Ode to an Old Friend: In the likeness of family before her, Lansing native Martha Dunlevy Peters shares a fitting tribute to the Black Hawk Bridge

(Editor’s Note: The following submission is from Lansing native Martha Dunlevy Peters, whose father, grandfather and great-grandfather were all newspaper editors in Lansing throughout the lifetime of the Black Hawk Bridge. She notes that she also felt compelled to write about the iconic bridge after the recent announcement of its upcoming closure and demolition, as follows from her accompanying message:
“It seemed as though it was a familial calling to write this story. Three generations of Dunlevy editors contributed to writing about the  Black Hawk Bridge. She was the biggest and most important story in the history of the Allamakee Journal. Almost a century ago, my great-grandfather penned articles regarding the opening of the bridge. Now, although I am not a writer by trade, I picked up the pen to write about the Black Hawk Bridge’s life and impending fate. It just seemed fitting.”)

by Martha Dunlevy Peters

The Black Hawk is not your ordinary bridge. She’s an extraordinary, imposing structure which embodies Lansing’s identity. In 1931, her completion was nothing short of a miracle.

The idea to build a bridge started with a lofty dream, many years before she became Lansing’s girl. That hope transpired into a promise to make a profit, which attracted hundreds of investors from near and far. Regardless, this monument of glory was built by the people and for the people, and it connected this small river town to Wisconsin.

She first welcomed traffic as a toll bridge, with the plan of distributing that money back to its original stockholders. But the good intentions originally set forth by the Iowa-Wisconsin Bridge Company, owners of the bridge, and sellers of the stock, quickly headed south.

Promises were not kept, and financial woes soon followed, lending no return on investment to the people who were her most loyal supporters. Bankruptcy was inevitable, and a decade of litigation held the bridge’s future in a relentless grip. The enterprise failed Lansing. But throughout the uncertainty and red tape, the bridge still stood proud and remained operational. But not for long.

In March of 1945, the infamous ice jam took out the smaller Winneshiek and Big Slough bridges which then halted all traffic over the Black Hawk Bridge. A storied past with financial difficulties continued to plague her existence. No funds were available to fix the damage on the Wisconsin side. Sadly, she stood idle and in limbo, no longer serving her people.

Although abandoned, she remained a visible backdrop for Lansing, never out of sight from the locals who loved her unconditionally. Her worries were absorbed by the people through the community’s support to fight for her right to return to duty.

Black Hawk’s eleven-year closure was a blow to Lansing’s livelihood. But her people clung to hope. Her work was far from done. A remarkable comeback was in the making, and a divine-like intervention would change the trajectory of her course. Joint efforts between Iowa and Wisconsin to acquire the bridge became a reality. Through this arrangement, repairs were addressed, and the rehabilitation process began to get the bridge up and running.

Time has a way of aging all of us. Black Hawk was no different. The years of being out of commission weathered her body. The original asphalt covered wooden plank deck was replaced with steel grates, which produced the familiar hum and vibration sounds. Her voice became the singing bridge that so many came to love.

A new paint job gave her a fresh look, the silvery strokes camouflaged her inherited blemishes. The toll booth disappeared, leaving no signs of its faithful attendants. The slough bridges on the Lansing dike were redesigned and replaced to be stronger and better. Brennan Construction took on the challenge and completed the task with skill and precision.

Finally, in October of 1956, after a long-drawn-out hiatus, the Black Hawk Bridge was back in service. The following summer, an official reopening celebration took place, and Lansing threw one heck of a party.

A leap of faith built this bridge, and in return, the cantilever-thru-truss structure built Lansing. Connecting Iowa to Wisconsin was a vital link for Lansing’s existence. The reasons were clear. Surely the Bridge knew the importance of carrying travelers across her steel bed. It often seemed she had a way of humanizing her relationships with people, especially the locals. I will start with the most obvious; she loved Lansing and Lansing loved her.

Carefree, she towered over a grand river. A view so splendid. Her eyes observed small town life. She was a constant protector of the people, just like her namesake, Chief Black Hawk.

Her riveted canopy was a haven for pigeons to retreat from the world. Indeed, a friend to all.

She did not demand an in-depth understanding of structural engineering for others to appreciate her strength; they simply trusted in the journey across her arm. Faithfully, she took travelers to the other side, while singing a complimentary song. Her unique lullaby, a soothing vibration for many, was guaranteed with every crossing.

To read the full article, pick up the Wednesday, July 30, 2025 print edition of The Standard or subscribe to our e-edition or print edition by clicking here.