The Golden Age of transit-building had its challenges, too

In the early 20th century, before austerity budgets and environmental restrictions made it difficult to build much of anything, new bridges, tunnels, highways, subway lines, and other infrastructure grew like mushrooms after a summer rain in American cities.

Or at least, that’s often the tale that’s told: For better (young Robert Moses) or worse (old Robert Moses), it can seem like past generations had a way of turning their visions into concrete in ways that seem unthinkable now, when cost overruns, decade-long planning processes, and clipped ambitions seem to be the norm. But a forgotten figure in the Globe’s archives complicates that narrative — at least, in part. I ran across Charles A. Ufford’s name in the course of researching an item for this newsletter. I’d never heard of him. He doesn’t even have a Wikipedia page.

When Ufford died in 1929, though, the Dorchester resident merited obituaries in the Globe and in The New York Times. The reason: He was, as the Times said, the “father of the Dorchester tunnel plan,” the portion of what is now the Red Line that runs from Andrew Square to Fields Corner and onward to Ashmont.

According to the Globe’s archives, Ufford spent 30 years as a one-man evangelist for the tunnel, armed with a “magic lantern” (an old-fashioned name for what was basically a transparency projector) that he used to win over audiences, at one point making what may have been the first-ever PowerPoint presentation to the Legislature.

“A few years ago he was looked upon as a dreamer, a visionary to be patient with, because he was sincere and was becoming an old man,” the Globe said in Ufford’s obituary. “He might be found anywhere — at hearings, meetings, lectures, showing in slides his plans for rapid transit until finally everybody agreed with him.””

By dint of his own lone efforts [Ufford] had the great satisfaction of seeing it through to completion,” the Globe said of the project.

According to the Globe, Ufford did have other interests, serving as the president of the Boston Lake Shore Home for Tired Mothers and Poor Children and also as vice president of the Dorchester Historical Society. But rapid transit was Ufford’s obsession. “The Ufford study is littered with charts and maps. He has studied the best streetcar systems in Europe and America and can talk for hours on any transportation subject… He has been so busy with his hobby that he has never even learned how to play cards,” marveled a Globe profile in 1923.

The Globe’s coverage reflects a tortuous journey that might be familiar to transit activists today: From the first time a version of his plans were mentioned in the paper in 1891, Ufford tweaked and ultimately scaled back his vision for transit in Dorchester; contended with opposition (in his case, from Milton residents); and shepherded his idea past endless studies from various entities.

In other words, the task of extending a subway line was not, in at least that one case, much faster then than it is now.

What does appear to have been different is that after the decision was finally made to embrace the plan — Mayor James Michael Curley gave Ufford the quill he used to sign it in 1924 — construction was extremely quick. Ufford was able to ride the first test train to Fields Corner in 1927; Ashmont service started the following year.

When the extension opened, the Globe commented that Ufford had “a warm place today in the hearts of Dorchester commuters” for his efforts. Could one man with a slide projector (and lots of spare time) leave such a mark on the city today?

Alan Wirzbicki is Globe deputy editor for editorials. He can be reached at alan.wirzbicki@globe.com.