Growing up in a century-old house meant living with all the little quirks that came with it—creaky hardwood floors that groaned under every step, windows that rattled with every gust of wind, and a basement that always carried a damp, eerie chill. Our home had all of those features, but one thing stood out above the rest: the odd toilet sitting out in the open in one corner of the basement. It wasn’t part of any bathroom setup—there were no walls, no sink, no privacy, just a single toilet awkwardly perched on the concrete floor.
As kids, my siblings and I never used it, and truthfully, we rarely talked about it. But the image of that lonely basement toilet stuck in my memory. Years later, when I began restoring historic homes, I realized it wasn’t just my house with this peculiar feature. Many older homes—especially those in industrial cities like Pittsburgh—had them. They even had a name: “Pittsburgh potties.”
At first glance, these toilets seem like a bizarre design flaw, but they actually had a very practical purpose. In the early to mid-20th century, Pittsburgh and other industrial cities were filled with families whose breadwinners worked long, grueling hours in steel mills, coal mines, or other physically demanding jobs. When those workers returned home, they were often covered in dirt, soot, or grease. To keep the main living areas of the house clean, many homes were built with a separate entrance that led straight into the basement. Workers could come in through that entryway, use the basement toilet, and sometimes change clothes before heading upstairs to rejoin their families.
This setup wasn’t just about convenience—it was about maintaining hygiene and protecting the home. Families took pride in keeping their main floors clean and welcoming, especially in houses where guests were often entertained in living rooms or kitchens. The basement toilet became a kind of first line of defense against the grime of industrial life.
But there’s another side to the story that makes these toilets even more interesting. They weren’t only installed for cleanliness. They were also part of a clever solution to a major plumbing problem of the time.
Before World War II, America’s population was booming, and cities were expanding faster than their infrastructure could keep up. Sewer systems, in particular, struggled to handle the increased demand. Heavy rain or overuse often caused sewer backups, and when that happened, raw sewage didn’t stay underground—it found its way back into homes. The point of entry for this unpleasant overflow was usually the lowest plumbing fixture in the house. And in many homes, that was the basement toilet.
Plumbers and city planners of the time understood this risk. According to resources like the Calgary Real Estate Board, many basement toilets were placed strategically right above where the sewer line entered the house. This design essentially turned them into emergency relief valves. If the sewer line backed up, the overflow would come out of the basement toilet instead of flooding bathrooms on the first or second floor.
While dealing with sewage in the basement was far from ideal, it was at least manageable. The basement typically had unfinished concrete floors and stone walls, which made cleanup easier. Compare that to the nightmare of raw sewage damaging tiled bathrooms, wooden cabinets, or even bedrooms upstairs. In other words, these toilets may have saved families from far more expensive and destructive disasters.
Today, many of these fixtures remain, often unused and puzzling to new homeowners who stumble across them. Some people choose to incorporate them into fully finished basement bathrooms, while others leave them as quirky relics of the past. Either way, they stand as reminders of how home design once adapted to meet the challenges of industrial work and imperfect city infrastructure.
That basement toilet I once found so mysterious turned out to be a piece of history, quietly telling the story of hardworking families, city growth, and practical solutions to everyday problems. What seemed like a strange oddity was actually a clever and essential feature for its time.
