When Philadelphia’s rivers were at their worst, a wealthy industrialist wanted to pipe in water from the Pine Barrens.

Animal parts, raw sewage, and a noxious brew of dangerous chemicals poured into Philadelphia’s rivers on a daily basis back in the late 1800s.

It was the height of the Industrial Revolution, and city officials were ready to abandon the Schuylkill as a source of drinking water.

“At one point, you could smell the rivers from City Hall,” said Arthur M. Holst, author and retired Philadelphia Water Department employee. “It was disgusting.”

Joseph Wharton, one of the city’s wealthiest industrialists, had a plan. Wharton, the founder of the Wharton School, had settled into a quieter life among the cranberry bogs in New Jersey’s Pine Barrens, where he owned 150 square miles of that sandy, seemingly worthless land. The Cohansey Aquifer, its 17 trillion gallons of water among the purest in America, sat beneath it.

Holst, author of the article “Water for Philadelphia: Joseph Wharton and the Pine Barrens,” believed the businessman knew his water was valuable. With the city ready to seize part of his estate in Philadelphia to build a reservoir, Wharton proposed building a series of canals and lakes from the Pine Barrens, channeling the water west, into a pipe that would cross beneath the Delaware, into Philadelphia.

Lawmakers in Pennsylvania and New Jersey, opposed the idea, according to Holst, and in 1884, the New Jersey Legislature made it illegal “to convey any state waters beyond the borders of the state.”

It’s unclear what motivated the Legislature beyond resource protection, but New Jersey environmental advocates say it might have been the first conscious move to protect the rare and varied ecosystem in the Pine Barrens.

“It was absolutely critical to saving the Pinelands,” said Jaclyn Rhoads, assistant executive director of the Pinelands Preservation Alliance.

The Pinelands National Preserve, which covers about 1.1 million acres, was created in 1978, curtailing development and protecting the aquifer. Today, the aquifer supplies water to millions of New Jersey residents but it is not limitless, Rhoads said, and is under threat by the encroachment of salt water because of sea levels rising.

It would be difficult to imagine what the Pine Barrens might have looked like had Wharton’s plan gone through.

“A lot of the areas in the Pinelands that hold water would have dried up a long time ago,” Rhoads said. “There are limitations. It can go away if it’s not protected.”

Wharton, according to Holst, held fast to his water plan. Despite the New Jersey ruling, Wharton presented the idea to Philadelphia City Council, again, in 1895 and 1896. He tried to drum up interest in 1900, too, when the city had finally decided to build a filtration plant.

Wharton, according to Holst, held on to the idea until his death in 1909. He made a pitch to Camden, too, in 1895, taking a large group of officials and reporters on a tour of the Pine Barrens. The journey, coincidentally, highlighted some of the best reasons for protecting the region.

“The odor from the wildflowers, magnolia, and foliage along the drive was pleasant and agreeable and was eagerly drunk in by those who so seldom have an opportunity to get away from business cares to enjoy such refreshing and invigorating air,” the Camden Daily Telegram wrote of the trip.

Wharton’s land, and the aquifer beneath it, remain protected in the 122,880-acre state forest in Atlantic, Burlington, and Camden Counties that bear his name.

Philadelphia still gets a fraction of its water from the Pine Barrens, as the Rancocas Creek is one of the few rivers that flows west, into the Delaware.