In 1963, New York abandoned an island where Typhoid Mary had been quarantined; 63 years later, 25 decaying buildings remain closed to the public

Hidden in New York City’s East River is a place that feels remarkably distant from the busy metropolis surrounding it. North Brother Island, located between the Bronx and Rikers Island, has been uninhabited since 1963, when the final institutional use of the island ended. Today, its abandoned structures are surrounded by dense vegetation, while the island itself remains inaccessible to the general public. New York City Parks records describe the island as a former home to a quarantine facility, student housing and an addiction treatment center. Over decades of abandonment, nature has steadily reclaimed what was once a functioning institutional campus.

The island’s most notorious chapter is connected to Mary Mallon, better known as “Typhoid Mary.” Mallon became one of the most famous healthy carriers associated with typhoid fever in American history and spent years isolated at Riverside Hospital on North Brother Island. She ultimately died there in 1938. The island’s quarantine history, however, extended far beyond one person. Riverside Hospital treated and isolated people affected by infectious diseases, and North Brother became part of New York’s broader public-health response during an era when cities faced recurring threats from diseases such as tuberculosis, smallpox and typhoid.

Riverside Hospital was not simply a single building but part of a larger institutional landscape. Over the years, North Brother Island developed facilities that included hospital structures, laboratories, staff residences, dormitories and service buildings. The site reflected the changing understanding of public health in the late 19th and early 20th centuries, when separating people with contagious diseases from the wider population was considered an important tool for limiting outbreaks. The island therefore represents a complicated chapter in New York history: it was simultaneously a place of medical care, isolation, institutional control and human suffering.


North Brother Island’s story did not end when its quarantine role faded. After World War II, the island was used to house veterans, including students benefiting from the GI Bill. Later, during the 1950s, its facilities were repurposed as a treatment center for young people struggling with drug addiction. That final institutional chapter lasted until 1963. When the facility closed, the island was effectively abandoned, leaving behind buildings that had served dramatically different purposes over the previous decades. The transition from hospital campus to deserted landscape helps explain why the island today feels like a time capsule buried within one of the world’s most densely populated cities.

More than six decades of abandonment have transformed the appearance of North Brother Island. The once-maintained grounds have become heavily overgrown, with trees, vines and other vegetation spreading across former streets, buildings and open spaces. Reports and photographic documentation describe structures in various stages of deterioration, creating a striking contrast between crumbling architecture and a landscape increasingly dominated by nature. What was once a carefully organized institutional campus now resembles a hidden urban wilderness. The transformation demonstrates how quickly buildings and infrastructure can disappear when regular maintenance stops, even in a major city.

The island’s exact building count is sometimes reported differently depending on how surviving structures are classified, but descriptions have identified roughly two dozen abandoned buildings, with some accounts citing 25 or 26 remaining structures. These include remnants associated with the former hospital complex and its supporting facilities. Their deteriorating condition is one reason North Brother Island is not an ordinary abandoned-place attraction. The site is not open for casual exploration, and access has historically been tightly restricted. Its isolation has helped preserve an extraordinary physical record of New York’s institutional past while also preventing the island from becoming another heavily visited urban destination.

Nature has played an unexpected role in preserving North Brother Island. The island became important habitat for black-crowned night herons, and its ecological significance helped protect it from redevelopment and unrestricted public access. The birds transformed what might otherwise have been treated solely as a collection of deteriorating buildings into an important urban wildlife habitat. New York City Parks now oversees the island, and conservation concerns remain central to its management. This creates a fascinating contradiction: the same abandonment that allowed the historic structures to decay also helped create conditions in which wildlife could flourish.

North Brother Island ultimately stands as one of New York City’s most unusual historical landscapes because its ruins tell several stories at once. It recalls the fear surrounding infectious diseases, the controversial isolation of Typhoid Mary, the evolution of public-health institutions, postwar housing programs and later efforts to address drug addiction. At the same time, its decaying buildings and expanding vegetation reveal how dramatically nature can reclaim a place once dominated by people. Sixty-three years after the island was abandoned in 1963, North Brother remains largely closed to the public, preserving an eerie but valuable connection to the city’s past. Far from being merely a forgotten island, it is a reminder that history can survive not only in museums and monuments, but also in the ruins quietly being reclaimed by nature.