The Elephant Bridge Mystery: Unraveling a Childhood Legend

The Elephant Bridge Mystery: Unraveling a Childhood Legend

JOSH’S NOTE: It wasn’t until I was done writing that I realized that this whole story was written far more cinematic than it needed to be. I’ve been doing a ton of writing lately and apparently it’s difficult to turn off “writer Josh” and switch to “chaotic blogger Josh.” We’ll suffer through it together.

“A circus train derailed here,” we had been told by a cousin or an aunt, not sure who at this point, we were provided this tidbit of information nearly 30 years ago so it’s hard to tell. It was enough to fascinate a young mind who couldn’t help but think of the circus cars sunken below the dark surface of the water. “It’s so deep, they just left everything there, the elephants, the tigers, the entire circus.” 

I can’t remember the last time I thought of that random factoid before the other day, but the memory of that story came crashing through my mind as I drove over The Floating Bridge in Lynn, Massachusetts on my way to Salem last week. It had been two years since I had been in Boston and likely over a decade since I had driven over this bridge. Why my brain chose this moment to bring it to the forefront of my mind, I have no idea. I have a weird brain like that. I made a mental note to ask my sister about the circus train when I saw her later that night.

The story, as it has been told, was back in the early 1900’s a circus train was coming through the area and something caused the train to derail, dumping the animals into the seemingly bottomless lake, dooming them to a watery grave.

We would be told that the lake was so deep that there was no recovery of the train and animals and they all still sat at the bottom of the lake to this day.

A quick glance at the area with adult eyes brought a lot of questions that my young mind couldn’t fathom, the spectacle and intrigue was enough, who needed answers?

The chaos of my afternoon led me to forget to ask the question until hours later when my sister and I were sitting on her couch, a few glasses of wine deep. The bridge and the lake popped into my head and I blurted it out before I could forget.

She remembered the story with great enthusiasm and it was at that moment that I learned that the bridge actually had a name, The Floating Bridge. I think we used to call it The Elephant Bridge.

“But is the story true?” I asked.

It was one of those things neither of us had ever questioned before and if he had, back in the day, the hunt for answers would have been futile in an age where the internet didn’t exist. (For those reading this at some unknown time, 30 years ago was the mid 1990’s and we didn’t have answers at our fingertips, this is part of the reason who took the word of adults who knew better… We now know this isn’t the case but please forgive us for being cave-people.)

Cue the furious googling.

ANSWERS!

Cue the history lesson.

The Floating Bridge was built in the early 1800’s as a part of the Salem Turnpike, the main highway from Boston to Salem. There was a legend that the lake was ‘bottomless’ and there was no technology available to drive piles into a bottomless lake. Instead, pontoons were constructed to float the plank deck. Over the years, the deck was repaired upon the planks of the original deck, making the bridge top heavy. 

When particularly heavy wagons would cross the bridge, it would sink to water level, making the crossing a terrifying event.

Here’s where the circus comes in.

True to the original story we had been told in our youth, a circus was making its way to Salem. The crossing was uneventful until the elephants stepped foot on the bridge. Just one foot because after that, they refused to cross the bridge.

Whether the elephants actually made it to Salem or not, I have no idea, but I now know that they are not at the bottom of that lake.

Sometime after we had first heard the story of the doomed circus train, The Floating Bridge was rebuilt and redesigned to be the bridge that I drove across over 30 years later. It would have been after we had moved to Lynn but I don’t ever remember the construction and I feel like it would have been noteworthy since it was the easiest and quickest way to get to our local WalMart. Then again, the annoyance of construction detours wouldn’t really interest a 10 year old so it’s likely I never noticed.

In the redesign and reconstruction, the bridge was still made to appear as if it was floating, despite now being made of concrete. I could only find the historical photos of the old floating bridge I assume because modern bridges are less interesting?

A small part of me is a bit disappointed that the story isn’t true to be completely honest. I’m not surprised that my aunt or my cousin or whoever told me the story had lied. 

Or maybe it wasn’t a lie. Maybe it was one of those stories that, over the course of nearly 100 years, gets twisted and turned to become a local urban legend. It was harder to debunk these things back then after all. I can’t help but wonder if it’s a story that’s still told to this day or if it has fallen off into the dark, dusty corner of a select few people’s minds. 

I also can’t help but wonder if the ability to immediately search for the answers to the universe has taken some of the wonder out of life. The way my sister’s face lit up as I brought this old memory to the forefront of her mind only to debunk the whole thing moments later. I think we were both disappointed.

So that’s the story. It’s a weird little mystery from my past that I haven’t thought of in forever and now I know way too much about it.

And now, so do you.

You’re welcome.