Part 1

Transcriber’s Note: Italic text is enclosed in _underscores_. Additional notes will be found near the end of this ebook.

OF YANKEE GRANITE

_An Account of the Building of Bunker Hill Monument_

By E. H. CAMERON

With a Foreword by John Silsbee Lawrence

BOSTON

Bunker Hill Monument Association

1953

Copyrighted 1952 by the Alumni Association of the Massachusetts Institute of Technology and reprinted 1953 by their permission.

FOREWORD

_Had the British bullet that went through the hat of Major Samuel Lawrence of Groton near Bunker Hill on 17 June 1775 been aimed a bit lower, some thousand descendants of Major Lawrence would not have been born and I should not now have his dispatch wallet, nor his letter explaining the battle and mentioning General Dearborn, my first wife’s ancestor. The Bunker Hill Monument might not have been built; the Massachusetts Hospital Life Insurance Company might not have been developed; various charitable institutions might not have had adequate financial support and the dams at Waltham, Lowell and Lawrence might not have been constructed to provide the power to operate textile mills. John Brown might not have been sent by the Emigrant Aid Society of Boston to Kansas, where he called his camp Lawrence, now one of the flourishing cities of Kansas. Had Major Lawrence been killed we should not have had a Lawrence as Mayor of Lowell, or as Ambassador to the Court of St. James. Two Bishops of the Episcopal Church, a President of Harvard College, the present Senator Saltonstall, and many young men and women now actively interested in the problems of our nation might never have been born and I should not have qualified for membership in the Society of the Cincinnati._

_From reflecting upon the bullet that came so close to disposing of Major Samuel Lawrence at Bunker Hill I was led to the history of the monument commemorating the battle, in the building of which his son--and my great-grandfather--Amos Lawrence took a leading part. Much has been written about Bunker Hill Monument, but the splendid article by Mr. E. H. Cameron in_ The Technology Review _for May 1952 and June 1952 summarized its history so well that I was anxious to have it available in more permanent form. Mr. Cameron and the editors of_ The Technology Review _very kindly gave permission for this reprint, and Mr. Walter Muir Whitehill, Director and Librarian of the Boston Athenæum, has seen the pamphlet through the press. Mr. Whitehill has also selected the illustrations, and has included in them a hitherto unpublished drawing, owned by the Boston Athenæum, of Bunker Hill Monument under construction in 1837. This was obviously the source for the somewhat inaccurate wood engraving published in_ The American Magazine of Useful and Entertaining Knowledge, _III_ (1839), 404 _and subsequently reproduced in later accounts of the monument. The illustrations include portraits of the two largest individual contributors to the building of the monument--Amos Lawrence and Judah Touro, the Jewish merchant of Newport, Rhode Island. I am grateful to the Massachusetts Hospital Life Insurance Company and the Redwood Library and Athenæum of Newport for furnishing photographs of these portraits and permitting their reproduction, and to Mr. T. Temple Pond, President of the Bunker Hill Monument Association, for allowing this reprint to be published by the Association._

JOHN S. LAWRENCE

_OF YANKEE GRANITE_

PROLOGUE

On Saturday, 17 June 1775, on a fortified hilltop farm near Bunker’s Hill, Charlestown, Mass., a volunteer force of American citizens faced the professional soldiery of the world’s strongest nation. When their scant supply of ammunition gave out, the survivors retired in good order, to learn later that 140 of their neighbors and other companions had been killed in the fight. Their battle is therefore registered as an American defeat. It proved to be a striking victory, however, for historians agree that the Battle of Bunker Hill set the pace that led to ultimate victory in the American War of Independence. This little force of farmers, mechanics, tradesmen, and professional men had demonstrated how Americans should fight, when their independence is threatened.

On the field where the battle was fought, the Bunker Hill Monument has now stood for over a century, the rugged lines of its granite masonry symbolizing the enduring strength of the stern spirit of American independence that it commemorates.

About 40 years after the Battle of Bunker Hill, all New England was deeply stirred by a pamphlet published by Major General Henry Dearborn who had taken part in the engagement. The pamphlet accused General Israel Putnam, one of the most revered of the Revolutionary heroes, of incapacity and cowardice in the battle. Thereupon, the Battle of Bunker Hill was fought over and over again, at the wharves, sail lofts and ropewalks of Boston, and in all places where men gathered to work and to talk about the events of the day. Crowded nine inside and five on top of the jolting four-in-hand stagecoaches from Boston, friends and foes of the popular Revolutionary hero would wrangle over his conduct at the battle. It would be a long argument, at five miles per hour, with little room for gestures. With tankards in hand, by the warm fireplace in the low-ceilinged tavern of the village where the coach would stop for the night, the passengers could express their convictions more forcefully, and the Battle of Bunker Hill would become a very live topic indeed. The furor over the Putnam-Dearborn controversy became secondary, however, as the bald fact was realized that, aside from a small wooden column, no memorial existed on the site of one of the most famous military engagements of American history.

