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'The Key Bridge is us': For those who grew up in its shadow, bridge was a lifetime connection

Angela Roberts, The Baltimore Sun on

Published in News & Features

To Russ Dukan, who was born in Ukraine and moved to Dundalk with his family in 1997 at age 10, the Key Bridge represented something monumental.

“It was like a beacon of America, ” said Dukan, 36, who now lives in Ellicott City. “And it always felt strong and just impossible to move or break.”

Keith Taylor, a former steelworker, was a senior in high school when the bridge opened. He used to drive across it with his parents to visit family on his dad’s side. Now, he’s a 66-year-old grandfather himself, with children and grandchildren across the Patapsco in Arnold. Some days, he’d drive across the Key Bridge two or three times to run errands and visit family. It was a wonderful place to go fishing and crabbing, and – as president of the Sparrows Point/North Point Historical Society – he appreciated the structure’s ties to the War of 1812 and Key.

Taylor has also used the bridge as a marker during trips – when he crossed it, Taylor said, he knew he was almost home. That took special significance in 1979, when he landed at BWI and drove over the bridge after being stationed in Korea for 13 months.

“Just to see the bridge and the horizon of Baltimore – it just gives you the chills,” he said. “You almost bawl about it. It’s heartbreaking to see that it’s in the water now.”

Courtney Speed, 84, remembers watching the bridge be built when she was in her 40s, living in Turner Station. It was devastating to watch it collapse like a children’s toy, she said. Even more terrifying was the thought of the ship colliding with the bridge later in the morning, when thousands of commuters – including her son, Hartwell Speed – were going to work.

The younger Speed was awake when the collapse happened. At home in Turner Station, he and his wife heard a loud “whoosh!”.

 

All night, the sounds of emergency vehicles bled into his dreams. The next morning, he awoke to the sound of his phone vibrating with texts and calls from friends and family, who were worried he had been driving home late from work.

When he was 7 or 8, Speed remembers watching the bridge under construction while skipping rocks into the Patapsco with his older brother.

Now, it’s gone.

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(Baltimore Sun reporter Abigail Gruskin contributed to this story.)

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©2024 The Baltimore Sun. Visit at baltimoresun.com. Distributed by Tribune Content Agency, LLC.

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