Urban Development of Our Water
Video
Streamline
water
A multimed
Intro to Streamline/Charles King Preface
Aquaducts Construction
Manhattan Company
Beaver Pond
Water Saving Tips
NYC Water Pipes
In-person Exhibiition
Charles King ~ Son of Rufus King
Into the preface, Charles King provides a detailed history of aqueducts beginning in ancient times, allowing the Croton Aqueduct to take its place among these great, civilization-building structures. This was perhaps hubristic, as the Croton Aqueduct was only in service for half a century, an expensive endeavor that failed to meet the rising demand of the thirsty metropolis. Queens became part of New York City in 1898, hastening its urbanization. To make way for buildings and roads, grasslands were paved over, marches filled in, streams buried, ponds drained, and the coastline built out. These dramatic alterations to the flow of water resulted in pollution, soil erosion, flooding, storm drain overflow, etc. This exhibit features historic artifacts that tell the story of water and Jamaica’s urban development in the context of New York City as a whole. Alongside these 19th-century objects, works from local artists illustrate water-related issues faced by the borough today and suggest or inspire ways we might -pardon the pun -streamline our relationship with this precious natural resource.
Beaver Pond
Pond near Rufus King's original estate...
A view cross Beaver Pond in Jamaica toward a south side railroad track Charles W. Conklin, ca. 1875. Courtesy the Archives at Queens Public Library
The Manhattan company
Company founded to meet the cities growing demand for urban water supply
Manhattan Company Water Tank - Central Pier
Aquducts Construction
Rapid urbanization led to demand for various waterways to be built
Grouting the Catskill Aqueduct
The three historic lithographic prints to the left show the innovative water systems in nineteenth-century New York. Notice how the historic prints feature people’s interaction with the waterfronts. The fourth image by contemporary artist Alex Roedriger shows the Williamsburg Brooklyn waterfront by itself. Although waterways continue as a part of our modern city landscape, they are more removed from our every
NYC Water Pipes
Rapid urbanization led to demand for various waterways to be built across the city...
The engineering marvels were celebrated in various ways; their construction commemorated in illustrated books and anniversaries marked with pins, medals, and ribbons.
In person Streamline Exhibition
New York's first water pipes were installed by the Manhattan Company in 1799. These were fed by a large reservoir at 33-31 Chambers Street, said to hold 550,000 gallons of water, which was not enough to supply even the wealthy families who could afford to buy into this system, let alone put out fires! By 1833 it was clear that another source of water would be needed. Surveyors decided on Croton Lake which is on high ground in Westchester County and could be gravity-fed into the city using a system of aqueducts. The Croton system opened in 1842, but by the 1860s the city’s population tripled –and water consumption had increased sixfold. The city built more and more reservoirs and bought upstate lakes and ponds to feed more water into the Croton pipeline. This infrastructure became a part of the visual landscape of New York:
The dramatic angle of this 1855 illustration highlights the city’s relationship with the surrounding waters. Cargo sloops move in and out of the bustling harbor while steam-powered ferries shuttle between Manhattan and what would later become the other four boroughs. Smaller pleasure craft and fishing vessels line the piers. Just as important are the invisible waters flowing underneath the city itself, bringing water for drinking, washing and industry. The angle of the picture prevents the Croton Aqueduct from being seen, but the large fountain it supplied can just be made out in front of the dome of City Hall. The Croton Aqueduct was hailed as a marvel of its time, bringing much-needed fresh water to a city that had been plagued with fires and disease. Lavish celebrations marked its opening in 1842, along with commemorative souvenirs like medals, ribbons, engravings, and beautifully bound books like this one written by Rufus King’s son Charles, then the president of Columbia University.
Today we take access to clean water as a given in New York City. Most of us probably never consider how water gets to our faucets or into a bottle of Poland Spring. In nineteenth-century New York City, it was quite a different story! Rapid urban development created overcrowding, and water pollution became a real problem. These problems created a need for systems that could safely supply clean water to the residents of New York City. The solution was the creation of bridges, aqueducts, and dams.
