Towers, Towers, Everywhere!
by Beverly A. Kipp

A seventeen-foot 1987 Dodge van camper. A middle-aged woman and her two daughters. Three pillows, three sleeping bags, three bathing suits, twenty-three pairs of shoes and thirty-five bottles of water. Adventure beckoned.

Over the Kingston-Rhinecliff Bridge and south to Virginia Beach. Then on to the Outer Banks, Savannah, Pensacola Beach, the Gulf of Mexico, New Orleans, San Antonio, the Sonoran Desert, Gila Bend, Juarez, Sea World-San Diego, Malibu, the Hoover Dam, Las Vegas, the Grand Canyon, Bryce Canyon, Camp Hale Colorado, Kenosha Wisconsin (where we picked up my grandson Axel), Lake Michigan and finally, the last night of vacation, a moonlight cruise in a pontoon boat with friends on Big Indian Lake, Indiana. Eight thousand miles, twenty-six states, two oceans, one foreign country. At last--the cross country trip everyone dreams of and few ever get to take. A million laughs, a few tears and 2000 Kodak moments.

And what do I have pictures of? Water towers.

I don't remember which was the first to penetrate my stream of consciousness, but we were somewhere south of Virginia in unfamiliar territory. Hoping to make an early morning ferry that was just a little farther away than we thought, we were looking up at them to see if the boldly emblazoned names of each town would help us as we attempted to chart our progress on the map. Unfamiliar towns with unfamiliar names. We drove along, toward new cities and places, new climates, new cultures. Finally--Ocracoke!

It was exciting. I am usually pragmatic and practical, but somehow tooling along the highway squinting up at water towers awakened a whole new creative part of me. It had nothing to do with their function. I would look at the landscape around them, then at the shape of them. There were cylinders and globes, solid colors, stripes, checkerboards. White ones, silver ones, and blue ones (as many colors of blue as the sky itself it seemed). There were old ones, new ones, simple and fancy ones. Tall, skinny columns; high, fat, round, arthropod-like ones. Shiny ones, and ones so rusty you expected the water to leak right out of them.

But do they actually hold water? Eventually I did begin wondering about that too. But by now, around the time we got to Savannah, I was taking pictures of them. I, who can't take a picture to save my soul, found myself looking at each of them with a photographer's eye. "Quick," I would say, "get the camera. Look at that one!" The girls would smile indulgently and click away, often catching the tip of my too prominent nose in the edge of the picture as they pointed the throwaway camera past me and out the driver's side window.

And on we went to the next town and the next water tower. My attraction to these towering sentinels at first distracted and then annoyed my children. I refused to give in. They fascinated me. As we approached the desert and the towns became farther and farther apart, water towers became a sign, a herald that said, no matter how barren the terrain around us just then, civilization, life, was just up ahead.

And just as the terrain changed, so did the water towers. Bright, shiny four-, six-, or eight-legged towers in the cities, sometimes clusters of them. Small tanks perched on the rooftops of buildings in the biggest metropolitan areas. Rusty, pointy-capped things resembling old fashioned fire crackers nestled into the side of a desert hill, serving three farmers and thirty cows. In one town, a silly-looking teapot floating in the air. And as I traveled I realized I had never really looked at the water tower in my home town of Red Hook. Was it one of those colors of blue? Or white? Silver? Did it say "Red Hook" on it? Or carry the town logo, the famous red hook?

We got home late on a Saturday night. It was too late to pursue my newly-piqued interest, but come Sunday morning, while the girls and little Axel were emptying out the van, I set off to do errands and to look at yet more water towers--this time the homegrown version. I knew ours was on Tower Street but where could you see it from? I started craning my neck as I drove north but that wasn't very satisfactory. The drive south into the village gives a much better view, since the village water tower sits high in the east corner tucked behind the pastures. But it is the approach from the west that gives a true sense of welcome. As I crested the hill on Route 199 there it stood, its pointed top peaking just barely above the skyline. From that elevation you are actually looking down on it. It is sturdy, ordinary, but reassuring. It is silver, and unnamed: I will do my job well, it seems to be saying, but quickly it disappears from sight, swallowed up in the trees. When you approach it from the east it looks less imposing--more like a short fat Tin Man without arms, and too many legs. Still, for all its simplicity it is endearing: "my" water tower. At least the one that provides my family and 775 other village families with sweet tasting, clean, pure water.

Though, in fact, it no longer works alone. In 2001 the Village of Red Hook, in a move to meet new, more stringent regulations, added a ground storage tank. It is a big, navy blue bear of a thing that sits in a field just behind the firehouse on Fire- house Lane.

