Hoover Dam

John Hopkins (0:02)

It is late November, 1932, a cool day in Black Canyon on the Colorado River, on the border between the US states of Nevada and Arizona. Just upstream, the water has been temporarily diverted through gigantic man-made tunnels to allow a dam to be constructed here.

700 feet above the ground, 28-year-old Oliver Cowan hangs precariously against the canyon's rocky face, whistling cheerfully to himself. His job here is to strip away the loose rock and expose the dense, durable surface beneath against which the dam can be built. All that keeps him from plummeting earthwards is a canvas seat suspended from the rim above by hemp ropes.

He calls a warning to his fellow workers. High scalers are there known, but he is about to set to work smoothing the crag. He has to bellow to ensure his voice carries above the breeze that whistles through this great cleft in the landscape. Adjusting himself in his seat, he secures the hard hat he has conjured out of an old cloth cap dipped in tar and dried rigid. Then he sets the 44-pound jackhammer going, his ears filling with its explosive sound as great chunks of stone dislodged from the rock face. A little further along, another man swings back and forth, building up a head of momentum until he resembles a human pendulum. It's a little party trick he has perfected to entertain the crowds below, who gather to watch these men at their dangerous work. He only stops when a shout goes up nearby. They are about to dynamite a section of particularly resistant rock. Cowan takes a moment's pause from his work, catching his breath and letting his arms recover their strength. But suddenly, there is a shout of terror from higher up. He glances up to see a man losing his balance on the ledge above him. Instinctively, Cowan swings himself across the rock face, lithe as an acrobat. With arm outstretched, he grabs at the falling worker's trouser leg and somehow manages to get him in his grip. He is all that protects the man, an engineer, from a certain and grizzly death on the unforgiving ground far below. A second or two later, another high scaler swings across to meet Cowan, and between them, they manage to pin the engineer to the canyon face. Drawing on all their strength and dexterity, they keep him there until a rope line is dropped from above. Once he is secured, he is hauled up to safety, shaken, but alive.

Cowan and his mate know their efforts will be good for a drink or two once they're back on the ground tonight. But for now, there is work still to be done. After they recover themselves, they maneuver back to their original positions, and Cowan fires up his jackhammer once again. Such is the life of a high scaler out here in the desert, working on the construction of the Hoover Dam.

Truly a modern wonder of the world, the Hoover Dam is one of the great feats of human ingenuity. Its creation was a saga of large-scale ambition and engineering genius, executed by a labor force of thousands working in grueling conditions.

The project involved the rerouting of a great river and the construction of a vast concrete edifice and began as America was in the midst of an unprecedented economic slump. By the time it was finished and the casualties all counted, the dam brought water and hydroelectric power to millions. It was pivotal to the development of the American Southwest, not least the development of cities like Las Vegas.

But just what did it take to build this extraordinary landmark? Why was it considered such a vitally important project and at what cost? And almost 100 years since construction began, can it now be said that the sacrifice was worth it? I'm John Hopkins. From the Noiser Podcast Network, this is a short history of the Hoover Dam.

One of the longest rivers in the United States, the Colorado stretches some 1,450 miles through the American Southwest. It takes in seven states, from tributaries in Wyoming, through Colorado, Utah, Arizona, California, Nevada, and New Mexico, before passing into Mexico. Named for its reddish hue caused by heavy silt deposits, it rolls through desert landscapes for much of its course, where it has carved out spectacular natural features like the Grand Canyon over millions of years. For at least eight millennia, humans live in small settlements along its banks. But by the mid-1800s, there is a determined effort by the federal government to accelerate development of the region. Integral to this grand project is the search for ways to tame the mighty Colorado River and put it to work. Irrigating the parched desert ground and providing drinking water for a resident population. Somehow, its cycle of drought and flooding must be broken. Michael Green is Professor of History at the University of Nevada, Las Vegas.