If I was a lucky boy, I was given 20 cents and could go TWICE. Two swim sessions of childhood bliss. Each session at the Page Park Pool in Bristol, Connecticut, was 10 cents and lasted one and a half hours – two sessions back to back meant 3 hours. There was a 3-meter diving board and an area that was marked DEEP, 9 feet and 11 feet in the center of the diving area.  The pool was gifted to the city of Bristol in 1950 by Dewitt Page, industrialist and philanthropist. It was 110 feet by 75 feet – quite huge by any standards and for a small town, a rarity and nothing less than a dream come true.

We swam every way imaginable. We threw our brass locker tags into that pool to see who could retrieve it first. We swam under water with our eyes open and looked around. We did tricks. We held our breath as long as possible while swimming under water, pretending we were any of a number of ocean creatures. We swam laps. We lay on the bottom of the pool, under 11 feet of water looking straight up. By the time the whistle for the session’s end was blown, our eyes were bloodshot. My hair was so thick from chlorine-rich water that for a day or more, I was unable to run my fingers through it, even with shampoo.

We climbed and jumped off the 3-meter diving board. Standing at the edge of a board at such a height was frightening, and the jump, for all to see, was a job well done. The 3-meter board is no longer there – only a single 1-meter board. There was a viewing mezzanine where I enjoyed watching as much as my parents enjoyed watching the antics of me, my sisters and friends. There was an evening session for adults. And, of course, there was a concession stand.

We splashed as much as humanly possible. In fact, we endeavored to turn jumping into water into a science, doing cannon balls, swan dives, belly flops, and our tour de force, the can opener or Jack Knife, which, when done properly, can create an enormous geyser.

Growing up without air conditioning left few options for relief from the summer’s heat. There was running through the sprinkler if Mom was gracious enough to set it up and turn it on. But everything paled in comparison to that pool. Once I moved to New York City, I confined my swimming to the ocean, something I had grown up without, with visits to Fire Island, Jones Beach, Rockaway, and Coney Island.

There is something a tad creepy about the public pool, particularly in New York City where, much like the shag carpeting of a cheap motel, one wonders what acts have been committed, the former hygiene of its occupants, and what really is in that water. Best not let the imagination run wild.
On June 28th, 2012, the enormous McCarren Pool reopened after a 50 million dollar renovation. The public pool, on the Greenpoint/Williamsburg border of Brooklyn, opened during the depression under the administration of Mayor Fiorello Laguardia and parks commissioner Robert Moses. It had lay dormant for 21 years, and used alternately as a performance venue:

McCarren Pool was the eighth of eleven giant pools built by the Works Progress Administration to open during the summer of 1936. Mayor Fiorello LaGuardia attended the dedication on July 31, 1936. With an original capacity for 6800 swimmers, the pool served as the summertime social hub for Greenpoint and Williamsburg. The building’s vast scale and dramatic arches, designed by Aymar Embury II, typify the expansive and heroic spirit of New Deal architecture. The pool was closed in 1984 but in 2005 the site was resurrected as a performance space, first through a modern-dance performance by Noemie Lafrance, and subsequently as a world-renowned music venue that saw many high-profile concerts until the summer of 2008, when Parks began work to renovate the pool.

Sadly, and some would say expectedly, within a week of the pool’s opening, enthusiasm was dampened by a fight between bathers and lifeguards, necessitating police action. Other incidents have occurred. Harsh critics predict the pool will see a slide back into its former decline.

In 2010, I returned to Page Park and was pleased to see the pool refurbished and still in operation. The attendant was very gracious, allowing me into the locker room and pool area while fully dressed. As I took photos, I reflected on those glorious days where the pool was the highlight of my summers. I had always sensed as a child that this pool was a great gift to have in one’s hometown. As I grew older, I saw how truly special and what a privilege it was to have grown up with such a public amenity, affordable to all in the community. I hope those children in New York City, as well as elsewhere, will have fond memories they will carry for life of a summer pool, whether Page or McCarren…

For another variant on the public pool, go here.