All posts in Moffat Tunnel

22Jun

June 1925: Drilling for Progress, Campaigning for Control

In Moffat Tunnel by Preserve Rollins Pass / June 22, 2025 / Comments are closed

As drills pushed through the Divide in June 1925, Colorado faced a quieter but deeper fracture: a power struggle over who would control the tunnel, its payroll, and the path forward for the state’s future.

Moffat Tunnel Construction Happenings from 100 Years Ago

June 1925 was no ordinary month for the Moffat Tunnel. Beneath the Continental Divide, steel drills pushed deeper into the mountain, even as tragedy, political turmoil, and engineering breakthroughs collided to define one of the most consequential chapters in the tunnel’s history.

In terms of progress, West Portal crews struck hard rock at the 7,735-foot mark—initially signaling hope that the end of soft, seamy ground was near. By later in the month, they confirmed they had finally passed through all 8,200 feet of weak formation, which had required timbering every step of the way. At the East Portal, crews shattered previous records, advancing 1,551 feet that month and earning bonuses of $107.10 each. By the end of June, the water tunnel had passed the two-mile mark from the East Portal. Additional progress included 10,091 feet of railroad heading from the east and 7,354 feet from the west (17,445 total), and 6,540 feet and 2,175 feet of full-size tunnel, respectively.

But even as these engineering milestones were celebrated, the month began in tragedy. On June 5, a devastating accident occurred 7,775 feet from the West Portal. A crew struck an unexploded dynamite charge while drilling, igniting a fatal blast that killed Gage M. Beegle, age 22, a promising student from the Colorado School of Mines. Though he had only completed one year, Beegle was on track to enter his junior year that fall due to accelerated progress. He had been working as a chuck tender on a machine drill for just a few days to gain practical mining experience and earn money for his studies. Reports described the lower part of his body as “frightfully mangled” after taking the full force of the explosion. He was the first man to die from an explosion during the tunnel’s construction. Four others were injured: C. Olaf Nelson, who lost an eye and risked losing the other; B. Daugherty, shift boss; Sam O’Neil; and Harold Neff. Investigators reported the men had disregarded standing orders to retire all unexploded dynamite. Instead, they dug around the charge and resumed drilling, believing the whole charge had been removed.

The loss cast a shadow over the month, but life at the camps continued: tinged with grief, yet leaning toward hope. The East Portal camp buzzed with anticipation for the upcoming Fourth of July celebration. Touted as the only day the public could visit the underground workings, the event would feature a barbecue on the Tolland Flats, baseball games between East and West Portal teams and against Denver rock drillers, and a boxing carnival pitting fighters from both ends. The festivities would culminate in a formal dance at the East Portal recreation hall, which also hosted weekly Thursday night dances. Meanwhile, the recreation hall at West Portal had recently hosted its first wedding on June 15: John Alexander Mitchell of West Portal married Margaret King of Fort Morgan. Perhaps the slogan rang truer than intended: “When in West Portal, don’t fail to visit [the] recreation hall bar and pool room”—where laughter, leisure, and even love found a home beneath the timbered rafters.

Meanwhile, the West Portal saw major improvements. Crushed Oregon fir wall plates were being replaced with larger 12×18 timbers and, in many cases, with steel plates. This retimbering—estimated at $120 per foot across several hundred feet—was projected to take 60 days and, when complete, would allow a large force of men to be released. Fire prevention experiments also began, testing various salt- and concrete-based preservatives. Firewater lines had already been laid, and insurance was in place, but officials emphasized proactive safety to ensure timbering was not lost to fire.

Camp life brought other highs and lows. On June 24, the [West Portal] Tunnel Diggers routed the Fraser Lumber Jacks 25–4. On June 28, Granby defeated West Portal 5–0 in a weather-shortened game. Sunderlin’s pitching was lauded as masterful, and reliever Lefty Selak was described as invincible. Mrs. Florence Kane of Tabernash was honored for her dedicated support of the Granby Giants with a five-pound box of candy. However, the darker side of camp life surfaced as well. C.L. Rotken was arrested in Denver after attempting to cash a fraudulently altered check raised from $9 to $150. The cashier spotted the erasure and called detectives, who made the arrest that afternoon.

The political atmosphere was increasingly charged. A biennial election for the five-member Moffat Tunnel Commission was set for July 14. The current commissioners—W.P. Robinson, W. N.W. Blayney, Charles MacA. Willcox, Charles J. Wheeler, and Charles H. Leckenby—had overseen impressive progress since their 1922 appointment by Governor Oliver Shoup. Under their direction, construction had far outpaced original estimates.

Yet their continued leadership was under threat. The Ku Klux Klan, at the height of its political power in Colorado, declared its intention to seize control of the commission, citing the tunnel’s 600+ jobs as prime political patronage. For the Klan, control of the Tunnel Commission wasn’t just symbolic, it was strategic. The commission oversaw millions in public spending, and its control over construction contracts, hiring, and future railroad leasing made it a gateway to influence in both state infrastructure and politics. In 1920s Colorado, the Klan was not operating from the shadows; it had already infiltrated city councils, school boards, and law enforcement. Gaining this commission would have expanded their reach into the state’s most ambitious engineering project, providing legitimacy, jobs for members, and a platform to steer future transportation and economic policy.

The Klan’s candidates—F.C. Murchison, Frederick A. VanStone, George O. Marrs, Wolcott O. Hooker, and Dr. J.H. Cole—campaigned under banners urging citizens to “capture the Moffat Tunnel Commission.”

A full-length editorial in the Routt County Sentinel condemned the Klan’s maneuvers and praised the integrity of the current commissioners, who had managed the project with financial transparency and efficiency. Even a Klan-composed Denver grand jury found no fault in the commission’s handling of public funds. The editorial warned that replacing experienced commissioners with unqualified appointees midstream would jeopardize lease negotiations with the railroad—critical for repaying bonded tunnel debt. These lease negotiations were not optional; they were critical to repaying the bonds issued to fund the tunnel’s construction. Without secured railroad usage agreements, taxpayers would remain on the hook for the debt, and the tunnel could become a financial albatross instead of a catalyst for regional growth. Commissioners already deep in these negotiations had hard-won relationships with railroad executives—ties that a new slate of commissioners, especially those chosen for political loyalty rather than technical competence, could not replicate quickly.

Former Governor Shoup echoed these concerns. In a public statement, he urged voters to reelect the sitting commissioners, lauding their unmatched progress, their honor-bound service, and the imminent necessity of finalizing railroad usage contracts. “A change of horses in the middle of a race spells defeat,” he cautioned.

Voting eligibility was narrow: only real estate–owning residents who had paid property taxes in the previous year could vote. This disenfranchised many tunnel workers, prompting fears that Klan-aligned voters would dominate by default. Many of the tunnel workers—transient laborers, renters, or young men without taxable property—were excluded despite their central role in the tunnel’s progress. The voting structure disproportionately empowered settled property owners, many of whom were more susceptible to the Klan’s influence campaigns. This imbalance made the upcoming election less a referendum on competence and more a test of political mobilization.

Chief Engineer R.H. Keays, meanwhile, gave illustrated lectures throughout June on the complex surveying and alignment issues encountered during the tunnel’s planning and construction. At the same time, Lewis’ cantilever girder—offered freely for tunnel use—was gaining outside attention. Although still under consideration for a patent, it had already drawn licensing interest from California-Edison, signaling the broader influence of innovations emerging from the project.

Despite the dangers and distractions, momentum surged toward a symbolic goal: to “hole through” by August 1, 1926—the 50th anniversary of Colorado statehood. As the tunnel inched forward beneath the mountain, the ground above was shifting too. With a pivotal election looming, and political extremism threatening to overtake practical stewardship, June 1925 tested not only the tunnel’s structural foundations but also its civic ones. Yet every foot gained in rock was more than progress, it was a collective refusal to let short-term political agendas sabotage long-term public good. It was a tribute to perseverance, to cooperation, and to those—like Gage Beegle—who gave everything to the dream of a better-connected Colorado.

B. Travis Wright, MPS | Preserve Rollins Pass | June 22, 2025

Want to uncover more incredible Moffat Tunnel stories? Our blog is filled with deeper dives into its history, untold tales, and connections to Rollins Pass. Explore more and journey through time with us!

The primary purpose of our work is to inform the public.

