 Still from the documentary film, "Little Drops of Water" (1964), featuring Joseph C. Celik. Today's Media Monday post is a follow-up to Earth Day, from before there even was an Earth Day. In 1964, New York State was facing a number of water quality and quantity problems. Gripped by a drought that ran some city reservoirs dry, the extent of water pollution in the state became increasingly clear as municipalities struggled to find clean drinking water. By the end of the year, Governor Nelson Rockefeller announced an "all-out program" to end water pollution. Hosted by Governor Nelson A. Rockefeller from the Executive Chamber in Albany, N.Y., Little Drops of Water is about drought, water usage and pollution of New York State's water resources. Featuring interviews with numerous experts and locals, including an interview with Commissioner of Health Dr. Hollis S. Ingraham, the film focuses on the domestic and industrial water and sewage uses throughout the state. Gloversville, N.Y. and Rivershead, N.Y. are featured prominently. This film is part of the collections of the New York State Governor's office, part of the New York State Archives. Do you remember the drought of 1964? Or other droughts in your lifetime? Where does your municipality get its water from? Tell us in the comments! To learn more about how the Hudson River played a role in the modern environmental movement, check out our online exhibit, Rescuing the River. If you enjoyed this post and would like to support more history blog content, please make a donation to the Hudson River Maritime Museum or become a member today!
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 Screenshot of Pete Seeger singing "Garbage" from the 1986 documentary film, "The Mountain in the City." It's nearly Earth Day, so we thought we'd honor the environment with the Hudson River's most famous advocate - Pete Seeger. In this excerpt from the 1986 documentary film "The Mountain in the City," Seeger sings the song "Garbage" live with trash barges in New York Harbor in the background. The film was produced by New York State Legislative Commission on Solid Waste Management and has been digitized and shared by the New York State Archives. Originally written by folk musician Bill Steele in 1969 after observing the practice dumping trash into San Francisco Bay to create fill for new construction, the song was an instant hit, coinciding with the first Earth Day in 1970. Covered by a number of folk musicians, including Seeger, "Garbage" remains a popular environmental anthem today. It was appropriate to include in "The Mountain in the City," as New York City at the time dumped its garbage directly into the ocean, a practice that did not stop until 1992. GARBAGE - LYRICS Mister Thompson calls the waiter, orders steak and baked potato (Then) he leaves the bone and gristle and he never eats the skin The busboy comes and takes it, with a cough contaminates it (And he) puts it in a can with coffee grounds and sardine tins And the truck comes by on Friday and carts it all away A thousand trucks just like it are converging on the Bay Oh, Garbage, garbage, garbage, garbage We're filling up the seas with garbage What will we do when there's no place left To put all the garbage Mr. Thompson starts his Cadillac and winds it down the freeway track Leaving friends and neighbors in a hydrocarbon haze He's joined by lots of smaller cars all sending gases to the stars There to form a seething cloud that hangs for thirty days And the sun licks down into it with an ultraviolet tongue (Till it) turns to smog and then it settles in our lungs Oh, Garbage, garbage We're filling up the sky with garbage Garbage, garbage What will we do, when there's nothing left to breathe but garbage Getting home and taking off his shoes he settles with the evening news While the kids do homework with the TV in one ear While Superman for thousandth's time sell talking dolls and conquers crime (They) dutifully learn the date of birth of Paul Revere In the paper there's a piece about the mayor's middle name (And) he gets it done in time to watch the all-star bingo game Oh, Garbage We're filling up our minds with garbage What will we do when there's nothing left to read And there's nothing left to need There's nothing left to watch There's nothing left to touch There's nothing left to walk upon And nothing left to ponder on Nothing left to see And nothing left to be but garbage In Mr. Thompson's factory they're making plastic Christmas trees Complete with silver tinsel and a geodesic stand The plastic's mixed in giant vats, from some conglomeration that's Been piped from deep within the Earth, or strip-mined from the land And if you ask them questions they say "why don't you see? It's absolutely needed for the economy." Oh, garbage, garbage, garbage Their stocks and their bonds all garbage What will they do when their system go to smash There's no value to their cash There's no money to be made That there's a world to be repaid Their kids will read in history book About financiers and other crooks And feudalism and slavery And nukes and all their knavery To history's dustbin they're consigned, Along with many other kinds of garbage If you'd like to learn more about Seeger and his role and the role of the Hudson River in the modern environmental movement, check out our online exhibit, Rescuing the River.
