History That Doesn't Suck - 85: Transcontinental Railroad (pt 3): The Central Pacific, Chinese Workers, & The Golden Spike

Episode Date: March 1, 2021

“Did they not build the Chinese Wall, the biggest piece of masonry in the world?” The Central Pacific Railroad is struggling to find long-term construction workers. Many of them quickly leave the CP’s employ to pursue gold and silver in the mines of California or Nevada. But Big Four Associate Charlie Crocker has an idea: why not try hiring Chinese immigrants? The idea is semi-controversial in the eyes of many Americans, but the CP goes for it, and likes the results. Soon, the Chinese make up 90% of the CP’s construction workers, risking their lives as they dangle over cliffs, drill, and blast tunnels through the solid granite of the Sierra Nevada Mountains.   Both the Central and Union Pacific railroads are bearing down on Utah Territory. Politicking, corporate espionage, labor strikes, struggles of pride and honor and more will all come to bear. Despite these challenges, the transcontinental railroad will be completed. The CP’s Governor Leland Stanford will drive it (or tap it) together with a golden spike no less. We’ll witness the ceremony at Promontory Summit as it happens (two-days late thanks to the UP’s Dr. Thomas Durant) on May 10, 1869. ____ Connect with us on HTDSpodcast.com and go deep into episode bibliographies and book recommendations join discussions in our Facebook community get news and discounts from The HTDS Gazette  come see a live show get HTDS merch or become an HTDS premium member for bonus episodes and other perks. Learn more about your ad choices. Visit megaphone.fm/adchoices

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What did it take to survive an ancient siege? Why was the cult of Dionysus behind so many slave revolts in ancient Rome? What's the tragic history and mythology behind Japan's most haunted ancient forest? We're Jen and Jenny from Ancient History Fangirl. Join us to explore ancient history and mythology from a fun, sometimes tipsy perspective. Find us at ancienthistoryfangirl.com or wherever you get your podcasts. It's about 10 a.m. Monday, April 16th, 1866, and Captain Cox is as busy as ever. Currently the Pacific Mail Steamship Company superintendent at its San Francisco wharf, Cox oversees the massive,

almost continuous flow of freight in and out of this young yet already bustling city on the California coast. Typical logistics alone keep him plenty busy, but on top of that, there are always the additional little problems that creep into the day, like these two large and badly damaged boxes he's hearing about. Seems that somewhere during the voyage from New York, across the Isthmus of Panama, and up to San Francisco aboard the SS Sacramento, they got covered in oil. Now the receiving parties are rejecting them as damaged. Hmm, all right.

The dutiful superintendent walks along the wooden dock to find these crates and see for himself. It takes little time for Captain Cox to agree. He finds the large rectangular crates, one of which is just a touch bigger than the other, and notes they're caked in an oily substance. And they stink. It's some sort of rancid smell. And the larger of the two is leaking this stuff. What on earth is it? What's inside? Can't tell, the crate's sealed shut, and the only word written on it is merchandise. Guess there's only one thing to do.

Load them up in the back of a mail truck and transport them to the downtown office of his employer's freight agent, Wells Fargo and Company. Now, San Francisco might not be the metropolis we'll know in the 21st century, but make no mistake, it's a happening place. Beautifully constructed buildings reach a few stories high. Throngs of people walk about or otherwise pack themselves

into the nascent cities' horse-drawn or steam-powered streetcars. And thriving businesses are everywhere. Like Italian immigrant Mr. Ghirardelli's growing chocolate company. I think he'll be around for the long haul. So it's through and into this bustling space that the oily crates make their short journey of a few blocks. They soon arrive at Wells, Fargo & Company's office on the corner of Montgomery and California streets

and are placed in the courtyard behind the building. It's now 1 p.m. Freight agents Mr. Haven and Mr. Webster, representing the Pacific Mail Steamship Company and Wells Fargo & Company, respectively, have finished their lunch at the crowded-as-ever Union Club. Conveniently located one floor up in the same building as Wells Fargo and Company, they're now descending the restaurant's exterior stairs.

They're soon joined by two unskilled workmen. One has a hammer or a hatchet, the other an iron-clawed chisel. That's right, it's time to crack open these slicked up messy crates and finally find out what this leaking mystery liquid is. Huh, this is… what is this? Are these containers of this stuff? None of them know what they're looking at. It's now about 10 minutes after the hour and as luck would have it, a little more impromptu help arrives. Mr. Bell, a chemist whose laboratory is just next door

to Wells Fargo and Company, has just stepped out into the courtyard. He has somewhere to be and his assistant has just saddled up his horse for the trip. But Mr. Haven and Mr. Webster just have to ask if he can take a quick look. Surely a chemist might know what this concoction in their shared courtyard is.

Yeah, okay. Mr. Bell tells his assistant to go ahead without him for the time being. So taking the horse by the reins, the unnamed assistant leads the animal out of the courtyard as Mr. Bell joins the other four men in examining the crate's contents. And it's just as Mr. Bell's employee and horse are exiting the courtyard through its gateway and stepping onto California Street when it happens. The scene is horrific.

According to the Daily Alta California newspaper, freight agents Mr. Haven and Mr. Webster are, quote, absolutely rent to pieces, close quote. The chemist, Mr. Bell, is barely recognizable. He gasps a few last breaths after help arrives, then dies.

The Wells Fargo and Company office barely stands. Its rear walls are just gone, and its front doors are found in the middle of the street. Above it, the Union Club fair is a little better. Furniture and billiard tables are now little more than massive splinters. The walls are missing chunks of plaster, the kitchen has ceased to exist, and one room's ceiling has collapsed. But the blast's reach didn't end there.

Nearby buildings lost all their windows. Glass is still falling in small particles, like injury-inflicting snow on the streets. The buildings themselves have shifted as well, and are entirely two to three inches off their foundations. Worse than that, the blast vaulted its victims' detached remains. A chunk of skull lays in the middle of California Street. Some body parts fly over an entire city block and land on Liedersdorf Street. These include a human spine, as well as a severed arm that only stopped because it slammed into a third-story window. Survivors walk the streets with gaping

wounds inflicted by falling glass or former pieces of buildings. They search frantically for their dead friends, but many do so in vain. A number of the deceased, union club patrons, waiters, men in the courtyard, or otherwise, aren't even recognizable. Worse yet, they're in too many pieces to even be identified. Blood is everywhere. Panicked citizens dash toward the street corner turned to rubble. Fire engines soon follow. Ultimately, investigations will conclude as many as 15 are dead, with so very many more injured. As San Franciscans grieve, then fill with rage, they'll learn that the oily liquid on those crates is a new invention.

