The Whiskey Rebellion. May 30, 2019

Copyright © 2019                               John F. Oyler 

May 30, 2019

The Whiskey Rebellion

The seventh and final workshop in the Bridgeville Area Historical Society’s series on George Washington’s influence on Western Pennsylvania focused on the Whiskey Rebellion and Washington’s key role in it. 

After his 1784 expedition to Western Pennsylvania, Washington concluded he should concentrate his efforts on Mount Vernon and on developing transportation on the Potomac River. Late in 1784 the Potowmack Navigation Company was formed, with him as President. At Mount Vernon he instituted a seven year crop rotation system, involving wheat, corn, and legumes and had three Pennsylvania bank barns constructed to permit threshing grain.

Nonetheless national issues continued to interest him. He was deeply concerned about the future of the confederation of thirteen states following the end of the Revolutionary War. Massachusetts’ difficulty with Shays’ Rebellion in 1786 and 1787 greatly troubled him. Consequently he enthusiastically agreed to participate in the Philadelphia Convention in 1787 and was soon selected to preside over it.

The Convention was originally intended to modify the Articles of Confederation, but the delegates quickly realized the necessity of inventing a new form of government and writing new Constitution to define it. 

A key decision was the type of legislature best suited for the new government. William Patterson’s “New Jersey Plan” called for a unicameral legislature with each state having one vote. James Madison’s “Virginia Plan” advocated a bicameral legislature with both houses having votes proportional to population.  The upper house would be selected by State Legislatures; the lower, by the general population.

After much debate the “Connecticut Compromise”, authored by Roger Sherman, was selected -- a Senate with equal votes for each state and a House of Representatives with votes proportional to population. It also specified that the nation’s executive officer, the President, would be elected by an Electoral College, composed of one Elector for each Senator and member of the House of Representatives.

Each Elector had two votes, which had to be split between candidates from two different states. No one was surprised that Washington was elected President unanimously. John Adams had the second highest vote total; he was elected Vice President.

The new President selected John Jay as Secretary of State, Henry Knox as Secretary of War, and Edmund Randolph as Attorney General. His first choice for Secretary of the Treasury, Robert Morris, declined and suggested Washington’s aide-de-camp, Alexander Hamilton as an alternative.

A year later, when Washington organized the first Supreme Court, he nominated Jay as Chief Justice. Jay’s successor as Secretary of State was Thomas Jefferson. Hamilton and Jefferson quickly became adversaries.

Hamilton proposed the federal government assume the Revolutionary War debts from the various states, increasing the National Debt to eighty million dollars. The Compromise of 1790 traded Jefferson’s support for “assumption” for Hamilton’s support for building our new capital on the Potomac. When duties from the Tariff Act of 1789 were insufficient to support the cost of running the new government, Hamilton proposed the Distilled Spirits Duties Act, imposing a tax on the production of Whiskey. It was passed on March 3, 1791.

The excise act immediately met opposition from all the settlements west of the Alleghenies – Kentucky and the western portions of Pennsylvania, Virginia, North Carolina, and Georgia. Even at seven cents a gallon it represented a significant part of a poor farmer’s disposable income. It had to be paid in cash, at a time cash was so rare that most transactions were by barter. Unquestionably it imposed an unfair burden on folks living on the frontier.

In this area resistance began with a sincere intention to work within the political system. The first meeting, July 27, 1791, recommended election of three representatives of each elective district to “collect the sense of the people in each county and communicate them to Congress”. A second meeting, on September 7, 1791, suggested that some sort of civil disobedience might be accesptable.

Concurrent with this highly responsible approach, a more aggressive group of protestors chose to take matters into their own hands. When Tax Collector Robert Johnson tried to serve a warrant against John Hamilton at Pigeon Creek, he was waylaid by sixteen men dressed in women’s clothes, and was tarred and feathered. Johnson had been hired by General John Neville.

To the frontiersmen Neville was a symbol of an elite system that exploited them. After signing a resolution opposing the Excise Act in 1791, he quickly accepted the job of excise inspector and its salary of $450 per year plus one percent of the taxes collected. Neville was a classic aristocrat, wealthy and unmindful of their situation. His home, Bower Hill was a grand mansion, valued at $5,000, and furnished extravagantly.

In 1792 Neville decided to get serious about collecting the excise tax. He rented an office from an Army officer, Captain William Faulkner, precipitating a raid by twenty “Indians” who ransacked Faulkner’s house and shot holes in a sign bearing Washington’s portrait. Another meeting of the responsible civic leaders, in Pittsburgh, urged citizens to pursue “every other legal measure that may obstruct the operation of the law until we are able to obtain its total repeal”.

Opposition to Mr. Hamilton’s Excise Tax up and down the frontier generated disagreement in Washington’s cabinet. Hamilton wanted to establish federal authority by force and believed Western Pennsylvania was the place to do it. Washington was reluctant; he knew many of the leaders personally. Attorney General Randolph found “no indictable offense” in the evidence regarding the second Pittsburgh convention. Supreme Court Chief Justice John Jay opposed inflammatory proclamations and military preparations.

After considerable deliberation, Washington issued a Proclamation.

It decried all actions “tending to obstruct the operation of the laws of the United States for raising a revenue upon distilled spirits”, exhorted citizens to “refrain and desist from all unlawful combinations tending to obstruct the operations of the laws” and instructed all judicial officials to enforce the excise laws.

Further action on the problem had to await the outcome of the 1792 Presidential Election. By this time Jefferson’s resistance to the Washington/Hamilton/Adams Federalist policies had initiated an opposition (Democratic-Republican) party, with ambitions of, at least, electing the Vice President.

There were now fifteen states in the Electoral College (Vermont and Kentucky had been admitted to the Union). Each Elector had two votes, but could not vote for two candidates from the same state

Washington was re-elected President with one vote from each Elector; John Adams (Federalist) was elected Vice President with 77 votes. The Democratic-Republicans split the remaining votes. New York Governor George Clinton had 50 votes, Jefferson 4, and Aaron Burr 1. 

