Transactions of the American Society of Civil Engineers, Vol. LXX, Dec. 1910: A Concrete Water Tower, Paper No. 1173

In Short

This professional paper documents the 1908–1909 construction of a 100,000-gallon water tower in Victoria, BC. Because the tower was situated in a wealthy neighborhood, the city rejected standard steel structures for their lack of aesthetic appeal. The result was a hollow concrete cylinder concealing a steel tank, built using labor-intensive methods and day labor. The text preserves a rare, immediate record of early concrete construction techniques, alongside a sharp, unvarnished debate between the author and his peers over the project's unconventional design and high costs.

The Story

In the early 1900s, the rapid growth of Victoria necessitated an overhaul of its water-works system. While many of the improvements—such as expanding Elk Lake’s capacity or installing new pumping engines—were purely functional, the addition of a high-level service tank presented a unique problem. The proposed site was at the highest point of the city, surrounded by the homes of the wealthy. The residents vehemently opposed a standard industrial water tower, characterized by latticed steel columns and a hemispherical bottom. To maintain property values and local aesthetics, the city demanded a structure that looked like an architectural ornament rather than a utility.

The engineer in charge, Arthur L. Adams, settled on a design: a 109-foot-tall hollow cylinder of plain concrete, featuring pilasters, a cornice, and a parapet. Inside this concrete shell, a steel tank was suspended to hold the water. The construction process was arduous. Because local contractors lacked experience with this specific type of concrete work, the project was managed through day labor under the direct supervision of the author. The team used complex, collapsible wooden forms for the concrete and a labor-intensive hoist system to manage the vertical construction.

The project faced significant delays from the start. Harsh winter weather halted work for a month, and the team waited extended periods for steel deliveries. When the concrete shell was finished, an initial plaster coat proved insufficient to prevent leakage through the dome, requiring a painstaking application of several additional layers of cement plaster to achieve a watertight seal.

The story does not end with the tower’s completion in April 1909. The paper includes a formal "Discussion" section where contemporary engineers critiqued the project. Detractors like L. J. Mensch and A. H. Markwart argued that the design was "amateurish" and inefficient, claiming that the use of plain concrete instead of reinforced concrete was a mistake, and that the steel tank served little purpose once the plaster failed. They pointed to the tower’s high cost as a failure of management. The author responds to these criticisms with equal vigor, standing by his choices. He argues that in an exclusive district, aesthetic success—not bottom-line economy—was the primary requirement. The final result remains a testament to a specific moment where the demands of urban beautification forced engineers to adopt costly and unconventional methods to satisfy public sentiment.

How It Unfolds

The mandate for beauty The project begins with the city’s refusal to accept a standard industrial water tower. The engineer realizes that architectural treatment is of "prime importance" to appease the residents of the exclusive district surrounding the site.

The struggle with formwork The construction shifts to the mechanical difficulty of building a 109-foot concrete tower. The author describes the fabrication of tapered wooden forms and the careful, manual process of hoisting and setting them to keep the structure perfectly plumb.

The battle against the elements The timeline records the impact of external forces, specifically a month of severe cold that halts all progress. The reader follows the slow, step-by-step assembly of the concrete barrel, the dome, and the interior steel tank.

The final, public critique The narrative concludes with the post-construction debate. Peers weigh in with harsh assessments of the "amateur" design, while the author defends his work against claims that it was overpriced and fundamentally flawed in its engineering logic.

The People

A. Kempkey, the author and field engineer, acts as the primary voice of the project. He is responsible for the practical execution of the design and the management of the labor force. He is steadfastly pragmatic and defensive, believing that the unique social context of Victoria justifies the high costs and unconventional design choices. He views himself as a steward of both the city’s functional needs and its aesthetic landscape.

Arthur L. Adams is the consulting engineer who provides the overarching design. He remains a distant but authoritative figure, directing the broader water-works improvements. He represents the professional ambition that prioritizes the "architectural treatment" of utility structures, despite the technical criticism from peers.

The local residents appear as a collective, powerful force. They function as the primary constraint on the engineering process, using their social influence to block the standard steel structures that the city initially tendered. Their "natural conservatism" and desire for beauty force the engineers to invent solutions that prioritize appearance over traditional industrial economy.

The dissenting engineers, Maurice C. Couchot, L. J. Mensch, and A. H. Markwart, provide the conflict. They are the voices of standard industrial efficiency, representing a professional perspective that values structural economy and reinforced concrete. They want to see the project stripped of its ornamental pretenses to reveal a more cost-effective, standard design.

In Its Own Voice

"The tower is on the top of the highest hill in the city, in the heart of the most exclusive residential district, beautiful homes clustering about its base."

The author explains the primary motivation for the tower's elaborate architectural design.

"The total herein given will not coincide with the total cost as shown by the city's books, for the reason that various items not properly chargeable to the structure itself have been omitted."

The author provides transparency regarding the project's financial accounting.

"He will find the 'enormous discrepancy,' to which he calls attention, accounted for by the fact that the 'good design' would not have been tolerated because of its appearance."

The author forcefully rebuts a critic who argued the tower was far too expensive compared to standard designs.

What It's Really About

At its core, this text explores the tension between industrial necessity and urban aesthetics. It asks how a municipality should balance the cost of public works against the sensibilities of its residents. The book provides a window into the professional friction of the era: the divide between engineers who favored the emerging, scientific efficiency of reinforced concrete and those who were forced to navigate the legacy of traditional architectural expectations. The central question is whether a utility structure should be measured by its cost-per-gallon or by its contribution to the visual character of a city. The project demonstrates that when "beauty" becomes a requirement, the standard engineering rules of economy are the first to be discarded.

Why Read It Today

Readers with an interest in the history of civil engineering, urban planning, or the development of the Pacific Northwest will find this a fascinating study. It is not a textbook, but a primary document that captures the "day-by-day" reality of construction before the era of modern automation. The writing is precise and technical, filled with the specific joys of manual formwork, material costs, and the stubbornness of concrete.

The book is particularly rewarding for those who enjoy the "dialogue" format of professional societies. The concluding section is a rare treat, showing the sharp, intelligent, and occasionally petty arguments between engineers who were trying to define the future of their profession. You will experience the frustration of a project manager dealing with bad weather and inefficient budgets, and the intellectual satisfaction of seeing a finished structure that defied the critics. While the language is rooted in 1910, the technical details remain clear and rigorous. It is a sobering, honest look at the messy reality of getting things built in a democracy, where the "best" engineering solution is often second to the preferences of the people living next door.