A highly volatile substance changing the way demolition work and tunneling, like that done by the Central Pacific Railroad, is done. It's called nitroglycerin. Welcome to History That Doesn't Suck. I'm your professor, Greg Jackson, and I'd like to tell you a story. After following much of the Union Pacific Railroad's path in the last episode, today we head to California to hear the tale of its great competitor, the Central Pacific, or CP for short.

We'll get to bond with the CP's associates, or the Big Four, a bit more, particularly its king of construction, Charlie Crocker. We'll also get to see the extraordinary challenges its predominantly Chinese employees face carving a railroad over and through the Sierra Nevada mountains, in part with the aid of nitroglycerin. Once the Central Pacific makes it to Nevada, we'll bring the Union Pacific back into the picture as both railroads fight tooth and nail for control of the Utah Territory. Finally, when all the stories of bravery, risk-taking, deceit, labor strikes, and politicking are through, we'll drive those final spikes into the Utah soil and witness the completion of the Transcontinental Railroad. Ready? Excellent.

Then let's start by heading back two years to 1864 and follow the Big Four as they try to drum up cash in a workforce. You know how that's done. Rewind. Despite Congress's further promised gifts and its latest and greatest Pacific Railroad Act passed in July, construction isn't really picking up for the Central Pacific Railroad in the latter half of 1864. There are good reasons for this. For one thing, cash flow remains an issue. Yes, the new legislation promising federal funds for every 20 miles of track rather than the previously required 40 means the U.S. government owes payment, since the Central Pacific's current 31 miles of track running between Sacramento and the mining camp at Newcastle exceeds that. But as anyone with pressing bills waiting on a sizable tax return can tell you,

money promised isn't the same as money in the bank. Now the CP Railroad is starting to get some paying customers. It has also carved out the wagon road to Nevada territory that the Central Pacific's now deceased visionary founding chief engineer, Ted Judah, once promised as a worst-case consolation prize. Passing through the mining town of Dutch Flat, it greatly eases and shortens the journey between California and its silver mining neighbor

and is expected to bring in a million dollars per year. But most of that revenue is yet to come. In short, the Central Pacific has built a lot of expensive infrastructure with little by way of notable payoffs from either the public or private sectors. The company is kind of broke. Nor is cash flow the only major obstacle in the latter part of 1864. A second issue is, well,

haters. Others in the transportation game in San Francisco understandably see the Central Pacific as a threat. They do what they can to undermine the CP and the state legislature and the press. But maybe the Central Pacific's biggest obstacle is retaining workers. To date, the CP Railroad has done as the Union Pacific largely does, rely on Irish immigrants. But unlike its opponent to the East, the Central Pacific has to compete with the draw of prospecting. After all, why do the back-breaking work of building a railroad through the Sierra Nevada mountains when you might just strike it rich mining? Okay, that won't really work out for many, but this line of thinking

keeps the Central Pacific's ranks perpetually thin. So even as bonds start to sell and cash flow goes up in early 1865, filling the ranks proves next to impossible. For instance, in January of that same year, the Central Pacific puts out the following ad in the Sacramento Union, quote, wanted 5,000 laborers for construction and permanent work, also experienced foremen, close quote. But alas, only 2,000 respond to the call, and many of those who do soon abandon the hard labor of building a railroad for the silver mines of Nevada.

The situation has Charlie Crocker, who, to jog your memory, we met in episode 83 and is the Central Pacific's Big Four associate in charge of construction, ready to try something bold. What if, he wonders, they were to rely on Chinese workers? The idea will cause more of a ruckus than you might think. Situated on the coast where the Pearl River empties into the South China Sea, China's Guangdong province has had a rough go of late. War, ethnic conflict, famine, floods,

all of these have contributed to the people who call this place home seeking new lives elsewhere in the past few decades. Indeed, like the many Irish driven from their beloved Emerald Isle by the Great Potato Famine, many Chinese aren't just leaving home for a better opportunity, but for survival. So when word of California's gold rush reached the Guangdong province back in 1849,

thousands began making the arduous two-month journey across the Pacific Ocean with hopes of a better life. Chinese immigrants were at least somewhat welcomed to California in their first year. Then came nativism. Concerned about competition, many white American prospectors didn't appreciate the international draw of the new state's gold rush. They quickly came to consider miners from abroad, France, Mexico, Chile, you name it, as threats. But these nativist 49ers were particularly upset about those coming from across the Pacific and even resorted to mob violence at times to chase off Chinese miners. They further wanted the state to pass laws that would give them even more

of an upper hand. The state did. California's legislature passed a number of laws aimed at Chinese immigrants through the 1850s. Given that the call of California for Americans began among the miners, it's no surprise that the first such laws, such as the Foreign Minors License Tax Law of 1850, slapped fees on Chinese prospectors. Other laws quickly followed. Chinese immigrants coming to California were banned from voting, attending public schools,

or testifying against white men in court. Still, life remains hard in Guangdong province, so despite these and more such laws to come, hopeful Chinese immigrants continue to come to the Golden State. It's in this political and social climate in early 1865 that the Central Pacific's towering, goateed associate, Charlie Crocker, is thinking that maybe, just maybe, they should rely heavily on Chinese laborers. They hired about 20 of them to work on the Dutch Flat Wagon Road a year back. That went well. Now Charlie wants to give it another go on a far larger scale, but his field construction supervisor, James Strobridge, doesn't like the idea.

An experienced track lane Vermonter in his late 30s, Stro, that's right, his friends call him by the first half of his last name, so naturally, we'll do the same. Stro is known for being tough, as tough as the very granite that gouged his right eye in last year's blasting accident. Stroh stands over six feet tall and can string together swears in a manner that would impress the most seasoned of sailors. And no, his Irish blood doesn't induce him to show the slightest degree of leniency to the currently mostly Irish immigrants laboring under his watch. Stroh may be a family man, the only man out here accompanied by his wife and kids, in fact,

but all know better than to slack when this quick-to-anger, eye-patch-wearing, physically powerful, no-nonsense giant of a man is about. James Strohbridge is as respected as he is feared. He also holds the same sort of prejudice against the Chinese that we've already established is so very prevalent in 1860s California. Nonetheless, Charlie, who also has his reservations but is ready to try anything that keeps the railroad moving, convinces the fiery supervisor to give it a go. They hire 50 Chinese workers to do the unskilled labor of moving dirt.

Now it's hard to say when exactly the Central Pacific begins hiring almost exclusively Chinese laborers, but it's not long after this. Bit by bit, Charlie and Stroh come to realize Chinese immigrants are every bit as capable as white workers. Somewhere along this path of realization, Charlie decides to handle some striking Irishmen by handing their higher-skilled work to their willing Chinese counterparts. Stroh has his doubts. Make masons out of Chinamen? He scoffs.

