Raising Awareness about Irreplaceable Treasures

Silent Sentinel

By Henry Steiner

They stood like picturesque guardhouses on islands out in the middle of the Lower Lake. To me, they were as familiar and as welcome a sight as any in the community. The islands completed an already perfect scene. They, and the simple, archaic structures that graced them, were the scenic icing-on-the-cake of the Tarrytown Lakes. The islands are still there, but now only one of structures remains.

But what are the islands for? Talk to anyone in town and no one seems to know. That raises the question—how can something so present and familiar be so mysterious? I’ve spoken about them with other folks who have grown up in the Tarrytowns and the reply is uniform, “Aren’t they nice—what are they for?”

The building that survives is on a tiny island near the eastern shore of the Lower Lake—just a stone’s throw from Catfish Pond and the old railroad bed that now serves as a recreational trail. The walls of the structure are stone, and its dilapidated roof is made of slate. Small, lanky trees rim the tiny island. When I was a small child, the brazen older boys claimed to visit the island on midnight swims.

At the westward island, the building has long ago fallen or been knocked down. We old-timers recall it from the 1950s and 60s. From shore, one can see a pile of rubble on the island, the remains of the small prim structure that once stood there. A photograph at the historical society, dating from the early twentieth century, shows the two little houses on their islands in nearly new condition.

About three months ago, I started considering the case of these two intriguing islands, planning to write a short piece about them. I had every expectation that if I went to the right source, their story would unfold. Details have been forthcoming, but in a slow and grudging way, and so much of the information lacks the kind of clarity and authority that historians prize. The subject was starting to look like another peculiar instance of legend taking over something that is not really that old. One source suggests that the creation of the Lakes was pushed forward by railroad tycoon, Jay Gould, who was said to be concerned that low water pressure left his home, Lyndhurst, vulnerable to fire.

So, what were the islands created to do? A historical sketch written by the late Wally Buxton in the collection of the historical society leads us in the right direction—a suggestion confirmed by some lines in the Centennial History of Tarrytown and by maps of the period. The islands represent the first attempt to pump water from the Storm Brook valley in the days that immediately preceded the creation of the Lakes. In 1887, a well was sunk where each of the islands stands. The islands mark the locations of early artesian wells. One source states that the Lower Reservoir established, at the same time with the wells, soon prove to be insufficient, and the Upper Lake was added between 1895 and 1897. How long the wells played a role in the completed system no one so far has been able to tell me.

When the Lakes were last used as a water source in 1992, the islands housed a system of controls—pipes and valves that regulated the drawing of lake water. According to Steve Cowles of the Tarrytown water department, the controls allowed technicians to draw from varying levels of the lake to avoid the turbidity caused by spring and fall turnover. Cowles had just begun working for the water department in the final years when the Lakes still contributed to the village water supply.

This recent use of the islands was verified by Gus Paese, a retired engineer who worked on the Tarrytown water system in the 1970s. Both Cowles and Paese mentioned that, in the last two decades of the Lakes’ service (in the 1970s and 1980s), their waters were being mixed with and supplemented by the Catskill water supply. That link, which comes from Elmsford, is now the sole water supply for Tarrytown.

I think the problem with transmission of information about the uses of the islands is that it has been interrupted by the decommissioning of the Lakes. Word of mouth facts have not continued to be passed down seamlessly from expert to expert as they had for the first 100 years. One person who undoubtedly knew what the islands were all about was the late James Lossee, the namesake of Lossee Park and the unofficial wizard of the Tarrytown water system in the mid-twentieth century.

The Tarrytown Lakes were not created to provide residents with a lovely park; they were conceived as a practical solution to a water problem. What they have become is a beautiful setting in which to gaze, fish, skate, stroll, commune with nature, and breathe fresh air. The Lakes were created to supply drinking water and water pressure; they have evolved into a scenic treasure.

When the last gallon of drinking water was pumped from the Lakes in 1992, it raised important questions that are still unanswered. Those who value the Lakes for the unique and luxurious civic amenity that they have become might reflect on those questions. What stands between the Lakes as they exist today and the wholesale (or piecemeal) carve up and development of its majestic watershed lands? Who would lose if this occurred? What kind of community creates a place that is so magical and priceless? What kind of community gives up such a place?

What are the consequences of turning our backs on the Lakes as a drinking water supply? Can a scenario be envisioned where the future potability of the lake waters becomes not only desirable, but crucial?

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