History of the Winchester Waterworks, part one

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Estimated time to read:

3–5 minutes

It’s hard for me to imag­ine a town with­out run­ning water, but that was life in Winchester in 1890.  With the rail­roads hav­ing come to town, the city was grow­ing rapid­ly, but most of the 4,500 souls in town still got their water from wells and cis­terns.  The fire depart­ment had six cis­terns scat­tered around the city, each hold­ing 15,000−30,000 gallons. 

You’d think peo­ple would wel­come a water­works com­pa­ny that would sup­ply the town with a reli­able source of water.  But in 1889, cit­i­zens reject­ed the propo­si­tion by a size­able major­i­ty.  According to the Winchester Democrat, when the vote was tak­en, it had been rain­ing for weeks, and “the mere men­tion of water nauseating.”

For the next year, the Democrat and Winchester Sun kept the issue alive, extolling the con­ve­nience of a water­works to house­holds, and how it would improve fire pro­tec­tion and help lure new man­u­fac­tur­ing con­cerns.  The effort paid off, and in 1890, vot­ers approved a mea­sure autho­riz­ing the city coun­cil to con­tract with a com­pa­ny to sup­ply water to the city.

From among the pro­pos­als, the coun­cil select­ed the firm of Wheeler & Parks of Boston, Massachusetts.  The new Water Works Company erect­ed a dam on Lower Howard’s Creek with a pump­ing sta­tion to move water in a 12-inch main to the city.  They laid four and a half miles of coat­ed cast iron pipe in Winchester, along with six­ty fire­plugs.  A 75-foot stand­pipe was installed on South Main Street.  They designed the sys­tem to sup­ply a pop­u­la­tion of 10,000.

The city agreed to pay $3,000 a year for twen­ty-five years to sup­ply water for pub­lic build­ings, fire pro­tec­tion, water­ing troughs, and street sprinkling—the lat­ter pre­sum­ably to wet down dusty unpaved streets in sum­mer.  Residential users would incur annu­al charges of $8 for one faucet and $2 for each addi­tion­al faucet, plus $5 for each bath­tub and water clos­et.  The com­pa­ny opened a local office on Lexington Avenue. 

Upon start­up in 1891, the water­works’ per­for­mance exceed­ed expec­ta­tions.  From the hydrant at the cour­t­house, water from one hun­dred feet of 1‑inch hose was thrown 85 feet, up and over the top of the Citizens’ Bank, using only pres­sure from the stand­pipe.  Residents were also pleased to get a reduc­tion in their insur­ance rates.

Pumping station on Lower Howard’s Creek. The front section held a 60-horsepower coal-fired boiler; the rear section contained two pumping engines with a combined capacity of two million gallons of water per day.
Pumping sta­tion on Lower Howard’s Creek. The front sec­tion held a 60-horse­pow­er coal-fired boil­er; the rear sec­tion con­tained two pump­ing engines with a com­bined capac­i­ty of two mil­lion gal­lons of water per day.

The coun­ty expe­ri­enced a drought in the fall of 1903 that even­tu­al­ly result­ed in a cut­off of ser­vice due to low water in the reser­voir.  The new Fish and Game Club was shocked to see thou­sands of fish killed.  As the Water Works Company came in for a pub­lic thrash­ing, a num­ber of dif­fer­ent solu­tions were put for­ward: 1) raise the dam, 2) buy out the water­works, and 3) build a line to the Kentucky River to sup­ple­ment the reservoir.

In 1904, William Wheeler, the super­vis­ing engi­neer, bought out his Boston part­ner and became the sole own­er of Winchester Water Works.  He began rais­ing the dam four feet to increase the stor­age capac­i­ty of the reser­voir to about 35 acres.  Charles Attersall con­tin­ued as super­in­ten­dent of the water­works, a posi­tion he held for forty-eight years.  His father, William Attersall, had been the long-time fire chief in Winchester.

The 1891 dam impound­ed both forks of Lower Howard’s Creek and stood near the pump­ing sta­tion on Waterworks Road.  A sec­ond dam was built in 1905 on the North Fork of the creek, which more than dou­bled the water stor­age capac­i­ty of the reservoir.

In 1911, the Democrat crowed that the Winchester Water Works “fur­nish­es one of the most com­plete water sys­tems in the state” and “main­tains a steady and ade­quate sup­ply of pure water for domes­tic use and affords the best fire pro­tec­tion.”  There were issues, how­ev­er, as the com­pa­ny sued the city for fail­ing to pay for the new fire­plugs they installed at the city’s request.  By the time the suit was decid­ed against the city in 1920, they owed the water­works com­pa­ny over $25,000.

With the fran­chise set to expire in 1916, the city coun­cil began dis­cus­sion of two options:  renew­ing the fran­chise with Wheeler or buy­ing the water­works.  Due to repeat­ed droughts that plagued the coun­ty, pro­po­nents of both options insist­ed on a new line to the Kentucky River.  There was much talk of “exor­bi­tant rates” and “water unfit to drink.”  Arguments between the par­ties became quite heat­ed at times, and in the end, noth­ing was done.

This went on for years.  The city want­ed to renew the fran­chise under the same terms, with the stip­u­la­tion that Wheeler pay for a line to the riv­er (esti­mat­ed at $200,000)—a bad deal for him.  He offered to sell the com­pa­ny, but then the city would have to come up with addi­tion­al funds for the line to the riv­er.  In 1921, Wheeler final­ly agreed to build a 12-inch main to the Kentucky River, and the city final­ly agreed to renew his fran­chise on terms deemed favor­able to both. 

To be con­tin­ued...

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