Now, you'll be hard-pressed to find an account of the Central Pacific Railroad's history that doesn't contain Charlie's response to his field supervisor. The Big Four associate replies, did they not build the Chinese wall, the biggest piece of masonry in the world? Yeah, that's a solid rejoinder. So Stroh relents, they give it a go, and are quickly impressed. Charlie will eventually come to believe, as he'll one day tell Congress, quote, they, the Chinese,

are equal to the best white men. They are very trusty. They are very intelligent. And they live up to their contracts. Close quote. Soon, Charlie and Stroke come to prefer Chinese labor. Here's why. First, the Chinese stick around. As we just saw, present prejudice laws have curtailed the opportunities for California's Chinese immigrants in such a way

that the railroad is one of their better opportunities. Hence, they don't leave, and as Charlie put it, they live up to their contracts. Beyond that is one reason you might not expect. Dietary and grooming habits. Let's remember that this is the mid-19th century. Sure, 11 years back, an English physician named John Snow noticed that a cholera outbreak in London

seemed to trace back to a water pump on Broad Street. So epidemiology is starting to become a thing. But Europe's continental scientists, Louis Pasteur, and right now, a very young Robert Koch, have not yet given the world the gift of germ theory. As such, the CP's poor Irish workers have no idea that, as they quench their aching thirst by slurping down that cool, never-boiled water from the communal dipper, they're often sucking down bacteria that's going to give them dysentery. Meanwhile, the CP's Chinese workers are boiling their water every morning to make tea.

They drink it lukewarm from scrubbed clean black powder keg barrels throughout the day. So their tea habit is keeping them far healthier and thus more productive. As is their diet of various dried vegetables and fish, rice, salted cabbage, and the occasional bit of pork. Not knocking the Central Pacific's American and Irish workers' diet of boiled beef, potatoes, beans, bread, and coffee, but this simply isn't as nutritious. Chinese workers also bathe and wash their clothes daily. Again, science is yet to detail why this is a great idea, but this custom is another leg up on maintaining their health and the Central Pacific benefits. So between not running off to the mines, better

health, and frankly, the Central Pacific's ability to pay them less, it becomes a no-brainer. The CP's big four associates love employing Chinese workers. Before the year's out, they'll start recruiting employees to come directly from China and straight into the railroad's employ. Napoleon Bonaparte rose from obscurity to become the most powerful and significant figure in modern history. Over 200 years after his death, people are still debating his legacy. He was a man of contradictions, a tyrant and a reformer, a liberator and an oppressor, a revolutionary and a reactionary. His biography reads like a novel, and his influence is almost beyond measure. I'm Everett Rummage, host of the Age of Napoleon podcast, and every month I delve into the turbulent life and times of one of the greatest characters in history,

and explore the world that shaped him in all its glory and tragedy. It's a story of great battles and campaigns, political intrigue, and massive social and economic change, but it's also a story about people, populated with remarkable characters. I hope you'll join me as I examine this fascinating era of history. Find The Age of Napoleon wherever you get your podcasts. From Fort Sumter to the Battle of Gettysburg. From the Emancipation Proclamation to Appomattox Courthouse. From the 13th, 14th, and 15th Amendments to the Compromise of 1877. From Abraham Lincoln and Ulysses S. Grant and William Tecumseh Sherman. To Jefferson Davis and Robert E. Lee and Stonewall Jackson.

The Civil War and Reconstruction was a pivotal era in American history. I'm Rich. And I'm Tracy. And we're the hosts of a podcast that takes a deep dive into that era, when a war was fought to save the Union and to free the slaves. And when the work to rebuild the nation after that war was over turned into a struggle to guarantee liberty and justice for all Americans. Look for The Civil War and Reconstruction

wherever you find your podcasts. In the spring of 1865, the Central Pacific's hard-working laborers are still only a little more than 30 miles outside Sacramento, making their way through the very obstacle that claimed Stroh's right eye last year. This is Bloomer Cut. Through the following months, they scratch and blast away at the earth here. Once completed, Bloomer Cut is an astonishing 800-foot-long, 63-foot-deep path with nothing but sky above it. Finally, through this obstacle, the Central Pacific reaches the city of Auburn, then, by June 10th, the lumber town of Clipper

Gap. This puts the CP 35 miles northeast of Sacramento. Meanwhile, you may recall from the last episode that the Union Pacific is still well over 1,500 miles to the east in Omaha, Nebraska Territory. General Grenville Dodge has just become its new chief engineer, and it isn't until the following month, July, that the general and his crew lay the UP's first piece of rail. Sounds like the Central Pacific is well ahead, but that won't last. As the Union Pacific enjoys relatively flat terrain, the Central Pacific is just getting to the hard part of the Sierra Nevada Mountains. Already 1,751 feet above sea level, the California based railroad must now build over a series of large gaps. They're following a ridge all right, but as historian

Wesley Griswold so effectively puts it, the ridge has gaps like the space between a spine's vertebrae, which you can definitely picture after the opening of this episode. Some of these are massive. I'm talking several hundred feet long and one goes a hundred feet deep. The Central Pacific has to fill these in by building massive wooden trestles fixed to the ravines far below by mason work. They'll later get filled in with dirt, but could you imagine riding in a train over these bridges? It wouldn't be for the faint of heart. And yet, they do, and they build on. Come September 1st, the Central Pacific has added 12 more miles of rail and continued to climb in elevation. To be precise, this means the rail now runs 55 miles from Sacramento to the settlement of Illinois Town,

which is 2,422 feet above sea level. It's good timing. Speaker of the House, Congressman Skyler Colfax, and a small posse are out here inspecting the railroad. They now ride the rail to the end of the line at Illinois Town with the governor. And yes, I'm referring to the big four associate Leland Stanford, but no, he's no longer governor. His term is up. Nonetheless, Leland will insist that people address him as the governor until his dying day. Speaker Colfax is duly impressed. He gives a phenomenal speech, and the fair settlement of Illinois Town changes its name to Colfax in honor of its esteemed guest.

