In Dreams of Iron and Steel (New York: HarperCollins, 2004), Deborah Cadbury tells the stories of seven great works that cover over a century of engineering history. Originally published in Great Britain as Seven Wonders of the Industrial World, the book was a companion to a BBC television series. The projects covered vary widely from a sewer built under a metropolis to a bridge that towered above the skyline of its day.
The oldest of these (still standing like all but one of the other projects) is the Bell Rock lighthouse. The Bell Rock sank many ships that sought shelter from North Sea storms in Scotland’s Firth of Forth. Robert Stevenson, grandfather of author Robert Louis Stevenson, designed and oversaw the construction of a tower on it. The rock was a formidable construction site. It sat eleven miles from land. High tide covered it with as much as 16 feet of water. Low tide exposed an area only 250 by 130 feet. Yet Stevenson and his men built a 100-foot, stone tower on it. They did it 200 years ago.
By the middle of the nineteenth century, several wonders were built almost at once. The Great Eastern, built by Isambard Kingdom Brunel, was twice the size of any other ship. Though a commercial failure, it set the standard for the next generation of ships.
Brunel launched his ship into a dirty and diseased Thames. Joseph Bazalgette sought to make the river safer for London residents. He built sewers under an ancient city that had grown to 2.5 million people and sprawled over 80 square miles.
In the American West, rival firms raced across the continent to build a railroad that would unite a nation recovering from civil war. In New York, John and Washington Roebling tackled the broad East River with their Brooklyn Bridge. They risked their lives and reputations on the longest span of the day and a material untested in bridges—steel.
The twentieth century inaugurated bigger feats. First proposed in 1879 by Vicomte Ferdinand de Lesseps of France, builder of the Suez Canal, the Panama Canal defeated most of those tried to build it. Even the United States poked at the mountains in futility until John Stevens, a railroad engineer, upgraded the infrastructure and equipment. When Stevens left the canal, a frustrated Theodore Roosevelt put military officers in charge. Lieutenant Colonel George Goethels, an engineer with extensive lock and dam experience, saw the canal through to its completion shortly before World War I.
The final project, America’s “damn big dam”, was build during the Depression. Hoover Dam was huge and constructed under difficult conditions. But construction engineer Frank “Hurry up” Crowe pushed and planned to get it done early and under budget.
Cadbury treats each project separately. However, they are linked by common elements.
Tragedy and setbacks touched each one. Thousands of men, usually poor laborers and sometimes children, were killed or injured to make these huge structures. They were beset by lack of financing, reluctance to try new methods and materials, bankrupt contractors, political opposition, corruption, greed, prejudice, and other human imperfections.
At their best, these engineers and their wonders are linked by the same qualities that appear in the best of engineering today. They had a vision to make people safer, healthier, richer, and freer. They created solutions to immense problems.
Robert Stevenson’s triumph at Bell Rock won the confidence of the Northern Lighthouse Board. It also launched an association between the Stevenson family and Scottish lighthouses that lasted four generations. During their tenures in the office of engineer for the board, Stevenson and his sons dominated the design, construction, and operation of the lights. Bella Bathurst tells their story in The Lighthouse Stevensons (New York: HarperCollins, 1999).
This book has its own kind of variety: technical, professional, and personal. It covers the construction and technology of several lighthouses, the masterpieces of Robert and his three sons. They not only built towers, but also improved their design and the design of the lamps, reflectors, optics, and mechanical systems that operated in them. One even studied the waves that assaulted their works.
It shows that engineering is more than simply design and construction. The Stevensons were also managers, fundraisers, businessmen, public servants, purchasing agents, manufacturers, contractors, and more. Their work included a broad section of what engineers do.
The book is also a biography of these four men that reveals the dynamics of the family. Robert insisted his sons join the family profession and business. Only one, David, seemed to take to it naturally. Only David’s sons filled the next generation of lighthouse Stevensons. Alan and Tom were more inclined to work in literature and the arts. Alan proved himself to be a capable engineer by building a 138-foot light at Skerryvore that could withstand the elements and exhibit a simple beauty. He became so disabled by disease, Bathurst suggests it was muscular sclerosis, that he gave up his work with the lighthouses. He managed to work irregularly as a writer. His works include and encyclopedia article on lighthouses and a translation of Greek poems. Tom shared Alan’s artistic leaning, but not his intensity and focus. He and David eventually divided the engineering work for the Northern Lights.
