55 Water Street

1 Star2 Stars3 Stars4 Stars5 Stars (9 votes, average: 4.33 out of 5)

Surrounded by Water Street, the southwest side of Old Slip, and South Street, this building has two of the largest outdoor public spaces in the city and some of the best views of Brooklyn and the East River. The plaza at street level is a long, rectangular, windswept sea of brick extending from Water Street to South Street along the southwest side of the building. Near Water Street is a stairwell leading to a defunct below-ground shopping mall. A channel of water used to flow from the plaza toward and down the stairwell.

Photo: Kayden et al. (2000)
Photo: Kayden et al. (2000)

Visually, the plaza looks much larger than its legally required size, because it is seamlessly joined to the City-owned triangular Vietnam Veterans Plaza, formerly known as Jeanette Park, to the southwest. The owner of 55 Water Street was required by a City special permit to rebuild and maintain Jeanette Park, and the privately owned and publicly owned public spaces appear to function as one space.

Against the foreground of the plaza’s open brick surface, and just across the invisible border between privately owned and City-owned space, is the New York Vietnam Veterans Memorial, an upright rectangular slab composed of translucent greenish-glass blocks etched with the contents of poignant letters and other writings from American soldiers in Vietnam to their families and friends back in the United States. The wall is pierced by two portals, framed in granite, that symbolically allow the viewer to “enter,” however briefly, the soldier’s world before passing safely to the other side. At night, the monument is lit from within, creating an eerie, ghostlike sensation befitting the subject matter. The memorial was a product of a design competition initiated in 1982 by a City-established commission, and the winning entry was conceived and completed by architects Peter Wormser and William Fellows, and writer John Ferrandino, in 1984 to 1985.

On the Vietnam Veterans Plaza side of the memorial is an amphitheater with stepped brick seating chiseled out of the grade change. At the top of the brick steps are stubby black-metal bollards strung with lights, which create a necklace effect in the evening. The remaining area southwest features round concrete benches that sprout like mushrooms under a forest of tall trees spreading their protective green canopy.

Three stories above Water Street, the elevated plaza is one of only six substantially elevated outdoor spaces in the city. The others are at One Bankers Trust Plaza, Trump Tower, Murray Hill Mews, 622 Third Avenue, and 300 East 59th Street. Unlike the others, it is the only elevated space expressly created under the Zoning Resolution’s specific provision for elevated plazas. Entry is from Water Street, up the escalators or stairs, or from South Street, up a narrow stairwell. In past years, the space has been closed from time to time because, among other things, repairs to the escalators had to be made. While repair, renovation, and construction projects may legitimately preclude public access for a limited period, they cripple public use when such projects linger for months or even years, or recur on an all-too-regular basis. In this case, the City and owner have exchanged numerous letters in the past about lack of access, most recently addressing the issue in 1997.

The space itself is interesting, especially for the views it permits of the East River and Brooklyn, with its skyline redolent of 19th- and early 20th-century New York. To the northeast across Old Slip is a bird’s-eye view of the building that is home to New York City’s Landmarks Preservation Commission. The elevated plaza measures close to an acre, divided between an empty flat brick surface and a curving raised terrace composed of planters, water pools, sittable ledges, and wood benches. Here are semiprivate and private areas, protected from the wind, that are particularly pleasant during hot summer days.

In the outdoor public space lexicon, “elevated” and “sunken” are controversial qualifiers. Such spaces, especially the elevated ones, can be remote, inconvenient, even scary, removed from the familiarity and security of street eyes and ears. They can also harm the vitality of the sidewalk itself, by creating a lacuna in the adjacent ground plane. At its inception, the zoning definition of the “as-of-right” plaza precluded the “elevated” or “sunken” plaza, requiring that all plazas be no more than five feet above or more than 12 feet below the curb level. In part to accommodate this space, the City in 1968 enacted a zoning amendment allowing elevated plazas, following a discretionary review by the City Planning Commission. The City approved this space in the hope that it would become one component in a second-level pedestrian circulation network extending east over the F.D.R. Drive to the river. Like the effort in the Special Greenwich Street Development District, which attempted to create another second-level pedestrian circulation network on the other side of downtown, this one never came to fruition. The profile of public spaces at One Bankers Trust Plaza discusses the Special Greenwich Street Development District plan in more detail.

The remaining public space at 55 Water Street includes an arcade that wraps around half of the Water Street side of the building and continues along the full southwest side. Additional plaza area that is effectively more sidewalk may be found on Water Street between the entrance to the elevated plaza escalators and Old Slip.


*Required. Your name will be published. Your email address will not be published.

Heads up! You are attempting to upload an invalid image. If saved, this image will not display with your comment.


1 User Submission

  1. submitted by: Ian Leidner

    The name of this Privately Owned Public Space (POPS) provides important information about its physical characteristics. The space is indeed elevated, approximately 40 feet above street level, and is, according to its website, indeed an acre in size. Due to its distance from the sidewalk, the Elevated Acre is accessible only by four flights of stairs or two escalators. The entrance is by no means hidden; however an unknowing passerby may be unable to discern that it is a public space and mistake it for a private office tower amenity.

    By virtue of its elevation and cloistered location, shrouded on two sides by the enormous office tower in which it resides, the space has little interaction with the rest of the public realm of streets and sidewalks in the surrounding neighborhood. In spite of this disconnect, the space does not lack for noise due to its proximity to the FDR Drive and Downtown Manhattan Heliport. The roar of helicopter blades and highway traffic, amplified by the high walls of the office towers, more than compensates for lack of proximity to busy Water Street.

    The dense flora that welcomes visitors at the top of the stairs and covers half of the space is a respite from the banal steel, glass and concrete of Water Street. The lunch crowd and some tourists with children filled nearly every chair and table placed among the trees, bushes and flowers in that part of the space. The northern half is defined by 5 large concrete steps, curved in a near semi circle around an astroturf field. The shady portions of this space were most popular on a hot and sunny first day of fall.

    Although the Elevated Acre is a well used and well liked space, with lush landscaping, ample seating and enough space for a variety of activities and users, its lack of report with the surrounding neighborhood calls its publicness into question. Further, because it is only accessible by stairs or escalators, the space is inherently exclusionary to people with physical disabilities. Its existence begs the question, can this be a truly public space for all when portions of the population are physically unable to enjoy it? Is it fair to those who cannot use this space that an exchange was made for the benefit of private interests that does not benefit them? In spite of the pleasant features of the space described before, because of its inaccessibility, the Elevated Acre hopefully serves more as a cautionary tale for the provision of POPS in the future than a model.