The Historic Wooden Footbridge of Balendup main, reads the small plaque tacked to the side of the town’s quaint little river crossing.
Installed in such a location so as it is often obscured by small bundles of leaf litter; the plaque itself is a neat rectangle of brass and patina that was engraved with the consideration of a botanist hefting an axe at a pine tree.
The plaque’s left side has a mild bend from years of multiple ‘shin dints’ and walkers are reminded to take care as the previous location of the plaque can not be always guaranteed.
Built in 1832 the footbridge is an all steel construction designed by civil manservant William Rothfort.
Named ‘The Historic Wooden Footbridge’ it has, from it’s opening, enabled walkers to cross the unnamed river of the Balendup local park and has saved up to 20-minutes of walking when heading between East and West Main Street via mossy rock crossing.
The unusual name of the bridge is believed to be taken from an administrative error on the part of the mayor at that time Steven Whinnerfred; who, although a popular mayor, was well known as a disimpassioned reader and rather heavy drinker. His head speechwriter at the time —NAME REDACTED— was without comment and chose to remain stoic in their silence up until their death, sometime after 1888.
On the day of the bridge’s opening, a small crowd had gathered as crowds often do. A bustle of placid gawkers standing idly with impatient hands, tense and ready to ripple into light applause at any half-gestured cue. The seasonally inappropriate timing of ribbon cutting ceremony made the crowd look to be a bundle of scarves and wool caps, whose huddled closeness was not of commonality but of mainly the need to just stay warm.
Casting his glazed eyes over the crowd Mr.Winnerfred spoke in his stale, overly breathy, manner.
‘People of Balendup, we have done so well. They said a bridge, such as this, would be a fool’s errand, why construct a section of road where there be no comings or goings of prior civic planning? Why make this road narrow, so as that nary a horse nor bicycle could pass over it? Progress Balendup, progress! My father walked every day through the unamed creek below us, and everyday he came home with the soggy socks of a proud man. Can you say that you have that pride within you? Mary? Can you? We walk in the tall shadow of our own existence. All we have is what was before and the fear of absence in our future. So we build a bridge……We build a bridge’.
At this point the ribbon decided to fall of its own accord and signaled the end of Mr Whinnerfred’s speech*.
The construction of the Historic Wooden Footbridge began in 1920 after Balendup steel mill officially opened and began producing their patented I-shaped bridge girders. The revolutionary girders were created to replace the illegaly manufactured triangle girders, which were expensive to produce and unable to be bolted together.
The costings of the project were fully funded by a series of cake raffles, organised by several clubs happy to lend a hand to their local council.
This bitter collection of competing raffles created multiple lasting blood feuds and the event to this day remains the closest that the town has come to legitimate organised crime.
In an unexpected upswing the bridge was 300% funded by the second day of its fundraiser and council members had to barricade the reception doors so that more bags of money were not dropped on top of the long burried donation jar.
A representative of Balendup Cricket club has said of the raffles that ‘Yeah it was tough. You offload four or five keys of orange poppyseed to the wrong person and boom! The lions club come at you from nowhere. Turf meant nothin’ in those days (sic)’.
Excerpt from Balendup local sights and sounds, published 2002
*Mr Whinnerfred was later seen loudly arguing with a rather placid duck some way up the river. The duck has since been hailed as a fantastic listener.
J.McCray
2020
Sunday Short Stories 