Catskill Aqueduct will provide villages’ water
With $2.5 million coming to Cold Spring from New York State to help fund repairs to the Upper Dam at the village reservoirs, the Catskill Aqueduct is about to become critically important because it will be the source of drinking water during the project.Â
The aqueduct, completed nearly a century ago, passes under the Hudson River and near the corner of Route 301 and Fishkill Road on its way from the Catskills to New York City. When the dam repairs begin, Cold Spring will tap into one of the most remarkable engineering feats of the 20th century, a project compared to the building of the Panama Canal.Â

In 1900, with its population approaching 3.5 million, New York City needed more water than could be provided by the Croton Reservoir, built in 1842. In 1906, the state Water Supply Commission approved construction of the Ashokan Reservoir south of Woodstock and an aqueduct to move its water 92 miles south.
New York City acquired the 15,222 acres to create the reservoir through eminent domain. Landowners were compensated, and some did well. The Ulster and Delaware Railroad received $2.8 million [about $98 million today] to relocate 13 miles of track; one sawmill owner received $28,000 [$982,000].Â
But to create the reservoir, the valley floor had to be stripped bare. Four small communities — Olive City, Brown’s Station, Broadhead’s Bridge and Ashton — were razed. Houses, barns, stores, churches, schools and train stations in four others — West Hurley, Shokan, West Shokan and Boiceville — were destroyed or moved. The remains of 2,720 people in 40 small cemeteries were exhumed and relocated.

The resentment among locals ran deep. Harlan McLean, who grew up in Olive City, was hired to work on the reservoir. Among his assignments: burn down his family home.Â
Near what had been Brown’s Station, the state created a temporary town to house up to 4,000 reservoir workers. It was larger and more modern than the villages it displaced, with electric lights, running water, sewage disposal, a hospital, three churches, a fire station, bank, shops, a post office, shoemakers, barbers and a theater. Its bakery produced up to 5,000 loaves of bread per day. Other temporary camps were established around the site and along the aqueduct path.
Many stonecutters were Italian immigrants housed separately with stoves attached to their barracks. American workers got no stoves; the contractor didn’t believe they could cook. Black workers, many from the South, handled the mules used in construction and lived in segregated camps.Â
Unskilled workers earned up to $1.60 [$56] a day, stonemasons up to $3.10 [$109]. Powdermen, who worked with explosives, made $10.16 [$356] per week. Claude Barringer, age 9, hauled drinking water to workers, earning $6 [$210] per 60-hour week. Some workers were paid in “scrip,” good only at the pricey camp store. They paid their employer for room and board.
The work was dangerous. Men fell from scaffolds, were scalded by steam and run over by machines, mules and wagons. One worker, married over the weekend, was killed on Monday in a rock crusher.

Camps were generally peaceful, but the more than 350 officers of the Board of Water Supply Police made arrests for everything from drunkenness, assault and burglary to armed robbery and murder.Â
The Ashokan Reservoir, 12 miles long, was completed in 1914. It holds 123 billion gallons of water and has a maximum depth of 190 feet. The Schoharie Reservoir, completed in 1926, was linked to the Ashokan by an 18-mile pipe, adding another 17.6 billion gallons.Â
The aqueduct
Construction of the Catskill Aqueduct began in 1907 and, within four years, involved 17,000 workers. By 1916, using only gravity, it was transporting water from Ashokan to Yonkers along a route crossing 14 valleys and incorporating tunnels, pipes and conduits as much as 18 feet wide. Over one 55-mile stretch, the downhill grade is an inch per mile.Â
The most daunting engineering challenge was deciding how the aqueduct could cross the Hudson River. Engineers focused on an area north of Beacon, but it would require a 9-mile tunnel from Marlboro to Fishkill. Instead, they chose a route from Storm King to Breakneck. Rather than a bridge or riverbed pipes, they went with the most durable choice: a tunnel drilled through bedrock about 1,100 feet below the surface.Â
Working from scows, two crews drilled from each side. At their most efficient, they advanced 6 feet per day. In January 1912, when the crews met in the middle under the river, each 1,500-foot section was within an inch of alignment.Â

The Bureau of Water Supply built an 1,100-foot shaft at Breakneck topped by a granite building of “masterful, simple, dignified architecture” to keep the structure “in harmony with the color and texture of the rugged mountainside.” Today, the building is riddled with graffiti.Â
Work on the aqueduct was as hazardous as at the reservoir. While digging the Breakneck shaft, a sheet of steel fell, cutting the oxygen lines and trapping eight men. By the time they were rescued, water was up to their waists. Malaria also was a serious problem — more than 600 cases were reported in the worker camps.
Although water flowed through the aqueduct beginning in 1915, construction continued until 1927. The project cost $177 million, or $3.2 billion today.Â
The system has leaked and been upgraded and repaired but never failed. It provides New York City with 1.3 billion gallons of water daily; Cold Spring will need about 300,000 gallons daily during dam repairs.Â
There are two buildings at Breakneck, one on the river shoreline and the second a few hundred yards up the mountain, secured.
The “siphon” under the Hudson — as it was called on some old maps — could only have been created with a relatively new product called dynamite. And the story behind ascertaining the depth of the river floor is worthy of an article in itself: Glacial melting had brought about 800 feet of boulders and debris downstream. All of this is a fascinating aspect of the fjord history.
Fascinating article! Thank you, Mr. Turton. I can’t help but wonder how incredible this construction would have seemed to those alive at the time. My grandfather, Bill Reilley, born in Cold Spring in 1898, must have been in awe of it.