24May

May 1925: The Tunnel Keeps Time—and So Does the Band

In Moffat Tunnel by Preserve Rollins Pass / May 24, 2025 / Comments are closed

Progress surged, benchmarks broke, and West Portal found its voice in music, machines, and memory in May 1925 at the Moffat Tunnel.

Moffat Tunnel Construction Happenings from 100 Years Ago

As spring gave way to early summer in 1925, the Moffat Tunnel project surged forward with unprecedented energy—and with it, a mounting sense of inevitability that this long-promised engineering marvel would soon become reality. News outlets across Colorado praised the Lewis traveling cantilever girder (see last month’s post), and Charles Wheeler of the Moffat Tunnel Commission confidently stated, “there is no question about the tunnel being completed and trains running through it by December 1926.”

Progress on the East Portal remained the backbone of this momentum. Fifty-four men worked there in rotating shifts of eighteen, each earning a $57.30 bonus on top of their regular wages for their performance between April 16 and May 1. These weren’t empty rewards—each shift was part of a record-breaking push. Crews were averaging fifty feet per day in the twin headings, and in the last fifteen days of April alone, drillers claimed a world record by completing 771 feet—261 feet beyond the contractor’s projected maximum.

Newspaper headlines told the story of this blistering pace. On May 8, 1925, the Wet Mountain Tribune reported, “Never has better progress been made in the drilling of a tunnel, so far as engineering knowledge runs.” Just over a week later, the Routt County Sentinel confirmed, “65 feet [had] been driven in one day.”

But conditions at the two portals could not have been more different. While East Portal crews battled increasingly dense granite gneiss with discipline and routine, the West Portal crews contended with fractured, unstable biotite gneiss—blocky, talc-seamed, and often wet. Despite working through “running ground” that resisted support structures and never yielded more than 20 feet in a day, crews developed ingenious systems to accelerate progress. Specialized tools—such as the drill carriage, overhead muck car switcher, and timber framing machines—were developed or adapted on-site to meet the unique demands of the tunnel’s shifting geology and high production pace.

Foremost among these innovations was the Lewis traveling cantilever girder (or needle-bar), a mobile device designed by General Manager George Lewis to support overhead timbers while excavation continued below. Unlike its stationary predecessor, this traveling cantilever could adapt to shifting conditions in real time, safeguarding both men and timber while expediting excavation through heavy, unstable terrain. It became a defining piece of equipment in the tunnel’s most unpredictable zones.

Adding to the complexity, the two portals employed fundamentally different excavation methods tailored to their geological realities. At the East Portal, a twin-heading system was used, with the same crews alternating between the water tunnel and main center heading, combined with ring-shooting enlargement. By contrast, the West Portal required a top-widening and benching method—slower but better suited to the shattered and unstable ground. This divergence in technique highlighted not only the engineering ingenuity of the project but its operational adaptability in the face of radically different conditions just miles apart.

As thousands of feet of unforeseen bad ground were encountered—requiring far more tunnel lining than the 1,500 feet engineers had projected—the immediate need for concrete became pressing. Rock excavated from the tunnel face was crushed and stockpiled near each portal to supply aggregate for concrete lining operations underway inside the tunnel. At the same time, material was also being set aside as ballast for future track construction—forward-looking preparation for the day when rails would be laid through the completed bore. Construction was beginning on approach grades across the Fraser River valley to the west and down South Boulder Creek to the east, linking both portals to the Denver & Salt Lake main line.

Dressed granite ashlar masonry was envisioned for the tunnel portals—appropriately massive and ornamental, meant to echo the permanence of the mountain itself. These monumental entrances were intended to serve not only as functional thresholds but also as symbolic markers of achievement, carved with the hope that they would endure.

The human scale of the project was immense. By mid-May, 426 men were employed on the West Portal and 286 on the East—a total of more than 700 individuals working in shifts, around the clock, to bore beneath the Continental Divide. And driving all of it was more than rock, wages, or schedules: the project was breathing life into David Moffat’s long-delayed dream of a direct, year-round rail connection between Denver and Salt Lake City—a bold alternative to the costly and snowbound circuits over Rollins Pass.

Meanwhile, life at West Portal was evolving beyond the industrial rhythms of drilling and blasting. The local school closed the week of May 22, ushering in a summer season unlike any before. The recreation hall was undergoing improvements in anticipation of visitors, with a remodeled dance floor setting the stage for community gatherings. On May 28, the West Portal Jazz Orchestra would inaugurate the season with a Grand Opening Dance—an event heralded in the Middle Park Times as the social debut of the summer. The announcement extended an open invitation to all, signaling that this rugged work camp had, for the moment, become a place of celebration.

Adding to this sense of transition, a notable number of West Portal residents were reported to have purchased new automobiles—a reflection of modernity and status arriving even in this high, remote valley. In a place once defined solely by labor and logistics, a cultural identity was beginning to take hold—one where permanence, progress, and personal pride were becoming just as visible as the granite itself.

That same weekend, West Portal’s baseball team—the Tunnel Diggers—was scheduled to face the Granby Giants in Fraser. Spectators from across Grand County were invited to witness the matchup, as work crews took their places on the field rather than the tunnel bench. In Steamboat Springs, the film “The White Desert” was shown to local audiences—a dramatic portrayal of snowbound railroads, shot not far from the actual tunnel’s western approach.

Community outreach extended beyond entertainment. Moffat Tunnel Commission Engineer Clifford Betts presented a lantern-slide lecture featuring 100 images explaining the tunnel’s construction—bringing visuals of the underground work to a public hungry to understand what lay beneath the mountains. Thanks to Walt Higley, a motion picture photographer from Longmont, new footage of the tunnel’s interior was finally captured. After several failed attempts by other crews—who declined the assignment due to extreme dust, moisture, and visibility hazards—the Du Pont Powder Company, eager to document its dynamite in action, turned to the Colorado Photo Company. The company sent Higley into the tunnel with arc lamps and a Pathé camera, one of the few portable and durable models capable of withstanding such conditions. Using hand-cranked exposure and powered only by the intense glare of arc lighting, Higley filmed the narrow, dust-filled bore from within. His footage, developed that same day in Denver, marked the first successful moving images from inside the mountain—and stands as a rare and remarkable testament to the conditions under which explosives, human effort, and engineering precision carved the Moffat Tunnel into being. To see a sample of this footage, please visit: https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=zMKZY7jCZH0

Tragedy, too, marked the month. On May 14, 1925, Orville J. Markham, just 25, died of pneumonia after contracting the illness while working at the tunnel. Yet even this fact became muddled in the speed of public reporting. Some newspapers stated he had worked at the East Portal, while others identified his post as the West Portal—a discrepancy that underscores how quickly information was moving and how often the public narrative lagged behind the facts on the ground. The Moffat Tunnel project was vast, complex, and logistically divided; errors like these reveal the difficulty even journalists faced in pinning down the particulars of a man’s final days in the shadows of the Divide.

Markham wasn’t the only one whose story was mistold. John Flueckiger, age 33, died in May as well. Early headlines—based on information relayed from Denver—claimed he had died at the West Portal, where he had “been working for some time.” But by the following evening, the Boulder Camera issued a correction: that account was incorrect. Flueckiger had not been employed on the Moffat Tunnel project at the time of his death. The misattribution, though quickly amended, illustrates how swiftly misinformation could be published—especially in a time when telegrams, word-of-mouth, and hurried deadlines shaped much of the public’s understanding of major undertakings like the tunnel.

Even technical data fell victim to this pace. For instance, published figures as of May 1 detailed linear footage of excavation progress with scientific precision:

The pioneer (or water) tunnel had reached 9,326 feet from the east portal and 7,431 feet from the west—totaling 16,756 feet, or 52 percent completion.
The main heading stood at 9,320 feet east and 6,936 feet west, for a combined 16,256 feet—50 percent completed.
Cross cuts totaled 693 feet overall—53 percent completed.
And the full-sized railroad bore had advanced 7,769 feet (5,987 east, 1,782 west)—just 24 percent completed.

Yet by May 11, newspapers were still circulating these same figures with little to no revision—despite ten full days of continued drilling and substantial daily progress. The omission wasn’t merely clerical; it reflected a broader pattern of delay between field realities and public reporting. In a project advancing by fifty feet per day on the East Portal alone, the difference between up-to-date figures and outdated ones could obscure hundreds of feet of achievement.

