A Manhattan Well Digger Returns to Brooklyn
Armed with a ‘harpoon’ and gritty determination, he takes the A Train back to the 1850s

By D. S. Magee

This past winter seemed as though it might never end. Each passing day I looked out over a city that was snow covered, entombed, wondering when it would transform back to the concrete and asphalt metropolis I was accustomed to.
Eventually, spring arrived and I was able to sink my probe into the earth for the first time in months. I set out early one morning and wound up in Brooklyn (Photo 1). Before the day’s end I got the green light to probe and excavate in a large backyard.
The block where my permission was located was originally a row of stylish mid-19th-century houses developed when my present home borough of Manhattan was being inundated by impoverished immigrants fleeing disease, starvation and persecution in their native Ireland. Their growing presence by the 1850s, especially in downtown areas, inspired many native New Yorkers to relocate to more pastoral regions. Commonly, they would move uptown or abandon the city completely for Brooklyn. This transition from expensive urban life to the serene fringes of Fort Greene, allowed the fleeing Manhattanites to purchase larger and more colorful homes.

Photo 1- A close-up of the Statue of Liberty taken not far from the neighbrhood where we were digging.

Occasionally, this improved standard of living was reflected in their trash.
The backyard I worked in originally belonged to four of these suburban homes built around 1850, and was situated between Fulton Street and Atlantic Avenue, just a few blocks walking distance from the largest subway interchange in the borough (Photo 2). This made for easier train access during my weeklong project, but did little to ameliorate the inevitable stresses associated with underground rail travel. The challenge consisted of getting my digging supplies into an overstuffed subway car each day.
Despite the general insanity involved with this, I reasoned it was far better than driving out of the city amidst heavy traffic then, worrying about parking. I tried unsuccessfully for years to get permission to dig in this totally unused backyard. Finally I met the person in charge and after convincing him I wouldn’t get buried alive and that I would clean up the garbage behind his buildings, he relented, and said "OK," but told me "do it soon before I change my mind!"
After getting permission to dig, my energies were galvanized for the adventure ahead. I made a few calls to some old diggers I knew but, oddly, got no response.… I had to move quickly though, so I set off solo the first morning.

Photo 2- The back of the buildings.

I grabbed my probe, two shovels, a pulley and rope and stuffed a huge backpack with everything I could think of for digging. I headed out of my apartment building, walked three blocks down Lexington Avenue to the downtown 6 train entrance and was literally told, "you can’t get on the train with that harpoon," by an incredulous and seemingly humorless transit cop. I explained to the officer that I was headed to a historical digging assignment in Brooklyn and I had to be there ASAP. After a bit more convincing he allowed me to board the train.
Riding downtown, wedged between far too many of my fellow New Yorkers, I contemplated the many Brooklyn wells I had dug over the years and knew that excavating one alone would be arduous and probably not much fun. Near City Hall I jumped on the less-crowded A train and arrived in Brooklyn at 8:15, according to the giant clock high atop the Williamsburg Savings Bank building on Atlantic Avenue (Photo 3), and was led into the backyard by the smartly dressed Caribbean landlord. Even he wondered how I was going to pull off the dig without my crew.
I decided to ignore these intrusive, defeatist thoughts and began my first 2003 well dig determined to succeed!
I probed for the stone walls of the well accompanied by the loud street level noise which persists at almost any hour in this part of the borough. Before long, I located the well walls and began shoveling out the top level black dirt. Soon, the urban din disappeared from my mind. After removing a foot or two of dark dirt I encountered four feet of typical dense, red dirt. The well measured more than five feet across at the top. This was consistent with the others I had dug on this block previously. I knew I was in for a treat, but this was going to be a long day.…
Just about sunset I was up to my forehead in a very large hole when I heard someone yell "Ay! Whadda ya doin’ ?" in a thick Brooklyn accent. At this point I did what most New Yorkers would’ve done. I ignored him and hoped he would go away. Eventually he climbed over his fence while laughing hysterically at me.
This was a good time for a break as I had worked all afternoon without a single discovery. I climbed out of my hole and began the painstaking process of explaining the myriad redundant things non-diggers always inquire about. In response to his questions I got across that I dug privies, cisterns, dumps and on occasional construction sites all over New York, looking for old bottles and artifacts from the 1700s to early 1900s. I started finding old objects in Brooklyn about 20 years ago when I worked for a highway construction union that was renovating the old streets, sewers and water supply systems in this very section of Brooklyn. Because of the time of year, it was getting dark as we talked, so I rushed through all the answers to his stream of questions.

Photo 3- View of the Williamsburg Savings bank.