While King and his contemporaries in Queens got their water from springs, most of which were underground and pure, Manhattan’s water was largely contaminated with waste from a dense population and industrial byproducts. An early attempt to bring fresh water to the city began in 1799 with the now infamous Aaron Burr, and his brother-in-law Joseph Browne. Burr and Browne founded the Manhattan Company, a private enterprise that was part water company and part bank. A 400 foot cast-iron pipe to connect the pump to a reservoir and 25 miles of hollowed-out pine logs buried beneath the streets carried clean water throughout lower Manhattan.New York's poor population could not afford to buy into this system and still relied on city wells or carts distributed around the city by merchants.In 1838, with complaints of leaky pipes and water pollution by ground wells, the Manhattan Company stopped operating as a water company. Although the company failed at water works, it still exists today as the JP Morgan Chase & Co. Bank.
When Rufus King bought the property now known as King Manor, he hoped to use a nearby body of water, Beaver Pond, for his ice needs, but it turned out to be too grassy to produce clean ice. Beaver Pond’s freshwater (and supply of beavers for pelts) had attracted the initial European colonizers to the Jamaica area, but a racetrack, cooper’s factory, and other uses of the Pond had started its decline by the time the King family moved here in 1805. By the 1870s it had become a nuisance to the town: marshy, polluted, and a known breeding ground for mosquitoes. Beaver Pond was filled in in 1906 to avoid overflow contaminating the south Brooklyn watershed.
Manhattan Company water tank located on what is today Reade Street near the corner of Centre Street behind the Surrogate Court House on Chambers. Central pier in foreground. Note wall opening into two of the eight cells formed by foundation walls. There were two other similar openings into cells at right of those shown. July 29, 1914.
Into the preface, Charles King provides a detailed history of aqueducts beginning in ancient times, allowing the Croton Aqueduct to take its place among these great, civilization-building structures. This was perhaps hubristic, as the Croton Aqueduct was only in service for half a century, an expensive endeavor that failed to meet the rising demand of the thirsty metropolis. Queens became part of New York City in 1898, hastening its urbanization. To make way for buildings and roads, grasslands were paved over, marches filled in, streams buried, ponds drained, and the coastline built out. These dramatic alterations to the flow of water resulted in pollution, soil erosion, flooding, storm drain overflow, etc. This exhibit features historic artifacts that tell the story of water and Jamaica’s urban development in the context of New York City as a whole. Alongside these 19th-century objects, works from local artists illustrate water-related issues faced by the borough today and suggest or inspire ways we might -pardon the pun -streamline our relationship with this precious natural resource.
Water has always been the lifeblood of New York City. Once the Erie Canal opened in 1825, allowing materials and goods from upstate and the Midwest to travel down to New York’s natural deep harbor, the Empire City was born. The Erie Canal and natural water features of New York State were popular not just for industry but for tourism as well. Boats sailed regularly on pleasure cruises or to visit places like Saratoga Springs. Booming industry and a population that doubled every few years needed a clean source of water to sustain itself, so the City began purchasing ponds and lakes in the Hudson Valley to meet ever growing needs. But even as New York City was buying up these properties, their clean waters were being threatened with pollution from farms and a growing rural population.
A 1884 survey by the Board of Health showed that upstate farms, mills, and even towns were draining their sewage directly into waterways that fed into New York City’s waterworks. Although this led to extensive water protection laws, these were fraught with so many loopholes they were impossible to enforce. Although the waters in and around New York City are much cleaner than they were in the 19th and 20th centuries, thanks to stronger regulations and major clean up initiatives, water pollution remains a source of anxiety. Some places in the United States are already running out of water due to climate change and overpopulation of desert areas —how long will our water supply last? And how do we deal with newer pollutants like microplastics?
Vanished reservoirs like the holding tank for the former Jamaica Water Supply, the now purely decorative High Bridge no longer serving as an aqueduct, or even the small rain gardens popping up around the city as an alternative to storm drains show the changeability of urban water policies (take a seat on Cody Herrmann’s plush version of Flushing Creek and flip through the planning documents). Residents of South Jamaica might be particularly familiar with the latter, as a quick google search about flooding in the area leads to hundreds of results, spanning decades of problems and attempted solutions. King Manor is fortunate enough not to be located in a floodplain, but for how long? The “Peep into the Future” print from 1886 showing the harbor filled with garbage doesn't seem like too much of a fantasy when seen next to artist sTo Len’s prints of the oil and sludge floating on creeks here in Queens. In contrast Rejin Leys’ gently swaying paper mobile reminds us of a beautiful day watching the sun sparkle off the water.
