What Purpose Is Being Served?

Introduction

For years, I drove past that bridge and wished it would disappear.

It sat immediately beside the newer bridge that had replaced it. Rusting. Deteriorating. Going nowhere.  Kids climbed on it. People jumped from it into the river. Residents complained about it.  To me, the old bridge wasn't a historic landmark. It was an eyesore and a public nuisance.

Then the State of Vermont announced it wanted to preserve it.  That decision eventually taught me a lesson about purpose, value, and the questions leaders forget to ask.

The Bridge

The bridge had once carried traffic across the lower Lamoille River in Milton. Built in 1902 after an earlier bridge was destroyed by floodwaters and ice, it served the town for nearly a century before being replaced by a modern two-lane structure in the 1990s.

After the replacement bridge opened, the old bridge remained.  If you stood on the riverbank, you could see both structures side by side. One bridge carried traffic. The other carried nothing.  Most people eventually stopped noticing it. I noticed it every day.

By the time I became Chair of the Milton Selectboard, I had come to view it as a nuisance that nobody had gotten around to removing.  Then the State decided it should be preserved.

The Selectboard's Problem

At first glance, this looked like a simple debate about historic preservation.  It wasn't.

Milton's community of historians largely come from families whose roots in town stretch back generations. Our historic preservation discussions are rarely just about buildings and bridges. They revolve around heritage, identity, and community memory.

In this case, the State supported preservation. Federal preservation policies supported preservation. Local preservation advocates supported preservation.  The Selectboard did not. At least not initially.

As part-time elected officials, we weren't equipped to run sophisticated public information campaigns. We needed a way to explain our concern in plain English.  Eventually we found one.

We started calling it: “The Bridge to Nowhere.”

The phrase stuck almost immediately because it forced people to ask a simple question: Where does it go?  And once people asked that question, other questions naturally followed.

Who would use it? What problem would it solve? What additional investments would eventually be required? Why was this a priority over other projects?

The phrase didn't answer the debate. It focused the debate.

Practical Concerns

My concerns weren't philosophical. They were practical.

The bridge already created public safety issues. Kids routinely climbed on it and jumped into the river below. Restoring and reopening it seemed likely to increase that activity rather than reduce it.

I could also see where the project might lead.  The bridge wasn't connected to trails. It wasn't connected to bike paths. It wasn't connected to any broader pedestrian network. Restoring the bridge would inevitably create pressure for additional spending intended to justify the original investment.

Most importantly, there were other transportation and infrastructure priorities competing for limited public resources.

The more people talked about preserving the bridge, the more one question kept coming to mind: What purpose is being served?

Changing My Mind

Over time, I learned more about the structure.

The preservation arguments weren't irrational. Transportation historians considered the bridge a rare Pennsylvania truss structure and an important piece of Vermont's transportation history.  For the first time, I began to appreciate why others cared so deeply about preserving it.

At about the same time, I reached another conclusion.  We were probably going to lose.  If my objective was simply to stop preservation, I was unlikely to succeed.

That realization changed my thinking.  I stopped asking: How do we prevent preservation?  And started asking: Is there a better way to preserve it?

The Hearing

Eventually preservation funding appeared in the transportation budget, and I testified before the House Transportation Committee.

The hearing itself was uneventful.  I explained the town's concerns, the safety issues, and the potential for future infrastructure costs that nobody was discussing.  Most importantly, I argued that preservation and restoration were not necessarily the same thing.

The Agency of Transportation had stored historic bridges before.  Why not store this one?  Preserve the bridge. Preserve the history. Wait until someone actually had a use for it.

The Outcome

Eventually the bridge was dismantled and placed into storage.

Then, years later, I learned that the Village of Swanton wanted it.  Swanton was developing a trail connection to its railroad museum and needed a pedestrian crossing over the Missisquoi River.  Unlike Milton, Swanton had an actual use.  The bridge solved an actual problem.

The structure was reconstructed and placed back into service.  The bridge that had gone nowhere in Milton suddenly had somewhere to go.

When I heard about it, I thought, “That's a great use of the bridge.”  The bridge was preserved. Its history was preserved. And the investment finally created value.

What struck me most was that neither side had really been wrong.  The solution emerged only when preservation and purpose finally aligned.

Final Reflection

For years I thought this story was about a bridge.  Today I think it was really about purpose.

The bridge never changed. Its history never changed. Its significance never changed.  What changed was the purpose being served.

In Milton, the bridge had become an asset searching for a purpose.  In Swanton, it found one.

Organizations become attached to programs, policies, committees, projects, facilities, and traditions.  Once that happens, discussions often shift toward preservation.

Far less attention is paid to a simpler question: What purpose is being served?

Strategic Judgment Questions

What purpose is being served?

The debate focused on preserving a historic bridge. The more important question was whether preserving that bridge served a meaningful purpose for the community being asked to support it. Once the question shifted from preservation to purpose, very different solutions became possible.

 What future obligations are hiding behind today's proposal?

The bridge restoration appeared to be a stand-alone project. In reality, restoring it would likely create pressure for trails, bike paths, maintenance obligations, and additional investments intended to justify the original decision.

Can the objective be achieved another way?

The discussion frequently assumed the only options were restoration or demolition. Storage created a third alternative that ultimately preserved the bridge, protected its history, and allowed a better use to emerge later.

What changes when context changes?

The bridge had limited practical value in Milton after it was replaced. The same bridge became highly valuable in Swanton because it served a new purpose. The bridge itself never changed. The context did.