Most Red Hook residents who live outside the village get their water from privately dug wells, but that is not true for the residents of College Park and Linden Acres. "The Jolly Green Giant" supplies their needs. A water tower owned by the Town of Red Hook and nicknamed for its pale green color, it is located off of Whalesback Road. It is a newer tank with a more modern design, that of a plain tall cylinder. Tucked neatly into the woods, it is harder to find, and seems barely taller than the trees as you ride along. It also provides a safety net for the water supply at Bard College, whose primary source is the Sawkill Creek.

By contrast, the Tivoli Water Tower can be seen from every direction, its name boldly printed on it and announcing "Here I am." Indeed, it is in the very center of town, on Pine Street in Memorial Park. Every festival, and most community activities, takes place near or at its base. It is like a friendly giant uncle standing guard over its family. Imposing, but not scary. I asked around, hoping to find out a funny story or anecdote about it. Had anyone jumped off of it? Drowned in it? Been hurt working on it? No, No, No. But I did not believe there were no stories to tell. Finally Albert Trezza , a local, a lawyer, fast approaching status as a senior citizen, but a man I know to possess a boy's heart, admitted to climbing it as a kid. "It was hard!" he exclaimed. And he admitted too that he had been scared and would not recommend it.

I stopped to talk to Nori Connell, a chiropractor who practices just a few doors down from the tower and asked how she liked it as a neighbor. "I like it," she replied. "From what perspective?" I questioned. "From a touchstone perspective," she said. "It's a constant. It feels good having it here."

Later, via Tivoli Village Historian Bernie Tieger, I found out something about the Eleanor Roosevelt mythology surrounding the village tower. Apparently it was constructed in the '30s at the same time the water/sewer system was laid in the village--both of them by the Works Progress Administration (WPA), New Deal brainchild of Hyde Park's President Roosevelt. Local talk splits two ways about this: either that Tivoli got the water/sewer system and tower because of Eleanor's soft spot for her girlhood hometown, or because several municipalities were offered it and only Tivoli accepted.

Next, I went looking for a water tower in Rhinebeck. I was certain I had seen one, but I was wrong. Unlike the Red Hook and Tivoli towers, which get their water supply from deep wells, Rhinebeck Village pumps its water from the Hudson into a ground storage tank high up on Hilee Road off of Violet Hill. Driving south along 9G it is barely visible, a sandy-colored dome looking more like the top of a stadium than a water tank. According to Richard Hallenbeck, Rhinebeck's Water Commissioner, "Water , pure as the driven snow, when it is pumped from the system" is provided to their customers. They service Northern Dutchess Hospital, Wells Manor on Astor Drive, and the business district of the village.

Last I went down to the river. Heading west off of 9G, it is only a brief moment before you are stopped at the base of the water tower in Barrytown. Originally built by Saint Joseph's Normal School and Seminary, it was erected in 1931 according to a bronze plate on the tower itself. Now owned and operated by The Unification Theological Seminary, it provides water for the needs of its 130 or so students and staff living on campus. Smaller than, but similar to Red Hook's tower, it is silver, four-legged, with a rounded bottom and a capped lid. It also bears no name. Again looking for stories, I talked to Sandy Lydon, who grew up on Sylvania Farms on Station Hill road and now lives on Barrytown Road within walking distance of the structure. "It's a landmark for sure, useful when giving directions," she said. She claimed to have no knowledge of her brothers ever climbing it and said she certainly had not--"I didn't want to get in trouble!" She added that it's a favorite place for the Red-tails (hawks) to land on--in my book another fine reason to be fond of water towers.

So. Now that I had traveled much of America and toured my own little neck of the woods having an affair of the heart with this utilitarian structure, it was time to learn how they worked. On to the world of web searching, not a favorite pastime of mine, but I wanted a diagram. I typed in water towers on the search engine.The miracle of modern technology did not fail me but it certainly did shock me. There were 788,000 sites for water towers! And I was looking for simple!

But simple is exactly what it is. No matter what they look like, wrapped in clapboard or tin, disguised as a pineapple, Mickey Mouse ears or a Castle, they all work basically the same way. Water gets pumped in, water flows out. The only thing that changes is whether or not gravity gets a chance to do its work. The higher the tower is above the homes (or businesses) that need water (to run your business or your bath, water your lilies, make your tea and coffee, fill your pool), the easier it is to supply that water. If gravity can't be put to work for you, then the water has to be pumped back out. That is essentially the difference between a water tower and a ground storage tank. There are a lot of variables of course, but none that significantly change the basic function.

