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After reading the previous article...Here's what Commissioner Benepe had to say back in July, 2004 when the Reservoir was turned over from DEP to the Parks Dept (below in blue)... I believe the entire Reservoir should be maintained and set aside as a natural area and a nature interpretation program be instituted for educating the youth of Brooklyn and Queens in environmental matters, not unlike the Alley Park facility...
The city's parks commissioner, Adrian Benepe, called the handover of parkland ''one of the largest acquisitions of urban parkland in recent memory.''
''Today is Christmas in July,'' he said. He said that the property would remain ''an informal nature sanctuary'' for now, and that department officials would evaluate it and seek community comment and was likely to consider possible uses like ball fields, recreational areas and bike and jogging paths.
''Probably some of it should remain in its natural state,'' he said.
Mornings are usually quiet, bucolic times for Luis Rodriguez, 31, who lives in a small tent in Basin No. 1 of the Ridgewood Reservoir on the Brooklyn-Queens border.
For 45 years, most of the reservoir has been dry and it is usually a quiet place, enjoyed primarily by joggers and cyclists on the paved pathway encircling three overgrown basins.
But yesterday morning, the old reservoir was buzzing with city workers preparing the grounds for a ceremony to announce that the 50 acres of overgrown land, one of the last wildernesses of New York City, was to become a city park.
For three years, through blistering summers and frozen winters, Mr. Rodriguez said, he has camped under the tall trees, in a $175 tent bought at Macy's and pitched on the forest floor, the bottom of a reservoir reclaimed by nature during the decades that most of it has sat idle.
''It's totally different living here,'' he said, standing in front of his tent, which he has fortified with tree limbs and a heavy tarp. ''You're in the city, but you're far away from it.''
If Mr. Rodriguez is a modern-day Thoreau, it seems that he will soon lose his Walden. The land was handed over to the Parks and Recreation Department by the city's Department of Environmental Protection, which maintains and oversees the city's water supply.
City officials said yesterday that anyone living on reservoir property was there illegally. A Parks Department spokeswoman said that the area would remain closed until the department determined new uses for the property and completed renovations.
While city officials could not confirm all the details of Mr. Rodriguez's story, they said they had no reason to believe it was not true.
Mr. Rodriguez was napping yesterday on reservoir property, on a piece of cardboard near the chain-link fence that encompasses the property.
Awoken by a reporter, he agreed to give a tour of his forest domain, including his tent and several former encampments that include an abandoned reservoir gatehouse and a cave running under a section of the jogging path.
He lowered himself by rope down the steep stony slope into the woodsy basin and showed his backpack full of clothing, his bottles of water around his encampment and a large overturned milk crate for keeping his belongings off the ground.
There were King Cobra malt liquor cans strewn about the encampment and nearby there was another shelter shaped like an oversize coffin, crudely fashioned from corrugated metal and plastic sheathing.
''That's where my friend Colombia lived,'' Mr. Rodriguez said. ''He lives in Prospect Park now, in Brooklyn.''
By 1 p.m., he followed a reporter over to a news conference presided over by Mayor Michael R. Bloomberg, who called the handover the largest single acquisition of parkland in Queens since 1981, and one that would add 50 acres to the 140 acres of Highland Park, which is adjacent to the reservoir.
The city's parks commissioner, Adrian Benepe, called the handover of parkland ''one of the largest acquisitions of urban parkland in recent memory.''
''Today is Christmas in July,'' he said. He said that the property would remain ''an informal nature sanctuary'' for now, and that department officials would evaluate it and seek community comment and was likely to consider possible uses like ball fields, recreational areas and bike and jogging paths.
''Probably some of it should remain in its natural state,'' he said.
Mr. Rodriguez watched as Mr. Benepe was handed a large paper scroll with ''Ridgewood Reservoir'' printed on it.
''I guess this means I'm evicted,'' he said.
Indeed, by the end of the day, work crews had patched his hole in the fence and removed his rope down to the reservoir. Mr. Rodriguez was nowhere to be found.
He said earlier in the day that rising rent and a growing discomfort around people drove him to the woods, where the only living things were usually small, four-legged and pestering him for food scraps.
''I'm nervous around people,'' he said. ''At first, I tried living up at Bear Mountain, but there were too many park rangers.''
Mr. Rodriguez said that he learned outdoor survival skills as a teenager while spending several months camping in the wild, under a program in West Virginia for wayward youth.
But much of his existence relied upon his proximity to civilization. He bought his food at the deli and cooked it on a campfire. He did his laundry at his parents' place in Crown Heights, Brooklyn, and told them he lived in a small rental apartment, to avoid embarrassment.
Mr. Rodriguez, who said he used to receive welfare benefits and food stamps, said that he now relied on donations from family members and from park regulars. In warm weather, he rummaged for food and drinks left by people picnicking in Highland Park. But he kept his encounters with daily civilization to a minimum.
Mr. Rodriguez was dressed in clean clothes, a practice he said helped keep city employees from suspecting he lived on the property.
''I don't want to look all sloppy so they know I'm living here,'' he said, looking down at his Shaq basketball sneakers. ''It's hard to keep new sneakers white though.''
At the news conference, Mr. Bloomberg called the handover of the reservoir an example of a long successful formula in New York City of creating parkland out of decommissioned city reservoir sites, which has been done in Central Park and in Bryant Park.
In a phone interview yesterday, Christopher O. Ward, commissioner of the city's Department of Environmental Protection, called the property transfer ''another demonstration of the great transfers from D.E.P. to Parks, taking former water supply areas and creating public recreation space for New Yorkers.''
Basin 1, where Mr. Rodriguez lived, is the most overgrown of the three basins that make up the reservoir, which was built by the City of Brooklyn and first opened in 1858. The basins are roughly 40 feet deep with steep sloping sides and have a wide variety of animal and plant life.
For years, it was Brooklyn's main source of water drawing from reservoirs along the south shore of Long Island and Queens. In 1917, it was connected to the upstate Catskills-Delaware system. After two basins were decommissioned, Basin 3 remained in use, mostly to store water used to drain local fire hydrants in the summertime, until finally being decommissioned in 1990.
Mr. Rodriguez said he considered his living arrangements among the best in the city. He walked up to a plateau near the reservoir commanding breathtaking views of Brooklyn, Queens and the Manhattan skyline.
''I sleep here when it's nice out,'' he said. ''People are surprised when I tell them where I live, but I tell them: 'I don't want your pity or remorse. I want you to admire me.' Not everyone can do this, or wants to.''
