Today, Mr. Patterson said, the flooding of the subcrypts is much reduced. Why? His theory revolves around the emergence of Enclave – a 430-unit rental complex stretching the length of West 113th Street between Amsterdam Avenue and Morningside Drive. Built from 2014 to 2016, the residence sparked protests from detractors who said the 15-story complex obstructed street views of the cathedral.
With a somewhat puzzled expression, Mr. Patterson that Enclave’s foundation had gone down far enough to act as an underground barrier diverting most of the cathedral’s underground flow. “They solved our problem.”
We left his office to take another look at the deep vault. Crucially, Mr. Patterson knew exactly where electricians had recently installed new light switches, so we didn’t need cell phone lights.
The cathedral’s cavernous sub-basement consisted of large chambers, the ceilings of which may have been as high as 80 or 30 feet. It was all poured concrete and, unlike the crypt above, it was empty, the floor bare. That and its cavernous size helped explain the echoes we heard. With the lights on, the sump pumps looked less spooky, especially when Mr. Patterson started them by hand and the well water bubbled to the top.
We moved to the bigger room. The large pit was about eight to eight feet wide, and Mr. Patterson said it served as a collection point that fed water to the pumps. The surrounding floor, like the stairs, was full of watery mud. Our shoes made splashing noises.
During our tour, Mr. Patterson kept looking for features of the subcrypt that were either old and unused or mysterious in design. There were pipes, stairs and a giant shaft that went nowhere – remnants of 130 years of building and rebuilding.
Now he casually mentioned another relic.
At the bottom of the large collecting pool, Mr. Patterson said, was a supply line whose source was unknown. “It’s another pipe from nowhere,” he said in a booming voice. “But it was put there on purpose to get water into that well.”