Wolfe Covered Bridge
between Douglas, Maquon and Gilson, Illinois

The following information About Wolfe Bridge was taken from a pamphlet published by
Leslie C. Swanson of Moline, IL in the early 1960's and titled

"Covered Bridges in Illinois, Iowa and Wisconsin"

The Wolfe bridge was erected in 1848 and spans the picturesque Spoon River which was immortalized by Edgar Lee Masters' famous anthology. It is one of the longer bridges still standing in Illinois, measuring 234 feet in length and 11 feet in width with a main span of 104 feet and iron railings along the approaches. The Spoon River was also bridged by covered spans at Lewistown, the seat of Fulton County, and at Duncan Mills near the confluence with the Illinois river but those spans were razed many years ago.

The beauty of this stream is often mentioned in the writing of Mr. Masters. He recaptured the past here and the lone covered bridge still standing is harmoniously in keeping with the rich legendary and historical place.

The Wolfe bridge was the locale of what is believed to be the first and only traffic fatality in the history of the covered spans in Illinois, Iowa or Wisconsin. Early settlers of the region recall a freak accident about 1900 which took the life of a farm hand whose name no one remembers. The young man was en route home when something frightened his horse and it ran away. The wildly plunging animal raced through the covered bridge, hurling the buggy and its rider against one corner of the bridge opening. In some freakish manner the reins became entwined about his neck as he catapulted out of the careening vehicle. Before help arrived he was strangled and his body was found dangling from the side of the bridge by the next passerby.

Dr. Harry McKown, Gilson, III., veteran educator and author whose early boyhood was spent in the vicinity of the Wolfe covered bridge between Douglas and Gilson, graphically portrayed to the author some of his recollections regarding life around the Spoon River structure.

In those days the covered bridge was converted into a camp at night as a center for summer activities. "If there was rain or promise of it, campers slept inside the bridge, making their beds on the floor or stretching hammocks across the roadway," Dr. McKown related. "There being no night traffic in those days, this arrangement was quite satisfactory."

"I recall how one time when our family group was sleeping in the bridge, mother and a cousin played a great joke on the rest of us. After everyone was asleep they arose, went to the far end of the bridge, and came trampling down the length of it, rattling the loose boards like a team of horses.

"My father heard them, yelled: 'Whoa! Whoa! Stop those horses,' and fell out of his hammock onto our dog, Ted, who was sleeping underneath. Of course the other adults and we kids awoke and joined Dad and Ted in the din. It was impossible to see and, as the 'team' continued to trample, the adults continued to yell and the kids continued to scream. Finally, when the 'team' was almost upon us, the two women burst out in loud laughter and we recognized the joke. It irritated Dad a bit at the time, but later he admitted it was a good prank.

"The high river bank near the east end of the bridge always was (and still is) a favorite camping, fishing and picnic spot. The river turn below it, 100 yards from the bridge, had an extensive sand bar, water deep enough for swimming, a nearby bank for a 12-foot mud slide, and two long stretches of deep water up-river quite suitable for fishing.

"When there were heavy rains and the river went out of its banks people from the surrounding country west of the bridge (the east side approach for a quarter of a mile being under water) would drive to the west entrance and for hours note the rise or fall of the water by making marks on the end of the bridge. For years there was a dated 'high water mark' carving on the entrance about two feet above the bridge floor. Later, some wag carved a dated 'low water' mark two or three feet above that one."

Many theories, some steeped with legend, have been advanced as an explanation of why the bridges were covered. Old literature on the subject contains suggestions that the bridges may have been covered to protect the traveler. Some suggest that they were covered to enable skittish horses to cross the bridges. It is a well known fact that some members of the equine family have a distinct aversion to crossing water, either by fording or crossing bridges where they can catch sight of a running stream off to the sides or through the chinks in the floor or siding. Even the barn-like covering failed to calm many horses. Most of them were nervous on their first trill through and had to get used to it.

It is quite obvious that the bridges were built with coverings to protect them from the elements. The fact that they have received such protection accounts for their long life and is probably the only reason we have any of them preserved until this day.

The addition of a roof over the span almost doubled the total cost of the structure but the builders figured that the longer life would more than compensate for the extra expense. The roof helped to keep excessive snow, rain and ice off the roadway although in some instances, where there was heavy sleigh traffic, it was necessary to spread a thin covering of snow over the planks to enable the cutters to get through.

The early bridge builders found that steady use, moisture and battering by the weather in general soon weakened unprotected structures. Wooden bridges, not protected by covering, would usually deteriorate beyond use within a space of 15 to 20 years.

Modern engineers, who have examined the covered bridges, have been amazed at the great durability shown by some of the century-old structures, built by a group of hardy pioneers who lacked the present-day tools and equipment and who used mainly wooden pegs in holding the buildings together.

In some cases bridges, preserved as relics, have outlived modern steel and concrete structures which were raised to replace them.

Bridges were often converted into billboards or town bulletin boards for all sorts of announcements. Walls of some of them still bear the carvings of youthful swains and faded posters which proclaim new patent medicine cure-alls. Dances at the town hall, farm sales, fairs, and the coming of traveling entertainers were all well advertised with posters which found a convenient as well as dry place within the bridges.

Dr. McKown recalled how both ends, the overhead wooden beams and the inside walls of the Wolfe Bridge were literally covered with carvings and paintings, designs of hearts, animals, arrows and other figures, initials (singly and in "love" combinations), names, dates and wisecracks.

"At one time there was a painting right in the middle of the wall outside, the artist having climbed onto the roof and let himself down to the proper position with a hayrope,' Dr. McKown related.

The author's introduction to covered bridges in Illinois was a vivid experience which occurred quite unexpectedly a number of years ago while on an automobile trip in eastern Knox County. I was homeward bound and was headed westerly along a well traveled gravel road. It was growing dark rapidly. The road suddenly took a downward turn and angled sharply to the left into what appeared to be a broad valley where the lengthening shadows were much deeper. Without diminishing my speed much I continued down the hill onto the floor of the valley.

Suddenly out of the semi-darkness loomed a huge barn-like structure apparently blocking the road. My first thoughts were I had headed into a dead-end road, and I was going to find myself in some farmer's barn yard, a sad experience which has been my lot frequently on traveling over rural highways.

I reduced the speed of the car to a crawl as I debated where I could turn around. Dimly ahead it looks as if the road almost led right into the structure. Getting closer I could not be mistaken - the road did lead right into the strange window-less building. There just was no room to turn around, so I inched forward at a wary pace and headed the car into the cavernous opening. The headlights of the car illuminated the scene in an eerie manner. I was actually inside by 20 or 30 feet before I was struck by the realization I was on a covered bridge.

Ahead I could see a vast network of beams, arcs and trusses which cast .weird shadows in the car's high beam lights. It seemed incredulous and it was all like a dream. I had a vague recollection of reading about some covered bridges in a high school literature class, but I had always associated such nostalgia with romantic New England and had never given a thought to such historic landmarks existing in Illinois.

Mid-way on the bridge I stopped the car to obtain a better appreciation of the situation. It was a unique thrill which defies description. It seemed as if I suddenly had found myself turning back time and being transposed to the Civil War era. "This is a covered bridge," I mumbled out loud to myself in an incredible tone of voice.

I then shut off the motor of the car and sat there for several minutes just to enjoy fully this intensely vivid experience. My only regret then was it was too dark to get a satisfactory picture although I was back there again two weeks later to get the photo of this bridge, the Wolfe span.