The first year of Washington’s second term was complicated by a number of events that left little time to generate interest in enforcing the Excise Tax in the West. Great pressure was put on him to support France in its conflict with Great Britain by Francophiles. Democratic Clubs (anti-Federalist) were established in many parts of the country. Louis XVI was guillotined. Most significantly, Yellow fever in Philadelphia shut down the government. President Washington returned to Mt. Vernon to await abatement of the epidemic.

Things were quiet on the frontier. The opponents of the Excise Tax presumed that the government’s failure to enforce it was an indication their protests, both responsible and violent, had been successful. On November 22, 1793 Tax Collector Benjamin Wells was visited by six men and threatened. They ordered him to publish his resignation in the Pittsburgh Gazette or have his house burned down.

Washington had his hands full in 1794, as well. The United States government found itself beset by problems -- British warships seized American merchant ships trading with the French West Indies; the British established a fort on the Maumee River; attempts to sign a treaty with the Cherokees failed; and Louisiana Governor Carondolet established an anti-American alliance with Canada.

The Federalists advocated establishing a 10,000 man standing army, supported by 80,000 militiamen. The construction of six modern frigates was proposed and authorized. Provisional war taxes were recommended to balance the Budget. Hamilton’s “Revenue Act of 1794” included numerous internal taxes on snuff, sugar, and carriages. Efforts to enforce the existing Excise Tax were begun; John Neville was Hamilton’s instrument in Western Pennsylvania.

Washington reported that this was a moment “to establish or ruin the national character forever” and issued a Proclamation. Resistance to the law in the West was denounced. The government’s determination to enforce the law was emphasized. A reward was offered for the men who had threatened Tax Collector Wells.

In March, 1794, John Neville and Robert Johnson set out on an expedition “to visit some of the most obstinate distillers”, along the Monongahela River and the border between Washington and Fayette Counties. They were followed by a mob of sixty men, taking reprisal on distillers who had registered their stills. James Kiddoe’s still was destroyed and shots fired at his house. William Coughran’s still and mills were destroyed, and he was instructed to report this to the Pittsburgh Gazette.

Neville and his family were accosted on the highway. At Bower Hill he prepared for war. Slaves were armed and put on guard all night. Candles were burned at night to illuminate the grounds. Neville resolved to collect the taxes in July. Although he would have accepted whiskey in payment, the Excise Law required it be in cash; Hamilton insisted this be enforced.

In June,1794, a modified Excise Bill was passed with provisions that satisfied some of the frontiersmen’s complaints. Neville was no longer required to have an office in each county and was authorized $10,000 to buy a building for a tax office. Small distillers could obtain a monthly license. Excise tax cases could be heard in state (local) courts.

In May Federal District Attorney William Rawle had issued writs requiring sixty distillers to appear in Federal Court in Philadelphia. Despite the legislation that had no longer made this valid, United States Marshal David Lenox began serving the writs on June 22 in Cumberland, Bedford, and Fayette Counties. 

On July 14 Lenox was entertained in Pittsburgh at the home of Hugh Henry Brackenridge in Pittsburgh. Brackenridge, perhaps the most responsible of the locals who opposed the tax, advised him to not involve Neville in his assignment.

The next three days erupted into open rebellion. William Miller at his Peters Creek farm refused to accept the writ. Workmen in nearby fields actually fired a warning shot at Lenox and Neville. When news of this event reached a militia meeting at nearby Mingo Creek, the militiamen resolved to march to Bower Hill and demand Lenox destroy the writs.

Led by John Holcroft, thirty-seven of them showed up at dawn at Neville’s mansion. When they learned Lenox was not there, the dispute escalated into a brief battle in which Oliver Miller was killed and several other militiamen wounded. They retreated to Fort Couch where a much larger group of dissidents gathered the next day.

Led by Revolutionary War veteran Captain James MacFarlane, about five hundred men returned to Bower Hill the next afternoon. By now Neville’s small group of men had been supplemented by Major James Kirkpatrick and ten soldiers from Fort Fayette. Neville and his family escaped, leaving the military men to defend the mansion.

Once again negotiations broke down and shots were exchanged for an hour or so. During a lull the rebels thought a flag of truce had been waved. MacFarlane stepped out and was immediately killed by a shot from inside the mansion. In retaliation the rebels set fire to all the buildings, forcing the soldiers to come out and surrender.

The consequences of these events shook the frontier as well as the federal government. At a meeting at Mingo Creek Meetinghouse on July 23 David Bradford spoke passionately against the government; Brackenridge spoke in favor of negotiations. 

Three days later Bradford had the US Mail intercepted and found three letters from Pittsburgh citizens condemning the rebels’ actions. He found this to be the incentive for more aggressive action. A rally was called for Braddock’s Field on August 1. 

At least 5,000 armed men met there with the intention of marching on Pittsburgh. Sporting an elegant uniform Bradford appointed himself major-general. He advocated taking over Fort Fayette.

A six-striped flag (for four Western Pennsylvania counties and two Western Virginia counties) was raised as a symbol of independence. Somehow Brackenridge and other responsible leaders persuaded the mob that the show of strength was sufficient. Consequently they marched through the city peacefully and dispersed.

Meanwhile, in Philadelphia Hamilton advocated military action in Western Pennsylvania, a nationalized militia of 12,000 men to enforce internal taxes. Supreme Court Justice James Wilson confirmed that a state of rebellion existed in Western Pennsylvania, giving Washington a legal basis for mobilizing troops. Washington issued a preliminary call for troops.

He also issued a Proclamation ordering insurgents “to disperse and retire peaceably to their respective abodes” by September 1 and sent a Peace Commission to Western Pennsylvania. The Commission consisted of Attorney General William Bradford, Pennsylvania State Supreme Court Justice Jasper Yeates, and Senator James Ross and had authority to grant amnesty for past offenses.

