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From the Beach Family Journal

Vol 4, No. 3, pp. 540-544 (Fall, 1996)

 

 

ALFRED ELY BEACH

And His Pneumatic Subway

 

From Data Submitted By

Robert D. Beach, Sr. and

Frank Whitefield Beach, Jr.

 

            Alfred Ely Beach⁷, Moses Yale⁶, Moses Sperry⁵, Moses⁴, Moses³, Thomas², John¹, was born September 1, 1826, at Springfield, Massachusetts.  His mother was Nancy Day, the daughter of Henry and Mary (Ely) Day, of Mayflower descent.  His father, Moses Yale Beach⁶, had started out as a cabinet maker, but in 1829 - three years after Alfred Ely's birth - purchased the New York Sun newspaper from his brother-in-law, B. H. Day, and on its success built the family fortune.  The Sun was despised by many as a "penny press daily."  Horace Greeley, editor of the rival Tribune, called it "slimy and venomous."  Nevertheless, the paper so appealed to working class readers that by the mid-1800's its circulation was over 50,000 copies, among the world's largest for that time. 

 

            Although his father's successful publishing career allowed him to be raised in comfort, Alfred Ely Beach was hardly spoiled.  He was required to work his way up in the family business, beginning as a newsboy selling extra copies, setting type, working the presses, and covering stories as a reporter.  Only then, in 1848, would his father turn over daily management of the paper to Alfred Ely and an older brother, Moses Sperry Beach⁷.

 

            Despite having literally "grown up" with the Sun, however, Alfred Ely Beach early on demonstrated an even greater interest in scientific inquiry.  In 1846 he and a friend, Orsun D. Munn, purchased the fledgling Scientific American, with Beach soon becoming editor.  By 1852 he turned over his share of control in the Sun to his brother Moses, in order to devote more attention to the patent agency he and Munn had also started.  In time the firm, known as Munn & Co., would become the most important of its kind in American history, promoting the work of such notable inventors as Edison, Bell, Morse and Ericsson.  As one authority has stated, "If the history of American invention can claim a patron saint, it must surely be Beach."[1] 

 

            It is frequently said that "Necessity is the mother of invention," and among the needs of 19th century New York City an efficient means of rapid mass transit was at the top of the list.  With its population growing at unprecedented rates, the city presented a riotous scene of horses, carts, wagons, pedestrians and even livestock jamming narrow streets.  In a complaint eerily similar to many voiced today, it was said that "We can travel from New York half-way to Philadelphia in less time than the

length of Broadway."  In response to this problem, Alfred Ely Beach proposed a tunnel under Broadway, for both horse cars and pedestrian traffic, as early as 1849; years before the opening of the first London subway in 1863.  Beach's and similar proposals went nowhere, however, both because of concerns over safety [e.g., it was feared tunneling under the city would weaken the foundations of the buildings above] as well as the vigorous opposition of surface street horse car and omnibus operators in league with their Tammany Hall patrons.  When the London underground finally did open, its use of steam locomotives lent further support to the opponent's objections, with alarming reports of poor ventilation, scaldings and suffocation of passengers.

 

            Unwilling to let go of his idea, however, Alfred Ely Beach searched for some practical alternative to steam locomotives.  He initially considered cable traction, but soon settled upon a more promising solution: the use of atmospheric or pneumatic power.  Inspired by experimental systems then being tried in Europe, Beach built a working model of his own, which he displayed at the Exhibition of the American Institute in New York in 1867.  A wooden tube, 6 feet in diameter and 107 feet long, was hung from the ceiling of the exhibition hall and fitted with a car having room for ten passengers.  A large steam-powered fan blew air through the tube, causing the car to move from one end to the other.  The model proved immensely popular, with thousands of people taking the short ride. 