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"Fat Cat Blue and The Clean Rivers Song" was released in 2009 as part of a series called "Schoolhouse Rock! Earth," and is one of 11 environmentally-themed songs from the series. Schoolhouse Rock was originally designed as between-program educational animated songs aired on public television and first launched in 1973. Originally airing from 1973 to 1984, new songs were released along with the old in the mid-1990s and in the early 2000s a new crop of songs were created and released.
FAT CAT BLUE: THE CLEAN RIVERS SONG - LYRICS
Mouse: That's one swell river, huh, Cat? Fat Cat: Yeah, it's a real cat's meow. But you know, Mouse, it ain't always been such a dandy. Now let's get a wiggle. Lily Delight, your paintbrush is dripping white. Chorus: (singing) Down it goes, it's going down the river Mouse: It's floating in the river Fat Cat: Backyard Barber throws clippings right down the drain. Chorus: Down they go, they're going down the river Mouse: It ends up in the river Fat Cat Blue: A swanky old blankie. (singing) A trash can or two (speaking) Hey there. Get on board with "Fat Cat Blue". Ooh Little Betsy, those fish lay their eggs upstream. Chorus: Down they go, they're swimming down through the river Mouse: They can't swim up the river Fat Cat Blue: Hey there, skipper. That slime's blooming everywhere. Chorus: Down it goes, it's going down the river Mouse: It's floating in the river Fat Cat: Now, that's a clean river, skipper. (singing) A fish ladder too (speaking) Hey there. Get on board with "Fat Cat Blue". Chorus: We're gonna listen to "Fat Cat Blue" Fat Cat: Now for hundreds of years, these waters were sparkling clean. Lily Delight and Little Betsy: Hey, that's cool "Fat Cat Blue" Mouse: So what happened? Fat Cat: Well, I'll tell you. All of a sudden, folks started building over there, and making a dog-awful mess over there. And after a while: (singing) Down it goes, down it goes, going down Drifting through the estuary, tributary, stream or book And through the prier, down Chorus: To the river Fat Cat: Going down Chorus: Through the river Fat Cat: Going down Mouse: It's floating in the river Chorus: Get on board with "Fat Cat Blue" Fat Cat: Come on, now, we're not down yet. Let's get a wiggle. Gizmo maker, that's really quite some toxic stew. Chorus: Down it goes, it's going down the river Mouse: It's floating in the river Fat Cat: Landfill Baron, that rubbish has gone adrift. Chorus: Down it goes, it's going down the river Mouse: It's floating in the river Fat Cat: Recycle that rubbish. (singing) And clean up that stew (speaking) Hey, there. Get on board with "Fat Cat Blue". Ooh Well, Mouse, I figure we should call it a day. You see, we got a lot of work to do tomorrow to make sure that this here river never gets like that again. Mouse: Yeah, Cat. That river is quite a dandy. Chorus: A beautiful river We'll leave it to you Fat Cat Blue: Now that's why you gotta get on board with "Fat Cat Blue".
Special thanks to Bill Peckmann for suggesting this song!
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Last week, we discussed the impacts of cholera and yellow fever on Rondout in the 1830s and ‘40s, but New York City underwent similar epidemics throughout the early 19th century. At the same time, rising population in New York City, as well as efforts to fill in its brackish wetlands and shorelines, was creating a problem with the water table and pollution. Fresh drinking water was becoming more and more scarce in the growing city and natural water sources were increasingly contaminated by sewage and industrial wastes.  "Sanitary & Topographical Map of the City and Island of New York" by Egbert Viele (1865). This groundbreaking map of Manhattan showed the original shoreline, water features, and wetlands underneath the streets of New York City. This map is still used by engineers today. Enter a pie-in-the-sky idea for yet another enormous engineering marvel (New York’s canals being the previous pipedreams turned reality) – the Croton Aqueduct. The idea was simple – pipe clean water from the relatively unspoiled Croton River through gravity-fed aqueducts to New York City. Aqueducts were certainly not a new idea – the Romans had invented them, after all – but to construct something on this scale was a rather startling idea. Following the cholera epidemic of 1832, Major David Bates Douglass, an engineering professor at West Point and one of a new school of civil engineers, surveyed the proposed route in 1833. Bates was an excellent surveyor, but had proposed no practical plans for physical structures, and so was fired in 1835. As early as 1835, before construction even began, the project was gaining national attention. An article from the Alexandria Gazette (Richmond, VA) from December 25, 1835 discussed the plan, writing, “In carrying into effect the contemplated plan of supplying the City of New York with water from the Croton River, an aqueduct, we believe, is necessary across one of the rivers. If this is so, the experience gained to that city and the county in submarine architecture, by the works now going on at the Potomac Aqueduct in connexion with the Alexandria Canal, will be invaluable.”  