National Mall’s Algae-Choked Waters Finally Get Fresh Start After Years of Neglect, Sparking Pride and Pause in Nation’s Heart
The winter sun hung low over the National Mall on the morning of November 29, 2025, casting a pale light on the Lincoln Memorial Reflecting Pool where workers in fluorescent vests waded knee-deep into the murky water, their rakes scraping against sediment as pumps hummed to life, drawing out the green-tinged sludge that had clouded the iconic expanse for years. For 68-year-old retiree Tom Reilly, a Washington native who had jogged the Mall’s paths since the 1970s, the sight evoked a quiet swell of nostalgia mixed with long-overdue relief—the pool, a 2,028-foot mirror reflecting the Washington Monument and Capitol dome, finally getting the deep clean it deserved after decades of deferred dreams. “I remember it crystal clear in ’76—now, it’s like seeing an old friend get a fresh haircut,” Reilly said, his voice warm as he paused on a bench near the Vietnam Veterans Memorial, watching the crews haul debris from the basin that has symbolized reflection and renewal since its 1922 dedication. President Donald Trump’s November 27 Truth Social post—”Building the Presidential Ballroom… but first, the Reflecting Pool and National Mall are getting cleaned up in DC”—had set the wheels in motion, with the National Park Service confirming operations began November 25, a $15 million effort to restore the site’s luster amid a broader push to revitalize America’s front yard. For Reilly and the millions who have walked its paths, the cleanup feels like a gentle reclaiming—a holiday season gift of clarity in a monument that has witnessed marches for justice and moments of national mourning, its waters now poised to shine once more.
The Reflecting Pool’s story, etched into the fabric of American memory, has always been one of symbolism and struggle, a 330,000-square-foot basin designed by architect Henry Bacon as a serene counterpoint to Lincoln’s solemn gaze. Dedicated in 1922 as part of the Lincoln Memorial, the pool has mirrored triumphs and trials—from Martin Luther King Jr.’s 1963 “I Have a Dream” speech to the 2016 Million Man March, its surface a canvas for reflections both literal and profound. But maintenance woes have plagued it since the 2012-2013 renovation, a $34 million overhaul that addressed leaks and circulation but couldn’t fully stem algae blooms from stagnant water and bird droppings, exacerbated by 2024’s record heat waves that turned the basin into a murky soup. National Park Service data shows sediment buildup reaching 18 inches by October 2025, with $2 million in annual cleaning costs strained by a $2.1 billion agency backlog. “The pool’s a national treasure, but nature doesn’t pause for budgets,” NPS Midwest Regional Director Curt Brown said in a November 26 interview, his words a nod to the 1.5 million annual visitors who have skirted green scum since 2020. Trump’s directive, issued amid Thanksgiving reflections on national renewal, mobilized $15 million in emergency funds from the Interior Department, with crews from the Army Corps of Engineers joining NPS workers for a two-week drain and dredge starting November 25.
For Reilly, who lost his wife to cancer in 2018 and finds solace in Mall walks where the pool reflects the monument like a promise of continuity, the cleanup touches a deeper chord. “After she passed, I’d sit there, staring at the water—Lincoln’s face steady, mine not. Now, clear again, it’s like hope washing clean,” he said, his eyes distant as he recalled the 2013 renovation’s closure, when the pool’s emptiness mirrored his own. Reilly’s story, one of countless personal connections to the Mall, highlights its role as America’s emotional compass—from Vietnam protests to 2020 racial justice marches, the site a gathering place for grief and grace. The current effort, involving 50 workers raking debris and installing new circulation pumps, aims to restore clarity by December 15, with $5 million for long-term algae controls like UV filtration. “It’s not just cleaning—it’s caring for a space that holds our shared memories,” Brown added, his team coordinating with the American Battle Monuments Commission to preserve the site’s sanctity amid the holiday rush.
The human mosaic extends to the crews, like 35-year-old NPS technician Jamal Reed from Anacostia, who wades into the pool’s shallows with a rake, his gloves caked in mud as he hauls out leaves and litter. Reed, a father of two whose family history ties to the 1963 March, sees the work as stewardship: “This pool’s seen our best and worst—MLK’s dream, Jan. 6 chaos. Cleaning it feels like wiping the slate, making room for tomorrow.” Reed’s days, from 6 a.m. to dusk, involve sediment sifting and water testing, the pool’s 6 million gallons drained to reveal a basin lined with pennies tossed by wishers—tokens of hope collected for charity. For Reed, whose son dreams of playing saxophone at the Lincoln Memorial, the project is personal: “My boy practices here—wants to march like his grandpa. Clear water means clear views, clear futures.” The effort, funded by Trump’s $15 million directive amid a $2.1 billion NPS backlog, prioritizes high-visibility sites, with similar cleanups planned for the Tidal Basin’s cherry blossoms in spring.
Public response, from Mall joggers to online forums, weaves pride with pause, a nation reflecting on renewal amid holiday lights. In a D.C. diner near the Mall, Reilly and friends toasted the crews over coffee: “Trump’s making it shine again—about time for the people’s park.” Social media, under #MallMakeover, trended with 1.5 million posts—tourists sharing before-and-afters, veterans posting March memories. A viral TikTok from 28-year-old influencer Sofia Ramirez garnered 2 million views: “From green soup to glass mirror—Lincoln’s smiling wider.” Ramirez’s clip, from a jogger’s path, highlighted the stakes—1.5 million visitors yearly, the pool a symbol of unity.
As December’s holidays unfold, the cleanup invites reflection—a Mall renewed, reflecting not just monuments but the people who walk its paths. For Reilly and Reed, it’s hope washed clean; for the nation, a gentle reminder that even icons need care to shine.
