Quequechan River

The Quequechan River (pronounced "Quick-a-shan" by locals), is a river in Fall River, Massachusetts that flows in a northwesterly direction from the South Watuppa Pond to the Taunton River. The word Quequechan means "falling water" in Wampanoag, hence the city's name.

The river is 2.7 miles (4.3 km) long and mostly placid, until it nears downtown Fall River, where a quickly declining grade causes it to turn rapid. From 1813, with the establishment of the Fall River Manufactory, the river enabled Fall River to establish itself as a leading textile center during the early 19th century. It originally contained a series of eight small waterfalls in a narrow stream between what is now South Main Street and the tidal Taunton River. During the first half of the 19th century, the "Fall River" was nearly completely covered by textile mills. The upper portion of the river, east of Pleasant Street, was dammed to provide additional waterpower and storage for the mills.

In 1914, the city of Fall River put together the Quequechan River Report to look into the problems the river was presented with. During the hot summer months the water flowed very low and slowly and the water quality was becoming questionable. Chemical reactions were occurring occasionally on the rivers edge from industrial mill wastes combined with hot water discharge, human wastes and other wastes (a dump was located on the river) causing further sanitary health concerns, and interset in the river in general.

During the 1960s, Interstate 195 was constructed through the city along the length of the Quequechan River. The portion west of Plymouth Avenue was routed underground through a series of box culverts, while much of the eastern section "mill pond" was filled in for the highway embankment. There are plans to construct a bike path on an abandoned railroad that parallels Interstate 195.

Read more about Quequechan River:  Geography, History, Post-industrial Period, Highway Era, Recent History

Famous quotes containing the word river:

    The river’s tent is broken; the last fingers of leaf
    Clutch and sink into the wet bank. The wind
    Crosses the brown land, unheard. The nymphs are departed.
    Sweet Thames, run softly, till I end my song.
    The river bears no empty bottles, sandwich papers,
    Silk handkerchiefs, cardboard boxes, cigarette ends
    Or other testimony of summer nights.
    —T.S. (Thomas Stearns)