In the middle of October last a banquet was served to the League of
Iowa Municipalities, at Waterloo, Iowa, which, so far as we know, has
no duplicate in the history of gastronomy. It was in every way the
most successful gathering of the sort that ever took place in this
enterprising city of the West, and the novelty of the affair drew
public notice from near and far.
[Illustration: A FLOODED STREET IN WATERLOO, IOWA, WHERE THE GREAT
DRAIN WAS CONSTRUCTED.
_From a Photo._]
The table was spread in a sewer constructed by the city to carry
off the surplus water which at different periods of heavy rains had
threatened the existence of the place with damaging floods. The name
by which this work of engineering is known--the Dry Run Sewer--recalls
to many the story of an innocent little stream running through the
principal business and residence section of the city, a stream which
in its driest day would attract little attention from a passer-by.
Unfortunately, however, for the inhabitants the Dry Run has frequently
become very wet. Within the past seven years, on three different
occasions it has flooded the entire western portion of the city,
causing a property loss of many thousands and endangering the lives of
the inhabitants. In 1902 it was flooded twice within twenty days. It
rose on July 3rd at the rate of ten feet within five minutes, and on
July 23rd ambitiously repeated the same perilous feat.
The citizens of Waterloo, at the head of whom stood Mr. P. J. Martin,
the mayor, now concluded that this recurring danger should be met by
heroic measures, and a flood-sewer, twelve feet by twelve feet in width
and height, and three thousand four hundred feet long, was planned
at a cost of about one hundred thousand dollars. To many the project
appeared impossible of completion, owing to the peculiar situation
of Dry Run, but the difficulties in the way did not daunt the Iowa
engineers. Hundreds of men were put upon the work of excavation and
construction, under the charge of contractor William Horrabin, of Iowa
City, and the giant structure rapidly took the permanent form which we
see in our photographs. Our illustration of the entrance to the sewer
unfortunately does not suggest the size of it, but when we say that a
man could walk through this sewer easily carrying another upright on
his head, we may fairly suggest the height of the arch. Some thirteen
thousand barrels of cement and over thirty-two million pounds of sand
and rock were used in the construction, and nearly one million cubic
feet of dirt were excavated. The side walls of the sewer are vertical
for six feet, and the base is at present about fifteen feet below the
level of the street.
[Illustration: A SECTION OF THE DRAIN-PIPE.
_From a Photo._]
With the completion of the largest work of the kind ever undertaken
by an Iowa municipality, satisfaction took the place of unrest in the
feelings of the citizens. The manufacturers were able to leave their
places of business without fear of catastrophe behind them, and the
residents could now go to bed at night without dread of a flood-warning
from the fire bell. In fact, the relief was so widespread that it was
deemed fitting by the mayor and aldermen that the completion of the
sewer should be signalized by a great banquet, to which the mayors and
representative citizens of other towns should be invited.
[Illustration: THE TABLE LAID FOR THE BANQUET INSIDE THE DRAIN-PIPE.
_From a Photo._]
The happy thought now occurred to the _Waterloo Times and Tribune_ of
holding this banquet, not in an hotel, but in the sewer itself, and
the project was carried out with enthusiasm. This meant, of course,
unusual effort on the part of those in charge, but all obstacles were
easily surmounted, and on the night of October 16th that part of the
city which, little more than a year before, had been the bed of a
raging torrent was turned by engineering and culinary magic into a
banqueting-hall of security and light. The tables were laid along the
floor of the sewer over four hundred feet of its length, and on both
sides of this table, with plenty of room in which to move, sat the
best-known citizens of the State. Simple but pretty decorations hung
in festoons from the archway and on the side walls gleamed rows of
electric lights. Mayor Martin acted as toast-master, and the programme
of toasts lasted an hour and a half. As if to suggest a danger happily
past the rain was falling outside, but no fear of flood troubled the
gathering. The banquet was as successful as the construction of the
sewer itself, and those who were privileged on this memorable occasion
to partake of Dry Run punch drank it with a special gusto. This little
joke of the caterer was duly appreciated. The dessert was as happily
chosen, for it ended with Roquefort and "water crackers."