Not everyone is cut out to be an engineer, of course. As Robert Louis Stevenson said about his internship in the profession, “He is a wise youth, to be sure, who can balance one part of genuine life against two parts of drudgery between four walls and for the sake of one, manfully accept the other.” But some managed to catch what Marion Allen, a laborer on the Hoover Dam, called constructitis. “Sometimes one thinks he is cured,” said Allen, “only to have a relapse when he goes by fresh concrete or catches the smell of fresh sawdust from new lumber. Anyone with this affliction has to start construction of some kind, even of only to dig a hole and fill it up again.”
Order this book here.
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Tuesday, October 28, 2008
Friday, December 21, 2012
STEM Books
I’ve reviewed 39 STEM-related
books (and counting). STEM is an acronym
for science,
technology,
engineering, and mathematics. As you may have seen in the news, there is a
push to improve STEM education,
interest students in STEM fields, and grow the number of workers
in these fields. The idea is that these
will be the skills needed by workers of the future. If you’re a STEM educator or a student
considering a career in STEM fields, you might like to take a look at some of
these books.
I’ll confess that I’m not an educator, but I think most of these books
will be accessible to high school and college students, and a few to middle
school students. The list is also a
reflection of my career and interests in engineering, public
health, policy,
and history. Even with these biases, I think it is a good
list for someone looking for STEM-related books.
I was fascinated by robots as a
kid. I enjoyed reading Isaac Asimov’s
robot stories. I longed for the Omnibot
2000 in the Sears Wishbook.
Robots have come a long way. In How to Build an Android, David F. Dufty
describes the short strange life of a very complex robot made to look and talk
like science
fiction author Philip K.
Dick. The robot had a very
sophisticated and lifelike head and complex artificial
intelligence. As with most complex
things, it was the work of many people who had to solve a lot of problems.
If you’re interested in robotics, this is an interesting nontechnical
book. In addition, you’ll get introduced
to some freaky sci-fi. You may even get
as (somewhat) legitimate reason to use the word “Dickhead” (capitalized, it
refers to a fan of PKD, so don’t go using it on anyone).
The Interstate
highway
system in the United States
is one of the most enormous structures built.
Some of the prospective STEM students who read this may actually be
younger than the Intestate system, though in some sense it is never complete
because it needs constant repair and maintenance. The Interstates were completed in the 1990s, but the Federal-Aid
Highways go back to 1916.
Earl
Swift wrote an accessible history of the Interstates in The Big Roads. If you interested in automobiles
or transportation,
it’s a good read.
Deborah
Cadbury describes seven wonders of engineering in Dreams of Iron and Steel. It covers almost a century of history, but
many of the events are concentrated in the Victorian Era. That was a time of great technological
innovation.
Though the book is history, many of the structures still stand. Railways, the Brooklyn
Bridge, the Suez
and Panama
Canals, and Hoover
Dam stand testament to an age of big engineering.
Though the memory of Professor Wragg’s sneer prompts me to not make
this confession, part of my interest in science and technology came from comic
books. Iron Man was
cool. Spider-Man’s
web shooters were very cool. Superhero
comics are full of fantasy,
admittedly, but the strange, unrealistic science and technology they depict
have inspired many to study STEM in reality.
Physicist John
Kakalios uses examples from comic books to explore real physics in The Physics of Supeheroes. Sometimes comics get there science
right. Even when they get it wrong, it
can be instructive. If you know what
people are talking about when they refer to the “New 52,” you may find this
book to be a great introduction to physics.
Here is another confession: I’m not especially interested in math. I endured a lot of math classes to study
engineering. Reading David
Acheson’s 1089 and All That did
not require such endurance. For one
reason, it is a short book. For another,
Acheson doesn’t expect his readers to be mathematicians; it is enough to follow
the outline of the math he discusses.