These discrepancies are not just footnotes, they are reminders. Reminders that amid the roar of drills and the rhythm of jazz orchestras, behind every milestone and percentage point, were real people whose stories could be blurred as quickly as they unfolded. By May 1925, steel drills and dynamite were as much a part of daily life as baseball gloves and saxophones. In this remote corner of the Rockies, men and machines weren’t just reshaping a mountain: they were reshaping their identity. Progress was measured not only in feet driven and concrete poured, but in community dances, new automobiles, and a growing pride in two towns finding their rhythm beneath the weight of a monumental task. Preserving this history with clarity is not just a scholarly exercise—it’s a responsibility to those who lived it. Because what they built wasn’t just a tunnel—it was a legacy. After all, the tunnel was no longer a dream—it was becoming inevitable.

B. Travis Wright, MPS | Preserve Rollins Pass | May 24, 2025

The primary purpose of our work is to inform the public.

Lewis Traveling Cantilever Girder at the Moffat Tunnel

30Apr

Midway Beneath the Mountain: April 1925 at the Moffat Tunnel

In Moffat Tunnel by Preserve Rollins Pass / April 30, 2025 / Comments are closed

In April 1925, as collapsing ground tested progress, the Moffat Tunnel neared midpoint—driven by George Lewis’ invention below James Peak.

Moffat Tunnel Construction Happenings from 100 Years Ago

In early 1925, with the dream of traversing under James Peak only half fulfilled, George Lewis—assistant to the president of the Moffat Tunnel Commission—was appointed general manager of the project. A seasoned mine manager with long experience in Colorado’s Cripple Creek district, Lewis brought an inventive mind and steady leadership to a project facing mounting uncertainty. Tunnel workers had long struggled against unpredictable rock stresses—pressures too complex for the mathematical knowledge of the day. At the same time, the tunnel’s purpose—to replace the treacherous, weather-prone crossing over Rollins Pass with a safe, year-round rail connection between Denver and the Western Slope—was too important to abandon. Faced with overwhelming challenges at the West Portal, Lewis didn’t merely manage the crisis; he transformed it. His invention—the Lewis Traveling Cantilever Girder—would become one of the most significant breakthroughs of the entire tunnel enterprise.

Innovative ideas, particularly in engineering, often meet resistance—especially when they challenge methods long accepted as standard. When Lewis presented his design to the Commission, doubts quickly surfaced. The machine would be costly, and all previous attempts at holding wall-plates in unstable ground had fallen short. Experienced engineers could offer no solution better than the traditional methods already in place. Yet in choosing Lewis as their general manager, the Commission had selected a man who was no stranger to adversity—and who did not believe in the impossible.

The idea struck Lewis late one night after a discouraging engineering meeting at West Portal. Restless and unable to sleep, a vivid memory surfaced: months earlier, he had seen a house being moved through Denver’s Civic Center, supported on dollies and jacks. If something so seemingly slight could bear so much weight, he reasoned, perhaps a similar approach could temporarily support the tunnel arches until permanent structures could be installed. Springing from bed, Lewis immediately roused the engineering force and explained his idea. All through the night, they debated and sketched out the concept, testing its possibilities against the stubborn realities of the mountain.

Hardly had daylight come when Lewis, plan in pocket, sped toward Denver in a “fast motor car.” Arriving at the Commission’s offices, he invited the critical review of Clifford A. Betts, the Commission’s office engineer. Together they analyzed the plan point by point, made suggestions for improvement, and prepared a finished drawing. Lewis then built a small working model and presented it to the board of directors. Skepticism remained. The cost was substantial, and success was not guaranteed.

Calmly, Lewis addressed the Commission. “Gentlemen, let me build this machine. I believe in it. If it does what is expected, the Tunnel District will pay for it gladly. If it fails, the Commission can take a proportion of my salary each month until the cost has been met.” That quiet confidence broke through where argument could not, and permission was granted.

Construction of the full-scale girder began immediately.

C.A. Betts, Office Engineer of the Commission, has given the following description of the machine:

“The new needle bar consists of two 65-foot steel girders, 3½ feet in depth, tied together by rigid struts and braces and carried on dollies running along steel channels placed on 12-inch by 12-inch stringers resting on the bench, but it is designed to cantilever to the rear beyond the end of the bench a maximum distance of 20 feet, where it serves as a support for the arch timbers while the shovel removes the bench and the posts are being set. The roof load is transferred to the girders by means of cross-arms, suspended from these girders by stirrup hangers which extend beneath the wall-plates. The slack is taken up by 15-ton screw jacks. When excavation has proceeded to the maximum 20-foot overhang of the needle bar, it is moved ahead to a new position. This new needle bar carries an endless belt conveyor between the girders so that muck from the 18-foot by 10-foot widened heading into which the machine must move for the enlarging operation, can be carried out beyond the bench and dumped thru a chute into waiting cars in the completed tunnel. This feature has made the Lewis needle bar adaptable to the heading and bench method of tunneling, as well as to the service tunnel and cross-cut method where excavation from the heading was completed thru the cross-cut ahead of the bench. Such attachments to the girder as electric hoists for raising posts, light wiring and piping, add to its convenience and indicate its wide range of use.”

Installed in March 1925 and placed into operation in April, the Lewis Girder was set into the top heading of the tunnel, sustaining sixty feet of roof while excavation occurred beneath it. Unlike earlier cantilever devices, which had to be dismantled and rebuilt at each advance, Lewis’s girder traveled forward on its own track. It could overhang fourteen to twenty feet of freshly excavated tunnel without showing distress; when a heavy collapse occurred during timbering, one of the girder’s massive forty-two-inch steel beams bent but prevented a cave-in. When the load was removed, the beam sprang back to shape.

Lewis notably refused to patent it at the time, placing the success of the project over personal gain.

By April’s end, labor costs at West Portal had fallen from $3.61 to $2.24 per cubic yard. The cost of setting plumb posts dropped nearly 20%, and the time required for a full cycle of tunnel enlargement operations plummeted from twenty-three hours to just thirteen. The Lewis Girder didn’t merely save money; it stabilized a dangerously unpredictable tunnel and gave the project the momentum it desperately needed. Nicknamed “Big Bertha” by the workers at West Portal, the Lewis Girder was now an assured success.

The Lewis Girder was a triumph of American engineering improvisation—and one that grew directly from the working spirit of the tunnel’s crews.

By mid-April 1925, the broader tunnel project was reaching historic milestones. On April 15, the water bore crossed the halfway mark, with 16,223 feet completed out of the 32,426 feet needed to pierce through James Peak. This achievement came just one year and seven months after the contract was signed on September 12, 1923, despite full mechanical operations not beginning immediately. Early progress had been slowed by surveying challenges, installation of heavy equipment, and severe winter conditions, but once underway, the crews pushed forward with remarkable determination.

The railroad tunnel headings had advanced to approximately 48% completion, with full-size enlargement completed for about 22% of the total length across both sides. Cross cuts were 55% complete. Around 400 men worked at West Portal, and 275 at East Portal, each side battling very different conditions: collapsing ground in the west and shattering hard rock in the east. Both environments posed daily dangers to the crews, who advanced with little more than grit and perseverance.

In late April, workers at the East Portal of the Moffat Tunnel established a new world record for tunnel driving, when they bored a total distance of sixty-five feet in the main heading of the railroad tunnel in a total of twenty-four hours working time. Despite the world record, contemporary reports noted that “work on the Moffat Tunnel slacked up somewhat during the past month due to extra hard rock at East Portal and soft rock at West Portal. At East Portal a big seam of rock was encountered, some days 150 pieces of steel being broken. The rock is again approaching normal.” It was a striking irony of the project that the same mountain offered such different challenges—one side dangerously soft and unstable, the other side hard enough to shatter steel. The record reflected not just technical achievement but the relentless endurance of the tunnel crews.

Still, optimism ran high. The Commission expressed confidence that the tunnel “will be completed and trains running under the mountain before the winter of 1926.”

Recognition soon followed. In April, state examiners reviewed the Commission’s financial records, writing, “The bonds required of the treasurer and members of the commission are all on file and the unexpended balance is properly accounted for, as shown.” They further praised the tunnel’s progress, stating, “Taking into consideration the adverse conditions which have been met, particularly at the West Portal, the progress made has been remarkable. This may be accounted for in the morale of the employees and the new machinery invented or made over by them, as the various uncertainties arise with which to accomplish their motto, ‘Speed of Construction.’” That motto had become not just a slogan but a shared mission, uniting every worker inside the mountain.

