How the Railroad Built the American West

Bring in the workers and bring up the rails
We've gotta lay down the tracks and tear up the trails
Open her heart, let the lifeblood flow
Gotta get on our way 'cause we're moving too slow

            ~Gordon Lightfoot, Canadian Railroad Trilogy

            The railroad built modern America, especially the American West.  It was, in many ways, the greatest reason why the West was lost and won.  Don’t believe me?  Well, then, consider this: You’re fresh out of college and you’ve been offered two jobs– unlikely in this economy, I know, but let’s imagine it’s happened anyway.  One job is more lucrative, and offers seemingly limitless opportunities for anyone willing to put in the work.  This position, however, is in… Oh, let’s just say it’s on Fire Island, New York.  It’s a tempting employment opportunity, but, as there are no cars allowed on the island, you’ll have to walk.  And the ferry drop off is on the opposite side of the island from your potential place of employment.  That means that to reach your destination, you’ll have to walk twenty-one miles.  As is the case with most islands, shopping and entertainment options are limited.  To get to the mainland, however, you'll have to hike back to the distant ferry landing. 
            The other position is in a nearby city, with plenty of modern comforts and unrestricted automobile use.  This position, however, doesn’t pay very well, and offers little or no chance for advancement.  In fact, this position is terrible, and about the best you can say about it is that it’s a job.

            Now, which of these two employment opportunities do you think you’ll take?

            Most of us would agree that this is a tough decision.  What if you whimp out, don’t go to Fire Island, and later discover that the golden opportunity of a lifetime has passed you by?  On the other hand, what if you get to Fire Island and discover you hate it?  It isn’t as if you can simply turn around and walk back on a whim.  Pondering this theoretical predicament may give you a slight inkling of what our ancestors might have felt like when they considered the choice to move west.

            Now, imagine that the state of New York decides to build a passenger train rail on Fire Island.  It’s not much– just a single train that runs back and forth four times a day– but it makes travel on the island far more efficient and far less difficult.  Getting from the ferry landing to your potential job now takes about half an hour rather than two days.  Even better, this train also carries cargo, so if you order something by mail or online, you no longer have to make a long trip to pick it up from the nearest post office.

            Your decision just got easier, didn’t it?

            The railroad had much the same effect on the American West.  In his September 2006 six article in Railway Age, William L. Withuhn meantions that railroads been popping up all over the country since the 1830’s.  Many of these were fairly local, however, traveling from city to city within a single state.  Once the construction of the Transcontinental Rail Line was complete, people and supplies were able to move between the savage west and the dignified east with speed and ease that had never before been seen.

            This drastically affected population.  A study of U.S. population history published by the Public Purpose gives some excellent examples.  San Antonio, California, for example, grew from a population of four-thousand in 1850 to sixty-nine-thousand in 1870– one year after the Transcontinental Railroad was completed.

            The railroads also offered employment in the young West, both directly– men were hired to work for the railroad– and indirectly– increased trade caused industries to grow, which created more jobs.  William L. Withuhn mentioned in his article that “railroads changed the logistics of industry.”  He goes on to say that, though the increase in freight could be argued to be a direct result of a growing American economy, it must be accepted that, with out the railroad, the transportation of goods never could have kept up, and the economy would have faltered.  Thanks to rail lines, the western United States not only became settled, but lucrative.

            So, one can argue endlessly about whether the West lost or won in the end, or about whether the white men who traveled west were settlers or invaders.  But this much is certain: without the railroad, it never could have occurred.

Sanctus Sanctorum: Thoreau's "Walking" and Pagan Philosophy

I have read several of of Henry Thoreau’s writings, and his insights never cease to amaze me.  Choosing a favorite would be an extremely difficult task, but of all of his works, I believe I identify most with the essay Walking.  This is perhaps because forested mountains are my favorite landscape, and indeed my Heart Home.  Or perhaps it is because, as a mythologist, a conversationalist and a syncretistic Christo-Pagan, I agree wholeheartedly with his assertion that humanity should not be fully cultivated or socialized, but should seek what he calls Beautiful Knowledge along with book knowledge.  We should experience our natural world and maintain our connection with our “vast, savage, howling mother.”