 

            Beach well knew, however, that any attempt to obtain the charter necessary to build an actual subway would be blocked by both city and state officials under Tammany Hall control.  To get around this difficulty he resorted to a bit of subterfuge, initially asking for permission to build a pneumatic mail system, consisting of two small tubes "for the transmission of letters, packages and merchandise.", similar to the pneumatic tubes still found today at banks, offices and stores.  Since the engineering plans seemed to rule out anything large enough to carry passengers, the charter was granted. Only later, with the attention of the Tammany forces diverted, did he seek a charter amendment to combine the two smaller tubes into a single large tube, ostensibly to simplify the work and save expense. 

 

            With the amended charter in hand, Alfred Ely Beach began construction.  To avoid premature discovery his crew worked at night, beginning in the basement of Devlin's Clothing Store at Broadway and Warren, and working their way south toward Murray Street.  The resulting dirt was hauled out in covered wagons with muffled wheels.  The actual tunneling was carried on using another of Alfred Ely's inventions; a hydraulic tunneling shield.  This was an iron tube, open at both ends, with hydraulic rams at the rear and sides to drive it forward through the earth.  Shelves ran across the front end of the tube, with sharp metal edges at the front, to loosen the dirt as the shield advanced.  A hood at the rear prevented the tunnel from caving in and

protected the workers bricking up the finished tunnel.  The entire unit could be operated by only six men and completed a 312 foot long tunnel in only 58 days. 

 

            The result was a subway tube, circular in shape with diameter of 8 or 9 feet, painted white and lit by rows of gaslights and Zircon oxygen lamps.  A cylindrical car, mounted on rails, fit neatly inside the tube with only a few inches of clearance. With space for 22 passengers, it was richly decorated like a typical Victorian parlor or lounge, to maximize the riders' comfort.  A 100-horsepower steam driven fan provided the motive power necessary to propel the car from the Warren Street station down to Murray Street.  Upon nearing the end of the line the car's wheel's closed an electrical switch, ringing a bell to signal the engineer to reverse the fan and suck the car back to Warren Street.

 

            Since the line was intended solely as a demonstration, passengers would both embark and disembark at the Warren Street station.  To put those waiting to ride at ease, by reducing the appearance of being underground, this station was made even more elegant and comfortable than the car.  Frescoes and curtains adorned the walls, while chandeliers with mirrors provided ample lighting.  Waiting riders could sit in plush chairs, entertained by soothing music played on a grand piano, or stroll by an elegant fountain complete with live goldfish.  The room was so opulent that one reporter would call it "Aladdin's cave."

 

            Just before it was completed, Beach's pneumatic subway was discovered by a reporter for the New York Tribune.  In response to a Tribune editorial deriding the project as impractical, Alfred Ely Beach opened the line to the public on February 28, 1870, charging riders twenty-five cents a head, with most of the proceeds given to charity.  It quickly became an immediate sensation, drawing over 400,000 riders and laying to rest fears that tunneling under the city would undermine the foundations of buildings above. 

 

            Stung by the subway's success, Tammany Hall fought back with a lawsuit charging that the line violated the language of the amended charter.  Strictly speaking this was true, but the suit was dismissed, in large part due to popular support for Beach's achievement.  Unfortunately, Tammany's control of New York politics was enough to block expansion of the demonstration line into a truly practical means of mass transit.  A bill to expand the subway as far as Central Park passed both houses of the New York legislature, but was vetoed by Governor John Hoffman, supposedly because of concerns for public safety.  The following year a similar bill was passed, only to be vetoed again.  Finally, in 1873, newly elected Governor Dix signed the required legislation, but by then it was too late.  The failure of several major banks in both Europe and the United States resulted in the "Panic of '73," with railroad securities being particularly hard hit.  With no chance of obtaining the necessary financing, and

with public interest beginning to fade, Beach leased out his subway tunnel for use as an indoor shooting gallery and, later, as a wine cellar.  When the income from these ventures failed to meet expenses, he had the tunnel sealed and its existence was soon forgotten. 