At the same time, preparations were underway to bring the story of the tunnel to a national audience. From late March to early April, thousands of feet of film were shot at the tunnel’s western portal for The White Desert, a movie adaptation of Courtney Ryley Cooper’s novel. A newspaper article mentioned, “I was… privileged to see a private showing of the first two reels of film of Courtney Ryley Cooper’s novel. The reels are composed principally of ‘long shots’ of railroad operation at Corona and of activities at the western portal of the tunnel. Blasé dramatic critics and moving picture men who attended the preview were astounded at the marvelous photography and the scenic effects on ‘the Hill [over Rollins Pass].'” When completed and released, The White Desert was expected to introduce more than a million and a half people to the drama and ambition of the Moffat Tunnel project.

Meanwhile, life at West Portal was not solely defined by work and hardship. On April 23, 1925, the newly formed West Portal baseball team held its first practice at the Fraser Grounds. By mid-May, they hoped to be ready for their first competitive games—bringing camaraderie and a sense of community to one of Colorado’s most grueling construction efforts.

Though optimism filled the spring air, the mountain would continue to test those building the tunnel in ways they could scarcely imagine. Yet it was Lewis’s sleepless idea—and the unwavering resolve of hundreds—that pushed the Moffat Tunnel closer to the day when steel rails would finally run beneath the Continental Divide. The Lewis Traveling Cantilever Girder, born from desperation and daring, would stand as the defining construction innovation of the project—etched into the story of ingenuity, endurance, and a relentless belief that even the greatest barriers could be overcome.

Caption: The Lewis Traveling Cantilever Girder inside the Moffat Tunnel. While multiple transverse cross braces stabilized the structure, a single X-shaped brace is visible in this view, holding the two I-beam girders in rigid spaced relation. Below the girder, the unexcavated “bench” of rock is seen—the next section of tunnel slated for excavation. Looking closely, the untimbered side of the excavation can also be observed, particularly along the left side of the image.

B. Travis Wright, MPS | Preserve Rollins Pass | April 30, 2025

The primary purpose of our work is to inform the public.

March 1925 Filming The White Desert atop Rollins Pass

30Mar

Death Beneath the Divide and Hollywood on the Hill: The Moffat Tunnel’s Pivotal March of 1925

In Moffat Tunnel by Preserve Rollins Pass / March 30, 2025 / Comments are closed

Fatalities, financing, and film crews converged at Colorado’s most ambitious engineering project in March 1925.

Moffat Tunnel Construction Happenings from 100 Years Ago

As winter loosened its grip in early 1925, March arrived with a torrent of headlines from the Moffat Tunnel—some grim, some extraordinary, and all underscoring the human cost and cultural reach of Colorado’s most ambitious infrastructure project.

The month opened under a shadow. On February 27, tragedy struck at the West Portal when falling rock “struck and instantly killed Weaver W. Wilson,” a 21-year-old shift boss. According to contemporary accounts, Wilson and a crew had been widening the tunnel’s wall plates beyond crosscut No. 4. After setting a small charge of dynamite to break down the wall, the crew rushed back into the bore prematurely. Loose rock, dislodged by the blast, collapsed upon them. Wilson did not survive.

The following week, death visited the East Portal. In an incident reported under the blunt headline, “Tunnel Engineer Killed,” A. E. Adams, age 60, succumbed to injuries sustained on the job. On March 2, Adams died following the amputation of his arm after his hand became caught in machinery, his arm pulled into the cogs nearly to the shoulder. (The Routt County Sentinel, March 13, 1925)

These fatal accidents underscored the dangerous conditions that accompanied every foot of progress through Colorado’s Continental Divide—a reality often overshadowed by the tunnel’s promise of modernity and progress.

Not all March headlines were solemn. Editorial wit occasionally punctuated the bleakness. The Eaton Herald published a sardonic note about the delays and mounting obstacles: “Says Editor Hogue of the Eaton Herald: ‘Colorado has enough coal to supply the world for 500 years.’ Colorado has enough coal to supply the world for a period as long as the Christian era and then can supply coal for the needs of an orthodox Hell for a thousand years more. Just finish the Moffat Tunnel.”

Farther down the hill, in the Nederland area, sorrow took a quieter, more personal form. Patrick Flynn, a longtime resident who had sought work on the tunnel after the collapse of the local tungsten boom, was found dead in a cabin on Saturday afternoon—likely March 7. His friend William James discovered him lying fully dressed across his bed, a gallon jug of alcohol nearby. A newspaper published on March 9 reported that “bad bootleg” appeared to be the cause. Flynn had recently returned from the East Portal and had been planning a trip to Denver; whether he completed that journey or obtained his liquor locally remained uncertain.

While crews and contractors grappled with fatalities, accidents, and daily risks, engineers and financiers contended with another growing threat: money.

By month’s end, the financial reality became impossible to ignore. On March 31, the Moffat Tunnel Commission announced the flotation of an additional $2,500,000 bond issue—a second wave of financing to ensure the tunnel’s completion. The new loan followed an earlier $6,720,000 bond issue secured in 1922.

“The money was borrowed in New York at 5.25 percent interest—less than the rate on the present $6,720,000 bond issue, which is 5.5 percent. The principal is repayable in ten yearly installments, beginning in 1964.”

Officials emphasized that tunnel district residents would not face taxation, asserting that rental revenue from the railroads using the tunnel would cover the debt. However, it was an open secret that the project’s costs had long outstripped initial projections. As newspapers reported: “For almost a year it has been known that the money provided by the issue of Moffat Tunnel bonds would be insufficient…. Extraordinary conditions have been encountered and the amount provided by the original laws of Moffat Tunnel bonds is inadequate.”

The “extraordinary conditions” included unstable, soft rock at the West Portal, necessitating costly reinforcement, concrete lining over four miles, timbering, and relentless excavation. Financing was once again arranged through R. M. Grant & Co. of New York, the same firm that had underwritten the earlier loan.

Despite mounting setbacks and financial strain, reports in March 1925 emphasized steady progress underground. Newspapers noted that “within two weeks the water tunnel and the main heading in the railroad tunnel will be 50% complete, and only eighteen months have passed.” Optimism grew that, if conditions held, the tunnel might be completed the following year.

Each day that month, approximately 1,500 cubic yards of rock and earth were hauled from the bore and dumped from the tracks—a staggering volume of material removed daily as crews continued their relentless advance beneath the Divide.

Yet amid death, debt, and daily toil, March 1925 delivered an unexpected glimmer of glamour—from none other than Hollywood. Across Colorado, newspapers carried a headline that stood apart from the usual accounts of blasting, bonds, and broken ground:

“World to Learn of Moffat Tunnel Through Filming of The White Desert“

Metro-Goldwyn Studios had dispatched a film crew to the Divide to shoot on location for The White Desert, a cinematic adaptation of Courtney Ryley Cooper’s snowbound railroad drama. Filming took place at both portals of the Moffat Tunnel and at Corona Station. The production team traveled by special train and endured harsh conditions at altitude, filming amid snow and cold, while Colorado newspapers relished the novelty of a motion picture studio embedded in the mountains.

A March 25 feature in The Craig Empire captured the scale of the project:

“A million and a half people will know of the Moffat Tunnel and the tunnel district by the end of this year, through the medium of The White Desert, now being filmed by the Metro-Goldwyn studios.”

Directed by Reginald Barker and starring Pat O’Maley, Billy Eugene, and leading lady Claire Windsor, The White Desert dramatized the plight of a village trapped by snow—an ordeal the Moffat Tunnel itself was designed to render obsolete. Early footage, shown privately to Denver audiences, featured sweeping shots of the Hill’s winter wilderness and construction scenes at the West Portal. Critics and film insiders marveled at the imagery.

Production conditions, however, were anything but glamorous. Cameramen reportedly fainted from exhaustion and altitude, toppling over in the snow while grinding footage on snowshoes. E. E. Brockman, a Moffat Railroad official overseeing the film crew’s logistics, quipped that the railroad could guarantee fair spring weather every year simply by inviting a movie studio to film.