On August 14 a meeting at Parkinson’s Ferry (now Monongahela City) drew 250 delegates. Bradford urged open rebellion; he apparently had visions of becoming Emperor of a new country. Brackenridge, Albert Gallatin, and William Findley advocated restraint. The delegates agreed to submit to municipal laws of the respective states, but not necessarily to federal laws. They strongly protested bringing citizens to trial outside their neighborhood. They agreed to appoint a committee to meet with state or federal officials to negotiate an end to upheavals, against Bradford’s wishes.

When the Peace Commission met with the Parkinson’s Ferry Committee, it appeared that a crisis had been avoided. The Commission offered general amnesty for past offenses, a statement of fealty from the committee, and a public vote on submission by September 15. Nonetheless, privately, William Bradford advised Hamilton to mobilize the army. He had Washington’s full approval of this move.

The debate continued when the Parkinson’s Ferry Committee met at Redstone Old Fort (now Brownsville) to discuss the Peace Commission’s proposal. Gallatin and Brackenridge argued for restraint and submission; David Bradford harangued for war. The delegates voted to accept the proposals, 34 to 27, and agreed to have the public vote on the question: “Will the people submit to the laws of the United States upon the terms proposed by the commissioners of the United States?” A committee of twelve was appointed to continue negotiations.

The Commissioners felt the decision was indecisive and that the army would still be required. Bradford and Yeates returned to Philadelphia; Ross stayed to observe the September 11 vote. With the exception of a few local areas most of the votes were for submission. In total there were 3,280 votes for submission out of 13,800 eligible (taxable) voters. It became obvious that was insufficient support for confrontation to oppose a large federal army.

Most of the settlers in this area voted for submission – Richard Boyce, John Canon, Moses Coulter, John Fawcett, Alexander Gilfillan, John Herriott, William Lea, Moses Middleswarth, Henry Noble, and James Ramsey. Separately, we know that Christian Lesnett was opposed to the rebels, largely because of his respect for John Neville.

On October 2, delegates to a meeting at Parkinson’s Ferry made unanimous oaths of fealty to the federal government. William Findley and David Redick were dispatched to convince Washington that all was well and that sending the army was counterproductive. The President however announced that the time for “overtures of forgiveness” had ended. He reviewed the northern wing of the troops at Carlisle and followed them to Bedford. He then rode south to Fort Cumberland and reviewed the southern wing.

He then returned to Philadelphia, leaving Virginia Governor, General Henry “Light Horse Harry” Lee as the military commander, subordinate to Hamilton, the civilian head of the expedition. Washington hoped Hamilton could soon apprehend rebel leaders David Bradford and Herman Husband and send them “to Philadelphia for their winter quarters”. Bradford escaped down the Ohio River to Louisiana, but Husband was arrested in Bedford and incarcerated in Philadelphia. 

When the army reached Pittsburgh, they found themselves with no opposition. On November 13, hereinafter known as “the dreadful night”, they arrested 150 alleged rebels, including twenty of their leaders. The captives were treated inhumanely and eventually imprisoned in Pittsburgh.

With David Bradford escaped down the Ohio River, Hamilton needed a scapegoat. Brackenridge was a logical candidate; he had not accepted amnesty for past offenses. When queried about this, he replied “I have no past offenses”. After discussing Brackenridge with Isaac Craig and the Nevilles, Hamilton concluded he had misinterpreted the role of the moderates in trying to defuse the resistance. Brackenridge was exonerated.

On November 19 the bulk of the army returned East, to be mustered out. Twenty prisoners under heavy guard left for Philadelphia on November 25. On November 29 General Lee issued a blanket pardon to everyone, excepting twenty eight men specifically charged. Eventually twenty four men were indicted for high treason. Ten of them were tried; the other fourteen were never apprehended.

Two men – Philip Wigle and John Mitchell – were convicted and sentenced to death by hanging. When

many Philadelphia citizens petitioned President Washington for leniency, both Wigle and Mitchell were pardoned. He had successfully survived the first major challenge to federal authority with a combination of firmness and compassion.

Bradford was pardoned by President John Adams. He returned to Pennsylvania to sell his property here and move his family to Louisiana. Brackenridge was elected to the Pennsylvania State Supreme Court and served until his death in 1815. Albert Gallatin went on to a distinguished career as Secretary of the Treasury, Ambassador to France and England, and as President of the National Bank of New York.

Alexander Hamilton’s wife suffered a miscarriage while he was adventuring in Western Pennsylvania; he promptly resigned from Washington’s Cabinet and returned to New York to resume his law practice and to manipulate Federalist politics. His opposition to Aaron Burr’s candidacy for Governor of New York precipitated the duel on July 11, 1804, in which he was killed.

Washington successfully completed his second term as President, set a precedent by declining a third term, and retired to Mount Vernon. Ironically, one of his commercial accomplishments there was the establishment of a distillery capable of producing 11,000 gallons of whiskey in one year. He died on December 14, 1799.

In retrospect, George Washington’s involvement in inventing a brand new kind of government during his Presidency may well be his greatest achievement, surpassing even his magnificent leadership during the Revolutionary War.

The “Second Tuesday” workshop series is going to take a hiatus, at least for a few months. The two series – Bridgeville High School History and Washington in Western Pennsylvania – have been especially rewarding.

  

Spring in the Woods. May 23, 2019

Copyright © 2019                               John F. Oyler 

May 23, 2019

Spring in the Woods

Is there any spot on the earth that compare with Western Pennsylvania on a warm, sunny Spring day? One such day can make up for all the depressing days of “Pittsburgh gray” skies that preceded it. This Spring has been particularly spectacular, perhaps because it came a little later than usual.

In our woods the first signs of color are “snow drops”; their vivid white flowers are a pleasant contrast to the blanket of dead leaves that they penetrate. They are members of the amaryllis family; I assume the ones along the paths in the woods have been planted there by unknown benefactors in years gone by.