This all plays out rather well for the Central Pacific. One in the speaker's entourage, Albert Richardson, gives us some interesting demographic information. He estimates that the Central Pacific's workforce is 90% Chinese and 10% Irish. Clearly, recruiting straight from China is working well. In October, the company's number of employees reaches roughly 6,000. Lamentably, though, we have little by which to look at their lives. Just like the Union Pacific's army of European immigrants and Civil War vets, we have nothing by way of journals or letters. But even without journals,

we know some of the specific challenges they face, like the next segment of this railroad. This is Cape Horn. Named after South America's formidable headland, this Cape Horn can best be described as an incredibly steep mountainside. Its slope is a 75-degree angle, and it runs about 1,500 to 2,000 feet above the North Fork of the American River. The Central Pacific needs to carve out a ledge along this three-mile precipice

wide enough for train tracks. Currently, there's no trail or ledge whatsoever. No human being can stand here and work on it. How on earth will they surmount this? Standing in a basket that's about waist high, a Chinese worker holds tightly as two of his colleagues work the rope attached to the basket. They're lowering him off the edge of a cliff. Down he goes until he reaches the spot where they need to blast. Dangling far above terra firma, this son of Guangdong province

sways in his basket as he hammers and drills a hole into the mountainside's solid granite. Now he fills it with that explosive substance first invented by his ancestors so many centuries ago. Black powder. He strikes a match, lights the fuse, goes up the rope, and as he's ascending, it explodes. Decades from this moment, in the early 20th century,

some will question if Chinese workers really risked their lives like this to carve and blast a ledge into the steep slope of Cape Horn this winter. The long and short is that scholars will generally accept it as true. While details of the work at Cape Horn are sparse, 19th century testimony affirming that Chinese workers do indeed go over ledges in baskets to build railroads will turn up. So even if it didn't happen at Cape Horn, as we believe, it happened somewhere. What is relegated to legend, however, are any estimates for loss of life here. While I am willing to bet many men fell and died at

Cape Horn, we simply can't substantiate any numbers. There are no records. Things only get harder for the Central Pacific from here. First, money is short. Building up a freaking mountain is expensive. Between trestles, bridges, and tunneling, the CP has legitimately spent more than $4 million over what it has received in government bonds by the end of 1865. Of the Central Pacific's Big Four, Charlie might be the most on edge since it's his enterprise,

Charles Crocker & Company, that's contracted to build for the financially strapped railroad. But unlike the Union Pacific's investors dealing with Dr. Thomas Durant, the CP's Big Four get that they succeed or fail together. Go on, we will stand by you, Leland Stanford, aka the governor, reassures Charlie. And so, despite continued cash flow concerns, he and his stern field supervisor Stroh do go on, but to say the going is tough would be an understatement. I don't know that any challenge faced by the Central or Union Pacific compares to the construction around and at Donner Summit.

Named for the ill-fated pioneer party that spent a deadly winter here two decades ago, we heard their tale in episode 31. Donner Summit is surmountable, but only just. Our dearly departed former Central Pacific chief engineer Ted Judah did a great job with the surveys and plan to get over the Sierra Nevada mountains. But as his young, talented replacement Sam Montague can tell you, CP will have to carve out 15 separate tunnels to do so. And these tunnels need to be wide enough for two sets of tracks. Thirteen of those will go through solid granite, seven of which are all within a two-mile stretch right at the top.

The worst will be at the summit itself. Here, 124 feet below the surface, the CP's workers will need to tunnel through an astounding 1,659 feet of granite to create the summit tunnel, also known as Tunnel No. 6. Good God, this will be slow work. Here's what it takes for the CP to tunnel through granite. First, the men, almost always Chinese, work in teams of three. One holds a massive drill in place while two others are on either side of him. The man holding the drill slowly twists it

as the duo slams their 14 to 18 pound sledgehammers against it. How terrifying it would be to hold the drill. You know those sledges had to miss the mark on occasion. Yet, they do this in teams stacked four high. One team crouches near the ground. The next works waist high, still another hammers above their heads, while the fourth does so on ladders.

With the exception of Sundays, a day Chinese workers often spend chatting, mending clothes, gambling, or indulging with an opium pipe, the hammers rarely cease. Teams work in three eight-hour shifts, 24 hours a day. This incessant pace averages a meager four inches of depth per shift, meaning it takes a solid 36 hours or so to reach the 18-inch depth required to fill the hole with black powder and blast another dent into the rock. Yeah, all this effort in a good day

might yield 10 inches of progress. The expense in time and payroll, something more has to be done. And more will be. Charlie and Stroh put teams to work on as many tunnels at the same time as possible. By the fall of 1865, workers are attacking 10 separate tunnels at once and doing so from both sides. Then in the spring of 1866, they decide to try something new, nitroglycerin. It's a new concoction, the work of Swedish demolition engineer Alfred Nobel.

And yes, he is the future founder of the Nobel Prize. It's said to be perfectly safe to transport. Ha, we and all of San Francisco know it isn't after the opening of today's episode. And although the Central Pacific does not own or have anything to do with the batch of nitroglycerin that destroys a city block there on April 16, 1866, a few of its employees will meet their end thanks to the oily mixture. In fact, it's only a day after the calamity at the

Wells Fargo & Company office that the CP has an accident of its own. Six men, three Chinese, three white, are ripped apart. Though ripped apart is an understatement in the case of the foreman. According to the Daily Alta California newspaper, quote, foreman Phil Hagen was blown to pieces and part of him has not been found, close quote. Okay then, risky stuff. Charlie and Stroh realize quickly that they don't like it. But then again, nitroglycerin is doubling the speed of their progress and they have to make a time. As you may recall in the last episode,

it's this very summer that Central Pacific associate Collis Huntington is in Washington, D.C. getting new legislation passed that restores the race between the Central and Union Pacific Railroads. That means every mile of track the UP lays is a mile lost for the CP. Got to move! As such, the commanding construction duo will ultimately permit the regular use of nitroglycerin on exactly one thing, the dreaded Summit Tunnel.

Yes, this is the 1,659-foot tunnel I mentioned just a little while back, also known as Tunnel No. 6. Not only will the Central Pacific's workers use that explosive, oily substance as they attack its future east and west portals, which they begin in August 1866, they'll use it after attacking from above too. Starting on the 27th of that same month, Chinese workers begin blasting on top of the summit tunnel to create a vertical shaft down to the future tunnel's middle.

To speed this up, engineers decide to take an old locomotive called Sacramento, ride it up the CP's rails to Gold Run, To speed this up, engineers decide to take an old locomotive called Sacramento, ride it up the CP's rails to Gold Run, then, securing the partially-dismantled locomotive on a locking truck, use 10 yoke of oxen to pull it up to the shaft. This takes weeks, but once in place, they repurpose the steam engine into a machine to remove their blasted pieces of stone. With the aid of steam power,

a 73-foot deep vertical shaft is completed on December 19th, 1866. The completion of tunnel number six's vertical shaft doesn't only enable the Central Pacific to dig this tunnel in four directions, again, both ends of the outside and now working both sides from the middle. It also settles any lingering doubts about the Chinese laborer's capabilities. Looking to move this tunnel along, CP construction mogul Charlie Crocker brings in some experienced miners hailing from the United Kingdom's proud southwestern peninsula of Cornwall. These guys are said to be the best.

