Janet Barkley-Booher first visited Barton Springs 58 years ago, and remembers being terrified by the pop of Roman candles during Fourth of July fireworks at the pool as a five-year-old. In the half-century since then, swimsuit styles have changed—"girls wear less, boys wear more," she says—but the limestone dinosaur tracks remain. Now, Barkley-Booher usually swims at sunset with two friends. "We're all grandmothers—we usually wear matching swim caps, and we call ourselves 'The Unsynchronized Swim Team,'" she says. "I love the camaraderie. We keep up with each other’s lives while improving our health and working out our problems in the solitude and serenity of these beautiful healing waters."Photograph by Gregg Segal
In the 1960s, the long fight for civil rights led to the desegregation of municipal pools, and kids of all stripes shared the same water. But private pools began proliferating in mostly white, middle-class neighborhoods. By the end of the century, there were four million backyard pools—and far fewer places for less affluent kids to cool off. The remaining public pools are some of our few common grounds, where kids can go on a blistering hot summer day and be free from social boundaries and political sides.
If you want to get a feel for the character and culture of a place, look at the pool. I’ve visited community pools in small towns like Chippewa Falls, Wisconsin; Blooming Prairie, Minnesota; and Villisca, Iowa. I’ve also photographed in densely populated, gentrifying neighborhoods in Chicago, New York, Philadelphia, and Washington, D.C. I found that the public pools in these towns and cities are anchors of the community. But in Austin, I found a watering hole that is like no other pool in America: Barton Springs, the soul of the city.
In my series The Public Pool, I’ve documented 27 pools in 11 states, but more than any other pool I’ve photographed, Barton Springs embodies the culture of its community and the ethos of the public pool as inclusive sanctuary. From proud locals to awed visitors, there was an underlying sense that this precious resource was a shared gift. No cookie-cutter, gated community pool could ever be a substitute.
"We have been going to Barton Springs since 1998 when we moved to Austin and have been bringing our kids there since they were babies," says Sara Moren, pictured here with her husband, Chris, son, Brooks, and daughter, Skylar. "We love the cold, refreshing, spring water—it's the only thing to really cool you off in the Texas heat. Another thing we love about Barton Springs is people watching and sitting in the shade of the huge pecan trees."
Photograph by Gregg Segal
The swimmers I met and photographed at Barton Springs feel a uniquely deep reverence for their swimming hole. It seems to be the sort of attachment you feel for a home or lifelong friend.
Photograph by Gregg Segal
While photographing people at the pool, I met nine-to-fivers and free spirits, hipsters and sorority girls. There were conga-playing vegans and war veterans, software designers from Oracle and Apple, and a fireman sharing a day off with his family of four. There were babies making their first—and possibly lifelong—acquaintance with these aquamarine waters. There were accents from around the globe. There were kids who’d sworn they’d seen the rare Barton Springs salamander. There were Mexican teens floating on inner tubes. There were brothers from Pakistan and sisters from Guangzhou.
Photograph by Gregg Segal
Bruce Patzke, age 74, has been coming to Barton Springs for twenty years. "We have a gift here and we’re grateful, thankful to have it," says Patzke, whose Sunday routine involves ecstatic dance, Tamale House, and hanging out at Barton Springs into the night. "The water—it does something to your circulation."
Photograph by Gregg Segal
At Barton Springs, I met swimming hole connoisseurs suggesting places I might visit, as if I were on a quest for the ultimate public pool experience. They wanted to know if I’d been to any pool that ranked as high as these springs.
Photograph by Gregg Segal
Eve Green, age 10, recently told her dad, James, “I’m going to take my kids here when I grow up.” James has been going to the pool since the 1970s, making the trip from San Antonio.
Photograph by Gregg Segal
Roommates Georgia Miguez, Julie Gaydos, and Emily Novak lounged in the grass at dusk. "I met almost every friend I have because of Barton Springs," Miguez says. "It's always been a magical and special watering hole—In my early 20s I'd keep a swimsuit in my car and drive straight to the Springs every day after work. I'd read or drum and would always meet new interesting people."
Photograph by Gregg Segal
You feel like a pilgrim here, in a rare, unspoiled sanctuary that seems as if it's from a different time. Tens of thousands of years ago, Native American tribes purified themselves in these waters, and the pool is still very much a spiritual place.