Next come the lesser celadine, also known as pilewort. Its lovely eight petalled flowers bloom in large quantities providing a lovely golden carpet in shaded areas. Its alternative name refers to its effectiveness in treating hemorrhoids, an attribute that makes up for its toxicity for domestic animals. 

This year the trillium bloomed in mid-May. They are confined to one small area near the bottom of the northern hillside bordering the “hollow” cut by our small creek. These are conventional white trillium, native to Western Pennsylvania. A few years ago we spotted a stranger in their midst, one with wine colored petals whose tips curve back together. The “trillium recurvatum” is common in the mid-West, but rare in this area. Unfortunately we have not been able to locate any samples of it in the past several years.

Right on schedule, the Mayapple plants popped up overnight and spread their miniature palm tree leaves in numerous little colonies. A few days later a few bifurcated plants joined them and, on May 6, produced blooms that I erroneously have called Mayflowers. Turns out that is the correct name for a completely different flower. Anyhow I will watch these blooms mature and produce Mayapples later in the summer.

Which, of course, reminds me of my grandchildren’s favorite riddle. If March winds bring April showers and April showers bring May flowers, what do May flowers bring? …… Pilgrims, of course!

Next on the scene are the forget-me-nots and violets, followed by the pink and white phlox. It is a wonderful coincidence that Mother Nature staggers the wildflower blooming sequence so we always have something new to enjoy. And how could I forget the buttercups – by mid-May they provided a sea of gold at the base of my wife’s memorial tree.

It is fascinating to watch the transformation in the woods when the leaves begin to come out. At first the change is minor; the brown/gray background begins to be tinted with tiny bits of green. Each day this grows slowly, then suddenly all the leaves open up and you find yourself immersed in a sea of green. 

I wonder how much of my enjoyment of Spring is the concept of renewal and hope for the future it provides. Ecclesiastes 3, 1 through 8, was one of my father’s favorite bits of scripture: “To every thing there is a season, and a time to every purpose under the heaven.” We seem to be in “a time to hate”; let’s hope the “time to love” comes back soon.

No sign (or sound) of our pileated woodpecker yet this year; I miss hearing her distinctive drumming. Our deer have survived the latest phase of the municipality’s “culling” program. We should be seeing newly born fawns soon.

Every year the March winds take their toll on the trees in our woods. Some of them are the result of natural pruning; dead trees that have outlived their usefulness. Unfortunately however we lose a lot of healthy, mature black cherry trees due to uprooting. This Spring two big ones, about fifty feet apart, came down in the same storm. 

In both cases the fall was by uprooting and an inspection of the fractured root system suggests that the lack of a tap root, a strong central root growing straight down, may be the culprit. Instead the whole root system projects outward radially, never going deeper into the earth than a foot or so. It is easy to imagine a wind force shearing through these roots. 

The municipality has been removing dying ash trees selectively. One of the ones they cut down brought down a neighboring dead tree which in turn fell directly upon a three-inch diameter red oak that had been planted as a memorial to the daughter of one of our neighbors. The memorial plaque on it has been salvaged; we hope it will soon be on a replacement memorial tree.

Another memorial tree that we have been watching is a small tulip tree commemorating a local naval pilot killed in Vietnam. His survivors planted “the freedom tree”, dedicated to freedom loving people around the world. It struggled to live, finally succumbed about ten years ago. Undaunted the family dug up the memorial plaque, moved to a different location, and planted a replacement tree four years ago. So far it is prospering, perhaps a sign that freedom will prevail.

Actually we are watching a number of tulip trees in the woods, including the one we planted in memory of my wife; so far it is in good shape. That isn’t the case for a handful of tulip saplings that have sprung up at different spots. Despite our best efforts about half of them have succumbed to a variety of problems – fallen branches, deer antler rubbing, etc. 

The past two weekends have been devoted to well-meaning volunteers spreading wood chips on the paths – hard work involving loading wheel barrows, hauling the chips, and then spreading them. Their motivation is not clear to me, but their dedication is impressive. For a few weeks the paths that are attacked by storm-water runoff are improved, but eventually the chips are washed away. And the paths that remain dry don’t really need chips.

One of the columnists in the daily paper is a big advocate of chipping discarded Christmas trees instead of putting them in a landfill, ultimately to decompose and discharge methane into the atmosphere. He ignores the fact that in the long run the chips will also decompose and produce greenhouse gases.

In reality the only way to reverse the assumed negative effects of the carbon cycle is to stop removing embedded hydrocarbons (coal, petroleum, and natural gas) from the earth and to begin to embed them (wood, plastic, etc.) in engineered landfills. 

The local Boy Scout troop has continued a program of trail improvement featuring small bridges over streams and boardwalks in swampy areas. Although I generally prefer keeping things natural, I 

acknowledge that making it easier for us older, less agile people to access areas of the woods that previously were unavailable to them is beneficial. It is the classic dilemma: What good is a natural asset if no one can access it?

I continue to pretend that my walks in the woods qualify as exercise and that therefore I don’t need to pedal a stationary bike or employ some other mechanical device. I suspect that the combination of my wandering off to check if the Mayapple bud has opened and my enjoying sitting on the bench at the picnic pavilion enjoying the day is counterproductive to the concept of exercise. At least I am exercising my mind.

The Apollo 11 Exhibit May 16, 2019

Copyright © 2019                               John F. Oyler 

May 16, 2019

The Apollo 11 Exhibit at the Heinz History Center

The Bridgeville Area Historical Society’s April program meeting featured a presentation by the Senator John Heinz History Center curator Emily Ruby on their recent exhibit “Destination Moon: the Apollo 11 Mission”. The Center was justly proud of being one of four national museums dedicated to history being honored by hosting this epic exhibition created by the Smithsonian Institution Traveling Exhibition Service.

She began by reviewing the history of our space program. Toward the end of World War II it became obvious that Germany’s military rocket program was well ahead of anything the Allies had developed. When the War ended the German rocket scientists were conveniently exempted from war crimes indictments and quickly found comfortable new careers in rocket programs in Russia and the United States.