Surely then, they'll outperform his Chinese employees, right? But Charlie doesn't just assume that'll be the best. Surely then, they'll outperform his Chinese employees, right? But Charlie doesn't just assume that'll be the case. Instead, he makes a competition out of it. Putting Cornish and Chinese workers down the shaft, he pits them against each other by having each group dig and blast in opposite directions. How does it turn out? I'll let Charlie tell you. He later recollects that, quote, the Chinese, without fail, always outmeasured the Cornish miners. That is to say, they would cut more rock in a week

than the Cornish miners did. And there it was hard work, steady pounding on the rock, bone labor. Close quote. Now, tunnel number six isn't the only bit of tunneling Chinese workers undertake for the Central Pacific during the winter of 1866 to 67 either.

Amid 44 harsh storms that leave as much as 10 feet of snow on the ground and an average of 18 feet at the summit, they make snow tunnels as long as 500 feet, complete with air shafts and sometimes big enough for horses just to get to the granite walls so they can continue carving out the various tunnels the Central Pacific needs in this mountain. And yes, the explosives required for this work, as well as nature itself, bring on avalanches. I can't tell you what percentage of the 8,000 Chinese working for the CP this winter die,

but at least one snow slide kills 20 at once. Meanwhile, another 3,000 are on the eastern side of the Sierra Nevada mountains, grading the road for future tracks. Indeed, it's hardly an exaggeration to say the Central Pacific's Chinese workforce is attacking this mountain. This superhuman effort will be somewhat lost on the three big four associates not here to witness the work, but Charlie Crocker and his field supervisor James Strobridge see it. Charlie will acknowledge their work for the rest of his life. As a result of his praise both now and later, some take to calling the CP's Chinese employees Crocker's pets, but

that doesn't mean there's never any conflict between him and his thousands of employees. It's early morning, Monday, June 24th, 1867. The hammers are silent. No black powder is exploding. Among the thousands of Chinese currently working between Cisco, California, and the state line with Nevada, 3,000 along this 30-mile stretch, over the mountain and down to Truckee, refuse to work. How they manage to communicate and coordinate is unknown, but this is one massive, single, highly organized strike. We know some of the workers' demands. Tunnelers at the Summit Tunnel, for instance, want their current wage of $30 to $35 a month bumped up to $40. But we're likely missing a lot of details.

As historian Gordon Chang points out, all of the sources are second-hand English translations in newspapers. The gist of it, however, is that the Chinese strikers want greater parity and compensation in hours worked with their white counterparts, who receive higher pay, as well as room and board. Now, Charlie Crocker isn't inexperienced with striking workers. I already told you that he's dealt with striking Irishmen. In doing so, he's shut them down without giving an inch. Charlie believes that the day he caves to one strike, he'll lose the ability to set terms.

From a managerial and financial perspective, he can't have that. As his brother, E.B. Crocker, puts it, quote, if they, the Chinese, are successful in this demand, then they control and their demands will be increased. Close quote. So Charlie takes a hard stand

while also making a move to force talks almost immediately. He cuts off their provisions. Yeah, no more food will make its way to the Chinese camps. Negotiations happen fast. Here's Charlie's offer. Get back to work and this will all be forgotten. Water under the bridge. If not, there will be no wages paid for the whole month of June. Chinese leaders try to negotiate something, the smallest increase. Hard pass. That's it. They can return to work on the same terms or leave the railroads employ. Just a week after the strike began, construction resumes, and the Chinese will never try to strike again. It certainly appears to be a failed strike, but that might not entirely be the case.

In quiet, face-saving increments, Chinese wages steadily climb in the following months. Charlie might have projected power in negotiations, but it seems he and his fellow CP associates got the message. They've gained a greater appreciation for their predominant workforce. And so, work on the Central Pacific continues through the second half of 1867.

Having learned just how deep the snow falls up here in the Sierra Nevada Mountains, Charlie has carpenters constructing protective roofs, or snowsheds, over miles of exposed tracks. In time, these snowsheds will collectively cover 37 miles. In late August, drillers complete the most colossal of undertakings, the Summit Tunnel. I can't emphasize enough that this is nothing short of a modern day miracle. At the high up elevation of just more than 7,000 feet, this mountain-piercing tunnel is 1,659 feet long. As its two external drilling teams meet the two teams excavating from the

interior, they are no more than two inches off from one another that's incredible credit for this mathematical brilliance goes to assistant engineer lewis clement just as the credit for the raw muscle hammering chipping and blasting this thing into existence at a rate of one to two feet per day goes almost entirely to the chinese employees nor should we forget charlie crocker eye patch wearing jamesbridge, that is, Stro, whose Chinese employees have taken to calling him one-eyed bossy man, other foreman, and who knows how many other unattributed souls. The Summit Tunnel, or to use its other underwhelming name, Tunnel No. 6, is simply an incredible

achievement. And still, the wonders of the Central Pacific seem to never cease. Not willing to cede a mile in the race against the Union Pacific, Charlie's determined to see serious track laid on the eastern side of the Sierra Nevada Mountains before the railroad can even connect to it. And so, in a move Charlie compares to Hannibal taking elephants over the Alps to attack the Roman Republic. His army of Chinese and other teamsters moved three locomotives, 40 cars, and more supplies to boot over the mountain on sleds this same winter. As 1867 comes to a close, the Central Pacific has a total of 131

miles of track. The rail goes from Sacramento to two and a half miles past the summit tunnels eastern portal, but then has a seven mile gap until it picks up and runs 24 miles farther to the Nevada state line. Meanwhile, the Union Pacific is around 400 miles out from its eastern terminus, working what is about to become Wyoming territory. Yes, the UP has easier terrain, but that doesn't matter. There are no consolation prizes in this race. The Central Pacific's associates know that, despite the company's Herculean accomplishments, they have to move faster, or this risky endeavor might ruin them. In hopes of overtaking the Union Pacific, CP associate Charlie Crocker enters the year 1868 with a big resolution, one mile of track

per working day. That's a big ask. Finances continue to be an issue, though fellow associate Collis Huntington is still back east doing everything he can on that front. Last year, he turned to Harvey Fisk and Al Frederick Hatch's New York-based bond house to help move CP stock. He and the other big four also reorganized their construction contracts by creating yet another business entity, the aptly named Contract and Finance Company. Fact is, that seven-mile gap just east of the summit in their 131 miles of track is killing them. The law states they can't collect bonds on sections of railroad that aren't connected, and right now, the snow is still too deep for them to make their two ends connect.