Streamline: Urban Development of our Water
King Manor Museum
Created on March 4, 2025
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Transcript
Urban Development of Our Water
Video
Streamline
water
A multimed
Intro to Streamline/Charles King Preface
Aquaducts Construction
Manhattan Company
Beaver Pond
Water Saving Tips
NYC Water Pipes
In-person Exhibiition
Charles King ~ Son of Rufus King
Into the preface, Charles King provides a detailed history of aqueducts beginning in ancient times, allowing the Croton Aqueduct to take its place among these great, civilization-building structures. This was perhaps hubristic, as the Croton Aqueduct was only in service for half a century, an expensive endeavor that failed to meet the rising demand of the thirsty metropolis. Queens became part of New York City in 1898, hastening its urbanization. To make way for buildings and roads, grasslands were paved over, marches filled in, streams buried, ponds drained, and the coastline built out. These dramatic alterations to the flow of water resulted in pollution, soil erosion, flooding, storm drain overflow, etc. This exhibit features historic artifacts that tell the story of water and Jamaica’s urban development in the context of New York City as a whole. Alongside these 19th-century objects, works from local artists illustrate water-related issues faced by the borough today and suggest or inspire ways we might -pardon the pun -streamline our relationship with this precious natural resource.
Beaver Pond
Pond near Rufus King's original estate...
A view cross Beaver Pond in Jamaica toward a south side railroad track Charles W. Conklin, ca. 1875. Courtesy the Archives at Queens Public Library
The Manhattan company
Company founded to meet the cities growing demand for urban water supply
Manhattan Company Water Tank - Central Pier
Aquducts Construction
Rapid urbanization led to demand for various waterways to be built
Grouting the Catskill Aqueduct
The three historic lithographic prints to the left show the innovative water systems in nineteenth-century New York. Notice how the historic prints feature people’s interaction with the waterfronts. The fourth image by contemporary artist Alex Roedriger shows the Williamsburg Brooklyn waterfront by itself. Although waterways continue as a part of our modern city landscape, they are more removed from our every
NYC Water Pipes
Rapid urbanization led to demand for various waterways to be built across the city...
The engineering marvels were celebrated in various ways; their construction commemorated in illustrated books and anniversaries marked with pins, medals, and ribbons.
In person Streamline Exhibition
New York's first water pipes were installed by the Manhattan Company in 1799. These were fed by a large reservoir at 33-31 Chambers Street, said to hold 550,000 gallons of water, which was not enough to supply even the wealthy families who could afford to buy into this system, let alone put out fires! By 1833 it was clear that another source of water would be needed. Surveyors decided on Croton Lake which is on high ground in Westchester County and could be gravity-fed into the city using a system of aqueducts. The Croton system opened in 1842, but by the 1860s the city’s population tripled –and water consumption had increased sixfold. The city built more and more reservoirs and bought upstate lakes and ponds to feed more water into the Croton pipeline. This infrastructure became a part of the visual landscape of New York:
The dramatic angle of this 1855 illustration highlights the city’s relationship with the surrounding waters. Cargo sloops move in and out of the bustling harbor while steam-powered ferries shuttle between Manhattan and what would later become the other four boroughs. Smaller pleasure craft and fishing vessels line the piers. Just as important are the invisible waters flowing underneath the city itself, bringing water for drinking, washing and industry. The angle of the picture prevents the Croton Aqueduct from being seen, but the large fountain it supplied can just be made out in front of the dome of City Hall. The Croton Aqueduct was hailed as a marvel of its time, bringing much-needed fresh water to a city that had been plagued with fires and disease. Lavish celebrations marked its opening in 1842, along with commemorative souvenirs like medals, ribbons, engravings, and beautifully bound books like this one written by Rufus King’s son Charles, then the president of Columbia University.
Today we take access to clean water as a given in New York City. Most of us probably never consider how water gets to our faucets or into a bottle of Poland Spring. In nineteenth-century New York City, it was quite a different story! Rapid urban development created overcrowding, and water pollution became a real problem. These problems created a need for systems that could safely supply clean water to the residents of New York City. The solution was the creation of bridges, aqueducts, and dams.