Their work was largely ignored until October 4, 1967, when the Russians launched Sputnik I, the first successful artificial satellite, and moved into the forefront of the space race. Sputnik could be observed passing over Pittsburgh every ninety sixty minutes and broadcasting short wave radio signals. The signals ceased after three weeks, and ten weeks later Sputnik re-entered the Earth’s atmosphere and burned up.

The success of Sputnik sent a shock wave through our society. We were behind in the Space Race. There was a “missile gap”. Chicken Little was right, “The sky was falling”. We responded by passing the National Defense Education Act to encourage university students to major in mathematics and science. The Advanced Projects Research Agency and the National Aeronautics and Space Agency were established.

Actually we weren’t that far behind. Three weeks after Sputnik burned up our Explorer 1 satellite was launched and began transmitting scientific data back to earth. Nonetheless John F. Kennedy exploited the missile gap on his way to winning the Presidential election in 1959. On April 21, 1961, the Soviets logged another first when Yuri Gagarin became the first human in space.

Kennedy’s response was to tell Congress on May 24, 1961, that the United States"should commit itself to achieving the goal, before this decade is out, of landing a man on the Moon and returning him safely to the Earth.” By this time, the Mercury Project, initiated during the Eisenhower administration, was well under way, culminating in its sixth successful manned mission in May,1963, with Gordon Cooper making twenty-two orbits.

Next came the Gemini Project, so-named because each mission involved two astronauts. Ten successful missions ended in November,1966, with Jim Lovell and Buzz Aldrin demonstrating the practicality of executing space walks and of docking with another space vehicle. By now it was clear that our entry in the Space Race had closed the perceived gap significantly.

The Apollo Project expanded the size of the space crew from two to three with a larger space vehicle. Our optimism suffered a setback on January 27, 1967, when a fire broke out in the vehicle cabin during a simulation test, asphyxiating astronauts Ed White, Gus Grissom, and Roger Chaffee. This disaster initiated a complete review of the safety features of the program and a number of major design changes.

Five successful Apollo missions culminated in the memorable night, July 20, 1969, when Neil Armstrong jumped out of Apollo 11 and stepped onto the surface of the moon. Six more missions ended the program with Apollo 17. We had leaped ahead in the Space Race and had honored Kennedy’s commitment.

Ms. Ruby then described the process the History Center followed in designing this exhibit, beginning with an inventory of the artifacts that would be included, and ending with the decision to focus it on contributions Pittsburgh firms made to the success of the mission. We Pittsburghers are parochial, and one way to generate an interest in an exhibit is to emphasize local ties.

Some of these ties were a bit of a stretch. When Jules Verne wrote his novel, “From the Earth to the Moon”, his space ship is propelled by a massive “Columbiad” cannon. The biggest Columbiads, with a twenty inch bore, were made by the Fort Pitt Foundry during the Civil War. The Apollo astronauts named their command module, the Columbia, as homage to Jules Verne.

Ms. Ruby mentioned a number of local firms who contributed to the mission – North American Rockwell, Westinghouse, Union Switch and Signal, the American Bridge Company, ALCOA, Blaw Knox, and Mine Safety Appliances. She even included a small local firm, whose name I missed, that provided the sheath knife in the survival kit the astronauts would need if their splashdown on re-entry delivered them to a desert island.

Her cutest story dealt with the community of Apollo, in Armstrong Country. Once they discovered they were the only place in the world named Apollo, they decided to exploit their advantage. On the day Neil Armstrong walked on the moon, they sent two firemen dressed as astronauts to Moon Township to recover “moon dirt”. She proudly showed a photograph of a small pot of this artifact which was displayed in the exhibit.

My memories of the Space Race are still distinct. I remember trying to spot Sputnik as it passed overhead. I remember getting our three-year old daughter Elizabeth out of bed to watch the moon landing, an experience she fondly recalls. 

After experiencing the technological explosion in the 1950s and 1960s, we all believed there were incredible achievements in space ahead in the near future. It is difficult today to realize that we have never returned to the moon, let alone established a base there. Instead our technological successes are Twitter, Facebook, and Instagram.

The next Historical Society program is scheduled for May 28, 2019, when Todd DePastino will discuss the Whiskey Rebellion. It will be held at the Chartiers Room, Bridgeville Volunteer Fire Department, at 7:30 pm.

The Retirement Banquet. May 9, 2019

Copyright © 2019                               John F. Oyler 

May 9, 2019

The Retirement Banquet

The receptionist at the dental office I frequent is a long-time reader of this column and an uninhibited critic. She recently complained that the columns have become too impersonal and that she missed reading about my children and grand-children occasionally. Fortunately we have just had an informal family reunion, an appropriate excuse to reply to her request.

The occasion for the reunion was my retirement banquet. I formally retired from teaching in the Civil and Environmental Engineering Department at Pitt in December and am still in the process of slowly  disengaging myself from an activity I have enjoyed greatly for the past twenty-six years. To commemorate this event and to celebrate my career, the Department and my family worked together to host a dinner in the ballroom at the Soldiers and Sailors Memorial Hall.

Sara and her three children flew in from Fort Collins, Colorado, on Friday afternoon, rented a car and drove to Beth’s house in Olde Sewickley Highlands. We all went to a Lenten fish fry at Saints John and Paul parish in Franklin Park, a very impressive experience. That evening Rachael was in a talent show at Quaker Valley High School, playing violin as part of a trio. The winner was selected by Smartphone voting. Despite the best efforts of Sara’s children to stuff the ballot boxes electronically, Rachael’s group did not win.

Sara’s family stayed with me in my house. A bit of a cultural shock for me and my cat, but one that we both enjoyed very much. John arrived on a “red-eye” from the west coast the next morning and spent Saturday night with us as well. Our extended family for the weekend activities also included my brother Joe and his wife Pauline; their son Paul, his wife Barbara, and their daughter Lauryn; and my nephew Jonathan Maddy and his wife Marsha.