Profile and Ground Plan of the Lower Part of Croton Aqueduct. Date Unknown. Courtesy Jervis Public Library, Rome, NY. December, 1835 gave New York City another reason to want abundant supplies of water – the Great Fire of New York of 1835 wiped out most of New York City and bankrupted all but three of its fire insurance companies. The fire would spur a number of reforms, including an end to wooden buildings (a boon for the Hudson Valley’s brick, cement, and bluestone industries). But many wondered, had the aqueduct already been in place, if more of the city would have been saved.  Lithograph showing the burning of the Merchant's Exchange Building during the Great Fire of New York, December 16-17 1835. Library of Congress. John B. Jervis, who cut his teeth on the construction of the Erie, D&H, and Chenango canals as well as early railroads, became Chief Engineer on the Croton Aqueduct project in 1836, and construction began the following year. The Croton River was dammed and thousands of laborers, many of them Irish, commenced digging tunnels by hand and lining them with brick. On August 22, 1838, the Vermont Telegraph published a good description of the work: “The Aqueduct which is to bring Croton river water into the city of New York, will be 40 miles long. It will have an unvarying ascent from the starting point, eight miles above Sing Sing to Harlem Heights, where it comes out at 114 feet above high water mark. A great army of men are now at work along the line, and at many points the aqueduct is completed. The bottom is an inverted arch of brick; the sides are laid with hewn stone in cement, then plastered on the inside, and then within the plaster a four inch brick wall is carried up to the stone wall, and thence the top is formed with an arch of double brick work. It will stand for ages a monument of the enterprise of the present generation.”  Illustration of Sections of the Croton Aqueduct, as published in the New York "Morning Herald" newspaper, September 4, 1839. On November 11, 1838, a newspaper in Liberty, Mississippi reported on a bricklaying contest – “In a match at brick-laying in a part of the arch of the Croton Aqueduct, between Nicholson, a young man of Connecticut, and Neagle, of Philadelphia, the latter was a head when his strength gave way, having laid 3,700 bricks in 5 ½ hours. Nicholson continued a half hour longer, when he had laid 5,350. The work was capitally done.” On September 12 of that same year, the Alexandria Gazette chimed in again, noting, “There are full four thousand men employed on the line of the Croton Aqueduct, which is to supply the city of New York with pure and wholesome water. About six of the sections will be completed this fall. The commissioners will now proceed to contract for the ‘Low Bridge’ across the Harlem river, according to the original plan. The whole, when finished, will be the most magnificent work in the United States.” #/media/File:45_William_England_-_High_Bridge,_Harlem_River,_New_York.jpg) Photo of High Bridge from, "An American Journey – The Photography of William England." Photo by William England, 1859. The Low Bridge the Gazette referred to was originally planned to go under the Harlem River, but this was quickly abandoned. Instead, what is now known as the High Bridge was constructed in stone – its arched support pillars strongly reminiscent of Roman aqueducts. High Bridge was designed by Chief Engineer John B. Jervis and completed in 1848. It remains the oldest bridge in New York City. Indeed, the High Bridge and the whole aqueduct warranted a lengthy newspaper article – almost the whole page – August 27, 1839 edition of the New York Morning Herald. Cataloging the extant Roman aqueducts around the world, defining the difference between an aqueduct and a viaduct (aqueducts carry water across water – viaducts carry water across roads), and in all comparing the Croton Aqueduct, and especially the High Bridge, quite favorably to all its predecessors. But not all was well in construction. The Morning Herald wrote extensively of the aqueduct again on September 4, 1839 claiming, “owing to the gross mismanagement that has prevailed in the office of the water commissioners, the expense of the work has been twice as much as it ought to have been, and after all it will be very defective in many of its most important points; and independent of the immense trouble and the large sums of money that will perpetually be required to keep the whole of it in repair, we have not the least doubt that, when the work comes to be proved by passing a large body of water through it, at least one-sixth part of it will have to be pulled down and rebuilt.” The article continues on in that vein for quite some time – the principal complaint besides cost being that, unlike the Romans (who also used better quality brick and cement), the Croton Aqueduct would be largely hidden from sight, and the iron pipes would “burst upon the first pressure,” claiming that the commissioners “wanted to oblige some friend who was an iron founder, and to give him a fat contract, by which he could get rid of a quantity of old metal.” Of course, the editor of the Morning Herald seemed to have ulterior motives, as he negatively connected the Croton Aqueduct with President Martin Van Buren’s campaign for reelection in July of that year, and blamed politicking for the delays and purported graft. He also seemed to hold a grudge – the Morning Herald reported endlessly about the aqueduct, but also about purported mismanagement. No other newspaper from the era reported similar claims. However, an article in the Richmond Gazette (Richmond, VA) from July 28, 1842, does hint at the enormous cost of the project, but brings up the 1835 fire and its enormous cost as a justification for the price.  