<< Back 9/25/02 The worst plan is no plan By Scott McLeod Bridges have a unique symbolism in literature and in real life. At their best they provide a thread of connectedness, while at other times they highlight the distance and depth of opposing views. In Macon County, the McCoy Bridge crossing the Little Tennessee River just off N.C. 28 is bearing the burden of exposing how government and communities can sometimes work against each other. In this case, the individual entities involved don’t harbor ill will toward the other. The real underlying problem is that the government units — the county and the state — don’t have the kind of planning in place to adequately deal with the situation that has arisen. When that occurs, the government entities and the private citizens must share in the blame. Whether you believe it or not, in this country private citizens still determine what kind of government leaders they will have, and therefore share in whatever decisions are made. As we learn to grapple with the modern challenges of growth, sprawl and protecting the environment, this little bridge may provide an example of how to work together to meet common goals. The McCoy Bridge is a one-lane vehicular truss bridge, the last one in Macon County. Vehicles traveling in opposite directions between the highway and Rose Creek Road must wait for cars coming across the bridge before they can pass. There is no room for zooming, two-way traffic moving at dangerous speeds. Residents in the Oak Grove community of northern Macon County want it to remain that way. “I have guests from all over the world who float that river,” said Jerry Anselmo, who owns a campground and fishing camp on the Little Tennessee upstream of the bridge. “When they see that bridge, they’re in love. That bridge is gorgeous. It is an asset to the county and the Smoky Mountains in general.” The bridge serves a rural community a few miles outside of Franklin. As it is, mass, sprawling development on the opposite side of the river — and across the bridge — would be difficult. Many of those who might see the development potential of that mountain real estate would refrain because access is limited by the bridge. It serves as a kind of barrier, not natural, of course, but one that was built in 1939. The state Department of Transportation, however, has determined that the bridge needs work. Engineers have deemed it functionally obsolete and unable to handle future traffic demands. It’s structural integrity is suspect, they say. Instead of rehabilitation, $225,000 has been allotted for engineering studies for a new two-lane bridge. Construction is slated to begin in October 2004. A story in this newspaper last week related how county advocates of keeping the bridge and DOT engineers disagreed about whether environmental concerns had been properly discussed. As the matter has transpired this week, we have learned through a couple of emails that local biologist Bill McLarney and DOT engineer John Williams perhaps misunderstood each other. The possible threat that bridge construction might pose to the integrity of this biologically rare stretch of the Little Tennessee River was raised at a public hearing in 1998 and was voiced again at a public hearing this August. McLarney and U.S. Fish and Wildlife biologist Mark Cantrell were right to say that bridge removal or construction of a new bridge will require formal consultation of the U.S. Fish and Wildlife. These environmental concerns are certainly an important part of this debate. There is also a very significant cultural and historical side to this issue. Throughout these mountains we are building roads and opening up rural areas for development instead of tackling the more difficult issue of protecting these lands and containing development in areas where infrastructure already exists. The DOT is right that the bridge is probably in dire need of some engineering work. A Ford Excursion certainly puts more stress on an old bridge than a 1945 Dodge did. The trouble is that the DOT mandate to keep roads and bridges safe also enables them to carry more traffic, makes them wider, and makes them safer for higher speeds. Those attributes, though, are not necessarily good things for the community that uses the road — or the bridge in this case — that is being improved. And what we must remember is that the bridge was built to serve the community. It’s easy to guess what will happen in this unique area of Macon County in the future if local and state leaders — along with private citizens — don’t wrestle with issues like this and get on the same page. Roads will be widened and curves will be straightened. Houses will be built. Schools will be needed in the outlying areas, solid waste will have to hauled somewhere, septic tanks or sewer lines, along with other infrastructure, will need to be built. Taxes will go up to meet these needs. The rural countryside five miles outside of Franklin will become just another suburb. A one-lane truss bridge will not be able to handle the traffic. The McCoy Bridge dilemma serves as an example of the challenges facing these mountains. Residents who value our rural countryside have to make sure they put the leaders in place who have the same values, not those who will pave over paradise instead of working for a better alternative. Time is running out. (Scott McLeod can be reached at info@smokymountainnews.com)