Filling the gaps in Luten Bridge

Jordi Weinstock ’06 and Barak Richman

Richman and Weinstock looked deeper into an old case and unearthed a fascinating tale of legal and political intrigue.

Jordi Weinstock ’06 first read Rockingham County v. Luten Bridge Co. for Contracts; a short section of the 1929 United States Court of Appeals for the Fourth Circuit decision appears in casebooks for its articulation of the duty to mitigate damages following a breach of contract. The basic facts: Rockingham County, in North Carolina’s Piedmont region, contracted with the Luten Bridge Company to build a one-lane bridge over the Dan River, in order to facilitate traffic between the towns of Reidsville, to the south, and Spray, to the north. The Board of County Commissioners repudiated the contract after construction had started, but the company completed the bridge, suing to recover the contractually agreed price in full.

Weinstock suspected there was more to it than that.

“The judge alludes to the fact that the Board of County Commissioners changed somewhat abruptly, but doesn’t say why or how,” recalls Weinstock. “Were there allegations of corruption? Was it related to the bridge?”

His professor, Barak Richman, had also found unanswered questions while reviewing the case for class. Their mutual interest was further piqued the next day when, by coincidence, they found out the bridge, known as Mebane Bridge, had just recently been closed by the State. The fact that it involved state history, as well as law, convinced them that the case was perfect for a collaboration they had previously talked about in theory only: checking out the story behind an interesting case.

After spending more than a year poking around in Rockingham County towns, talking to residents and local historians, poring over minutes of county commissioners’ meetings and rival newspaper editorials from the 1920s, and reading the personal letters of Judge John J. Parker in the Special Collections Library at the University of North Carolina at Chapel Hill, Richman and Weinstock exude excitement about their discoveries.

“When you read the case in its entirety, you realize that the duty to mitigate is almost a throw-in for Judge Parker. It’s like the busywork at the end,” says Weinstock.

“This case was really about whether new county commissioners could repudiate the contracts their predecessors had entered into. If they could, of course, no private party would do business with counties,” adds Richman.

Weinstock sets the scene.

“Back in the early ’20s, everyone was buying cars, but the roads were terrible. So they were building roads like crazy in Rockingham County–property taxes were skyrocketing. Before this, counties just built schools and jails. People started to object, especially the farmers, who had lots of land, but little cash. So these candidates ran for county commission on a platform of not spending any more money, and then voted for a bridge! It was incredibly controversial.”

Richman points out the Dan River on a map.

“It’s mostly tobacco farming on the south side, and industrial–textile mills–on the north. It’s the northerners who really wanted public improvements. They’re essential for industry.”

To abridge a long and colorful tale that Richman and Weinstock hope to tell first in a law review article, a powerful industrialist, B. Frank Mebane, who was the chief proponent of bridge construction, persuaded three county commissioners, over dinner at his home, to vote for the bridge. Previously opposed, and likely farmers, they became enamored with the charming, and extremely wealthy Mebane, surmises Richman. The contract was approved by a 3—2 vote, and Luten Bridge commenced construction.

“What followed was essentially a tax revolt,” says Richman. “Farmers with pitchforks stormed the county courthouse.”

The fight played itself out over many months in dueling newspaper editorials and public meetings that drew as many as 2,000 people. After one such meeting, one of Mebane’s converts abruptly resigned; Weinstock suspects that he was intimidated into stepping down by a “delegation” formed to pay him a visit. He tried to rescind his resignation the next day, but it was too late; the county clerk, a bridge opponent, had already filled the position with a like-minded replacement. With the balance of power now in the anti-bridge camp, the commissioners voted to rescind the contract with Luten Bridge.

“I’ve loved being able to follow my interests, do independent research, and have the experience of a professor to guide me. The level of personal involvement students can have at Duke amazes me.” Jordi Weinstock

Meanwhile, the commissioner who resigned, and then “unresigned,” continued to meet and do county business with the two other pro-bridge commissioners. There were two separate boards, each claiming to represent Rockingham County.

Richman ticks off the legal questions: “Who’s the real board, was there ever a contract, and can that contract be renounced?” And why does Judge Parker–a Hoover nominee for the Supreme Court–send it to the dean of the University of North Carolina Law School, declaring it his most important case? Richman explains.

“Judge Parker was active in politics before he rose to the bench, and he had deep roots in North Carolina’s pro-industrialist, pro-public improvements Republican party. The case came before him during the industrialization of most of North Carolina, and the state’s economic growth presented imminent and pressing transportation needs that the counties, at that time, had to satisfy. To do so, they have to enter into contracts with private parties. If counties are permitted to change their minds, no construction company will ever enter into contracts with them, and North Carolina won’t have any roads.

“Ultimately, he sees that counties must be held accountable to contract law. So he finds there was a contract that cannot be rescinded. That’s the core of the opinion. Rockingham County is liable to the Luten Bridge Company.”

“Yes, but not for everything,” Weinstock interjects, laughing.

“Right. At the very end, he says it wouldn’t make any sense if once the County renounced the contract Luten Bridge could still push up the damages. That was an afterthought, but it’s now all that students learn from the case.”

What has been the mutual benefit of the undertaking? What started as a research assistant position has become a for-credit independent study project for Weinstock, who calls it the most significant piece of work he will produce in law school.

Richman stresses their scholarly contribution.

“How does a case that is originally important for one reason appear in a casebook to articulate a completely different doctrine? That intellectual history can tell a lot about the development of the common law.” Richman and Weinstock speculate that Judge Parker’s original point of emphasis was “usurped” by someone in the debates forming the first Restatement, some of which were held in Wilmington. “Moreover, it turns out that this was a significant case in North Carolina history and for the industrialization of the South,” Richman continues.

“More broadly, if we, as a law school, can encourage students to really take ownership of their education, they learn more from their experiences here, and at the same time, they have the opportunity to made valuable scholarly contributions.”