In the good Yankee fashion a group of prominent citizens conferred over their Madeira wine and coffee on ways to correct this humiliating situation, and in the year 1823, these men formed the Bunker Hill Monument Association, to solicit private contributions sufficient to build a monument on Breed’s Hill, where the battle had been fought, in the town of Charlestown, now a part of the city of Boston, Mass.[1]

[1] From the start, the site of the battle seems to have been called Bunker Hill, although it was actually fought on Breed’s Hill. The probable reason for this inaccuracy is that Bunker’s Hill was then 110 feet high, and the adjacent 62-foot-high Breed’s Hill was considered only a spur of the higher summit. Certainly, a contemporary British military map is entitled, “A Plan of the Action at Bunker’s Hill.”

Unlike the Washington Monument, which had to be completed by government funds, the Bunker Hill Monument was financed practically wholly by private means. Our independent ancestors did not count much on government aid in the building of a memorial to relatives or neighbors who had died in the battle; such monuments were personal matters. Of the total collected amount of about $134,000, only $7,000--a grant from the Commonwealth of Massachusetts--came from other than private contributions. (The amount raised to build the monument is roughly equivalent to $1,000,000 in modern money.) Aside from two donations of $10,000 each, the individual gifts ranged from a few at $1,000 to many at $0.25 each. Naturally, such a scheme of financing took a long time, and 18 years elapsed before the monument was dedicated. At a critical period, the Massachusetts Charitable Mechanics Association, started by Paul Revere and others, years earlier, joined with the Bunker Hill Monument Association to raise funds and help direct operations. At a still more critical period, the women of New England held a fair which brought in over $30,000, and the completion of the monument was assured.

Surely, the record of no other national memorial provides such a true cross section of American democracy as exhibited in the roster of the rich, those of moderate means, and the poor but independent citizens whose contributions made possible construction of the monument.

The magnitude of American structures of the year 1825, when the cornerstone of the monument was laid, was largely limited by the physical strength of those who had to build them--men, horses, and oxen. To raise the huge stones of the monument to such dizzy heights was a tremendous undertaking with the crude construction methods of the day. The builders of the monument had much to inspire them to devise better methods, however, in the examples of other enterprises in this virile period of American development. Steam navigation had already made notable progress in America, and while the lower courses of the monument were being laid, the first steam locomotives began to appear on the young American railroads. Canals, waterpower developments, and many new industries were being started in the young democracy.

A great contribution of the builders of the monument to the record of achievements of this period was their demand for granite in huge quantities to build it. This demand inspired the construction of the Granite Railway at Quincy, Mass.--America’s first railroad.

The story of the promotion, design, and construction of the monument is therefore doubly intriguing. It gives a vivid picture of the status of construction methods of the period, when America stood on the threshold of the age of machinery. It also reveals the spirit of audacious determination of our construction forebears as they developed their unprecedented processes from which our present marvelously efficient methods of construction have sprung. The spirit of the builders of the monument is worthy of that of the heroes of the battle, which their masterpiece has now commemorated for over a century.

_The Obelisk_

Few modern architects, engineers, or contractors are privileged to work in such distinguished company as did architect Solomon Willard, engineers Loammi Baldwin and Gridley Bryant, and contractor James Sullivan Savage, who designed and built the obelisk which is called the Bunker Hill Monument. They were associated with Daniel Webster and young Edward Everett, both of whom later became Secretary of State; with Thomas Handasyd Perkins (still revered in Boston as the man who endowed the Perkins Institution for the Blind), merchant prince of Boston, with the famous artists, Washington Allston and Gilbert Stuart; and their monument followed the classic lines of the model submitted by Horatio Greenough, a Harvard student, who later became a noted American sculptor.

To the amazingly talented architects and engineers of Egypt, 50 centuries ago, the Bunker Hill Monument would have been a simple structure to design and construct. To these ancient builders, it would have appeared to be merely a somewhat stubby shaft, devoid of the beautiful, deeply carved hieroglyphic record which ornamented their own obelisks from base to pyramidion (apex), and it would be a simple thing to erect. In fact, some would say that the monument is really not an obelisk, for it is built of many stones of a few tons weight each, whereas a single stone composed a typical Egyptian obelisk. Such stones sometimes weighed as much as 500 tons. They were transported hundreds of miles and by some now unknown method were erected to the vertical position by manual labor.