The banquet itself was a wonderful affair, a coming-together of past and present students, past and present teaching colleagues, friends, and family. Entertainment was by a jazz quartet led by trombonist Jeff Bush. He was one of Ian’s instructors at Jazz Camp at Duquesne last summer; we have seen him perform on several other occasions. The quartet’s playlist for the evening was perfectly suited for the occasion, very heavy on the Swing Era.

As a contrast the Apollo Quartet played classical music. When Rachael was in Middle School she was part of an excellent string quartet, largely because of the efforts of their music teacher. Now that they are ninth-graders at Quaker Valley High School there has been no incentive for them to continue to practice together. When we asked them to perform at the Banquet, they were happy to have a chance to get back together.

They chose a name – the Apollo Quartet, designed a logo, printed business cards, and settled down to serious practicing. At the Banquet they performed wonderfully, playing “Eine Kleine Nachtmusik”, “The Moldau”, “Palladio”, and “The Ashokan Farewell”. Rachael and Grace Stamfel play violin; Charlie Crane plays viola; and Bob Carey plays cello. We are now actively looking for other opportunities for them to perform.

Not to be left out of the action, Ian volunteered to bring his trumpet. With Jeff Bush accompanying him on keyboard, he played an outstanding version of “Ain’t Misbehaving”. I was a little apprehensive after hearing him practice, but once he got up on the bandstand and “started cooking”, he was fine. Ian is a high school junior, a significant part of his high school jazz band. I hope his schedule will permit him to return to Duquesne for Jazz Camp this summer.

Kevin Abt served as Master of Ceremonies. A graduate of the Class of 1995, he was one of the first students I taught when I launched my academic career, one who has stayed in touch ever since. Currently he is Project Manager for a billion dollar project for the Chesapeake Bay Bridge and Tunnel Commission, constructing a forty-two foot diameter tunnel under Chesapeake Bay. 

A number of people who have been an important part of my life paraded to the podium and said nice things about me. I responded with a sincere summary of my gratitude for the opportunity to spend my declining years associating with a wonderful group of students and colleagues. Initially I attributed the experience to luck; I then wondered if some higher power was involved. Certainly I feel that I was destined to spend the last twenty six years at Pitt.

One of my numerous eccentricities is my obsession with pie. The Oyler family is Pennsylvania Dutch to the core, and consequently I am a proponent of having pie with every meal. Incidentally I also believe in the saying “Life is uncertain, eat dessert first!” 

Someone at Pitt came up with a gimmick for National Pie Day, March 14 each year. It actually started three years ago when the date – 3.14 16 – coincided with the value of the mathematical constant, pi. This year they modified the Pitt logo to look like Pi p , and sold tee shirts with it on it. Sara, Claire, Nora, and Rachael put on these tee shirts and proceeded to announce dessert by “ringing the pie bell”, another Oyler tradition.

The celebration continued on through Sunday, with an extended family brunch at Beth’s house. She invited a group of my ex-students to join us. Scott and Angie Hunter had come from New York; they were ’07 classmates. Another pair of married alumni are Brandon and Lisa Chavel; they came from Cleveland. Close friends of theirs are the O’Neils, Jason and Monica, who live in the North Hills. They brought their two young sons, Jack and Daniel, to the brunch with them.

The final couple, Jeremy and Jewel Tartt, are only half civil engineering alumni – Jewel is a nursing supervisor who happens to be a very good sport when Jeremy reunites with his engineering friends. They came from Florida to attend the banquet; it was a real treat for me that they brought their children. Second grader Jaliyah has already decided she wants to be an engineer like her father. Kindergartener Jaidyn is still undecided. 

Spending time with these four couples was an extremely positive experience. They are all in their thirties and far enough along with their careers to have their priorities sorted out. What a contrast to our political leaders and the folks on the front pages of the newspapers today! I am glad they had the chance to meet my extended family, and vice versa. There is indeed hope for the future.

Beth is an outstanding hostess. I was reminded of several holiday open-houses my wife hosted when our children were small. Once the guests began to arrive, she made it look easy even though I knew how much hard work and preparation went in to a successful party.

By Sunday evening everyone had left for home. It was a very exciting weekend for me, dominated by the realization that counting my blessings is a formidable task.

The Landis Lecture. May 2, 2019

Copyright © 2019                               John F. Oyler 

May 2, 2019

The Landis Lecture

In 1991 the Landis family and the Epic Metals Corporation established the Landis Lectureship in honor of Donald Landis, a 1952 alumnus of the Civil Engineering Department at the University of Pittsburgh. Since then twelve world-class structural engineers have come to the campus to present relevant lectures. This year, in honor of my retirement, I had the privilege of presenting the Landis Lecture.

Since I had been asked to focus on the insight that a long career generates, I titled the talk “Eight Decades of Gathering Wisdom Regarding Civil Engineering”. Despite not being catchy, the title was precisely descriptive of the subject. Wisdom, fortunately, is not directly correlated with intelligence. Rather, it is the subconscious memory of thousands of relative experiences that have been properly evaluated.

I encountered wisdom when I was a junior engineer working for Dravo Corporation’s Engineering Works Division. I had an unusual assignment, troubleshooting problems encountered during startup of an iron ore pelletizing plant, a new venture for our company. Our engineering manager, Ernie Willison, took a special interest in the project and began haunting my drawing table. Frequently I would be interrupted by his looking over my shoulder and pointing out obvious (to him) mistakes that I had made.

I found this to be extremely frustrating; how could this old man be so smart? (and I so dumb?). Thirty years later I found that I had morphed into him. By now I was a high level Chief Design Engineer who spent his time involved in whatever technical problem was bedeviling our department. And sure enough, I had developed the ability to sniff out things that didn’t seem right, without knowing specifically how I knew they weren’t correct. That is wisdom.