Double Arch over Sing Sing Kill, Ossining, from a 1907 postcard; upper arch carries the aqueduct, the lower one carries a local street. At 5 A.M. on June 22, 1842, water began flowing through the Croton Aqueduct. The water commissioners, aboard the small vessel the Croton Maid of Croton Lake, went with it. The 16 foot long, four-person barge was especially built to traverse the tunnels and continued until High Bridge, which was not yet completed. On June 27, the Croton Maid was carried across the river and the commissioners continued back into the aqueduct, arriving at the York Hill Reservoir to a 38 artillery gun salute. The following day, the Board of Water Commissioners submitted a report to Robert H. Morris, the Mayor of New York City. It was printed in the New York Herald on June 25, 1842. “SIR – The Board of Water Commissioners have the honor to Report, that on Wednesday, the twenty second instant, they opened the gates of the Croton Aqueduct at its mouth, on the Croton Lake, at 5 o’clock in the morning, giving it a volume of water of 18 inches in depth. “The Commissioners, with their Chief and Principal Assistant Engineers, accompanied the water down, sometimes in their barge, ‘the Croton Maid of Croton Lake,’ and sometimes on the surface of the Aqueduct above. “We found that the water arrived at the waste gates at Sing Sing, a distance of 8 miles in 5 hours and 48 minutes: here we suffered the water to flow out at the waste gates until 12 o’clock, M., when the gates were closed on a volume of about 2 feet in depth. The water then flowed on and arrived at Mill River waste gates at a quarter past 3 o’clock, a distance of 5 miles. “It was there drawn off through the waste gates for half an hour, and was, at a quarter before 4 o’clock, allowed to flow on. We continued to precede it on land, and to accompany it in our boat, in the aqueduct, to Yonkers, a distance of 10 miles, where it arrived at half past 10 o’clock at night. Here we permitted it to flow at this waste gate until a quarter past 5 o’clock in the morning, when the waste gates were closed, and it flowed on and arrived at the waste gate on the Van Courtlandt farm, a distance of five miles and a half, in three hours and a quarter. Here we permitted it to flow out of the waste gates for two hours when the gates were closed, and it flowed, in two hours and twenty minutes, a distance of about four miles and three quarters, down to the Harlem river, where the Commissioners and their Chief Engineer emerged to the surface of the earth in their subterranean barge at 1 o’clock, June 23d. “The average current or flow of the water has been thus proved to be forty-five minutes to the mile, a velocity greater, we are happy to say, than the calculations gave reason to expect. “It is with great satisfaction we have to report, that the work at the dam, on the line of aqueduct proper, the waste gates and all the appendages of this great work, so far as tried by this performance, have been found to answer most perfectly the objects of their construction. “In conclusion, we congratulate the Common Council of the city, and our fellow citizens, at the apparent success of this magnificent undertaking, designed not for show, nor for luxury, nor for glory; but for health, security against fire, comfort, temperance [note: a reference to the habit of mixing New York water with alcohol to make it safe and palatable to drink] and enjoyment of our whole population – objects worth of a community of virtuous freemen. “With great respect, we remain, your obedient servants, Samuel Stevens, John D. Ward, Z. Ring, B. Birdsall. “P.S. – We expect the water will be admitted into the Northern Division of the Receiving Reservoir on Monday next, at half-past 4 o’clock, P.M. at which time and place we shall be happy to see yourself and the other members of the Common Council.”  Silk souvenir ribbon from the opening of the Croton Aqueduct, October 14, 1842. Courtesy Westchester County Archives. In fact, the water did not begin to fill the Manhattan reservoirs until July 4, 1842. The official celebration was reserved for October 14, 1842. The New York Herald reported the following day, “The celebration commenced at daylight with the roar of one hundred cannon, and all the fountains in the city immediate began to send forth the limpid stream of the Croton. Soon after this, the joyous bells from a hundred steeples pealed forth their merry notes to usher in the subsequent scenes. At and before this moment, over half a million of souls leaped simultaneously from their slumbers and their beds, and dressed themselves as for a gladsome gala day – a general jubilee.” Workers were given the day off and an enormous parade, with representatives from every official organization in the city followed, ending at City Hall Park, where an enormous fountain was flowing. Again, the New York Herald, “For several days previous, thousands