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Con Edison’s Legacy of Manhole Explosions and Soaring Utility Rates Continue to Imperil New Yorkers

By: Jerome Brookshire

On any given day in New York City, the ground itself can erupt without warning. Manholes burst into the air like shrapnel, steam pipe chambers detonate beneath parked cars, and aging gas mains leak silently into apartments and basements. These subterranean hazards have become so routine that longtime residents scarcely blink at the sight of a smoking street corner cordoned off by FDNY tape. But the normalization of this crisis is itself an indictment—of a utility giant whose oversight, maintenance, and accountability fall shockingly short of what a modern metropolis demands.

Across the last decade, and indeed in the century before it, Con Edison has presided over an underground infrastructure so decayed, so haphazardly maintained, and so vulnerable to the most basic environmental stressors that the company has effectively turned New York City’s streets into a network of unpredictable, explosive devices. This revelation is not hyperbole; it is borne out by thousands of documented incidents, scores of lawsuits, and the anguished testimony of New Yorkers whose lives have been shattered—sometimes literally—by manhole covers rocketing into the sky or flames erupting from beneath their cars.

Despite the staggering frequency of these events, despite the injuries, the destroyed property, the lethal steam pipe ruptures, and the pervasive fear these explosions induce, Con Edison continues to charge among the highest utility rates in the United States, billing New Yorkers for what is increasingly viewed as a deteriorating and unreliable service. And while ConEd insists it invests heavily in safety, the numbers tell a story of systemic neglect.

What is most galling, critics say, is that the company has avoided meaningful regulatory penalties for decades. State agencies, legislators, and the Public Service Commission—tasked with protecting the public—have done far too little to hold the utility accountable. The result is a sprawling network of decaying electrical cables, decrepit gas mains, and corroded steam chambers that put millions at risk daily.

This is the story of how Con Edison, a century-old monopoly, continues to terrorize the very city it claims to power.

A City Where Explosions Are Routine

New York City firefighters responded to nearly 4,000 manhole explosions between 2009 and 2018—and more than 45,000 other emergency manhole incidents, including smoke and fires, in the same period. That amounts to roughly five manhole-related emergencies every single day for ten years. During winter months, the rate surges even higher, with January and February averaging three manhole explosions per day, according to FDNY records obtained through Freedom of Information Law requests.

These numbers are breathtaking—and uniquely New York.

In almost no other American city do manholes explode with such speed and regularity. More astonishing still: Con Edison has never been fined—not once—for a manhole explosion.

What residents endure is not an aberration but a defining feature of city life. The crackling sound of an electrical fire beneath the streets. A plume of smoke rising from a manhole during a rainfall. A thunderous blast reverberating through an entire avenue. New Yorkers flinch instinctively. They know that beneath their feet, the infrastructure is primed for disaster.

Even the terminology used by the city—non-structural fires—masks the reality. These are not harmless flare-ups. They are underground explosions with enough force to launch 300-pound steel covers into the sky like airborne missiles.

For New Yorkers such as Osman Bah, this was not a theoretical threat. It was a life-altering tragedy.

On a February night in 2020, taxi driver Osman Bah was simply passing through Midtown Manhattan when an underground explosion blew four manholes into the air near Lexington Avenue and 44th Street. One of those covers slammed directly through Bah’s windshield, smashing into him with catastrophic force.

Bah survived, but barely. One side of his body was permanently crippled. He has never returned to the life or livelihood he once had.

“I’m not the person who I was anymore,” he told investigators. The explosion not only destroyed his physical health; it destroyed his financial stability, his sense of safety, and his faith that the city could protect its residents from avoidable harm.

Bah’s case is just one among many. Between 2009 and 2018, at least 57 people were injured by manhole explosions, with another nine injuries in 2019. Scores of lawsuits have been filed. Many more incidents go unreported or are quietly settled.

And still, the explosions continue.

Ask ConEd about these incidents, and the company returns to a familiar refrain: road salt.

According to ConEd spokesperson Robert McGee, “weather has a direct impact” on its electrical system. Melted snow seeps into aging electrical ducts, salt corrodes wires, and sparks ignite explosive methane gases trapped underground.

In other words—don’t blame ConEdison, blame winter.

This explanation, however, has been derided by former utility workers and infrastructure experts for decades. Road salt, they acknowledge, plays a role. But salt alone does not cause manholes to explode at a rate unmatched anywhere else in the United States. The true cause lies deeper underground—literally and figuratively—where century-old wiring mixes with insufficient maintenance and decades of underinvestment.

