'Chicagoans Avoided Their ‘Filthy’ River for Years. On Sunday, They Swam in It.,' New York Times

New York Times: Early Sunday morning, spectators jostled for a glimpse of the Chicago River to witness something that hadn't happened there in nearly a century.

People were swimming in it.

In the heart of the Loop downtown, surrounded by Modernist skyscrapers, hundreds of swimmers peeled off identical white terry cloth robes, one by one. As the crowds above them whooped and a D.J. played, the swimmers adjusted their caps and goggles and nervously tugged at knee-length black wet suits and briefs emblazoned with the Chicago flag.

"This is history," said one swimmer, Lovie Twine, 54, moments before her turn to swim a mile. "I'm taking my time in there. I want a whole hour."

She let out a little shriek of joy, then splashed in.

The last time that Chicago sanctioned a group swim in the river was 1927, a tradition thwarted by the loads of industrial and human waste that were routinely dumped in the water. It has taken decades of cooperation between environmental groups and elected officials - including at least four mayors - to clean up the river.

The Clean Water Act in the 1970s was a turning point in cutting down on industrial pollution. A system of tunnels and reservoirs known as the Deep Tunnel helped reduce flooding and redirect storm water and sewage into reservoirs away from the river, which cuts a path through residential neighborhoods on the North and South Sides of Chicago and the heart of downtown.

Chicago had long boasted of an engineering feat at the turn of the 20th century that reversed the flow of the river, sending pollution away from the city's drinking water supply in Lake Michigan but down the increasingly grubby river.

"We've built it, we've engineered it, we've reversed its flow," said Alaina Harkness, the chief executive of Current, a nonprofit in Chicago focused on water innovation. "And now we are working to bring it back to something closer to its natural state."

Environmentalists are giddy over the comeback. Dozens more fish species are appearing in the river. Ospreys and bald eagles, another sign of healthy biodiversity, have been spotted, hunting for food.

"There are now river otters behind the Lyric Opera," said Margaret Frisbie, executive director of Friends of the Chicago River. "We've seen beavers, muskrats, turtles. There's wildlife everywhere."

But the perception that the Chicago River is a toxic dump has been nearly impossible to shake.

Few people can forget the notorious incident when, in 2004, the driver of a Dave Matthews Band tour bus emptied its lavatory tankwhile crossing a bridge over the river. Passengers on an architectural boat tour below got drenched in an 800-pound slurry of human waste.

Even though the swim's organizers said that their water testing was rigorous, longtime Chicagoans wrinkle their noses at the thought of dipping a mere toe into the water. Samples taken this weekend showed that bacteria levels along the race route were within safe thresholds.

"Some old-time Chicago people will go to their graves convinced that the river is filthy," said Doug McConnell, a marathon swimmer who co-founded the Chicago River Swim. "They are encumbered with the way it used to be."

Representative Mike Quigley, a Democrat, who helped in the river cleanup, arrived at the swim on Sunday morning, marveling that it was happening in a waterway once considered so toxic.

"It stunk," he said. "The last thing you'd want to do is go in there. It was poison, and it was blocked off. It wasn't a real asset to Chicago except as a drainage ditch."

But Chicagoans' relationship to their river is shifting.

They have always gathered around it for St. Patrick's Day, when the river is dyed emerald green. Since a widened, more welcoming Riverwalk was completed years ago, the river has been a draw for tourists to sip wine or eat gelato, and for locals to jog or walk their dogs.

On Sunday, safety teams in kayaks paddled alongside the swimmers, who were chosen for their open-water swimming experience, and lifeguards lined the Riverwalk to help swimmers who could not complete the course. Only three of the 263 swimmers didn't finish.

Brad Culp, 40, a journalist, emerged dripping from the water and stood under a shower along the river to rinse off.

He used to live in a building nearby, and never dreamed that it would be possible to swim in the river.

"I swallowed one big gulp of water, so I'm a little worried about that," he said, half joking.

During the swim, he paused to ponder the fact that he was actually submerged in the Chicago River. "I can't believe I was floating on my back, looking at my old neighborhood."

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