The studio’s hope? A late-season blizzard to lend realism to the storm scenes. Nature, however, remained stubbornly mild. Indeed, weather records from Corona Station for March 1925 reflect relatively mild conditions, with a total of just 1.80 inches of precipitation that month. The mean maximum temperature reached 57.1°F, while the mean minimum was 19.7°F. Notably, on two days—March 26 and March 31—the temperature climbed to an unseasonably warm 75°F.

The White Desert was slated for release in May 1925, as a Metro super-production*, already booked in first-run theaters nationwide. Its promotional impact was undeniable: within weeks of its premiere, audiences across the country would come to know of the Moffat Tunnel—not through engineering reports or financial statements, but through the sweeping images captured on the silver screen. And while the cameras soon departed the Divide, the real story of the tunnel—marked by hardship, loss, and perseverance—was still unfolding deep beneath Colorado’s mountains.

*The term “Metro super-production” was used by Metro-Goldwyn studios in the 1920s to designate a film of significant scale, budget, and promotional effort. These productions were considered the studio’s premier offerings, intended for wide release in first-run theaters and accompanied by extensive advertising campaigns. In contemporary terms, a “super-production” was akin to what would later be called a blockbuster—a high-profile film designed to attract national attention and large audiences.

We’ve reproduced the full article below—it’s a captivating read that deserves to be preserved. (Minor spelling and typographical errors have been silently corrected for clarity.)

⸻

World to Learn of Moffat Tunnel Through Filming of The White Desert

By NEIL W. KIMBALL
A million and a half people will know of the Moffat tunnel and the tunnel district by the end of this year, through the medium of “The White Desert,” now being filmed by the Metro-Goldwyn studios.

Through the courtesy of R. J. Garland, Denver manager of the big motion picture company, I was this week privileged to see a private showing of the first two reels of film of Courtney Ryley Cooper’s novel.

The reels are composed principally of “long shots” of railroad operation at Corona and of activities at the western portal of the tunnel. Blase dramatic critics and moving picture men who attended the pre-view were astounded at the marvellous photography and the scenic effects on “the Hill.”

Many thousands of feet of the picture have already been taken and the footage will run into the hundreds of thousands before the company returns to the Hollywood studios to put the finishing touches on the production. “The White Desert” deals with a snowbound village and the efforts of hardy railroaders to carry relief to the beleaguered villagers. With the picture are scenes and explanations showing that such a condition will no longer be possible when the Moffat tunnel is completed.

The first detachment of Metro players has been on “the hill” for the past two weeks. Reginald Barker, famous director, is in charge of the party, which has a special train sidetracked at the loop. The shooting is under the personal direction of Assistant Director Schenk.

Pat O’Maley, who plays the leading role in “The White Desert,” and Billy Eugene, juvenile, together with other male members of the company, are “doing their stuff” daily above timberline.

The women of the cast, headed by Miss Claire Windsor, who will play the lead, will arrive in Denver this week some time and go on location immediately.

Right now the company is praying for a blizzard to take some of the storm scenes which are a vital part of the action. Oddly enough, the weather has continued “bright and fair” on the Hill for the past fortnight, and E. E. Brockman, Moffat railroad official who is major domo of the motion picture party, says that the Moffat road could well afford to pay the Metro company to send a party to Corona every spring to insure good weather.

The work of the actors and the four motion picture camera men is gruelling in the extreme. The entire party came from balmy California, and not only is the cold weather bothering them, but altitude claims its victims at irregular intervals. It is not unusual to see a cameraman busily grinding one minute and the next toppling head-over-heels in the snow, his snowshoes only preventing him from sinking out of sight.

“The White Desert” is booked for release in May and will be rated as one of Metro’s super-productions. It has already been contracted for by first-run picture houses all over the country and will prove to be a source of valuable publicity to Northwestern Colorado.

The Craig Empire, March 25, 1925

⸻

B. Travis Wright, MPS | Preserve Rollins Pass | March 30, 2025

The primary purpose of our work is to inform the public.

Crater Lake Spilling into the Moffat Tunnel

15Feb

The Air Was Filled With Love, the Tunnel With Water: When Crater Lake Met the Moffat Tunnel in February 1925

In Moffat Tunnel by Preserve Rollins Pass / February 15, 2025 / Comments are closed

Engineers designed the Moffat Tunnel for natural drainage, but a sudden East Portal flood from Crater Lake in 1925 still slowed progress to just 352 feet that February.

Moffat Tunnel Construction Happenings from 100 Years Ago

On Valentine’s weekend, Sunday, February 15, 1925—exactly 100 years ago today—progress on the water tunnel took a dramatic and unexpected turn on the East Portal side of the Continental Divide. When excavation reached 8,050 feet, a sudden breach in the rock unleashed a torrent of water—1,800 gallons per minute—gushing from a hidden seam.

The heading (excavation point) was located 1,100 feet beneath Crater Lake, and the immediate assumption was that the lake was the source of the deluge. However, the possibility remained that it could have originated from a subterranean stream, further complicating the mystery.

In response, a team was dispatched to Crater Lake to investigate. The weather was cloudy, with a low of about 5 degrees Fahrenheit. Acting on the advice of K. S. Weston, an electrician, they devised an ingenious—if unorthodox—experiment. After cutting through three feet of ice covering the lake, they introduced 10 pounds of chloride of lime into the frigid waters. To ensure the chemical dispersed thoroughly, they detonated a stick of dynamite, sending a shockwave rippling across the lake. Subsequent tests of the tunnel water confirmed the presence of the lime, linking the water’s source unmistakably to Crater Lake.

Despite local legends describing Crater Lake as ‘bottomless,’ soundings revealed its true depth to be only nine feet. The lake itself was never entirely drained. Over time, the once-raging flow diminished to 150 gallons per minute and eventually reduced to a mere trickle. By the following summer, with the lake replenished from snowmelt, the seam appeared to have sealed itself—perhaps aided by a combination of disturbed silt, mineral deposits, and shifting rock settling into the fracture.

Engineers anticipated the risk of water intrusion at any point and accounted for it in the tunnel’s design. The Moffat Tunnel was constructed as an apex tunnel, designed so that water entering at any point would be carried downhill by gravity toward an exit. On the East Portal side, where the flood occurred, the grade was 0.3%, allowing water to drain naturally and eliminating the need for pumping. The West Portal side, which was unaffected by the flood, had steeper grades of 0.9% and 0.8% to ensure efficient drainage in that direction.

However, even with the tunnel’s self-draining design, the volume of water on the East Portal side still posed a significant challenge. The flooded section required meticulous handling, and the persistent flow of water slowed progress to a crawl. Meanwhile, on the West Portal side, unstable ground conditions created additional obstacles, further limiting excavation. Workers managed only 352 feet of progress in February, hindered by waterlogged conditions and difficult terrain.

This episode underscores the sheer unpredictability of tunneling under such rugged conditions. While the flood was a setback, it also showcased the ingenuity and persistence required to push forward—qualities that defined this ambitious project and its workers.

This is just one of many remarkable episodes that shaped the history of Rollins Pass and the Moffat Tunnel. We explore more of these challenges, surprises, and triumphs in our second book on Rollins Pass.

Today’s story is just one moment in a much larger epic. Follow our blog as we track the centennial of the Moffat Tunnel’s construction and opening through February 2028, uncovering more stories along the way.

Nota Bene: The remarkable photograph accompanying this post captures the waters of Crater Lake pouring into the Moffat Tunnel. Like many others in our collection, it offers a rare glimpse into the past and has been meticulously preserved. Carefully scanned from the original, it retains its historical integrity, ensuring that every detail—from the texture of the print to the subtle interplay of light and shadow—is faithfully rendered.

B. Travis Wright, MPS | Preserve Rollins Pass | February 15, 2025

The primary purpose of our work is to inform the public.

26Jan

Cave-Ins, Costs, and Catastrophe: Struggles at the Moffat Tunnel in January 1925

In Moffat Tunnel by Preserve Rollins Pass / January 26, 2025 / Comments are closed

Explore the dramatic events of January 1925 at the Moffat Tunnel, where cave-ins, soaring costs, and a tragic fatality tested engineering limits.

Moffat Tunnel Construction Happenings from 100 Years Ago

January 1925 brought no shortage of challenges for the Moffat Tunnel construction, particularly at the West Portal, where the soft ground proved to be the most persistent obstacle.