While King and his contemporaries in Queens got their water from springs, most of which were underground and pure, Manhattan’s water was largely contaminated with waste from a dense population and industrial byproducts. An early attempt to bring fresh water to the city began in 1799 with the now infamous Aaron Burr, and his brother-in-law Joseph Browne. Burr and Browne founded the Manhattan Company, a private enterprise that was part water company and part bank. A 400 foot cast-iron pipe to connect the pump to a reservoir and 25 miles of hollowed-out pine logs buried beneath the streets carried clean water throughout lower Manhattan.New York's poor population could not afford to buy into this system and still relied on city wells or carts distributed around the city by merchants.In 1838, with complaints of leaky pipes and water pollution by ground wells, the Manhattan Company stopped operating as a water company. Although the company failed at water works, it still exists today as the JP Morgan Chase & Co. Bank.
When Rufus King bought the property now known as King Manor, he hoped to use a nearby body of water, Beaver Pond, for his ice needs, but it turned out to be too grassy to produce clean ice. Beaver Pond’s freshwater (and supply of beavers for pelts) had attracted the initial European colonizers to the Jamaica area, but a racetrack, cooper’s factory, and other uses of the Pond had started its decline by the time the King family moved here in 1805. By the 1870s it had become a nuisance to the town: marshy, polluted, and a known breeding ground for mosquitoes. Beaver Pond was filled in in 1906 to avoid overflow contaminating the south Brooklyn watershed.
Manhattan Company water tank located on what is today Reade Street near the corner of Centre Street behind the Surrogate Court House on Chambers. Central pier in foreground. Note wall opening into two of the eight cells formed by foundation walls. There were two other similar openings into cells at right of those shown. July 29, 1914.
Into the preface, Charles King provides a detailed history of aqueducts beginning in ancient times, allowing the Croton Aqueduct to take its place among these great, civilization-building structures. This was perhaps hubristic, as the Croton Aqueduct was only in service for half a century, an expensive endeavor that failed to meet the rising demand of the thirsty metropolis. Queens became part of New York City in 1898, hastening its urbanization. To make way for buildings and roads, grasslands were paved over, marches filled in, streams buried, ponds drained, and the coastline built out. These dramatic alterations to the flow of water resulted in pollution, soil erosion, flooding, storm drain overflow, etc. This exhibit features historic artifacts that tell the story of water and Jamaica’s urban development in the context of New York City as a whole. Alongside these 19th-century objects, works from local artists illustrate water-related issues faced by the borough today and suggest or inspire ways we might -pardon the pun -streamline our relationship with this precious natural resource.
Water has always been the lifeblood of New York City. Once the Erie Canal opened in 1825, allowing materials and goods from upstate and the Midwest to travel down to New York’s natural deep harbor, the Empire City was born. The Erie Canal and natural water features of New York State were popular not just for industry but for tourism as well. Boats sailed regularly on pleasure cruises or to visit places like Saratoga Springs. Booming industry and a population that doubled every few years needed a clean source of water to sustain itself, so the City began purchasing ponds and lakes in the Hudson Valley to meet ever growing needs. But even as New York City was buying up these properties, their clean waters were being threatened with pollution from farms and a growing rural population.
A 1884 survey by the Board of Health showed that upstate farms, mills, and even towns were draining their sewage directly into waterways that fed into New York City’s waterworks. Although this led to extensive water protection laws, these were fraught with so many loopholes they were impossible to enforce. Although the waters in and around New York City are much cleaner than they were in the 19th and 20th centuries, thanks to stronger regulations and major clean up initiatives, water pollution remains a source of anxiety. Some places in the United States are already running out of water due to climate change and overpopulation of desert areas —how long will our water supply last? And how do we deal with newer pollutants like microplastics?
Vanished reservoirs like the holding tank for the former Jamaica Water Supply, the now purely decorative High Bridge no longer serving as an aqueduct, or even the small rain gardens popping up around the city as an alternative to storm drains show the changeability of urban water policies (take a seat on Cody Herrmann’s plush version of Flushing Creek and flip through the planning documents). Residents of South Jamaica might be particularly familiar with the latter, as a quick google search about flooding in the area leads to hundreds of results, spanning decades of problems and attempted solutions. King Manor is fortunate enough not to be located in a floodplain, but for how long? The “Peep into the Future” print from 1886 showing the harbor filled with garbage doesn't seem like too much of a fantasy when seen next to artist sTo Len’s prints of the oil and sludge floating on creeks here in Queens. In contrast Rejin Leys’ gently swaying paper mobile reminds us of a beautiful day watching the sun sparkle off the water.