Opening of the Erie Canal (1825)

Hello there. My name is DeWitt Clinton, and back in the early 1800s, I was the governor of New York. Our country was young and growing, but we had a very big problem. Imagine a giant, rocky wall running down the eastern side of America. That’s what the Appalachian Mountains were like. On one side, we had big cities like New York City on the coast of the Atlantic Ocean. On the other side, we had the Great Lakes and wide-open lands perfect for farming and building new towns. But getting from one side to the other was incredibly difficult. You had to drag a wagon over bumpy, muddy roads that went up and down steep mountains. It took weeks and cost a lot of money to move things like flour, furniture, or tools. I had a dream, a very big idea. What if we could build a man-made river, a canal, that stretched for hundreds of miles and connected the Hudson River to Lake Erie? It would be a water highway right through the wilderness. When I shared my idea, many people laughed. They shook their heads and said it was impossible. They called it “Clinton’s Ditch” and “Clinton’s Folly,” thinking it was a silly waste of money. But I knew it could work. I saw a future where our country was connected, where goods could float easily from the middle of America to the rest of the world. I was determined to turn that dream into a reality.

Our incredible journey began on a hot summer day, July 4th, 1817, in a small town called Rome, New York. There was no giant machinery back then, no bulldozers or cranes. Instead, thousands of men stood ready with shovels, pickaxes, and wheelbarrows. Many of them had traveled all the way from Ireland to find work and build a new life. The sound of their tools hitting the earth was the first step in digging our new river. For eight long years, they worked tirelessly. They chopped down endless forests, they dug through thick swamps, and when they reached solid rock, they used gunpowder to carefully blast a path through it. The work was slow and very hard. But the most clever part of our canal was how we conquered the hills. You see, the land isn't flat, so a boat can’t just float uphill. We built something called locks. Imagine a water elevator for boats. A boat would float into a chamber with a gate at each end. To go up, we’d close the gates and let more water in, and the boat would rise. To go down, we’d let water out, and the boat would sink to the next level. It was a brilliant solution. With every mile of canal we finished, my heart filled with pride. I would visit the workers and see the progress, watching our ditch slowly transform into a flowing waterway that would change America forever.

Finally, after eight years of sweat and determination, the entire 363-mile canal was complete. The grand celebration began on October 26th, 1825. I boarded a beautiful canal boat named the Seneca Chief in the city of Buffalo, right on the shore of Lake Erie. As we began our journey eastward, cannons boomed along the canal’s path. It was a relay of sound. A cannon would fire, and when the next town heard it, they would fire their cannon, and so on, all the way to New York City. The message traveled across the entire state in just 81 minutes, telling everyone that our great canal was open. All along our ten-day trip, people gathered on the banks, waving and cheering as we floated by. When we finally arrived in New York Harbor, it was time for the most important moment. I held a special barrel filled with water we had carried all the way from Lake Erie. I poured it into the salty water of the Atlantic Ocean. We called this the “Wedding of the Waters,” symbolizing that the Great Lakes and the ocean were now joined. Looking back, I see that our “ditch” did more than just move boats. It helped cities grow, allowed families to move west, and connected our young nation in a way no one thought possible. It showed that with a big idea and a lot of teamwork, you can achieve something that seems impossible.