The first major incident of the year occurred on January 16th, when a cave-in near cross-cut number 3 caused significant disruption. Engineer Clifford A. Betts described the event, stating: “The cave-in was due to the soft geological formation, with which the drillers have been battling since the work started. It forced out partly-placed timbers and braces, filling the tunnel so solidly that it takes a week to move the debris.”

Fortunately, no one was injured, but the collapse, which occurred approximately 2,734 feet from the West Portal entrance, underscored the immense pressure and instability of the terrain. In some areas, the lateral pressure was so severe that double timbering was necessary to stabilize the worksite.

Just days later, the financial realities of the project became clear. Rising timbering and construction costs, compounded by the extent of the unforeseen soft ground at the West Portal, created a financial shortfall that appeared unavoidable. Newspapers reported: “The $6,720,000 bond issue authorized for the work [on the Moffat Tunnel] will be inadequate.” By January 1925, slightly more than half of the authorized funds had already been spent, yet only one-third of the tunnel was completed.

Despite these challenges, there was cautious optimism. Officials noted that approximately one-fourth of the expenses had been invested in the camp and construction plants, which were expected to sustain operations for the duration of the project and offer salvage value upon completion. Still, the ongoing issues at the West Portal had already resulted in an “unforeseen expenditure of between $300,000 and $400,000, and which still continues, increasing costs and retarding the progress of the tunnel.”

To address the immense pressure and soft conditions, Oregon fir was used for the main timbering, while native lodgepole pine was employed in less pressurized areas, such as headings and bores.

The challenges of January took a tragic turn on January 22nd, when a cave-in claimed the life of Joseph Grusser, a 34-year-old mucker. The incident occurred at 5 o’clock, approximately 6,150 feet from the tunnel’s entrance, in what was described as “the most dangerous spot in the Moffat Tunnel due to the nature of the rock, a seamed granite and the softest material yet encountered in the workings.”

Grusser and several others were placing new props at the tunnel face when they heard “a series of explosive cracks in the rock.” While most workers escaped in time, Grusser was buried under tons of soft rock and earth as he turned to flee. His fellow workers labored tirelessly for several hours with picks and shovels to recover his body.

Reports indicated that Grusser had “no living relatives,” and while newspapers initially claimed his death was the first fatality in the Moffat Tunnel project, this was incorrect. As previously reported, Rade Lekich was killed on May 22, 1924, at the East Portal when he was struck by switch cars. The discrepancy calls into question the accuracy of the widely reported figure of 28 fatalities during the tunnel’s construction, suggesting that the true number may have been miscounted or misrepresented. However, Grusser’s tragic passing marked the first recorded death associated with the West Portal efforts to bore the Moffat Tunnel.

Today, Grusser rests at Riverside Cemetery in Denver (Block 12, Lot 31, Sec 45). Tragically, his grave remains unmarked, a silent testament to a life lost and a sacrifice forgotten by history—yet remembered here, as we honor his story in this comprehensive, multi-year review of Moffat Tunnel history.

As construction efforts pressed on, technology became an essential ally. General Electric prominently advertised their contributions, stating: “General Electric mine locomotives are carrying out the rock [of the Moffat Tunnel], and G-E motors are driving air compressors and pumping water from underground rivers.” Adding to the month’s events, a curious claim about the tunnel appeared in the January 31, 1925 edition of The Holy Cross Trail: “You will see [that] the Moffatt [sic] Tunnel passes under a bottomless crater lake…. This lake is fed by eternal snows and has no outlet… why any corps of engineers would run a tunnel under a lake, is incomprehensible.”

January ended with a mix of progress and setbacks, but February 1925 would prove that the challenges of the Moffat Tunnel were only beginning. Deep beneath Colorado’s peaks, natural forces quietly built toward a reckoning, threatening to turn ambition into chaos. Stay tuned as nature reveals its hand in the months ahead.

B. Travis Wright, MPS | Preserve Rollins Pass | January 26, 2025

The primary purpose of our work is to inform the public.

27Dec

Moffat Tunnel Happenings of December 1924: Dynamite, Pickles, and Progress Under James Peak

In Moffat Tunnel by Preserve Rollins Pass / December 27, 2024 / Comments are closed

Discover December 1924 at the Moffat Tunnel: progress milestones, holiday cheer, workers’ cravings for pickles, and the daring dynamite expert Pete.

Moffat Tunnel Construction Happenings from 100 Years Ago

Progress on the Moffat Tunnel surged ahead as the year came to a close. Solid rock was finally struck at the West Portal, marking a major milestone in the project. A newspaper article celebrated this breakthrough: “For over two weeks no timbering has been necessary, and hope is expressed that the tunnel is now in the solid granite under James Peak.” Despite the progress, caution remained: “Drilling must continue for another week or two, however, before the engineers can be certain if they have struck the main body of solid rock comprising the body of James Peak.”

In December 1924, the tunnel was already being heralded as: “One of the world’s greatest railroad bores.” But the work was far from glamorous. Conditions inside the tunnel were grueling, particularly for those on the graveyard shift from 11pm to 7am. These workers developed an unusual craving for onions and pickles. A reporter observed: “They seem to care little for meats for breakfast but have a special craving for onions and pickles. Just why, we were unable to learn but evidently the atmosphere back in [the tunnel is] charged with dampness, gasses and smoke despite efforts at forcing fresh air in through ventilating pipes, [workers] must develop a craving for special properties contained in these foods.”

The reasons behind this craving remain speculative, but several theories exist:

Strong Flavors: Onions and pickles provided bold, sharp tastes that may have cut through the workers’ dulled senses, which were affected by the smoky, damp air.
Replenishment of Salts: The physically demanding labor caused significant sweating, and pickles, rich in sodium, helped replace lost electrolytes.
Digestive Stimulation: Onions and pickles could have stimulated digestion, providing an energizing effect during long shifts.
Comfort Food: These familiar foods might have offered psychological comfort in the harsh and isolating conditions of the tunnel.
Nutritional Value: Onions and pickles provided vitamins, minerals, and other nutrients that may have been lacking in the workers’ diets.

The harsh realities of the work were offset by the resilience of characters like Pete, whose story was immortalized in print:

“Pete is a character for the pen of a novelist. Imagine, playing with dynamite for 40 years! That’s ‘Pete,’ and only one serious accident as a result of which he wears a glass eye and seems to be minus a few bones in one hand… He is still poking holes in sticks of dynamite and insists that the main requisites to success in his line are a clear conscience… and a pointed wooden stick with which to bore the holes. Now for my part I can think of a lot of things I’d rather do, but the job’s full of romance to ‘Pete.’ He is 60 years old, most of which time has been spent in the mountains of Colorado where, during the gold excitement Leadville was his headquarters. He is in charge of the powder house at West Portal, where he loads, primes or fuses with electric wires all the shots used in the tunnel and keeps track of what is checked out.”

December also brought holiday cheer to the tunnel camps. At the East Portal, families prepared for a festive celebration. The Steamboat Pilot described the plans:

AT THE TUNNEL CAMPS: Santa Claus Will be at East Portal Tomorrow with Big Feed

“Moffat tunnel workmen and their families at the East Portal camp will enjoy a big Christmas dinner, with roast turkey and all the fixin’s [sic], as well as a community Christmas tree party Thursday. Forty or more children who attend the East Portal school will be given presents from the big tree. A program of community singing, special musical selections, distribution of presents and refreshments, has been planned. Plans are being made to have Santa Claus himself pay East Portal a visit and distribute the gifts. The men, women and children at the West Portal Moffat tunnel camp held their Christmas party several days ago.”

By year’s end, the Moffat Tunnel was more than one-third complete. The pioneer, or water, tunnel had reached 6,500 feet from the East Portal and 5,490 feet from the West Portal. The main heading extended 6,316 feet from the east and 4,700 feet from the west, while the cross-cut tunnels totaled 520 feet in length. The full-size railway tunnel, destined to carry trains, had progressed 3,094 feet from the East Portal and 531 feet from the West Portal.

As the year drew to a close, the Moffat Tunnel project wasn’t just boring through rock—it was chiseling out a saga of human endurance. From Pete’s fearless dynamite rituals to the workers’ baffling hunger for onions and pickles, every inch gained was a triumph against nature, a testament to the indomitable spirit that dared to reshape the very heart of the Rockies.

Nota Bene: The photograph accompanying this post was published in newspapers in December 1924, but its purpose was not explained in the captions. Upon further research, the image shows the reinforcing sets of 12″ x 12″ Oregon Fir supporting regular timber in heavy ground where concreting may be required.