I recommend this book because so many people have a fear of math. 1089
can be followed by many high school students and older folks with math
phobias. Just take a deep breath, relax,
and follow along as well as you can.
You’ll see that math can be interesting, useful, and even beautiful in a
way.
Judith
St. George’s The Brooklyn Bridge is a short history of and iconic bridge. Written for the
bridge’s 100th anniversary, it is also the story of the engineers
who sacrificed life and health to see it completed: John Roebling and his son Washington. John Roebling was
a German immigrant who built many suspension
bridges and owed a wire-making business. He gave his son
and extraordinary education in bridge engineering for the time, and before
beginning work on the Brooklyn Bridge he served as an officer in the Union Army during the Civil War.
Why should a cutting-edge STEM student read about a
bridge that is almost 130 years old? It’s
because we still use and rely on very successful, centuries old technologies. Improving and rebuilding our infrastructure will be an important part of our economy. As recently as 2010, New York City and the federal government committed $500 million to
repair and repaint the Brooklyn Bridge.
STEM lumps together science, technology, engineering, and
mathematics. Is there a difference
between science and engineering? Is it
important?
Henry
Petroski, a professor of civil
engineering and history and author of The Essential Engineer, believes
there is an important difference. At
heart, science is about increasing knowledge. Engineering is about invention. Of course, new knowledge makes new invention
possible. Just as often, though,
engineering runs ahead of science.
Sometimes science didn’t advance until someone invented the instruments
to conduct new observations and experiments.
The invention of the microscope
made possible the science of microbiology. Steam engines
were built and greatly improved before we had a modern scientific understanding
of thermodynamics. In fact, thermodynamics was to a large extent
born out of desire to understand steam engines. In this sense, it is an
engineering science (study of manmade things) as much as a natural science
(study of natural things) or branch of physics.
Petroski’s focus in the book is the importance of engineering to
policymaking, where it is often overshadowed by science. Policy, science, and engineering play off of
each other a lot. Most of my career as
an engineer has been related to government, policy, and regulatory compliance.
The Ghost Map by science writer Steven
Johnson is the story of the birth of epidemiology. Epidemiology is a medical
science that uses statistics to
help us understand how diseases operate in a population. Using various statistical and geographic
tools, long before we had computers and GIS, physician
John Snow
demonstrated that cholera,
once a recurring plague
that wiped out hundreds of thousands of people in some outbreaks, was a waterborne
disease. This understanding,
initially met with much skepticism, allowed officials to intervene to prevent
the spread of the disease. For those who
say of their math classes, “I’ll never us this,” here is a case where math (and
science and policy) were used to make a great difference.
It is not much publicized today that the Lewis
and Clark
expedition of 1804
to 1806 had a
partly scientific mission. Captains
Lewis and Clark were charges with bringing back samples of the flora, fauna, and culture of the
western territories. It was also hoped
that they would find a water
passage to the Pacific Ocean. In Undaunted Courage, Stephen Ambrose
writes about the scientific mission as well as the policy, diplomacy, and
commercial
hopes the expedition carried.
Of course, what attracts most people to the Lewis and Clark expedition
is that it was a great adventure. There is a place in STEM fields for thoughtful
adventurers and explorers.
A list like this deserves something strange, creepy, and more fun than you care to
admit. Right now, thousands of very
young future STEM workers are catching bugs and snakes, breaking
their toys to see
what is inside, or staring into space with a weird expression
of vacancy and concentration.
Jan
Bondeson’s Buried Alive is not a
morbid book. It is sometimes humorous,
especially in consideration of topic.
From a STEM point of view, Bondeson shows how knowledge accumulates over
time. The fears and activities of our
forefathers may seem strange to us, but they sometimes made sense in light of
what they knew. Buried Alive doesn’t simply play off our fascination with the grotesque and death, though the
book might not have been written if we lacked that fascination, I think it
reminds us to approach our ancestors with a touch of grace and humility. Maybe our progeny will show us the same courtesy.
If you’re looking for something for a younger student, check out this post→
from Joanne
Loves Science or these
recommendations→ from STEM
Friday. By the way, I also write
about engineering, infrastructure and the environment at Infrastructure Watch.
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