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