The Beaverkill - Part Five

Since I've been exploring the gully in Lincoln Park with its hidden (and, sadly, malodorous) remnant of the Buttermilk Falls, I've regretted that there are almost no images of the Beaverkill in its original state.

There are hundred-year old postcards showing the area after it became Beaver Park and the Beaverkill does appear in an 18th-century painting of Abraham Wendell. In the latter, the falls are obscured behind one of Wendell's mills. But that painting does show the pool at the base of the falls and gives at least an inkling of the original height of the cliffs around the falls.

So, I have to rely on imagination to picture this place as it looked two or three centuries ago with the unrestrained falls tumbling and foaming through the stone pass.

On a recent venture into the gully before the recent snows, I was pleasantly surprised to find a miniature waterfall of sorts. Not an actual waterfall, but a small frozen cascade where groundwater had forced its way through a weak point in the shale.

For the previous entries on the Beaverkill, see the links below.


Part One
Part Two
Part Three
Part Four
Winter In The Beaverkill

The Beaver Kill Ravine - Part Four

This is the fourth in a series of posts on the Beaver Kill Ravine.

A combination of books and old maps, including one dating back to 1790 helps to trace - approximately - the original route of the Beaver Kill.

The lost river begins its course much further uptown near the present Albany High School campus. When I was a student there, I remember catching a glimpse of running water beneath a storm drain in the main courtyard and I now wonder if that might have been some part of the Beaver Kill.

From the school's vicinity, the stream would have flowed east roughly between Washington and Western Avenues until turning somewhat southward near Quail Street. From Quail, it continued east down Elberon Place and through what is now Washington Park where in now forms part of the lake.

From the eastern end of the Park lake, the stream would have flowed south along New Scotland Avenue before veering sharply to the east beneath modern Myrtle Avenue. The old Albany Penitentiary once stood near the current sites of the Veteran's Administration Hospital and Hackett Middle School.

Across from Hackett, the stream flowed through the Lincoln Park ravine shown above - one of the last visible features of the Beaver Kill - and continued east through the future site of the Park before crossing Broadway at Arch Street and flowing into the Hudson River near the present U-Haul Building.

In the 1880s, a plaque was placed in a curb at the corner of Arch and Broadway noting that the Beaver Kill - "an ancient waterway now arched over" - once flowed through that area of Albany's South End. A cursory exploration of that intersection a few weeks ago turned up no trace of the old plaque. I wasn't surprised that I could not find the plaque since the area has been rebuilt and repaved many times over the decades, but I was still a little disappointed.

To be continued...

Part One
Part Two
Part Three
Part Five
Winter In The Beaver Kill

Beaver Park

Perched on a steep hill, quite close to the Thomas O'Brien Academy of Science and Technology and the Lincoln Park playground, this pale yellow brick building was once the workplace of the noted 19th-century geologist, James Hall.

The laboratory overlooks the Lincoln Park pool to the east and, just to the north, the remnants of the Beaver Kill Ravine (see my previous two posts here and here). From the latter came the estate's name, Beaver Park. While Hall and his family actually resided in another house which stood on the present site of the Lincoln Park tennis courts at the corner of Delaware and Morton Avenues, he spent much of his time at and was most at home in this laboratory and often slept there in a simple, small bedroom.

A plaque on the south facade sums up the building's history.

This building was erected by JAMES HALL State Geologist of New York 1836-1898
For fifty years it served as his office and laboratory and from it graduated many geologists of merit and distinction. During most of that period it was an influential and active centre of geological science in this country. Erected by The Association of American State Geologists 1916

Designed by Andrew Jackson Downing and Calvert Vaux (two leading architects and landscape designers of their day, Vaux worked with Frederick Law Olmstead on the design of New York's Central Park), the building housed Hall's drawings and extensive collections of fossils and other specimens which are now a part of the NYS Museum just north across the park.

The laboratory, now renamed the Sunshine Building and painted a buttery yellow, is now part of the Albany City School District.

Click here for a short profile of Professor Hall.

The Beaver Kill Ravine - Part Two

When I first ventured into the Lincoln Park gully, it was strewn with much more litter and debris than it is in these recent photos. Coming into the ravine from the western end, I encountered a slightly shabby blue recliner sitting quite incongruously in the middle of the trail only a few yards from the rickety wooden steps.