Ouch. Nevertheless, the Central Pacific's best course of action is to continue building beyond the gap in Nevada. This is where the CP encounters the Shoshone and Paiute peoples. Charlie avoids conflict by agreeing to allow both groups to ride the CP's rails for free. This works, though it's not long after this that droves of Chinese workers start disappearing. Looking into the matter, Charlie and his managers learn that stories are circulating

of giant 10 to 25 foot tall Native Americans and 50 to 100 foot long snakes, both of which allegedly eat Chinese people. I can't tell you where the story originated. Some sources say it was the Paiutes or the Irish just telling tall tales. But wherever it began, field supervisor James Strobridge, or again, as he prefers, Stro, moves quickly to inform his Chinese workers that this is nothing but a prank. Reassured, they soon get back to work. Progress picks up as the months pass. In April, some Chinese workers head back up the Sierra Nevada mountains to work on closing that seven

mile gap while others continue eastward through Nevada. When the CP closes its mountain gap in June, it has continuous rail from Sacramento, California, all the way to the newly established town of Reno, Nevada. A passenger train rides this route for the first time on the 18th of that very month. That gives the Central Pacific 154 miles of connected rail. Finally! That means a windfall of cash and government bonds and revenue from operable track. Meanwhile, the CP is starting to lay more than a mile of track per day as it crosses flat desert lands in Nevada.

Huh, perhaps the Central Pacific might still be able to snag the Utah territory before the Union Pacific does. That's right, by the summer of 1868, both railroads are approaching and eyeing the Utah territory. At stake are federal land grants, bonds, control of a valuable junction, the territory's coal-laden Weber Canyon, and of course, pride. Leaders of both railroads are determined to win and not give up an inch, so help them God. And in this effort, both companies will seek the assistance of someone who claims to speak for God. This is the most powerful individual in the Utah Territory, Brigham Young.

Want to learn how you can make smarter decisions with your money? Well, I've got the podcast for you. I'm Sean Piles, and I host NerdWallet's Smart Money Podcast. On our show, we help listeners like you make the most of your finances. I sit down with NerdWallet's team of nerds, personal finance experts in credit cards, banking, investing, and more. We answer your real-world money questions and break down the latest personal finance news. The nerds will give you the clarity you need by cutting through the clutter and misinformation in today's world of personal finance. We don't promote get-rich-quick schemes or hype unrealistic side hustles. Instead, we offer practical knowledge that you can apply in your everyday life.

You'll learn about strategies to help you build your wealth, invest wisely, shop for financial products, and plan for major life events. And you'll walk away with the confidence you need to ensure that your money is always working as hard as you are. So turn to the nerds to answer your real world money questions and get insights that can help you make the smartest financial decisions for your life. Listen to NerdWallet's Smart Money Podcast wherever you get your podcasts. Six foot tall, 200 pounds, and bearded minus the mustache, Brigham Young is president of the Church of Jesus Christ of Latter-day Saints, or Mormon Church, as it's often known, in a nod to the faith's book of scripture, the Book of Mormon. We met Brigham and the Mormons, or saints, short for Latter-day Saints, as they

call themselves, back in episode 32, but here's a quick refresher. In the wake of church founder Joseph Smith's assassination in 1844, the majority of the church's adherents recognized Brigham as Joseph's successor. Then seeking to avoid further religious persecution, they migrated west and settled a region capable of sustaining farm life, yet harsh enough other pioneers wouldn't be interested, the Salt Lake Valley. Brigham, or Brother Brigham to the Latter-day Saints, has proven a highly effective leader since then. The Mormons have thrived with him at the helm here in the Salt Lake Valley, but for most Americans, he and his religious community remain incompatible with the nation for the very same reasons vigilantes drove them west in the first place.

First, there's polygamy, which many in the United States see as immoral and unchristian. Second is Brigham's influence, or, as outsiders might put it, sheer power. The same dominantly Protestant America that sees the Catholic Pope as a threat to democracy is likewise scared by the saints' belief that their church president is a prophet. As 19th century America's celebrated author Samuel Clemens, a.k.a. Mark Twain puts it in his book, Roughing It, Salt Lake is, quote, the stronghold of the prophets, the capital of the only absolute monarch in America.

Close quote. As for what to do about the Mormons then, well, that's a major question for 19th century America. In fact, that's literally what Americans call it, the Mormon question. Some think the transcontinental railroad will solve it. The idea here is that the railroad will either bring enough outside influence to kill the faith, or, at the very least, the United States will be able to deploy troops swiftly if the Mormons, like Native Americans, get out of hand. To quote General W. Tecumseh Sherman writing to his friend, UP Chief Engineer Grenville Dodge, I regard this road of yours as the solution of the Indian affairs and the Mormon question, and therefore give you all the aid I possibly can. But that's not how Brother Brigham sees it. Seeing the railroad's inevitability, he embraces it,

allegedly saying, I don't care anything for a religion which could not stand a railroad. Brigham welcomes the railroad. He sees increased trade and a faster means for European converts to join the saints in their American Zion. He's even a major stakeholder of Union Pacific stock. Remember how Dr. Thomas Durant made the down payment for subscribers to get the company going in the last episode? Brigham Young was one of those people, and in May 1868, the doc sends a telegram asking his Utah colleague if he can provide graders for the UP. Indeed, he can.

That June, more than 1,000 Mormon men, mostly farmers hard up for work due to bad crops, are grading for the Union Pacific 50 miles northeast of Salt Lake City in Echo Canyon. As the months pass, Mormon workers will construct trussles and help drill three tunnels. At 772 feet, Echo Canyon No. 2 is the worst of them, and will take until next year to complete. And this is quite noteworthy for the Union Pacific. Apart from a shorter 215-footer in Wyoming territory, this is all the tunneling the UP does. It's also in June of 1868 that Central Pacific associate,

Leland the Governor of Stanford, makes his pitch for graders to Brigham Young. Now given Brigham's UP stock, strong relationship with UP engineer Sam Reed, and current UP grading work, that's going to be a hard sell. The governor is quite dejected initially, but he doesn't give up. Meanwhile, Union Pacific VP Dr. Thomas Durant, up to his usual tricks, isn't paying the Latter-day Saint graders on time. Worse still, Grenville Dodge informs Brigham that the railroad will not come through Salt Lake City. As with Denver, the route will need to pass it on the north

and connect via a branch line down. The Central Pacific doesn't plan on building through Salt Lake City either, but Governor Stanford leaves that detail out while leaning on the Mormon leader's frustrations, and within a few months, he finds Brigham Young agreeing to set him up with the firm Benson Far and West. From Echo Canyon, 100 miles on the north side of the Great Salt Lake to Monument Point, and farther west still, Mormons busily work for both railroads as the two companies literally grade right past each other. The competition is beyond intense as 1868 draws to a close. Both companies are up to all kinds of tricks to lay claim to the Utah Territory.

In October, CP associate Collis Huntington provides Secretary of the Interior Orville Browning with a plan for the Central Pacific to build from Nevada all the way across the northern part of the Utah Territory to Echo Canyon. Not only is he exaggerating the CP's current progress, but this is turf the Union Pacific has already graded. Yet, the secretary, who is no fan of Dr. Thomas Durand and perhaps a bit distracted in these lame duck days of Andrew Johnson's presidency, approves it. Calls reports the news to associate Charlie Crocker. I did it. The line from Humboldt Wells to Echo Summit is approved and is the legal line for the road to be built on, and a road built outside of it will get no government funds.