This “wild and dusky knowledge” is an important part of a Pagan philosophy.  In the uplifting, awe-inspiring and sometimes frightening realm of the outdoors, we experience the soul of creative energy and come face to face with our Mother.  In the rush and bustle of modern life, it is too easy to forget Her, too easy to become separated from nature, and to become disconnected from the part of ourselves hides in some wild corner of our minds.  We forget to take time to smell the roses.  We forget to throw that water bottle into the recycling bin rather than the trash.  We forget the sweet, sharp tang of ocean air, the careless music of a running stream, or the cool feeling of mud squeezed between our toes.  And those things are important.  As small as they are, they help to make us whole.

The Psychology of Nature, an article written by Jonah Lehrer and published in Wired Magazine last August, contains interesting illustrations of this.  In a study performed by Frances Kuo, the director of the Landscape and Human Health Laboratory at the University of Illinois, it was documented that women living in apartments with windows overlooking green space were psychologically healthier than women living in apartments overlooking buildings and parking lots.  The women were asked undergo several tests and take surveys intended to measure their emotional coping skills.  Those who had a daily view of nature ranked higher in all of the above.  Similarly, another study, this one conducted by Marc Berman at the University of Michigan, measured moods and psychological test scores of students.  All of them performed these tests shortly after taking a walk in either a busy city or an arboretum.  Those who had gotten a glimpse of nature before being tested had both better attitudes and noticeably healthier test scores.  It seems that even a brief foray into the wild world can enliven the mind.

Thoreau, I believe, innately understood the importance of such things.  He seemed to know, with that dusky and unfathomable knowledge he speaks about, that the mind and spirit both need to be refreshed by nature.  For, along with a comprehension of the mental benefits of the experiencing nature, he seems to have understood the sanctity of nature.  “When I seek to recreate myself, I seek the darkest woods… I enter a swamp as a sacred place– a sanctum sanctorum.”  Thoreau truly seems to have had the same reverence for the natural world shared by many Pagan faiths.

Those relative few who can truly appreciate the natural world were also accorded rightful honor in Thoreau’s mind.  “I have met but one or two persons in the course of my life who understood the art of Walking… Who had a genius, so to speak, for sauntering.”  He goes on the illustrate that the word sauntering is likely derived from one of two different terms involving an idle, meandering mode of walking– walking for the pleasure of it.  He compares Walkers to Knights Errant of old, and speaks of a separation from society and of a wild freedom that can only be found in nature.

Whether Thoreau realized it or not, this sanctification of the seemingly mundane is another thoroughly Pagan view.  Some people may have trouble understanding this nearly religious perception of pleasure walks, but to the Pagan mind it makes perfect sense.  Many of the belief systems lumped under the title “Pagan,” including Neo-Druidism, which is a part of my personal belief system, place importance on the idea that any act can be a sacred act.  Taking a morning jog, stirring one’s coffee, or even feeding the cat can become a sacred act if one takes the time to recognize the importance and meaning behind it.  Eating breakfast can be thought of as more than a quick bite of food to see one through until one’s lunch break.  It is the act of consuming formerly living things– plants, animals, bacteria, etc.– and making them a part of one’s own life.  In essence, it is the blending of another life force with one’s own.  Getting out of bed can become sacred of one recognizes placing one’s feet on the floor as being the first steps of the day.  Taking a moment at that point to decide consciously that those first steps will be taken with a good attitude which will be maintained throughout the day completes what could be considered a miniature ritual.

Thoreau seems to have understood Walking the same way, despite the fact that he wasn’t Pagan.  He knew nature, as well as the communal with it, were sacred things, and he embraced both wholly and fully.  He compares nature with the Holy Land sought by crusaders of old– not merely in the sense of the physical place, but in the sense of the sanctifying and uplifting experience many hoped they would receive there.  Drawing once again on his analogy of Walkers as Knights, he speaks of his own crusades into the wild lands, where he hopes to find a sort of enlightenment.

So we saunter toward the Holy Land, till one day the sun shall shine more brightly than ever he has done, shall perchance shine into our minds and hearts, and light up our whole lives with a great awakening light, as warm and serene and golden as one a bankside in autumn.

To an extent, I think it is safe to say that all of us experience a little piece of that each time we meander into a quiet, green, tree-filled space and embrace the  solemnity of Mother Earth.

Sources:

Lehrer, Jonah.  The Psychology of Nature. Wired Magazine, August 19 2010.  Web.

Thoreau, Henry.  Walking.  Arc Manor: Rockville MD, 2007.  Print.