Vanities of the Bonfire - Pushing the Limits: New Adventures in Engineering - page 117

Vanities of the Bonfire
History has been punctuated regularly by colossal structural failures. The final configuration of the
bent pyramid, completed almost four millennia ago in Dahshur, is believed to have resulted from
its initially being built at the overly ambitious angle of fifty-four degrees. After a landslide of stone
during construction, the builders apparently lowered their sights and changed the top section to a
forty-three-degree incline. The thirteenth-century collapse of the cathedral at Beauvais marked the
end of an era in Gothic building during which “taller” and “lighter” had been the watchwords. In
more modern times, the tendency to build ever longer and more slender bridges led to such cata-
strophic failures as the collapse of the Quebec cantilever bridge during construction and of the in-
famous Tacoma Narrows suspension bridge just four months after it was completed. Such tragedies
are rooted in two human characteristics: the cultural drive to build ever-bolder structures and the
hubris of master builders and engineers in their attempts to do so.
A recent example of the tragic failure of a construction project fully embodied these all-too-hu-
man characteristics. On November 18, 1999, the massive pile of logs known as Bonfire collapsed
spontaneously at Texas A&M University, taking twelve lives and injuring dozens of other students.
In the wake of the tragedy, the university president appointed a special commission to investigate
the causes of the accident. Its report was issued within six months and provides an insightful look
into not only the mechanical causes of such an accident but also the behavioral causes stemming
from the interaction—or, rather, the lack thereof— between the student designers and builders of
the structure and the university administration. Such a context often comes under the rubric of the
prevailing culture, which has to be experienced to be fully appreciated.
About ten years before the fatal bonfire, I visited Texas A&M the week before Thanksgiving to
deliver a lecture in the civil engineering department. After the lecture, my host told me there were
two things I had to experience before leaving town. One was a famous local barbecue establishment,
in which the brisket was served with whole cooked onions, a pickle, a wedge of cheddar cheese,
and some bread—all wrapped up in a piece of butcher paper that when opened served as place mat
and plate. The only utensil provided was a very sharply pointed knife, which was used by my host
to cut, spear, and convey the beef to his mouth. It made me nervous to see him wield the knife so
casually, all the while joking that he hoped no one would come up behind him and slap him on the
back just as he was putting the knife in his mouth. Living on the edge was presented to me as part
of the Aggie dining experience.
The second thing my host made sure that I saw before leaving town was the bonfire stack, which
was being readied in anticipation of the big football game between A&M and archrival University
of Texas at Austin. The concept of a bonfire was not new to me, for the students at my own uni-
versity were fond of burning fraternity benches to celebrate a victory over their basketball rival
from Chapel Hill. On some occasions, these bonfires had gotten a bit out of hand, with the crowd
sometimes pushing those in the inner circle too close to the fire for comfort. A particularly dan-
gerous practice involved students, their judgment and coordination impaired by celebratory spirits,