Like the Egyptians, the modern engineer would also call the monument easy to design and build. Today’s light, thin-walled chimneys of comparable height, pose much harder problems of stability against wind, and their designers feel fortunate when a chimney can rest on as firm a foundation as the glacial drumlin soil of Breed’s Hill. Why, then, was the erection of the monument considered such an unusual feat at the time?

The answer is obvious: the monument was built in the days of hand labor supplemented by animal power, and hand labor to the independent Boston mechanic of over a century ago did not mean hundreds of slaves tugging in unison to the drumbeat of an Egyptian timer, while an overseer cracked his whip. And the builders had determined to construct their monument of one of the hardest of building stones--New England granite--in the use of which there was then little precedent.

When the Bunker Hill Monument Association offered a prize of $100 for the best design of a monument, many plans, mostly of columns, were submitted. The Board of Artists of the Association (Daniel Webster, Gilbert Stuart, Washington Allston, Loammi Baldwin, and George Ticknor), who had to pass upon the submitted designs, favored the Greenough model based on an Egyptian obelisk of ancient Thebes. Although the directors had strongly favored a column, they yielded to the judgment of the Board of Artists and adopted the obelisk design instead.

Upon the adoption of the successful design, a committee, of which Loammi Baldwin was chairman, was appointed to “report a design of an obelisk.” Baldwin was a Harvard graduate, who had studied abroad under the patronage of Count Rumford.[2] He had become one of America’s most prominent engineers. Baldwin was responsible for the construction of the dry docks at the Charlestown and Norfolk Navy Yards; planned a canal tunnel (later built as a railroad tunnel) through the Hoosac Mountain; and was active in surveys for an adequate water supply for Boston, in the day when Boston people got their water from wells. Baldwin and his associates on the committee first went to the Boston and Roxbury Milldam (now Beacon Street), from which the monument would be prominently visible across the Charles River. Miniature models of different dimensions were mounted on the Milldam fence and were viewed from a definite distance to the rear. In this highly practical manner, the size of the most striking monument on distant Bunker Hill was determined.

[2] The famous scientist, Benjamin Thompson, of Woburn, Mass., who later became an English citizen, and who established the fact that heat is a form of motion.

The Baldwin Report on the design of the Bunker Hill Monument, described as neatly handwritten, was one of the valuable documents in the literature of early American engineering history. It ranks with the “Private Canal Journal” of DeWitt Clinton,[3] who promoted the Erie Canal; the report on American railroad standards of 100 years ago by Captain (later General) George B. McClellan of Civil War fame; Roebling’s report on the proposed Brooklyn Bridge; and similar historical documents that describe the methods from which the present processes of promotion and construction have sprung.

[3] William W. Campbell, _Life and Writings of DeWitt Clinton_ (New York: Baker and Scribner, 1849).

As shown in the table of dimensions which follows, the monument, almost exactly, is built to the dimensions of the Baldwin Report,[4] which was influenced by the Greenough model.

Height, above ground 220 ft. Sides of monument, at ground level 30 ft. Sides of monument, at base of apex 15 ft. Height of apex 12 ft. Minimum wall thickness, at base 6 ft. Diameter of circular interior, at base 18 ft. Height of masonry elements: 78 main courses, each with height of 2 ft., 8 in. 5 courses in apex, each with height of 1 ft., 8 in. Height of capstone 3 ft., 6 in.

[4] Measurements given above have been taken from: _Baldwin Report_ (1825)--Loammi Baldwin; _Plans and Sections of the Obelisk on Bunker’s Hill_ (1843)--Solomon Willard; _History of the Battle of Bunker’s (Breed’s) Hill_ (1875)--George E. Ellis.

Data from old records do not always check modern measurements. For example, a modern reference gives the height of the monument as 221 feet.

As described in the Baldwin Report, the circular winding staircase is composed of granite steps, starting with a width of about four feet and narrowing as the ascent is made. Baldwin called for “places of repose” (landings) at intervals. Modern architects call the part around which a circular staircase winds, the “newel.” Baldwin’s newel is a hallow wall, 10 feet in diameter at the base, about two feet thick.

Thus, the monument was designed by an engineer, not an architect. Baldwin violated a common rule for the proportions of ancient Egyptian obelisks, that the pyramidion should be as high as the base is wide, which is one reason why the Washington Monument is so beautiful. One regrets that architect Willard, who picked up where Baldwin left off, did not see fit to modify the Baldwin lines. There seems never to have been any question as to the monument’s material: granite, the native New England stone. Although we admire the Bunker Hill Monument for its somber strength, it cannot be called a structure of beauty, as is the lighter-tinted and finer-textured marble Washington Monument, with its sharper apex.

We can also speculate on why Baldwin made the monument wholly of granite. At today’s prices, the circular inner surface of the shaft and the circular chimney, or newel, around which the stone staircase winds, would be of tremendous cost. The dressing of the stone for a square inner area would be much cheaper.