When his initial curiosity was satisfied, I learned that he had worked for the NYC Police Department for 28 years as a mechanic and had just retired. I also learned that this retired policeman had moonlighted for years in the mason trade, taking after his father and grandfather, who were Italian immigrants. He had helped construct numerous buildings around Brooklyn.
Realizing that this guy was no stranger to work, I asked the million-dollar question, "Will you help me dig tomorrow?" Apparently my question was perceived as a challenge and the response was, "no problem, whud time do ya want me here?" I rested easy on my way back to the upper east side of Manhattan.
The herd on the train the following morning barely irritated me as I dreamed of old bottles the whole ride to Brooklyn! A natural born digger, my new friend pulled back the high dirt pile from the day before and had the rope and bucket ready to go as I entered the yard for the second day. We took turns bucketing up the fill dirt and by 10 a.m. it had transformed into coal ash along with food bones, oyster shells, broken cups, plates, bricks and then bottles! Not just any bottles, but the pontiled variety! I was not expecting Civil War period artifacts to show up until sundown, if at all!
My inchoate assistant thought I was insane for high-fiving him at the sight of each new discovery. He honestly had no idea how significant this was. I explained about pontil period bottles and suggested we take it slow from this point on. I spent an hour digging the first layer which consisted of three puffs, two laundry bluings, two pontiled Dr. S.S. Fitchs, a deep green Wm. Pond porter and ale with a small lip flake, one Parish & McFadden, beer bottle, Jersey City NJ, one Patent Pressed W. Smith eight-sided ginger beer bottle and one crude smooth based Burnett’s Cocoaine, a bright yellow Udolpho Wolfe’s Aromatic Schnapps and a pontiled Rowland’s Macassar Oil.
Then the layer petered out! I was disappointed, but realized there was still a chance the true pontiled period would reveal itself later. We spent the next hour bucketing up the ashy fluff and then took a much-needed food break. The early spring sun seemed to be racing across the sky, so we resumed our digging efforts right after inhaling the food. I sent Joe in the hole and BAM! He instantly uncovered an 1850’s umbrella ink in bright yellow. Typical rookie’s luck! I brushed off the ash and checked for damage and told him to get out of the hole. He seemed pleased with his first bottle discovery and wanted to keep digging. I convinced him that his turn was definitely over for now.
After this I climbed in and began uncovering bottles of the period: Mrs. Winslow’s soothing syrup, an aqua umbrella ink, an iron-pontiled D.L. Ormsby, a black-glass ale/porter, a few plain whiskeys, etc. Along with the usual pile of broken tableware, chamber pots and an ever growing pile of brickbats. I guess the layer never really petered out.

Photo 4- Returning to Brooklyn to door knock for permissions.

Soon after, in the dark back section, I noticed the bottom half of a cathedral pickle bottle, and immediately felt an energy surge. The bottle was wedged up against the stone wall and surrounded by roots. After a few minutes of digging with my hands I was able to free the square-shaped bottle. In the shaded depths of the eight-foot hole I could not determine if it was damaged or not. I handed it up and noticed that in the light it appeared to be greenish in color. I quickly scrambled to my feet and inspected it in the sunlight. What I first thought was a stain from ink residue or laundry bluing turned out to be rich teal-colored glass. It was a real beauty, undamaged and iron pontiled! This was by far my finest pickle bottle discovery! Removing the first six feet of dirt alone was beginning to seem worthwhile.
It was now Joe’s turn to dig again. We bucketed up the large fluff pile and discovered we were nearing the bottom. The remainder of the layer produced only plain, food or utility bottles (all pontiled) along with two small brandy bottles with very early-looking string lips.
A little after sunset we finished off the original use layer which dated from about 1850. After digging through the last bit of the layer, I got the flashlight and we began sifting the dug pile for artifacts and shards.
Just before calling it a day I noticed a soda neck with an early tapered lip protruding from the ash pile. I grabbed it for inspection to make a mental note of its manufacture date and never considered it might be attached to something.
The neck was connected to an early soda bottle!
I shined the light through it to see if the color was interesting. Delirious from two long days of digging, I did not believe at first that it was amethyst, or possibly puce. I was awestruck! The bottle read: RC&T New York on its side. After dusting it off it appeared a little hazy but otherwise perfect. Of all the digs to be on without my camera! Once certain of its condition and color I relayed to my helper what we had just discovered. We were in high spirits!
Prior to this discovery the plan was to cover up the well and return in the morning to fill it in. The exhilarating discovery at the end of the day gave us the adrenalin needed to fill in the hole and clean up the yard before leaving that night.
Later in the week we located three additional privies on the property, which were filled entirely with light, fluffy white ash and not much else in comparison with the first. Based on the artifacts, they seem to have been used very late for Brooklyn (1900) then dipped and filled in at the same time.
Now, you’re probably wondering why we didn’t dig the privy in Joe’s yard next door. Well, to tell the truth it did cross my mind but looking through the fence each day I could see it was completely paved over. Later he told me it was like that when his family moved to Brooklyn from Manhattan’s congested lower east side in the 1950s.
Hmmm…
Dare I suggest to him that we bust up the concrete and dig his well? (Photo 4)

The Manhattan Well Diggers

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