B. Travis Wright, MPS | Preserve Rollins Pass | December 27, 2024

The primary purpose of our work is to inform the public.

30Nov

Colorado’s Great Portal to Greater Prosperity: Moffat Tunnel Happenings of November 1924

In Moffat Tunnel by Preserve Rollins Pass / November 30, 2024 / Comments are closed

In November 1924, the Moffat Tunnel surged past one-third completion, inspiring community pride and reflecting Colorado’s boundless potential.

Moffat Tunnel Construction Happenings from 100 Years Ago

The construction of the Moffat Tunnel—a monumental engineering project piercing the backbone of the continent—continued to progress rapidly in November 1924. The East and West Portals were celebrated as “forming open doors to the opportunity beyond the dreams of this generation,” according to the Rocky Mountain News on November 8, 1924.

Remarkable milestones, described as ‘splendid progress,’ were achieved this month. By November 15th, workers had reached the one-mile mark on the pioneer bore from the West Portal. Together with progress made at the East Portal, 36% of the smaller, pioneer bore was complete. The primary railroad tunnel saw equally impressive strides, with 2,723 feet drilled at the East Portal and 481 feet at the West Portal. The difference in progress between the two portals stemmed from the geological challenges: solid rock at the East Portal allowed for faster drilling, while the soft rock at the West Portal required extensive timber reinforcement.

The Steamboat Pilot on November 19, 1924, described the efforts in detail: “Headings of the main, or railroad tunnel, are now 33 per cent complete. The headings are the small tunnels which are later enlarged to the full size of the finished railroad tunnel. That the headings of the main tunnel are 33 per cent complete means that they are driven almost as far under the Continental [D]ivide as the pioneer tunnel, which parallels them.”

Even as engineers labored underground, cultural efforts were underway to rally public support for the tunnel and the promise it held. The Rocky Mountain News launched an essay contest for Denver schoolchildren, encouraging them to describe why the region unlocked by the Moffat Tunnel was remarkable for its “agricultural, industrial, recreational, scenic and health-giving resources.” Students were tasked with crafting essays between 500 and 1,000 words, with prizes ranging from $2.50 to $10.

The winning entry, penned by a student using the nom de plume ‘Bebob,’ captured the boundless potential of northwestern Colorado. Accompanying the essay was a request that any prize money be donated to the Community Chest fund—a testament to the altruistic spirit fostered by the competition. The contest also recognized other talented students: Elaine Meyer earned second prize, Deane A. Wither took third, and Jim Smith was awarded fourth, with each entry reflecting the excitement and promise surrounding the Moffat Tunnel and its transformative potential for the region.

Here is Bebob’s inspiring essay in its entirety:

COME TO COLORADO, SETTLE IN ITS NEW WONDERLAND.
By Bebob, a Denver School Student

Nowadays most every part of our country is well populated and opportunities limited by keen competition already established. Those districts yet unsettled are devoid of inducements for the newcomer with one exception—it is northwestern Colorado. This district has been locked up all these years by lack of transportation, which the construction of the Moffat Tunnel will open up.

What it will release to the world is so wonderful that one could write volumes upon volumes about this great virgin empire.

Always when settlers enter a new country they must not only endure hardships, but must help build up schools and churches in addition to their own homes. It is going to be a great surprise to the new settlers of this district when they arrive there and find pretty towns with every modern convenience such as electric lights, water works, smooth highways, churches, grade schools and high schools, with the best of teachers. Neither they or their children need undergo a single hardship such as settlers usually go thru in a new country.

There is not another place on earth where lovers of outdoor sports can find such a variety of pastimes within so few miles. This district is only 100 miles wide and long, yet it contains millions of acres of play grounds maintained by our federal government, where there exists a haven for hunters, large and small lakes filled with trout for the anglers, and miles upon miles of mountain trails for the hikers.

Here the healthseeker will find clean, comfortable cottages and modern hotels surrounded by many mineral springs of great curative power. The tourist on his vacation will have thrill after thrill gazing upon the gorgeous scenes in every direction from its mountain tops.

There awaits the farmer the most fertile valleys of America, already in growing crops of hay and grain, with modern homes and barns, which will be sold to him at low prices and easy terms. Where crop failure is unknown after forty years of continuous tilling by the cattlemen who were the trail breakers into this mountain region two score years ago. The dairymen will be greeted with rich feeds for his herds and national forests summer pasture where his cows can graze at a cost so low it seems unbelievable.

The coal miner and woodsman comes from his day’s labor in the Rocky Mountains fresh and happy. No exhaustion from heat or humidity. The climate is not equaled anywhere. His vacation hours are spent in hunting and fishing along mountain streams and lakes of cool waters shaded by handsome cedars and tall pines.

Those who will carry on in the towns will likewise enjoy the exhilarating atmosphere and outdoor mountain life of Colorado, for they have only to step out of their places of business and they are at the gateway, so to speak, of all I have just related.

Oh, come to Colorado, come now, do not delay: Bring your family, bring your friends and come right here to stay. Come out to our sunshine, fertile fields and mountains tall— Come to Colorado, where there’s health and wealth for all.

The Moffat Tunnel represented more than just an engineering achievement; it was a gateway to progress, opportunity, and community for northwestern Colorado. As these historic milestones demonstrate, its construction fostered dreams that extended beyond the rails—bringing people together to celebrate the promise of the region’s potential. From the workers in the tunnel to the schoolchildren imagining its future, the Moffat Tunnel became a shared story of ambition and hope, etched into Colorado’s past, present, and future.

Nota Bene: The photograph accompanying this post was published in newspapers in November 1924, but its purpose was not explained in the captions. Upon further research, the image depicts the lunch counter in the Water Tunnel at Crosscut #4, located one mile underground near East Portal.

The photograph accompanying this post was published in newspapers in November 1924, but its purpose was not explained in the captions. Upon further research, the image depicts the lunch counter in the Water Tunnel at Crosscut #4, located one mile underground near East Portal.

B. Travis Wright, MPS | Preserve Rollins Pass | November 30, 2024

The primary purpose of our work is to inform the public.

30Oct

October 1924 in the Moffat Tunnel: Hard-Won Progress Amid Tough Conditions

In Moffat Tunnel by Preserve Rollins Pass / October 30, 2024 / Comments are closed

Amid October 1924 storms and setbacks, the Moffat Tunnel project reached 25% completion, showcasing Colorado’s enduring pioneering spirit.

Moffat Tunnel Construction Happenings from 100 Years Ago

In October 1924, the Moffat Tunnel project encountered an early winter. A severe rainstorm-turned-snowstorm interrupted communications over Rollins Pass and suspended the power supply at the West Portal. East Portal recorded two feet of snow.

As the snow continued to fall, so did the tasks piling up on the agenda for the Moffat Tunnel Commission, which required a quicker pace. According to the Steamboat Pilot on October 8, 1924, “The work of the commission now is getting so heavy that [Moffat Tunnel Commission] President Robinson is insisting upon a meeting of the full board once a month, and frequently it will be necessary to hold meetings twice a month.”

Despite these challenges, October saw a momentous milestone: the Moffat Tunnel project reached an estimated 25% completion. The pioneer bore—referred to in October 1924 almost exclusively by its intended function as the Moffat Water Tunnel—was nearly one-third complete. According to official estimates from the Commission, “Progress records show that 28 per cent of the main heading drilling in the railroad tunnel proper has been completed, that 31 per cent of the pioneer water tunnel has been dug, and that about 37 per cent of the crosscuts linking the water tunnel to the railroad bore has been finished to date.” Yet, only 7% of the entire railroad tunnel had been completed to its full size, as the work of enlarging the tunnel remained slow and arduous. Seven crosscuts were finished, and the construction of an eighth was underway. Progress since July, when the project was one-fifth complete, demonstrated the team’s determined pace in reaching the one-quarter mark in just a few months.

In tandem with the tunnel work, new infrastructure emerged. A rock crusher and screening plant was built at East Portal, where extracted rock would be crushed and used as ballast for the railroad bed within the completed tunnel. The rock would also be mixed into concrete to reinforce weaker tunnel sections. Eventually, this plant would be relocated to West Portal, a cost-saving decision allowing the Commission to avoid duplicating equipment and infrastructure at both portals.

