White River State Park’s extension incorporates sections of the old GM plant.
A part of the massive structure, renamed the Kahn Pavilion, will be transformed into an enclosed entertainment space. An event lawn will sit beside it, along with an extension of the Cultural Trail passing over the nearby Henry Street Bridge, to be completed in 2026. An expansion of the riverside promenade is also in the works. The $65 million cost is being covered by the Lilly Endowment Inc., the Indiana Economic Development Corporation, and the state.
The effort must be accomplished without compromising the levy upon which the expansion will perch.
The turf-covered earthen barrier performs a critical job: keeping the river from overflowing its banks and soaking downtown. An observation deck will be anchored to it, and a limestone pathway leading to the riverbank will be added, but that’s all it can sustain.
The project highlights our largest but most neglected natural feature.
The White River begins in Randolph County and travels through the state for 362 miles before joining the Wabash River. The waterway bisects Marion County for 31.4 miles, entering it at around 96th Street, meandering south through downtown, and then exiting into Johnson County. Our city’s founders were disappointed to discover that it wasn’t deep enough for commercial ships. The arrival of railroads, though, salvaged Indianapolis as a business hub.
We did the river—and the people who lived near it—dirty.
For most of the 19th century and well into the 20th, much of the downtown watercourse was lined with factories that discharged pollutants, from heavy metals to livestock carcasses. “For 200 years, the river was out of sight, out of mind,” says Eddie Gill IV, executive director of Friends of the White River. “It was everyone’s dumping spot.” The most toxic stretch of bank, Belmont Beach, was located near 16th Street. Residential neighborhoods surrounding it were first home to low-income European migrants, who were then replaced by Black families as the migrants’ children achieved social mobility and areas were redlined following WWII.
In cleaner stretches, though, frolickers abounded.
At the turn of the 20th century, Broad Ripple boasted an amusement area with a marina. And the Emrichsville Dam was built south of 16th Street to make the section that ran through what today is known as Riverside Regional Park deep enough for boats.
The 1972 Clean Water Act began to mitigate the filth.
“That gave us the chance to start limiting pollution discharges,” says Jill Hoffmann, executive director of the White River Alliance. But it’s still a work in progress. The just-completed DigIndy project created a 28-mile network of tunnels 250 feet below the city that traps sewage instead of releasing it into the river. “We’ve already seen huge improvements in water quality from that,” Hoffmann says.
Today, boating, fishing, and wading are fine.
Agricultural runoff and other effluvia still make it into the river, which drains 1.7 million acres of Hoosier land. Also, E. coli counts in the water remain high, so swimming is ill-advised. Just follow the “feet, not face” rule. “As long as you don’t get the water in your eyes, ears, nose, and mouth, from our perspective there’s not much to worry about,” Gill says. “We want people to get out on the water, and if you follow this rule, it’s perfectly safe.”
Much of the city’s drinking water is sourced from it.
The Central Canal in Broad Ripple diverts water to the Citizens White River Treatment Plant west of downtown. “Over two-thirds of Indianapolis residents get their water from the White River,” Gill says. “This astonishes people when they find out.”
Another improvement will save lives.
The U.S. Fish and Wildlife Service awarded Indianapolis a $750,000 grant to remove the Emrichsville Dam. It’s fallen into disrepair, threatening fish migration and causing drownings. In 2024, two kayakers died when the currents it creates pulled them under. “Just about every year, sadly, Indianapolis loses someone to that dam,” Gill says.
Wildlife is on the rebound.
Bald eagles nest along the waterway’s northern Marion County stretch (albeit not on the downtown banks). Everything from smallmouth bass to mink are making comebacks. “If you kayak, you see turtles piled up on logs,” Hoffmann says. “You can really have a natural experience, despite the human infrastructure all around the edges.”
We need more public boat launching spots.
In Marion County, they remain limited to Broad Ripple Park, Riverside Regional Park, and the Indy Arts Center’s Efroymson Riverfront Garden & Canoe Launch. But you don’t need your own equipment. Frank’s Paddlesports Livery in the Parks Alliance building at Riverside rents canoes, kayaks, and paddleboards. They also do group tours.
Belmont Beach is now a destination.
Over the last five years, a grassroots neighborhood group has revived it with picnic tables, fire rings, gardening workshops, and movie nights. But like everywhere else, diving into the water is strongly discouraged.
