Thursday Mr. Golenko and I met for lunch and our ritual adventure.
This time, we'd chosen the Buffalo Bayou Cistern Tour. It's free on Thursdays (reservations still required) between 3-7, with tours every half hour.
The docent guiding our tour was delightful.
Here's what we learned.
Houston depended upon bayou water as its primary water source for fifty years since its founding in 1836, for the first 50 years largely catch-as-catch can, with individual residents using a variety of methods to collect and store what water they could. In 1878 the City Market fire led city officials to contract with a Water Works company to provide reliable water from the Bayou for combating fires and providing residents with water from Buffalo Bayou (entirely untreated).
In 1887 an artesian well tapped into what would later become known as the third largest groundwater supply in the nation, and the Water Works company drilled more wells to provide pure, unadulterated water to Houston citizens. But over the next decades, citizens became increasingly suspicious that the houston Water Works company wasn't as above board as they hoped. There were frequent stories of the smell and cloudiness of the water, as well as,
. . . periodic signs of trouble such as the three-foot long dead eel that was found blocking a water pipe in the women’s ward of the police station in 1903. The Houston Daily Post quoted the chief clerk as saying (with tongue firmly in cheek), “Now, that eel undoubtedly came from the artesian wells with which the water company is supplying the city.” Citizen misgivings and concerns were confirmed in a humorous, but telling incident that occurred in 1906. A young girl walking along a Houston street one day was startled to see fish jumping in the gushing water from a broken main. She captured some of the fish in a jar and took them to City Hall as evidence of problems with the water supply. Hidden investigators watched as Water Works employees repaired the broken main and removed catfish from the pipe. The Houston Post wryly reported, “Insomuch as catfish are not found in artesian water and in view of the fact that the company claims to be furnishing pure artesian water, the ‘catch’ is regarded rather remarkable.” (Smyer, 2008, available here.)
Fires throughout the turn of the century also repeatedly caused economic blows to the burgeoning economy. In 1894 six blocks of central Houston burned in one fire, only to be followed the same year by a four block fire that swept from Franklin to Caroline, killing two nuns. In 1901 another City Market fire took out City Hall and the fire alarm switchboard.
In 1906 the City of Houston took over the privately owned, and deeply in debt, Water Works and set about drilling more wells and obtaining rights to nearby lakes for emergency water supplies. It also set about engineering an underwater reservoir.
Work began in August 1926 and in 95 days this 87,500 square foot space was created from concrete, with 221 columns supporting a ten inch thick roof. It could hold 15 million gallons of water at a time.
The water mark is still visible, just 6 inches from the ceiling.
From 1927 until 2007 it served the City, which grew enormous, from under its quiet little hill beside the bayou. The only way in was through hatches in the ceiling, where workers would enter the blackened space armed with only a small flashlight, and only a tiny ledge around the slimy sides to shimmy about.
When it finally developed leaks too expensive to remedy, the City began taking bids for demolition and reached out to the newly formed Buffalo Bayou Partnership to see if they might use the space for underground parking.
It was only then that the quiet industrial beauty of the cistern was discovered.
After many over the top proposals for its inclusion in the park, thankfully the partnership kept the space simple, with minimal intrusion, to preserve what is a gem of an urban relic.
It was transformed from tiny hatch entrances with 14 foot ladders into a wheelchair accessible space via a tunnel and door, with the narrow two foot ledge expanded to six feet all the way around, with guardrails, and low led lights. Six inches of water remains at the bottom, casting incredible, almost infinite reflections of the columns at the right angles. It feels as though you've entered an M.C. Escher drawing.
It opened for public tours in May 2016.
The acoustics are incredible, with a 17 second echo reverberating against the concrete walls and bouncing between the hundreds of columns.
every angle of light causes a slightly different optical illusion of the depth and angles of the columns
The conclusion of the tour included the dimming of the lights so she could shine the brighter light through the center to show off the crazy patterns.
She also sang God Bless America, which rang out beautifully
afterwards, we went into the Visitor Center where the original blueprints of the cistern hang along the wall
the original pump wheels decorate the space beside the building
Above on top of the hill is the Down Periscope installation, currently being repaired since Hurricane Harvey, so that you can look down into the cistern.
and there's a pretty nice view of downtown from the pavilion up here
as well as some additional historical markers, including the original plat of the city
they've hosted one art installation, Rain: Magdalena Fernández at the Houston Cistern, that ran from December 2016 until June 2017. Additional installations are expected.
But I'm glad the first time through there was nothing more had been added to its dark, subterranean charm and the forest of columns standing watch.
Everyone I asked hadn't been down to see it. They're missing out.
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