Before criticizing Baldwin on his ponderous stair design, which could be replaced by a light, modern fire escape, we should look at the status of the tiny American iron industry of his day. The ironmasters were recovering from the decline of activity in the War of 1812, during which they had lost their British market. Baldwin would know that certain early railroad promoters estimated that granite tracks mounted with iron plates would be less expensive than the English-rolled rails, which the Americans could not produce. With masons in Massachusetts receiving about $0.18 an hour, granite was considered cheaper than iron. Baldwin therefore designed his stairway of granite, with a massive granite chimney “newel” to support the inner ends of the treads. Long before the monument was completed, however, a square staircase of either cast iron or wrought iron could have been produced, economically, by American ironmasters. It was then too late to make the change, however.

At about the time of the completion of the monument the first mechanical elevator was exhibited, but there was no room for an elevator at Bunker Hill--the newel was in the way. To climb a few score steps would be an easy task to our sturdy forebears, and to say that one has “climbed the Bunker Hill Monument” is a boast that hundreds of thousands of tourists to Boston have been proud to make for over 100 years. Baldwin may have been right again, as he usually was.

Baldwin specified that the monument should be square with the compass, a common Egyptian practice. As built, however, it is oriented to fit the redoubt (southeast corner) of the battle fortification. Structurally, Baldwin designed a sound foundation, 12 feet deep, built of six courses of stone with no small rubble that might deteriorate through the years. He specified that the starting level of the base of the monument should be established at the best elevation to avoid an uneconomical distribution of the excavated earth; today we would say that he balanced cut and fill.

The modern building contractor finds the estimate that went with the report both practical and quaint. He will find that the digging of the pit for the foundation of the monument was figured in “squares,” at $2.00 each; and since a square meant eight cubic yards, hand excavation was therefore priced at $0.25 per cubic yard. This price must have included the expense of shoring; also the pumping that such a deep pit would require. Baldwin proposed to dig a deep well on the site (today called a test pit), which would not only indicate the adequacy of the soil, but would also furnish water for construction purposes. Much water would be needed to mix the lime and sand mortar for the monument as well as for the Roman cement, for which the estimated 100 casks were figured at $7.00 each.[5]

[5] “The use of natural cement was introduced by Mr. Parker, who first discovered the properties of the cement-stone in the Isle of Sheppy, and took out a patent for the sale of it in 1796, under the name of ‘Roman Cement.’”--Edward Dobson, _Rudiments of the Art of Building_ (London: John Weale, 1854).

Masonry was then estimated in “perches,” and by a little arithmetic, the modern contractor will learn that a perch was then equal to 25 cubic feet, or nearly a cubic yard. The 784 perches of masonry for the foundation were priced at $10 per perch, including “stones, hammering, mortar, laying, etc.”

The report of Baldwin contains no computations on the structural stability of the monument. If the modern structural designer wishes to investigate how near the safe limit the monument has been tested by Boston’s occasional hurricane winds, he has available the major dimensions given in the Baldwin Report, and the drawings of Willard’s classic _Plans and Sections of the Obelisk_ from which to make this simple computation.

Such computation shows that the monument is so heavy that a hurricane wind has an almost imperceptible effect on its stability. When it is subjected to a 100-mile-per-hour wind, the resultant force is displaced only a fraction of a foot from the center of the 50-foot-wide foundation. The maximum load on the soil is about five tons per square foot--a safe bearing load on “the bed of clay and gravel which composes the soil of the Hill” as described in an old account. The same account speaks of “great pains having been used in loosening the earth, and in puddling and ramming the stones.” Surely, our construction ancestors would not have purposely disturbed the underlying soil, in an attempt to improve upon the natural bearing strength of one of the firmest of foundations: glacial hardpan. Like any good builder, they were undoubtedly merely puddling with water the earth backfill around the completed foundation.

Baldwin knew that granite would not deteriorate when exposed to the alternately hot and cold temperatures of Boston. Half a century later, the engineers who transported an Egyptian obelisk (one of the Cleopatra’s Needles) to Central Park, New York, learned that the lovely textured syenitic granite of the Nile Valley was markedly inferior to New England granite in weather resistance, although it had kept its surface intact for centuries in the mild climate of Egypt. To protect Cleopatra’s Needle in New York, a paraffin coating was found necessary.

Baldwin soon resigned from the building committee, partly because of the press of other work, but largely in protest against a clause which made its members, all of whom freely donated their services, financially responsible for the estimate. Promptly after accepting his resignation, the directors revised this clause. In reviewing the quaint old methods, the question arises: Would modern estimates be more accurate if the consulting architects and engineers had to pay for overruns?

_Transient Cornerstone_