Williamsburg Bridge

Listen first. Beneath your feet, the walkway hums. A J train rattles past on one side, steel against steel, and the deck shivers just enough for you to feel it in your knees. On the other side, cars push toward Brooklyn in a steady roar. Overhead, thick cables sweep down toward you, then rise again toward the far tower. The air smells of river water, metal, and a little brake dust. This is the Williamsburg Bridge, and it has never been a quiet place.

The bridge joins two very different shores. Behind you, or ahead, depending on your direction, is Delancey Street on Manhattan's Lower East Side. On the other end is Williamsburg, in Brooklyn. Between them runs the East River. Despite its name, it is not really a river. It is a tidal strait, a channel of salt water that links New York Harbor to Long Island Sound. Look down and you may see the current pulling hard in one direction, then turning hours later.

The bridge opened in December 1903. It was only the second bridge to cross the East River. The first was the Brooklyn Bridge, finished twenty years earlier, just downstream to the south. On a clear day, you can see its stone towers and Gothic arches from here. The contrast is useful. The Brooklyn Bridge is stone and grace. The Williamsburg Bridge is steel and muscle. It was built in a new age, for heavy trains, crowds of workers, and the traffic of a growing city.

The chief engineer was Leffert L. Buck. He chose a bold design for its time. The main span between the two towers is about 1,600 feet, close to 490 metres. When it opened, this was the longest suspension span in the world. It kept that title for about two decades. Here is the first detail many visitors miss — the towers are made of steel, not stone. This was a major early example of all-steel towers on a large suspension bridge, and later bridges followed that path.

Look at the towers now. They are open lattices of riveted steel, not solid masonry. You can see the sky through them. Critics at the time did not always love this look. Some called the bridge heavy and plain, more like a machine than a monument. But that plain strength is the point. Every beam has a job. Nothing is there only for decoration. Stand still for a moment and follow one line of steel from top to bottom.

Notice also what the main cables do. On many suspension bridges, the cables hold up the whole deck from shore to shore. Here, the cables mainly carry the long central span. The side sections near each shore rest on steel trusses and supports instead. This gives the bridge its unusual profile. From a distance, it looks almost like a suspension bridge joined to two truss bridges. Once you notice it, you will see it every time you look.

The bridge changed daily life on both shores. In the early twentieth century, the Lower East Side was one of the most crowded neighbourhoods on earth. Immigrant families, many of them Jewish, lived in tight tenement buildings. The new bridge gave them a direct route to Brooklyn. Many crossed it and settled in Williamsburg, where there was more room. Today, Williamsburg is still home to a large Hasidic Jewish community. Hasidic means a deeply traditional branch of Orthodox Judaism.

Now for the second surprise. In 1959, the jazz saxophonist Sonny Rollins stepped away from performing. He was already famous, but he wanted to improve his playing. He lived nearby on the Lower East Side. To avoid disturbing his neighbours, he came up here to practise, often late at night. He played to the river, the trains, and the sky. When he returned to the music world, his next album was called The Bridge. Some fans now come here because of that story.

By the 1980s, the bridge was in serious trouble. Decades of salt air, rain, and heavy traffic had taken their toll. Corrosion attacked the steel, including the main cables. In 1988, inspectors found the damage so serious that the bridge closed to traffic for a period. Some engineers even discussed replacing it entirely. Instead, the city chose to rebuild it, piece by piece, while keeping it open as much as possible. The work continued for many years.

That long rebuilding is why the bridge you see today is both old and new. The towers and the overall shape date from 1903. But much of the deck, the walkways, and many structural parts were renewed. Look closely at the steel. In some places, you may see older riveted connections. In others, newer bolted joints. The bridge carries its own history in its metal, layer by layer.

Today, the bridge carries several kinds of traffic at once. There are lanes for cars and trucks. There are subway tracks for the J, M, and Z trains. There is a shared path for walkers and cyclists. At rush hour, this is one of the busiest cycling routes in the city. Bike commuters stream past in both directions. If you are walking, stay on your side of the path and listen for bells. People here move fast.

As you climb toward the middle, the view opens up. To the south, you see the Manhattan Bridge and the Brooklyn Bridge, one behind the other. Beyond them, the towers of Lower Manhattan rise. To the north, the East River curves past Midtown. Below, ferries cut white lines through the water. The walkway also carries a lot of street art. Painted messages, stickers, and tags cover the railings and fences. These change often, so what you see today may be gone next month.

Before you leave, stop near the centre of the span. Put your hand on the railing and wait for the next train. Feel the vibration travel through the steel. More than a century of crossings have passed over this spot. Workers, families, musicians, and commuters have all stood where you stand. Then look toward whichever shore you came from. Notice how small the street now looks, and how far you have travelled on foot.