It’s been a year and a half since you could drive over the Madison Avenue bridge between West 58th and West 65th. It was closed back in the summer of ‘03 due to its advanced state of decay. Concrete is crumbled, rusty strands of mangled rebar poke out. But because vehicular traffic no longer passes this way, it has become one of the near west side’s better bridges for pedestrians who want to stop for a moment to consider the city spread out around them.
If you walk across Madison Avenue bridge, here is what you will see:
First, look over the north side. If you’ve come on a weekday, you will see crews of men and women in hard hats and heavy boots. They have recently begun placing the structural steel for the adjacent West 65th Street bridge, which has also been closed for some time. The process of demolishing the old bridge and constructing the foundation for the new one seemed to take an eternity. And then all of a sudden, the huge steel beams arrived and were up in an instant. Suddenly, a worker can walk (very carefully) across the entire span.
Now cross the glass-strewn street and look over the south side of the bridge. The most obvious structure before you is the EcoVillage RTA station that was dedicated last summer. From the front — the Lorain side — the station blends in with the modest houses nearby. From the back, it holds its own well enough with the monumental grandeur of St. Colman’s church, school and convent. I love this new station, partly because I think it turned out very well and partly because I am aware of some of the high hopes that surrounded its conception. Years ago, my friend David Cornicelli stopped by my house to show me a concept drawing on the day that the decision was made to build it as a cornerstone to the EcoVillage development. At that point, the whole idea seemed pretty far-fetched. But there it is.
Now, look down. Beneath you, visible through the basketball-size holes in the bridge there are the trash-covered banks of the Rapid line, especially along the east side of the tracks. How does the garbage get there? The homes in this section of Detroit Shoreway are modest but well cared for. Walk along this quiet stretch of Madison on any nice morning and you will almost always see someone out raking his leaves or picking up her trash. I don’t think these neighbors are responsible for this mess. Maybe the litter is just carried to this unlucky spot by the wind.
Two weeks ago and two weeks from now, this part of the view was and will be merely depressing. But just now, if you stand close to the east end of the bridge and look straight down, you will see “a cloud of daffodils” growing up among the overgrown brush and debris.
Like the litter, it’s a mystery how the daffodils got to this unlikely spot. What Clevelander once thought to climb down that treacherous slope to bury dozens of bulbs which — unless he was standing in this very spot or riding the Rapid — he would never see in flower?
Actually, the planting of the daffodils is a fairly easy scenario for me to imagine. It’s an example of the kind of quiet generosity that is one of Cleveland’s better personality traits.