The New York City government has often hinted at this, yet failed to take decisive action. The Public Service Commission, which has the legal authority to regulate utilities, has been notably passive. Critics say the PSC has embraced an “overly lightened regulatory approach” since the 1990s—one that prioritizes ConEd’s operational convenience over public safety.

The result? A utility company that operates with near-total impunity.

Manhole explosions are only one piece of ConEd’s troubled legacy. The company’s steam pipe system—the largest in the world—is notorious for its own history of catastrophic failures.

Steam pipe explosions are less frequent than manhole incidents but far more deadly. Between 1986 and 1997, the city saw at least a dozen major steam explosions, culminating in the 2007 blast near Grand Central Terminal that sent a geyser of mud, asbestos, and debris skyward. One woman died; dozens were injured. Asbestos-contaminated dust blanketed the area, requiring extensive cleanup and exposing a major health risk to the public.

The system, first built in the 1880s, is still in operation today. Thousands of buildings rely on ConEd steam for heating, cooling, cleaning, and industrial processes. Yet the bulk of this system runs through old, corroded pipes directly beneath some of the busiest streets in the world.

The company insists it inspects and upgrades these pipes regularly. But given ConEd’s track record with manholes—and the city’s failure to enforce preventive maintenance— New Yorkers have little reason to feel reassured.

If manhole and steam pipe explosions are dramatic, natural gas leaks are insidious—and often more deadly.

Across New York City, thousands of gas leaks occur every year. Many are minor; some are catastrophic. In 2014, a gas explosion in East Harlem killed eight people, injured dozens, and leveled an entire block. Investigators found that decayed pipes and poor maintenance were major contributing factors.

The city’s gas distribution network, much of which dates back more than a century, is a time bomb. ConEd shares responsibility for this network along with National Grid, but in Manhattan—where the densest clusters of leaks occur—ConEd is the primary operator.

Once again, the company’s response is to insist that “investments are being made.” And once again, the evidence suggests that these efforts are insufficient to meet the scale of the problem.

The randomness of these explosions amplifies the terror they inflict on the public. New Yorkers understand crime, noise, traffic congestion. They accept the frenetic rhythm of a densely populated city. But they are not prepared for the ground beneath them to erupt.

In February 2022, Upper East Side resident Andrew Fine thought lightning had struck when he heard a deafening boom outside his apartment. When he looked out the window, a car was engulfed in flames. Within moments, he heard two more explosions as manholes erupted beneath parked vehicles. Brick sidewalks cracked apart as fire shot into the air.

“It’s definitely scary,” Fine said. “It’s amazing when that randomness hits so close to home.”

What he experienced is now disturbingly common.

Despite repeated legislative proposals, New York City has never enacted strict oversight measures for manhole incidents. At the state level, the Public Service Commission is empowered to force ConEd to improve its infrastructure, impose fines, and mandate preventive upgrades.

But the PSC has never once fined ConEd for a manhole explosion, despite thousands of them.

Why?

Because Con Edison is, functionally, a monopoly. It holds exclusive control over electrical delivery in New York City. It operates the largest steam network in the world. Its gas delivery territory includes the city’s most densely populated neighborhoods.

New Yorkers have no alternative utility provider. And ConEd knows it.

On top of the explosions, the fires, the leaks, and the regulatory failures, ConEd continues to impose some of the highest electricity and gas rates in the country. Each rate hike adds insult to injury, compelling residents to pay more for a system that endangers them.

ConEd’s profit margins remain robust. Its CEO compensation remains high. Its investors continue to be rewarded. Meanwhile, its customers endure exploding manholes, hazardous steam ruptures, gas leaks, corroding infrastructure, and power outages. For a city that prides itself on resilience, technology, and modernity, this is a bleak reminder that infrastructure is destiny—and New York’s underground infrastructure has been neglected for far too long.

It is time to say plainly what many New Yorkers whisper each time a manhole erupts or smoke rises from the street: Con Edison has failed the public it is meant to serve.

Its infrastructure is antiquated. Its maintenance is inconsistent. Its rate hikes are unjustified. Its safety practices are inadequate. And its regulatory oversight is woefully insufficient.

If Con Edison cannot modernize its system, protect its customers, and prevent the daily hazards generated by its own decaying network, then elected officials must intervene far more aggressively—through fines, oversight, mandates, or structural reform of the city’s utility model.

New Yorkers live above one of the most complex underground networks in the world. They should not have to live in fear of it.

Until ConEd is forced to prioritize safety over excuses, profit over complacency, and modernization over minimal compliance, the streets of New York will remain a landscape of unpredictable explosions—an unacceptable reality for a city that deserves far be