"Your" water tower may be fancy or it may be dull, but as long as it is working, a water tower is a water tower is a water tower. Unless, of course, you have been traveling for five hours, you are running out of steam, to say nothing of the possibility of running out of gas, darkness is fast approaching and the darlings in the back of the van are clamoring for a real bathroom. Then, a water tower is way more than a water tower. And, when you are crossing the Kingston-Rhinecliff Bridge after a month on the road with those very kids, then the next water tower is home.

Above: Tivoli's tower, "Here I Am!".

Barrytown's smaller tower, servicing the Unification Theological Seminary.

The Town of Red Hook's "Jolly Green Giant".

The Village of Red Hook's short fat "Tin Man".

Tivoli
Experts: Irvin (Toppy) Stickle and Jim Simmons, Retired and Current Water Superintendents

Location: Tower: Pine Street. Water Treatment plant: Dept.of Public Works Drive

Built: 1938

Color: White with blue letters and blue center post.

Style: four legs, pointed cap, round bottom.

Height: 190 feet.

Capacity: 150,000 gallons.

Pumps: 85,000 gallons a day.

Supply: 7 wells.

Best View: Traveling west along Rt. 78, but pretty visible traveling along 9G for quite a ways north and south of the village

Barrytown
Expert: Carl VerDerber

Location: Intersection of Barrytown Road and River Road. Water and sewage treatment plant on premises of Unification Theological Seminary.

Built: 1931.

Color: silver.

Style: four legs, pointed cap, rounded bottom.

Height: not available

Capacity: 65,000 gallons.

Best View: Driving west down the hill from 9G on Barrytown Road.

Village of Red Hook
Expert: Bucky Coon, Plant Supervisor

Location: Tower, Tower Street off of Route 199. Ground Storage Tank, Firehouse Lane.

Built: Tower, 1938. Tank, 2001

Color: Tower, silver. Tank, navy blue.

Style: Tower, six legs, rounded bottom. Tank, round low cylinder

Height: Tower, 148 feet.Tank, 28 feet.

Capacity: Tower, 223,000 gallons. Tank, 513,000 gallons.

Pumps: 260,000 gallons a day to customers from tower and tank.

Supply: 7 wells.

Best View: Route 9 just north of village or coming east on Route 199 from Route 9G.

Town of Red Hook
Expert: Hank Van Parys, Chairman of the Water Board

Location: Whalesback Road.

Built: 1989.

Color: light green.

Style: column.

Height: 90 feet.

Capacity: 900,000 gallons.

Pumps: 100,000 gallons (enough for 9 days)

Supply: 2 wells.

Best View: Traveling west on Rockefeller Lane toward Linden Avenue, just before Mill Road.

Village of Rhinebeck
Expert: Richard Cunningham, Water Commissioner

Location: Storage Tank, Hilee road off Violet Hill; Water Treatment Plan, Slate Dock Road, Rhinecliff.

Built: 1989.

Color: sandy color, beige.

Style: Dome-capped circular tank.

Height: 20 feet (and 400 feet above sea level).

Capacity: 2 million gallons (2 days' supply).

Pumps: 1 million gallons a day.

Supply: The Hudson River, pumped 4 1/2 miles to tank by 50 pumps.

Best View: Hilee Road. Can also be seen on the right traveling south on 9G just after Violet Hill Road.

Water Facts
Water covers more than 70% of the earths' surface. Ninety-seven percent of the earth's water is in the ocean. Three percent is fresh water, three-fourths of which is frozen, leaving less than one percent available for human use. That water comes from two sources--rivers and lakes (1/50th of 1% of the earth's water) and the water table that lies below the earth's surface.

Water weighs eight pounds a gallon. The human body is sixty-five percent water. An average person drinks 16,000 gallons of water in a lifetime. An average person in the United States, uses about seventy gallons of water a day. "Water, water everywhere and not a drop to drink. . ." is a line from "The Rime of the Ancient Mariner," by Samuel Coleridge.

Water Tower Facts
Water is pumped from the supply (river, lake or well) to a water treatment plant. After treatment to remove sediment and bacteria it is then pumped into the primary feeder pipes supplying the users or residents of the area. Once immediate needs are met, any excess flows automatically into the tank of the water tower to be stored. When demand increases, the water flows out of the tank to meet the need. The height of the tower insures enough pressure for the water to get to the customer. Each foot of height provides 0.43 pounds per square inch of pressure.

Water towers need to be inspected every five years. They usually need to be painted every ten years. There are companies that do nothing but scrub and fix water towers.