My credentials as an expert on wisdom are impeccable. When I was quite young, my parents were concerned that I was “hyper”, never paid attention to what I was told and insisted on talking all the time. My father recited a poem to me. “A wise old owl sat in an oak. The more he heard, the less he spoke. The less he spoke, the more he heard. Why can’t you be like that bird?” Excellent advice.

Years later when my daughter Elizabeth talked me into joining the YMCA Indian Princesses, a father/daughter program with a Native American theme. The first step was the burning of our “white man’s names” and the adoption of Indian names. I instinctively chose “Wise Old Owl”. When we entered the username/password world, I used it as my username. 

Eventually this option was closed to me, as someone else had already chosen it, so I promoted myself to “wiseroldowl”.  That worked for a few years, till I tried to open a Google account. This required another promotion to “wisestoldowl”, which was accepted. Today, if you address an email to wisestoldowl@gmail.com, you will get an answer from me. That is indeed an impeccable set of credentials.

My claim to eight decades is based on the fact that my first visit to a construction site was in August, 1938. My father was employed by the Pennsylvania Turnpike Commission as Resident Engineer for two contracts on the original construction of the Turnpike, between New Stanton and Donegal. He enjoyed the job despite it was too far from our home in Bridgeville for him to commute.

Consequently he rented a room in a private home in Mount Pleasant, coming home on weekends and frequently on Wednesday evenings. On one such midweek visit home he suggested I go back with him the next day, an opportunity I exploited immediately. I spent the next two days bumping around the job site in a pickup truck, riding in bull-dozers, and generally absorbing everything I saw. Pretty heady stuff for a seven-year-old!

Having established my credentials for the subject I then discussed three traits that I believe are essential for a successful engineer – focus, judgment, and creativity – and proceeded to discuss examples of each.

The Florida International University (FIU) pedestrian bridge collapse is an appropriate illustration of the consequence of losing focus. The University is separated from the neighboring community of Sweetwater, where four thousand of its students live, by a busy eight-lane highway. It is ideal location for a pedestrian bridge, much like the ones Pitt and Duquesne have over Forbes Avenue.

The idea of a pedestrian bridge moved forward quickly once it was determined federal funding was available. It was determined it could be constructed for well under two million dollars; a project was born! Unfortunately it almost immediately became more and more complicated.

Once the project was announced, a variety of organizations with ambitious agendas began to suggest changes. FIU is still considered a “johnny-come-lately” among Florida universities and is eager to do things that enhance its reputation. FIGG is a prominent Florida bridge design firm that “creates bridges as art”. Between the two of them the design was grossly distorted.

Instead of designing a conventional through truss bridge, they decided to utilize a huge I-shaped girder with the roof being the top flange and the deck the bottom flange. The web, instead of being solid, would be a series of diagonal struts functioning like truss members. The whole structure would be prestressed concrete. Large steel tendons would compress the roof and deck transversely and longitudinally and the web diagonals longitudinally.

By compressing the concrete initially, the members that ultimately would receive tensile loads would merely see the compression reduced significantly. This is a common practice that had not been previously applied to a complex design of this type. 

The next complication was the decision to create a work of art by pretending it was a cable stayed bridge. This entailed adding a tall pylon and sloping hangers that were strictly cosmetic, with no practical function whatsoever. Once this decision was made it was decided that the web diagonals should be aligned with the hangers, even though this dramatically increased the loads in them.

The net result was a hopelessly distorted design, not to mention one whose cost had risen to over twelve million dollars. Not to worry, the University was receiving a signature structure that would show the world how great they were. The deck had been widened to thirty-two feet, converting it from a simple pedestrian bridge into a “destination” and entertainment venue.

The huge I-shaped girder was cast in a location close to the bridge piers. The tendons were stressed, generating compression throughout the girder. The girder weighed nine hundred and fifty tons at this point. It was carefully jacked up, traffic on the highway was stopped, and the girder was transported to the piers and put in place.

It was an occasion for “high-fives”, “fist-bumps”, and “pats-on-the-back” for all concerned. FIU was well on the way to having its icon; FIGG could soon add another “bridge as art” to its resume.

Five days later the Engineer-of-Record, Dennis Pate, called the Florida Department of Transportation and left a voice-mail message to the effect that they had found a crack in the deck, but that it wasn’t a safety issue. Midday the next day a workman was adjusting a tendon near the crack when the whole girder collapsed, killing him and five people in vehicles on the highway below.

Because of the massive litigation associated with this disaster, information on the investigation by the National Transportation Safety Board has been limited. They have stated however that the joint at the base of the diagonal where the failure occurred was insufficient for the loads it was required to support.

I have always believed that a properly designed bridge is inherently a work of art. I do not believe a “bridge designed as art” is inherently properly designed. Lack of focus is frequently a precursor of failure.

The other highly publicized structural failure in 2018 is the TransBay Transit Center in San Francisco. The 1989 Loma Prieta earthquake destroyed the transportation terminal in the Mission District; since then a temporary transit center has served to tie together ten bus lines, the Bay Area Rapid Transit, and Caltrain.

Last year a major project, replacing the temporary center with a modern transportation hub, “The Grand Central Station of the West”, was completed and put into service. The TransBay Transit Center. It is an impressive six-level structure one small city block wide and one thousand four hundred feet long.

The roof of the Center is a linear park, 5.8 acres of green space, with mature trees, fountains, playgrounds, and an entertainment venue. In addition to providing spaces for the various transportation modes, the lower levels include shops, restaurants, and public art. Once again, there was a lot of celebration last August when the Center was opened to the public.

In mid-September a workman installing ceiling panels reported what he thought was a crack in a girder spanning Fremont Street. In no time his suspicions were confirmed and the Center evacuated. Further inspection determined the same problem existed in another nearby girder. Since then hydraulic jacks have been in place in the middle of Fremont Street, holding up the girders.

For some reason it has been easier to get information on this problem, information that is troubling to anyone knowledgeable about structural design. The girders in question are steel plate girders, each eight feet deep and spanning eighty-five feet. 