From the old wooden steps, one can almost see straight through to the far end of the ravine near Swan Street. Even with a full canopy of leaves, the ravine was much lighter than it seems from the outside.

Even with the light and good visibility, though, there was a tremendous sense of isolation within the gully. Even with obvious reminders of the modern world outside...such as soda cans and plastic bags and glimpses of buildings on the street above...there was real feeling of being totally separate from the rest of the city.

Contributing greatly to this sense of detachment and remoteness were the steep rock walls I recognize from that old family photo. The rocks are smudged with green mosses and lined with diagonal ridges which seemed to have been caused by rushing water.

And the sound of rushing water is much clearer once you're in the ravine. It comes from a heavy metal grate near the center of the trail.

Over the years, I'd heard about the various streams that once criss-crossed through Albany...the Patroon Creek, the Rutten Kill, the Normanskill, the Foxenkill, and the Beaver Kill. Most of them have long since been diverted underground...the most notable exception being the Normanskill (which will appear in future posts).

I knew that the Beaver Kill once ran through some part of Lincoln Park, that its Buttermilk Falls once provided water power to nearby breweries. I'd even seen old post cards of the Beaver Kill Ravine in antique stores. But I always assumed it was closer to Dead Man's Hill and never really connected it with the wooded gully across from Hackett Middle School.

But as soon as I found that metal grate...even before I got close enough to peer down into it...I knew I'd found the old Beaver Kill.

To be continued...

Part One
Part Three
Part Four
Part Five
Winter In The Beaver Kill

The Hinckel Brewery

Overlooking Lincoln Park at the corner of Park Avenue and South Swan Street, this handsome brick building was once home to the Hinckel Brewery.

Albany was once home to seventeen different breweries. This one, manufacturer of a sparkling lager, was founded in 1855 by F. Hicnkel and A. Schinnuerer and, by the time Frederick Hinckel died, it was recognized as one of the best-equiped brewing establishments of its time.

The structure pictured was built in 1880 as the brewery's malt house.

The Hinckel Brewery was also known as the Cataract Brewery because it overlooked the rushing falls of the Beaver Kill. (I should mention now that "kill" was a old Dutch term for a creek and it appears frequently in local place names). The Kill's Buttermilk Falls churned especially foamy thanks to run-off from this brewery.

Albany's geology was a plus for breweries. In the era before electricity and refrigeration, the heavy glacial clay soil that lies beneath much of the city allowed for very cool cellars where beer could be stored without spoiling.

The well-preserved Hinckel building has been converted to apartments, but much of the external architectural detail remains intact.

Frederick Hinckel is buried in a beautiful family plot near the ornamental pond on Albany Rural Cemetery's South Ridge.

The Beaver Kill Ravine - Part One

At the northwest corner of Lincoln Park - on the corner of Delaware and Park Avenues opposite the Hackett Middle School - there's a wooded gully that has intrigued me for years.

As a child, I never thought of venturing into the trees. The ravine beyond them seemed so dark and deep...and I was warned not to by a justifiably over-protective aunt. I always wondered what was down there, but the sense of mystery and all those warnings made the place very spooky. My young mind conjured up all sorts of scary notions of treacherous terrain littered with dead bodies.

A couple of years ago, I was looking through an album full of old family photos. I found one picture from the summer of 1936 that showed a little girl posing in front of an unfamiliar rocky outcropping. A penciled description on the back identified the location as Lincoln Park, but I couldn't quite place it. The rock wall didn't match up with any of the Park's very familiar hills (see the previous post about Dead Man's Hill) and I began to wonder if the picture was mislabeled.

Some months later, I was running some errands in the area around the Lincoln Park gully. Curiosity got the better of me and I walked along the southern edge of the ravine, peering through the trees to see just what was really down there. I was in for three surprises.

First, the ravine - which is approximately one city block in length - wasn't nearly as deep, dark or scary as I'd imagined. In fact, it wasn't nearly as rugged as some of the ravines I used to explore in the wonderful old Albany Rural Cemetery. And not scary at all.

Second, near the midpoint of the ravine, I spotted a series of rock formations and immediately recognized the outcroppings from the old photo. So, it was Lincoln Park after all!

And, finally, I was certain I could hear the sound of rushing water. But there were no visible streams.

A few weeks later, I decided to venture into the gully...

To be continued.

This was the first of a series of posts about the old Beaver Kill ravine...

Part Two
Part Three
Part Four
Part Five
Winter In The Beaver Kill