Well aware, however, that this ridiculous approval could be overturned, Calls further admonishes his constructing colleague. By God, Charlie, you must work as man has never worked before. Meanwhile, CP associate Leland, the governor of Stanford, is suspicious of the UP's Dr. Thomas Durant. The governor arrives in Salt Lake City on October 31st. He has more productive meetings with Brigham Young,

who will continue to arrange Mormon contracts with both rails, but he also meets with Tom and finds him a little too informed. Is the good doctor spying on the UP? Well, the answer is yes. Both companies have spies, in fact, but Leland is officially spooked. Before the year is out, the associates start writing to each other in secret code. And amid the Washington, D.C. intrigue and corporate espionage, dishonest financial games continue. A government inspector tries to shake down Charlie Crocker for approval of a section of CP Rail in Nevada. Naturally, strikebreaker Charlie gets the better of him. And although the Union Pacific is failing to make payments, particularly to the less strike-prone Mormon workers, now owed hundreds of thousands

of dollars, Credit Mobilier shareholders are awash in cash. In December 1868, it pays out almost $3 million in dividends. But as all these political and financial games play out, Central and Union Pacific workers continue to build, tunnel, grade, and lay rail. Thanks to Nevada's relatively easier terrain, the CP is flying across the state. Meanwhile, the UP is just moving past the hell-on-wheels town of Bear River City and into Utah Territory. Neither side will relent. 1869 starts much as the last year ended. Both railroads are always hurting for cash. Materials are short, and both keep grading right past each other. By late February, the Central Pacific has laid rail through Elko, past Humboldt Wells, and is about to cross the Utah Territory's western border. From the east, the Union Pacific's rail now runs through Echo Canyon and is progressing in Weber Canyon. That's right, Collis Huntington's Washington

D.C. approval of CP maps out to Elko Canyon didn't work out. Nor will any other games. Congress is outraged. Just last month, January 1869, Charles Francis Adams Jr., a descendant of U.S. Presidents John Adams and John Quincy Adams, wrote an article for the North American Review. Its subject? The Credit Mobilier. In it, Charles declares, Close quote. Oof. What can I say? You can always count on an Adams to fight corruption. Now, Central Pacific associate Collis Huntington loves seeing the Union Pacific in hot water. But at the same time, he knows that if this gives way to a congressional investigation into his company, things wouldn't be pretty either. I mean, there is but one Dr. Thomas Durant in the world. He's a unique one, but the CP has a similar system now with its

contract and finance company. Perhaps it's best to tie things off. In early April, the companies agreed that the Central Pacific will buy up the Union Pacific's track west of the town of Ogden in Utah Territory. While both railroads will continue to build Union Pacific's track west of the town of Ogden in Utah Territory. While both railroads will continue to build to a location just north of the Great Salt Lake, called Promontory Summit, Ogden, which is to the east of the lake, will serve as their shared terminus. Congress makes the deal official with a joint resolution. I know, some of you are thinking, what about the race to the finish where the Central Pacific lays 10 miles of track in a single day? Oh, that effort is made all right.

The big misconception, though, is that it happens as part of the race. It isn't. This is purely about pride and bragging rights. It's sunrise, April 28th, 1869. We're just north of the Great Salt Lake at the end of the Central Pacific's rail. CP associate Charlie Crocker has arranged everything to maximize the speed of today's work. Railroad ties lay neatly in place along the graded road ahead. Five trains, each of which contains all the rail and supplies needed to install two miles of track, are at the ready, just like the CP's army of workers.

Union Pacific bigwigs are here. That includes Dr. Thomas Durant, who's come to watch Charlie fail. That crazy Californian actually thinks his men can lay 10 miles of track in a day. Ha! The fools even offer the doc a $10,000 wager that they'll pull it off. I can't confirm this, but word has it Tom's taken that bet. The CP flies into action at 7 o'clock. Chinese workers strip material from the first car at lightning speed. Ties are placed as powerfully built Irishmen take the 560 pound rails with their tongs and dash to the end of the line. Down! The four foot eight and a half inch gauge is set. Now sledgehammers attack the spikes and secure the rail. The Irishmen run back where some of the thousand or so Chinese workers here today

have the next flat cart ready for them. The CP lays six miles before even breaking for lunch. Ah, but things grow more difficult after the meal. Road curves here. Hammers slam the rails, bending them as quickly as possible as the process continues. Down! So it goes as the sun crawls westward across the sky. By 7 p.m., the Central Pacific's men have laid 10 miles and 56 feet of rail. The good doctor will never pay up on that $10,000 bet he allegedly took, but I doubt Charlie Crocker cares. He relishes the satisfaction that his company holds the

uncontested record for laying the most rail in a single day. He's also landed the last punch in the clash between the two railroads that are now less than 15 miles apart from each other. They'll officially connect at a ceremony two weeks later. It's about 12 noon, May 10th, 1869. We're northeast of the Great Salt Lake at Promontory Summit. The star-spangled banner flutters from a telegraph pole. Fourteen-tenth saloons sell liquor, and bands play patriotic airs

while a crowd of at least 500 mingle amid the sagebrush. Most here are Irish or Chinese railroad workers, but others include troops of the 21st Infantry Regiment, a few settlers, Mormons, newspaper reporters, dignitaries, and 21 women, likely the wives of military officers and dignitaries. Amid all of this, two locomotives billow smoke, the Central Pacific's number 60, or Jupiter, and the Union Pacific's number 119. Between them is the Transcontinental Railroad's only remaining gap.

And it's time to fill it. I can't give you a perfect play-by-play of the railroad's ceremonial completion. Despite all the reporters, things are fairly disorganized, and many of them can't see or hear what's going on. We do know, however, that Washington, D.C. receives a telegraph at what is 2.27 in the federal capitol, stating that 69-year-old Reverend Dr. John Todd of Massachusetts is offering the ceremony's prayer. Time zones aren't standardized yet, but we'll call that 12.27 local time. The gorgeously polished railroad tie carved from a California laurel will serve ceremonially as the final tie.

