The Niagara River’s dual role as the dividing border and unifying heart
of its region is perhaps best exemplified by spectacle of Niagara Falls.
As a tourist attraction and as a source of endless cheap power, it has
fundamentally shaped and defined the communities that surround it.
And this has held true not only for the cities that grew up on its Canadian
and American edges, but also for
other regional locales which, for example, have advertised “come to Buffalo
and see the Falls” while building up healthy processing and manufacturing
industries based on hydroelectric power. The Falls’ plenitude of
potential riches has engendered divisions competing tourist attractions,
for example, or international maneuvering over who would profit from its
hydroelectric power but it has also produced connections, as personal
as those made by visiting honeymooners and as grand as the bridges that
span it and the regional economy it has powered.
Niagara Falls today remains one of the most-visited tourist spots in the world, receiving nearly 20 million visitors yearly. And yet, planner Ernest Sternberg argues, the spectacle has been poorly exploited as a tourist destination. Relying solely on the (carefully staged) drama of the falling water itself, little effort has been made to place the cataract in the context of a broader narrative that could sustain a visitor’s experience beyond the 20 minutes that it mesmerizes the average tourist. This has not always been so. Before transportation improved with the advent of the Erie Canal in 1825, the Falls’ inaccessibility gave it an air of exotic profundity, and early tourists often spoke of their visits there as pilgrimages to an otherworldly realm where anything at all seemed possible. For decades afterwards, the cataract maintained its mysterious and magical aura for visitors. The awful and terrifying spectacle of the so-called “River of Death” invited contemplation of the sublime, of the meaning of nature and the frailty of human accomplishments, and, perhaps most profoundly, the meaning of death. At the same time, of course, the fame-seeking acrobats like Blondin and Farini drew crowds by braving the horrors of the Falls on seemingly flimsy ropes. Ultimately, historian Patrick McGreevy argues, honeymooners were drawn to this liminal boundaryspace where the ordinary rules of everyday life might be suspended for the equally otherworldly rituals of passion.
The Falls also inspired other dreams, no less grandiose but certainly
less otherworldly: dreams of electric power and the fortunes that
could be won with it. The majestic profundity of the cataract had
already suffered from the unscrupulous “sharpers” who, on both sides of
the border, had taken every advantage of the spectacle’s growing tourist
value in the post-Erie Canal era. These con men ultimately succumbed
to the reformist sweep of the Progressive Era, but ready to take their
place were the dreamers and speculators of an economy that had just begun
its meteoric rise through industrialization. Rather than seeing
a sublime statement about the nature of existence, men like Edward Dean
Adams, president of the Cataract Construction Company of
Niagara Falls, New York, saw “a power almost illimitable, constantly wasted,
yet never diminished gazed upon, wondered at, but never hitherto controlled.”
By the end of the 1890s, eleven major electric companies had located in Niagara Falls; by 1909 there were twenty-five. Meanwhile, development on the Canadian side had been stymied by a stubborn belief in steam power and the not-accidental ownership by American companies of the exclusive rights to develop electricity from the Canadian falls. It was not until after the great coal strikes of 1902 that Canada, made suddenly aware of its dependence on American coal, dug a tunnel under the Falls to generate hydroelectric power.
Thus began Niagara Falls’ domination by industry and economy. Although
some careful planning was evident during that era for example, US water
diversions were limited under President Theodore Roosevelt in 1906, and
a treaty with Great Britain similarly limited Canada’s siphoning it
was also a time of extravagance and excess. Humanity’s limitless
imagination envisioned future utopias entirely powered by a conquered
Niagara Falls. The popular American comic strip “Buck Rogers in
the 25th Century,” for example, cast the fictional city of
"Niagara" as the capital of the futuristic nation. For
a good while, such visions won out over careful planning, and industrial
pollutants invisibly poisoned a natural wonder that was already being
undermined and obscured by power and processing plants. In the mid-20th
century, when the industrial strength of the region sagged, Niagara Falls
would be bereft of transcendent meaning: no longer a meditation
on the sublime, no longer an exotic outpost of the otherworldly, no longer
the centerpiece of an imagined industrial utopia, the Falls became simply
a mass of falling water to be witnessed for as long as it entertained
the eyeball.The Importance of the Border: Race and Nation