The workforce was formidable: 630 men, with 370 stationed at the West Portal in Grand County and approximately 270 at the East Portal in Gilpin County. Despite the high numbers, the need for more hard rock drillers persisted. Forty children attended schools at both portals, adding a touch of domesticity to the challenging environment.

Despite the determined progress, tunneling efforts at the West Portal continued to be hampered by “soft ground,” with an estimated 1,000 to 2,000 feet of it remaining by mid-month—a situation that concerned the Commission as “this is adding tremendously to the expense.” The Steamboat Pilot reported on October 15, “At the East Portal, where the tunnel has been driven inward steadily, ahead of schedule cost, hard rock has been encountered from the first blast and from every indication will last for miles more. At the west end, however, progress, altho [sic] kept up with schedule time, is adding greatly to the costs thru [sic] the necessity of timbering virtually every foot of the way. Continued soft rock at this portal may mean that the total cost of the bore will exceed the original estimates and appropriations for the tunnel.” The added cost of timbering led to estimates that the railroad bore would cost $115 to $150 more per foot compared to tunneling through hard rock.

When asked to define the rock structure at the West Portal, the chief engineer said, “A hard biotite gneiss, broken by slickensided seams, slightly permeated with water, shot with feldspar.” Upon hearing this description, workers said, “This sounded pretty good. The ‘tite’ part of ‘biotite’ was fine, ‘Gneiss’ being pronounced ‘nice,’ a little water hurts no man, and while we had never been shot with feldspar, we were not adverse [sic] to that sensation, so felt better.” When workers examined the rock, their response was, “Soft and wet, all shot to hell.” Indeed, workers encountered rocks so soft they could be excavated by hand.

This soft rock did offer a minimal excavation cost saving, though “this is eaten up many times over, however, by the expense of timbering…. The water tunnel at the West end is in 4,740 feet. Every inch so far has been soft rock. From every indication the soft ground will prevail in from 6,000 to 7,500 feet from the portal…”

Geologists attributed the soft rock to “a gigantic slip in the mountains, when some part of James P[eak] fell down from its resting place millions of years ago, a broken gneiss seam with talc filled fissures. The talc, formed as the rocks broke and rubbed together when the fault slipped, gives the rock a tendency to slip.”

Other news in October 1924 was dominated by two major stories. First was the death of Colonel William G. Evans, described as “one of the last of the older state builders who devoted much of their lives to obtaining necessary rail lines for the growth of the city and state.” Evans, a critical advocate for the Moffat Tunnel bill, died of heart disease at age 65.

The other major story centered on the upcoming 1924 election, with Vice President Calvin Coolidge running for the presidency against John W. Davis after President Warren G. Harding’s death in office.

As autumn celebrations and gatherings approached, the Rocky Mountain News on October 29, 1924, offered a glimpse into the tunnel camps: “Hungry men don’t work well and there no hungry men working on the tunnel. Virtually the full twenty-four hours of the day the cooks are preparing a meal or clearing up from one already served to lay out another. The stewards found out early that it takes just so much food to sustain a working man, no matter how many meals he takes to get it, so every man in camp is welcome to the table for every meal served to any of the three shifts into which they are divided. The salary of the lowest paid workers at the camps is $4.50 a day. A charge of $1.50 is made for meals and lodging, with no limit on the meals to those eating at the camp dining houses. Some after taking three meals with their own shift, join the next crew at another and a few hardy souls interrupt their sleep regularly to get up, dress, and slip in a fifth meal when the dinner gong rings for still another shift.”

Entertainment options included recreation halls with pool and billiards tables, movies shown three times a week, weekly dances, and general stores stocked with everything from baby toys to rubber boots. For medical needs, the hospitals (at each portal) were fully equipped with physicians, nurses, operating rooms, and X-ray facilities to handle both routine care and emergencies.

Perhaps the most amusing insight came from the dining setup: “Underground workers pack their own lunches, cafeteria style, before going on for the day. The food is laid out and each man takes what he likes. A few epicureans content themselves with five or six pieces of pie and nothing else, or perhaps, as many pieces of cake, instead of the customary sandwiches.”

Despite facing relentless natural obstacles and mounting costs, the Moffat Tunnel project pressed forward, propelled by the dedication of its workers and the resilience of its engineers. October 1924 underscored the determination required to drive such a massive undertaking toward completion. The hardships endured—from brutal winter conditions and soft, unstable ground to the sheer physical demands placed on hundreds of laborers—were matched only by the sense of community that grew around the project. With recreation halls, dances, and well-equipped medical facilities, those involved found ways to build a life amid the labor. As the Moffat Tunnel steadily took shape, it became not just a feat of engineering but a testament to the pioneering spirit that defined early Colorado.

B. Travis Wright, MPS | Preserve Rollins Pass | October 30, 2024

The primary purpose of our work is to inform the public.

29Sep

Five Thousand, Two Hundred and Eighty Feet by September 20, 1924

In Moffat Tunnel by Preserve Rollins Pass / September 29, 2024 / Comments are closed

In September 1924, Moffat Tunnel workers pushed to complete one mile of the tunnel by the contract’s anniversary, overcoming major challenges.

Moffat Tunnel Construction Happenings from 100 Years Ago

“Five thousand, two hundred and eighty feet by September 20.”

This slogan echoed among the Moffat Tunnel workers at East Portal for much of September 1924, as they pushed to extend the pioneer bore a full mile into James Peak. The distance and timing held special significance, as they aimed to achieve this milestone by the first anniversary of the contract’s signing. So, they toiled, drilled, blasted, and mucked—on average about 22-23 feet per day. It was estimated that the one-mile mark would be reached by September 20th.

Fate smiled upon these ambitious men, and they reached their goal one day early on Friday, September 19 ,1924. Newspapers, such as the Steamboat Pilot proclaimed, “Friday—just one year after the signing of the contract for the tunnel—the drills of the construction gangs bit into the granite barrier of the Continental Divide, one mile from the East Portal. When the day shift went on duty, the water tunnel had been driven 5,208 feet into the base of James Peak from the east side. During the day the one-mile mark was passed. The main heading of the railroad tunnel has been driven 5,128 feet—almost a mile—on the east side, and 1,500 feet of full size tunnel have been completed.”

This progress is substantial, considering the contract was signed a year ago, on September 20, 1923, yet the ‘real work’ has only been underway for about 10 months. The early delays were due to building the company towns, waiting for equipment deliveries, and other logistical challenges, detailed in prior posts.

Progress at the West Portal, though slower, was still significant. The soft and loose rock caused delays and required extensive timbering to ensure stability. On the same day that milestones were achieved at the East Portal, the West Portal crews marked key advancements: the water tunnel extended 4,453 feet, and 3,300 feet had been excavated in the main heading. Meanwhile, the full-size railroad tunnel stretched 481 feet into the mountainside, as shown in the attached photograph.

As construction advanced, logistical and community needs were also being addressed. Post office fixtures were shipped to the West Portal and the East Portal, for the use of the workmen while the tunnel was in process of construction. “The postoffices [sic] will be known as ‘East Portal’ and ‘West Portal.'” Some of the first parcels likely dispatched to these new post offices were detailed in another article in the Steamboat Pilot, “The Lions Club is keeping the workmen at West Portal supplied with old magazines for the amusement room and bunk houses. There are 300 men at West Portal, and they appreciate reading matter. Donations of old magazines will be thankfully received. If left at the [Steamboat] Pilot office this office will see that they are wrapped and forwarded. The Lions club pays the parcel post charges. Nearly every family has magazines that they can donate.”

However, not all shipments were welcome. State prohibition agents under the direction of John R. Smith… arrested W.F. Bashore and Otto Lenhart on the Berthoud [P]ass road… when they found the two men in an automobile which contained twenty gallons of moonshine whisky. The men admitted, according to the prohibition agents, that they were bound for the West Portal of the Moffat Tunnel, where they had planned to dispose of their liquor, a stark reminder that the tunnel’s construction took place entirely during the era of Prohibition.

Meanwhile, important discussions regarding the tunnel’s future were also underway. Members of the Denver Water board and the Moffat Tunnel commission met at West Portal on September 24, 1924, to discuss the proposition of using the pioneer bore for Denver’s water. The discussion entailed future enlargement and cementing the pioneer tunnel.

B. Travis Wright, MPS | Preserve Rollins Pass | September 29, 2024

The primary purpose of our work is to inform the public.