For Hudson Valley locals and tourists alike, the Ashokan Reservoir provides a charming blue ground in one of the region’s most beautiful mountainous landscapes. Most Hurley residents, however, know the tragic history of the reservoir’s construction, which displaced thousands before submerging the homes and histories of many of the town’s hamlets.

On Thursday evening, before a small group of locals gathered at the West Hurley Library, archaeologist and Taking Our Water for the City: Archaeology in New York City Watershed Communities author April M. Beisaw brought to life the legacies of those who came before the reservoir — and the efforts of New York City records to erase their histories.

In the early years of the 20th century, Hurley and West Hurley flowed seamlessly into each other, with the hamlets of Ashton and Glenford thriving in the same area. Then, circa 1907, the New York City Board of Water Supply marched in and told hundreds of land and business owners that they would be paid one-half of the value of their properties, and to then get off said properties immediately.

“You might have had as little as 10 days to leave your house,” Beisaw said. “If you wanted more, you had to file a lawsuit, which many, many people did — and millions of dollars of the lawsuits that were awarded were never paid.”

New York City history, Beisaw said, claims that the residents were happy to receive payment to leave their ramshackle homes for the West. However, local records indicate that most of the displaced remained in the Hurley and Olive region, moving in with relatives or receiving small parcels of land from rich families like the Crispells and the Winchells.

According to Beisaw, in 1906 about 25 percent of the parcels in what would become the reservoir were woman-owned. With the reservoir’s construction, the women who had inherited or bought land were left to move in with their families or find a well-off man to marry. Farmers who lost their land lost their living. In the years surrounding the reservoir’s 1915 completion, some in the condemned region committed suicide.

“Can you imagine the cumulative effect?” said Beisaw of what would today be called a “generational trauma.”

“It's not just: my house is gone. It's: my community is gone, my family is gone, all of the generational wealth is gone, my cemetery is gone, my school is gone, my church is gone,” Beisaw said.

During and after Beisaw’s presentation, audience members at Thursday evening’s event asked her questions about specific families and properties, sharing their extensive inherited knowledge. The residents, some of whom recalled stories of their family members’ struggles during the reservoir’s construction, expressed a mixture of astonishment and grim dismay.

The author presented pictures of several condemned homes, including the Scoville family home in what was once West Hurley. The impressive property, boasting 10 hen houses, matches its condemned neighbors in style and scope. The pictures were taken by a Shokan resident, millwright-turned-photographer Ira C. Forbes, who was hired by the city to photograph the condemned homes.

The Board of Water Supply, antecedent to today’s New York City Department of Environmental Protection. did not only buy the areas they flooded for the reservoir. To create a habitat for clean drinking water, the city also “constructed wilderness” around the actual reservoir site. Much of this city-owned land is open for hiking — and Beisow and her archeology students have hiked quite a bit of it. This land that, in New York City records, Beisaw said, is called “undeveloped,” is marked by stone building foundations and littered with artifacts dating back to more than 100 years ago.

“My interpretation is they don't want people to know what really happened,” Beisaw said of the New York City officials.

Beisaw, a New York City native and Vassar College professor, has been studying the city’s reservoirs for over a decade. Until about a year ago, she said, the city denied her access to any of its archives on the Ashokan Reservoir. When she was finally given access, she was required to use a library computer, prohibited from copying or taking any of the information with her and show all her notes to the staff afterward. She was even required to send her West Hurley library presentation to the city beforehand.

“They see me as a troublemaker, instead of as a historian or an archaeologist,” she said. “Their official stance is these parcels have no histories.”

According to Beisaw, the city continues its efforts to maintain and expand its water supply as needed. Since the Land Acquisition Act of the 1990s, the city has continued to buy land in the Catskill watershed. The Ashokan Reservoir currently provides about 40 percent of New York City’s drinking water, according to the city’s Department of Environmental Protection.