James Strobridge of the CP and Sam Reed of the UP place it. But have they already done so? Are they doing so now? Or will they do so after the ceremonial spikes are presented? I can't say. Sources conflict. As for the ceremonial spikes, we have four. A silver spike from the state of Nevada, a gold, silver, and iron spike from the Arizona Territory, and two golden spikes. One is a contribution from San Francisco's Frederick Marriott. The other is from another Californian and close friend of the CP's Big Four, Mr. David Hughes. Inscriptions

cover this larger 18-ounce spike, including the date May 8, 1869. That's when this ceremony was supposed to take place, but Dr. Thomas Durant was late because angry former UP workers detained him while demanding back pay. I know, it's just so very Tom. Whatever the exact order, Union Pacific VP Dr. Thomas Durant and Central Pacific Big Four associate Leland the Governor Stanford, who is the only one of the Big Four here in person, both receive two spikes each. The governor then makes a few brief remarks. A businessman, he appreciates the railroad's commercial potential, stating, We hope to do ultimately what is now impossible on long lines,

transport coarse, heavy, and cheap products for all distance at living rates to trade. The doctor chooses not to speak. Seems he's suffering from a headache most historians attribute to a hangover. UP chief engineer Grenville Dodge fills in. Pointing west, he invokes international trade. This is the way to India. It's said that the governor and the good doctor, taking turns with a silver-plated hammer, both swing at but miss their spikes. I love the story. It's hilarious, but alas, it may be apocryphal. Besides, they're only tapping these special spikes, so a big windup that leads to a

swing and a miss doesn't make much sense. If this happens, it is likely with the real iron spikes and the permanent non-ceremonial rail tie brought in immediately after the ceremony. We also know that telegraph wires are attached to the governor's spike and hammer. But are these the ceremonial spike and hammer? Or the real ones used later? Duh. Sadly, careful history doesn't always make for clean narratives. Whichever set it is, this arrangement will allow the nation to hear

the final blows on the railroad's final spike. Whether he gently taps or swings and misses, hitting the rail instead, the telegrapher completes the circuit in this moment, sending out the message, done, exactly 20 minutes after the prayer was offered. Tears and songs erupt, congratulations are given, both locomotives, the CP's Jupiter and the UP's number 119, are christened with champagne and take turns riding over the finished track before being brought together to actually touch. Iconic photos are taken of the moment.

If it wasn't done immediately after the last ceremonial spike went in, this is when the ceremonial tie and spikes are removed and replaced with the more durable real deal. The Central Pacific has laid 690 miles of track. The Union Pacific, 1,086. Together, they've laid 1,776 miles of rail. Yeah, 1776, like the year the Declaration of Independence was written. Poetic for a railroad tying together a post-Civil War United States, now celebrating the feat with great relish in cities from sea to shining sea. Before the Civil War made him famous, W. Tecumseh Sherman, or Cump as he prefers, contemplated a transcontinental railroad. On January 6th, 1859, he wrote to his brother John

that if such a work is ever completed, it would be, quote, a work of giants, close quote. And even then, if such a rail ever got built, he figured his grandchildren would be the ones to ride it, at best. And yet, it was completed only 10 years after he penned this letter, before he even turned 50 years old. Though wrong about its time frame, Kump's comment about the work of giants sticks with me. Of whom, I wonder, was he thinking when he wrote Giants?

Was it the dreamers? Like episode 83's Asa Whitney and Ted Judah, who gave their fortune and life, respectively, to pursuing an idea the nation called crazy? What about the politically empowered dreamers, like locomotive-loving Illinois rail splitter Abraham Lincoln? We typically think of him in relation to the Civil War, and that's certainly appropriate, but as we saw in these episodes, the Transcontinental Railroad greatly benefited from his presidential support. Perhaps the closest parallel in American history will come a century later, when future President John F. Kennedy proclaims in 1962, we choose to go to the moon. Maybe Kump was thinking of business-oriented giants like the Central Pacific's Big Four and the Union Pacific's investors. Their ranks include some very imperfect vessels, and the reputations of some, like the Ames brothers, will come crashing down as the

nation becomes fully aware of the corruption behind the UP's credit mobilier in later years. Yet their drive, ambition, and willingness to truly risk it all in a way few would ever dare were all crucial factors in the railroad's completion. This is even or especially true of the infamous Dr. Thomas Durant. After all, he was the one who brought the Union Pacific to life. He also worked tirelessly to see it through. Basically, he's like Gollum in J.R.R. Tolkien's Lord of the Rings, not someone you'd call a hero, yet crucial to the epic mission's success. And like Gollum plummeting to his death with The Precious, things won't work out for the good doctor in the long run.

Two weeks after the Golden Spike ceremony at Promontory Summit, he's off the Union Pacific's board. Four years after that, the Panic of 1873 will destroy his ill-gotten fortune. He'll never financially recover. As for the CP's Big Four, they'll land better than the UP head honchos. Have you ever bought up all the railroads while playing Monopoly? Yeah, they like that strategy too, but it's real life. They buy up railroads throughout the West. And of course, one Big Four associate will found a world-renowned institution of learning. Governor Leland Stanford will use some of his fortune to found Stanford University.

But I have to imagine Kumpf's giants to include the thousands of surveyors, graders, tunnelers, spikers, rail layers, and others who sweated it out six days a week to build this railroad. Names like James Strowbridge, Grenville Dodge, and General Jack Casement come to mind. I also think of the faceless individuals who literally built this great American wonder, often without recognition.

Consider the Chinese workers building through the Sierra Nevada mountains. It's estimated that as many as 1,500 died as they faced avalanches, cliffs, black powder, and nitroglycerin. Yet, few 19th century Americans beyond Charlie Crocker and James Strobridge appreciate the blood, sweat, and tears they expended. They are not yet welcome in America's growing family. Chinese immigrants will not be able to naturalize as U.S. citizens until 1943. Nor are the thousands of Irish and Mormon workers fully welcome at this time. While not discriminated against to the same extent as the Chinese,

both of these groups are seen, as I told you a bit earlier, as un-American. Historian Ryan Deeringer sums this up succinctly in his discussion of the Transcontinental Railroad, so I'll just let him say it. Quote, like the early Irish and the Chinese, the Mormons could not claim the reward of their deeds. They were uncivilized others, the antithesis of American progress beyond the American pale. Close quote. It's a bit ironic then that these three groups played such a large role in building the Transcontinental Railroad. Yet certainly, they too, along with the nation's native-born workers, number among the railroad's giants.

And so, it's done. The Transcontinental Railroad will bring great change. Some painful. It will pose an existential threat to the indigenous peoples of the Great Plains and the Buffalo. Some incredible. The months-long trip across the continent has been reduced to a matter of days. Trains will whip across the land, facilitating settlement, new industries, and planting the seeds for the United States' transformation into an economic superpower.

But the law won't quite be able to keep up at first. Raising brigands will dare to rob banks and trains out here in the West. And who are these figures? Well, that's a story for next time. HTDS is supported by premium membership fans. You can join by clicking the link in the episode description. My gratitude to you kind souls providing additional funding to help us keep going. And a special thanks to our members whose monthly gift puts them at producer status. Pullman, David DeFazio, David Rifkin, Denke, Durante Spencer, Donald Moore, Donna Marie Jeffcoat, Ellen Stewart, Bernie Lowe, George Sherwood, Gurwith Griffin, Henry Brunges,

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