of strangers had been pouring into the city from all parts of the country, to see and join in the procession, until there must have been at least 200,000 strangers in the city, making an aggregate with the resident inhabitants of half a million of souls congregated in our streets.” The opening of the Croton Aqueduct marked a period of transformation for New York City. Already one of the most important port cities in the nation, the abundance of clean water meant that urban and industrial growth could continue apace. The aqueduct was expanded several times, but in 1885 the “New Croton Aqueduct” was constructed. The Old Croton Aqueduct continued to be used until the 1950s, and is today a park – many of its old aqueduct bridges are now pedestrian bridges, as had been suggested during their original construction. The New Croton Aqueduct is still in use, still bringing Croton River water to New York City. #/media/File:High_Bridge,_New_York_City,_1900.jpg) High Bridge in 1900, with the original stone arches crossing the Harlem River.  High Bridge in 2009, with the replacement steel arch over the Harlem River. Photo by Jim Henderson. The High Bridge across the Harlem River, completed in 1848, was threatened with demolition in the 1920s. The narrow support arches were thought to impede commercial traffic on the Harlem River, and water was no longer flowing across the bridge, instead using a tunnel drilled beneath the Harlem River (also as originally planned). Architects and preservationists fought to save the bridge and in 1927, a compromise was reached – the bridge would remain, but five of the center stone arches were replaced with a single span of steel. In 1968, the Old Croton Aqueduct State Historic Park was established to preserve the original route of the aqueduct through Westchester County. In 1992, the Old Croton Aqueduct was designated a National Historic Landmark. AuthorSarah Wassberg Johnson is the Director of Exhibits & Outreach at the Hudson River Maritime Museum, where she has worked since 2012. She has an MA in Public History from the University at Albany. If you enjoyed this post and would like to support more history blog content, please make a donation to the Hudson River Maritime Museum or become a member today!
Editor's Note: This article protesting river pollution is from the October 18, 1888 issue of the New York Herald newspaper. See more Sunday News here.  Poison in the River Large Amounts of Sewage Filth is Being Dumped into the Hudson at Albany [By telegraph to the Herald} Albany, N.Y., Oct. 17, 1888 - Danger threatens our river towns and possibly the metropolis. It arises in the wholesale contamination of the Hudson River with tons of festering filth now being dredged from the Albany basin. For years complaint has been made of this basin as a plague spot. Once a valuable part of the canal system, it has become gradually filled up and useless. The filling was chiefly the silt from the spring freshets, the refuse from mills and factories, and, worst of all, the washings from the city sewers. When the health of the city was threatened by the accumulated nastiness the State Board of Health rose up and demanded that something be done. The city officials joined in the demand and an appropriation was secured to clear out the basin and restore it to the canal system. A Large Mass of Sewage Deposit An amount of filth, nearly equal to 150,000 cubic feet, is to be removed, and dredges are now at work upon it. Sanitarians recommended that steps be taken to compost this filth as it lay, but nothing of the kind was done. It is simply scooped up, loaded into scows and tugged off down stream. The workman say these scows are dumped some distance below the city. This leaves tons of putrid matter to be spread out along the shores by the tide or by every slight freshet, or to be carried on down stream by the current. The danger arising from such a proceeding is that the filth is likely to contaminate the water to an extent which should fill with alarm all residents of cities and villages whose water supply is taken from the river. Contaminating the Ice Crop Nor does the danger stop there. The same source of contamination threatens the ice crop. The officials of the State Board of Health agree that this danger is even greater than the other. The ice crop is gathered for distribution over a large territory and can easily be contaminated by sewage poison. Physicians recognize ice gathered from impure water as a frequent source of enteric troubles, and warn the public against it as strongly as against the use of polluted water itself. The work of dredging out the Albany basin is well under way, and unless prompt action be taken by the proper authorities, a large increase in typhoid troubles may result in the section of country to which the filth is likely to be carried by the river. AuthorThank you to HRMM volunteer George Thompson, retired New York University reference librarian, for sharing these glimpses into early life in the Hudson Valley. And to the dedicated HRMM volunteers who transcribe these articles. If you enjoyed this post and would like to support more history blog content, please make a donation to the Hudson River Maritime Museum or become a member today!
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