Smithsbridge Covered Bridge, but from a distance it fit in with the surrounding scenery, and it looked at home rising over the Brandywine. I’m guessing it was named after Howard Pyle, the artist who introduced his student N.C. Wyeth to the Chadds Ford area.

I don’t know if the new bridge has a name. It shouldn’t have a proper name. It is too ugly to deserve a name, and certainly not one given in memory of a famed American illustrator. It should be referred to solely as “County Bridge No. 83,” like No. 6 in “The Prisoner.”

When I say ugly, I do not mean ugly like some architect had an idea for a new span that just didn’t pan out, an idea borne of an overdose of chicken tikka and brussels sprouts. I mean ugly like being devoid of any thought of beauty whatsoever, there only to serve the function of keeping the cars passing over it from plunging over the edge of the road into the tranquil waters of the Brandywine below.

The bridge looks for all the world like the cement barriers dividing the lanes on the Pennsylvania Turnpike.

That is a tough inspiration to live up to, but the bridge does have one thing going for it: It makes a lovely tabula rasa for graffiti. Which is nice, because when tourists come to Chadds Ford to explore the Wyeth milieu, the one thing we want to make sure they see enough of is spray paint on concrete. “Oh look, Martha, it’s like ‘Evening at Kuerners!’ With gang tags!”

I am hoping that this is all just temporary, and that the real new bridge will be built now that Gov. Rendell has decided to spend billions of dollars for bridge replacement and let the commuters on Route 202 rot in hell, or the weekday rush-hour traffic jam, whichever is worse. The real new bridge, I’m hoping, will be designed by a true architect and will make all the surviving Wyeths weep with pleasure.

And it will be a pleasure once again to drive over the Brandywine on South Creek Road, making your way to SIW Vegetables (“Open 7 Days 10-6; Saving the world one ear at a time”), where they still sell the county’s best sweet corn and let you sign an IOU for your produce if you accidentally left your wallet at home.