 

            The story of the pneumatic subway has a curious postscript.  While Beach's own Broadway tunnel "went nowhere" [both literally and figuratively], the dream of a safe and practical subway did not die.  On the contrary, the advent of both electric lights and motors gave the concept new life, with the first successful New York subway opening for traffic in 1904.  Eight years later, in February, 1912, workers were busily tunneling under Broadway, constructing a segment of the Triborough System that was eventually absorbed into the BRT. One can imagine their wonder when, without warning, they broke in upon "Aladdin's cave" - the Beach subway tunnel - with the elegant station largely intact, the car still sitting on its tracks, and the tunneling shield still set in place against the forward tunnel wall.

 

            Even though Alfred Ely Beach's hopes for the pneumatic subway went unfulfilled, it by no means marked the end of his career.  He remained as editor of Scientific American until his death in 1896.  The design of the tunneling shield he used to build his subway found wide application in other tunneling projects, most notably the great railroad tunnel dug in 1890 under the St. Clair River between Port Huron, Michigan, and Sarnia, Ontario.  Shields incorporating elements of his original design are still in use today.

 

            Alfred Ely Beach married June 30, 1847, at Boston, Massachusetts, Miss Harriet Eliza Holbrook, daughter of John F. and Harriet (Converse) Holbrook, b. Apr 29, 1828, at Springfield, Massachusetts.  The couple had two children, i.e. (i) Frederick Converse Beach, born March 27, 1848, who succeeded his father as editor of Scientific American; and (ii) Jennie Holbrook Beach, born November 28, 1850.

 

Annotated Bibliography

 

References to Alfred Ely Beach and his inventions can be found in almost every major reference, especially those devoted to the history of science and technology, e.g., the current edition of the Encyclopaedia Britanica.  In preparing this note, however, your editor has relied primarily upon the following sources, submitted by subscribers Robert D. Beach, Sr. and Frank Whitefield Beach, Jr., together with other items in our files.

 

Bobrick, Benson, Labyrinths of Iron:  A History of the World's Subways, Newsweek Books, 1981, Chapter 6 "The Lamp And The Ring," pp. 169-194.  NOTE:  This is the most extensive and complete account of Beach's pneumatic subway we have seen and includes several rare drawings and photographs of the tunnel, car, station and fan machinery.

 

Cudahy, Brian J., Under the Sidewalks of New York: The Story of the Greatest Subway System in the World, Stephen Greene Press, 1979, Prologue "The Secret Subway," pp. 8-9.  NOTE:  This is a shorter but nonetheless interesting account and includes one photo of the tunnel following its "rediscovery" in 1912.

 

Gies, Joseph, The Story of the World's Great Tunnels, Doubleday & Company, 1962, Chapter 9 "Alfred Beach: American Genius at Work", pp. 113-120.  NOTE:  Next to Bobrick, above, this is perhaps the most extensive account we have seen of Beach and his pneumatic subway.  The work includes two contemporary drawings of the tunnel and car.

 

Polly, Jane, editor, Stories Behind Everyday Things, Readers Digest Association, Inc., 1980, p. 335, side-bar note "People: Alfred Ely Beach," p. 335.  NOTE:  This is another short account of the Beach subway, presented as a footnote to the main article on modern subway systems.  It includes a contemporary drawing of the tunnel, with the car inside, as seen from the station platform.

 

Beach, Alfred H. and Cora M., Beach Family Magazine, Vol. III, No. 1, p. 226, account of Moses Yale Beach⁶.

 

LDS family group sheet for Alfred Ely Beach, reprinted in the Beach Family Genealogy, Computer Genealogies, Inc. (circa 1985), no other publication data.

 

EDITOR'S NOTE:  Those curious to see illustrations of the Beach pneumatic subway may need to go no further than their local SubwayÒ sandwich shop.  The wallpaper of many of these establishments is a composite of photos and drawings of old New York subways.  Included are several drawings of the Beach subway, which are clearly identified by the cylindrical shape of the car and tunnel as well as the mid-19th century dress of the passengers.  One of the most obvious is an interior view of the car, showing a bearded man in a top hat seated on one of the plush upholstered seats.