Steeple and truss: Church is forever linked with Dixon bridge disaster

It is bitter circumstance that has forever linked the First Baptist Church and the Truesdell Bridge Disaster of May 4, 1873.

In the course of baptisms being conducted in the Rock River by the Rev. J.H. Pratt, the toll bridge upon which hundreds of spectators gathered then collapsed.

[ On Founders Day, the Truesdell Bridge Disaster comes full circle ]

The metal truss turned over, trapping those on its pedestrian walkway, causing the deaths of 46 people — many because of drowning — and injuries to some 56 others.

It has been called “Dixon’s Darkest Day” and Pratt, at the center of the ceremony, one of its most tragic figures.

Thursday marked the 150th anniversary of the tragedy.

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An aerial view of the First Baptist Church on Wednesday, May 3, 2023 in Dixon. Beyond is the current Galena Avenue Bridge, approximately where the Truesdell Bridge was before its collapse on May 4, 1873, and the northern shore from where the Rev. J.H. Pratt entered the water to conduct baptisms in the Rock River. (Scott Anderson)

A signature builder

“To hear about the story is to have great compassion for the guy,” says Tom Wadsworth, whose extensive historical research is the principal source for information about that day.

Pratt was 54. His own daughter, Anna, was 16 and in line to be baptized that day.

He had answered the call to serve the church in 1864. In the meantime, he became part of the congregation’s effort to erect a new church.

Accounts say money was raised through subscriptions. It ended up costing $15,000, which adjusting for inflation, would be almost $333,000 today.

The cornerstone was laid in 1869 — the same year the Truesdell toll bridge was constructed — and the church was dedicated in 1872.

The two-steepled red-brick church facing East Second Street remains one of the town’s signature buildings, although it didn’t please everyone at the time.

Bunyan Cocar, First Baptist’s current pastor, said some accounts of the time were scathing. One called it that “monstrous brick edifice.”

Pratt also was credited with the church’s growing membership.

“At the time, the church was 200 members in attendance, much larger than we are now,” Cocar said.

Social occasions

Pratt’s baptisms at the river were social occasions, Cocar said.

Newspaper accounts said Pratt had conducted earlier baptisms that drew even larger crowds.

With only a handful of churches in town, “it was a big event,” Cocar said.

In fact, on that fateful May 4, Wadsworth said Pratt delayed the start of the baptism, waiting for the other churches to conclude their services so the crowd would be larger.

“Everyone was dressed in their Sunday best,” Wadsworth said.

During the National Day of Prayer at Dixon’s Heritage Crossing — the actual anniversary of the disaster — Wadsworth provided the meditation for the gathering and offered more details about Pratt’s actions that day.

The baptisms

Wadsworth said that after Pratt baptized the first person, there would be those in the crowd singing while that person would be escorted to the bank. Pratt, who was familiar with the river, would guide the next person out.

Then as he was to baptize someone known only as Mrs. Brewer, the bridge showed signs of collapse. But the bridge tender couldn’t get people off in time, and it toppled over, plunging and trapping those on the pedestrian walkway.

To his credit, Pratt immediately led the rescue efforts. He was reaching out and grabbing those he could.

Many were members of his own flock. But it also meant he was the first to see those who didn’t make it.

First Baptist lost 14 of the 46 fatalities; six were grown women and eight were children.

“All their motives were good and honorable. Due to some sort of malfeasance, they all died,” Wadsworth said.

Pratt’s funerals

And it became Pratt’s task to conduct the funerals, which filled the calendar over the next few days.

Wadsworth said he remains struck by the newspaper accounts of one funeral, in particular, that of Bessie Rayne, who was 15. She had come to live with friends and family in Dixon because her parents deemed Chicago too dangerous after the Great Chicago Fire of 1871. Pratt conducted that funeral too. By that point, he could only offer a prayer in broken sentences and sobs, and a few tender remarks.

Wadsworth’s research into the other funerals were verbatim accounts that strongly reflected Pratt’s personal theology, that “God knew which one to select.”

It’s an expression of faith that doesn’t square with modern beliefs, Wadsworth and Cocar both said.

“We don’t hold that theology anymore,” Cocar said. “God knew who to take. That’s very old fashioned.”

Instead, Cocar adds: “God is with us when we struggle, not causing us to struggle.”

A terrible toll

Wadsworth said the Chicago newspapers reported in subsequent days that Pratt was seen “wandering around the shore” and “totally crushed with a weight of sorrow.”

Within six months, Pratt left the Dixon pulpit. Wadsworth said he moved to Sterling, then Emerson and finally to Iowa. He died 10 years later. Because his wife had relatives in Dixon, and because the church he helped construct was also there, the body was buried in Oakwood Cemetery.

“It’s heartbreaking, to be sure,” Wadsworth said.

Wadsworth points to how Pratt’s story has motivated Mark Stach, whose own efforts to locate artifacts of the old bridge are well documented. Stach wants to sculpt a memorial to Pratt and to those killed in the disaster.

[ Melding a memorial ]

The historical marker

Both Cocar and Wadsworth will take part in Sunday’s dedication of the historical marker.

Cocar has invited his congregation to make a procession from the church down the two blocks to the Galena Avenue Bridge, then across to Presidents Park for the ceremony.

For Cocar, the lesson of that day is perseverance, both for his church and the city of Dixon itself.

“This was not the defining moment as a church or as a community,” Cocar says. “Trying times will come and go. We will maintain our faith.”

The tragedy, coming when it did, could have had devastating consequences, Cocar said. It was merely four decades after the town’s founding — in fact, founder John Dixon was still alive.

But just as Dixon was making its transition from a frontier community into a burgeoning town it was subjected to a horrific event, which later research revealed is the deadliest road bridge disaster in U.S. history.

It could have capitulated the church, put a black eye on the entire community. But it didn’t.

“We have continued,” Cocar said. “A vibrant community. A loving community.”

If you go

WHAT: Truesdell Bridge Disaster historical marker dedication. The bridge is named for its original designer, L.E. Truesdell.

WHEN: 1:15 p.m. Sunday

WHERE: Presidents Park, Dixon

The marker is three panels wide. One is devoted to the construction of the bridge, one to its dedication and one to the collapse of the bridge.

Remarks will be made by Dixon Mayor Glen Hughes, Chamber Executive Director Jeremy Englund and Tom Wadsworth.

Invocation by Bunyan Cocar.

A nine-foot section of lattice ironwork believed to be a pedestrian railing from the bridge will be displayed.