Efforts in Vain
The development of Great Lakes shipping, inaugurated by French trappers three centuries before, intensified in the industrial age with the demand for iron ore and other resources of the region. In 1872, the Great Western Railway sent a survey team to Detroit to test the feasibility of a drawbridge, but well-established shipping interests and the ferry boatmen thwarted the plan.

Every conceivable site after that triggered a proposition for a bridge: across Belle Isle, a span from Woodward Avenue to Windsor. The Detroit Board of Commerce formed an International Bridge Committee in 1903. Canada's Border Cities were also anxious to derive the benefits of a link with Detroit.

Fowler's Fiasco Shortly after World War I, a prominent New York civil engineer, Charles Evan Fowler, came forward with a proposal to build a bridge that would accommodate cars, trains, street cars and pedestrians. He organized two companies in the early 1920s - the Canadian Transit Company and the American Transit Company - and had gained the support of both Parliament and Congress for his franchise. His plans, though, were too ambitious. The rail approaches for the $28 million structure would begin a mile inland. Public guarantees for the financing would be needed. Its 110-foot center height would give only marginal clearance for shipping. But still, Detroit must have its bridge. At this point, Russell T. Scott organized an investment scheme for Fowler's project that not only failed to get the bridge financed, but devoured $2 million of Scott's own money. Among Fowler's most-ardent supporters was John W. Austin. Determined that the river would be spanned, he approached C. J. Marshall, a principal of the McClintic - Marshall company, a noted Pittsburgh engineering firm, to adopt the project. It was Marshall who arranged Austin's introduction to Joseph A. Bower, the banker with a record for snatching success from the jaws of defeat.

Bower vs. Smith - the First Encounter
After studying the finances and construction of bridge projects in this country and in Europe, Bower took up the project late in 1924, purchasing options of the stock of the Canadian and American Transit companies (primarily because of the government authorizations). He appointed John Austin treasurer, retained McClintic-Marshall to engineer and build the bridge, and began securing the necessary endorsements from approving agencies and public bodies.

Negotiating any bureaucracy can be intimidating. Joseph Bower was merely proposing to build the longest suspension bridge in the world. It is a measure of the man that his proposal was accepted by the: President of the United States, Governor -General of Canada, U.S. War Department, Canadian Minister of Railways, State of Michigan, Province of Ontario, Lake Carriers Association, Dominion Marine Association, Great Lakes-St. Lawrence Waterways Commission and the Great Lakes Harbor Commission, in addition to the already-held approvals from the U.S. Congress and the Canadian Parliament. And on top of this, Bower arranged the financing. After gaining these approvals, Bower applied to local authorities for their consent. The town of Sandwich, Ontario, quickly concurred. Essex County, Ontario, held a spirited referendum in which the bridge project was approved by the voters.

In Detroit, an objection that the proposed bridge's 135-foot clearance would limit future navigation was overcome after some protracted discussion. Bower would build his bridge 152 feet above the Detroit River. Thereupon, the Detroit Common Council unanimously approved the bridge's construction.

But Detroit Mayor John W. (Johnny) Smith had yet to assert his authority. He cast his veto. The Council overrode it, and he countered in Wayne County Circuit Court with a petition for a restraining order, blocking progress on the bridge until a popular referendum could be held. Presumably, Joseph Bower and John Austin conferred again. Perhaps they recalled their first meeting several years before. They had come so far. The financing was in hand. The plans were drawn. The authorities had been satisfied.

Battle Lines
Mayor Smith's opposition to the bridge was not totally capricious. He argued that, ultimately, the bridge's users would pay for its cost and debt service, and would pay a perpetual profit to its owners.