The girders are tapered, deeper at the middle than at their supports. This requires a butt weld at mid-span, right where the stress is the greatest. The steel is ASTM A572, grade 50, a high-strength low-alloy (HSLA) grade that is well known to be brittle, especially in thick sections.

The bottom flanges of the girders are thirty inches wide and four inches thick; the cracks extend completely across them. Flanges of this thickness are always subjects of concern because of uncertainty about properties in the center. 

Another concern is the effect of residual stresses associated with welding such a thick component, an effect typically minimized by stress relief after welding. Apparently “the code” did not require stress relief.

Another aggravating factor was the fact that the girders also carried the loads from the bus level below them, concentrated loads that were applied at mid-span by hangers that were extensions of the web through holes in the bottom flange.

Introducing a hole in a tension flange produces a concentration of stress at that point, frequently resulting in doubling the magnitude of the stress. If that weren’t already a serious problem, the decision to burn another hole, at right angles to the first one, to permit welding the web hanger to the flange, generated another stress concentration.

Inspection of the failed area indicates that the crack started in the corner of the second hole and propagated across the full flange. It also indicates that the steel halfway through the flange thickness had been transformed to very brittle martensite, either because of the welding or the flame-cutting of the hole.

There are so many errors of judgment involved in this situation that it is difficult to place the blame on one specific blunder. Whenever I attempt to discuss the problem with a competent structural engineer, the immediate reaction is that this is a classic example of poor judgment, compounded six times.

At this point in the lecture I reminded the audience that these bad examples were rare occurrences and that the civil engineering profession had thousands of successes for every failure. I then listed four recent local successes as good examples.

First was Brayman Construction’s replacement of two bridges on the Pennsylvania Turnpike in a weekend. At midnight Friday they shut down the Turnpike, demolished two major bridges, slid their replacements into place, and had traffic back to normal by 5:00 am Monday. 

Second was the reaction of PennDOT District 11 to the landslide on Route 30 last Spring. With the help of Gannett Fleming and a lot of red tape cutting, they were able to diagnose the problem, rebuild the hill-side, and have the highway back in operation in three months.

Similarly the reaction to the fire on the Liberty Bridge was noteworthy. The fire was so severe that it buckled a major compression strut near one of the piers. Coordinated by PennDOT District 11 a large collection of local engineers analyzed the bridge in its deformed condition, jacked the failed joints back to their original position, and installed new members capable of taking the required load.

Finally, this winter PennDOT District 12 was able to maintain traffic on I-70 right at the West Virginia Line while a long wall mining machine tunneled beneath it. A group of folks from our department – Tony Iannichione and Luis Vallejo, plus several graduate students – participated in instrumenting the roadway and its embankments throughout the process. Eventually the entire highway settled four feet, without any major damage or disruption to traffic.

Four examples of effective engineering. An equally positive story is the one I used to illustrate the trait of creativity – the Bayonne Bridge. Designed by Othmar Amman, the Bayonne Bridge was the longest (1675 feet) steel arch bridge in the world when it was opened in 1931. 

Spanning Kill von Kull between Staten Island and Bayonne, the bridge was designed with a clearance of 150 feet above high tide, enough to permit the largest aircraft carrier in our fleet to pass under it safely. This also permitted access for Panamax vessels to bring containers to the Newark-Elizabeth container terminal, largest on the eastern seaboard.

The term “Panamax” defines the largest vessels capable of transiting the Panama Canal, vessels that can carry 4000 containers. Early in this century shippers began to pressure the Panama Canal Authority to expand enough to permit much larger vessels to pass through the canal.

The new locks in the Panama Canal can handle vessels with a beam of one hundred and sixty feet, vessels that can transport 13,000 containers at a time. To accommodate these massive ships, eastern seaboard ports have had to deepen their channels to fifty feet. Newark-Elizabeth had a different problem – the new vessels were too tall to pass under the Bayonne Bridge.

The estimated cost of demolishing the bridge and replacing it with one with adequate clearance was more than could be justified. Fortunately some unidentified independent thinker eventually pointed out that there was nothing wrong with the bridge; it was the deck that was the problem. Why not just raise the deck? Shorten cables in the middle, add posts near the piers, and redo the approach ramps.

Excellent idea, one that could be implemented well less than a billion dollars. A joint venture headed by Kiewit and Skanska was awarded the contract. We were aware of this project thanks to two of our alumni – Scott and Angie Hunter, class of 2007 – who have worked for Kiewit since graduation. They come back regularly to make presentations to our students. 

The approach ramps were constructed using massive precast tub-shaped concrete segments, each of which weigh one hundred and ten tons. They were cast in Hampton Roads and shipped up the east coast. Scott somehow was involved in trying to find an unloading facility in the New York harbor that could handle such large pieces.

It turns out there was only one crane that could make that lift and its owner was taking advantage of his monopoly to charge an excessive fee for renting it. At some point Scott commented that for half that fee they could build their own crane. Much to his surprise, he was given the opportunity to do just that.

He then proceeded to design a stiff-leg derrick from scratch and to oversee its fabrication and assembly. One evening I received an email with a photograph of the crane unloading the first of the segments to be delivered. No caption was required; it was obvious that Scott’s design was a success. They ended up saving money, as well as acquiring a valuable asset.

When his boss commented “You must have had a good steel design course at Pitt”, Scott replied, “Yes, I did, but I didn’t use it for this design. My design was based on the fundamentals I learned in Statics and Mechanics”. That’s an engineer!

Like all good preachers I closed my sermon with a charge, advice to engineers of all ages.

Be a polymath, someone interested in the technology of all the specialists with whom you interface. Be willing to take a change, to accept a challenge that seems daunting. And, finally, believe in yourself and your ability to achieve.

Pulling together this lecture was an humbling experience, particularly when I thought about the stature of the previous lecturers. Nonetheless I enjoyed it and am honored that I was given this opportunity.