Editor's Note: The following text is a verbatim transcription of an article written by George W. Murdock, for the Kingston (NY) Daily Freeman newspaper in the 1930s. Murdock, a veteran marine engineer, wrote a regular column. Articles transcribed by HRMM volunteer Adam Kaplan. ​

The name “William G. Payne” used in conjunction with a Hudson river steamboat may not call to attention any particular steamboat, but the name “Highlander” or “Bear Mountain” will designate this particular vessel to followers of the Hudson river craft.
           
The steel hull of the vessel which originally bore the name of “William G. Payne” was built by Harlan and Hollingsworth Company at Wilmington, Delaware in 1902. This hull was 243 feet three inches, breadth of beam 36 feet nine inches, depth of hold 14 feet six inches. Her gross tonnage was listed at 1,310, with net tonnage of 854, and she was powered with an incline-compound type engine, build by Harlan and Hollingsworth, with a high pressure cylinder diameter of 72 inches, with a six foot stroke.
           
The “William G.Payne” was built for the Bridgeport Steamboat Company for service as a dayboat between Bridgeport and New York city. The appearance of the new vessel on the Sound created quite a stir because of her ability to make fast time, and it was claimed that her 19 miles per hour was the fastest time that any vessel operating on the same route could do.
           
In February, 1903, the New York, New Haven & Hartford Railroad purchased the Bridgeport Steamboat Company, and the “William G. Payne” was renamed the “Bridgeport” and continued in service on her original route for several years.
           
After being laid up for a short time, the Bridgeport was purchased, (in 1913), by the McAllister Steamboat Company of New York, and was then placed in the excursion business on the Hudson river from New York to Bear Mountain.
           
During the summer of 1914 the name “Highlander” replaced “Bridgeport” on the vessel’s hull, and as the Highlander she piled the Bear Mountain route until the fall of 1923, when she was laid up for the winter with the rest of the McAllister fleet at the pier at West 156th street, North river.
           
The following spring work was begun on the renovation and repainting of the excursion fleet. On Saturday morning, August 26, 1924, it was discovered that the steamboat “Nassau” was ablaze. The fire spread to the “Highlander,” “Grand Republic” and several smaller vessels. The “Nassau” and “Grand Republic” were totally destroyed and sank, while the “Highlander” was completely burned with the exception of her steel hull. She was rebuilt at Kearny, New Jersey, in 1925, and when the vessel again appeared in service on the Bear Mountain route, she carried the name “Bear Mountain.”
           
​The fall of 1938 marked the end of service for the “Bear Mountain” on the excursion route between New York and Bear Mountain, and in the spring of 1939 she was sold to the concern which operated the excursion steamboat “Mandalay” which had been rammed and sunk in the Lower Bay just outside the Narrows on May 29, 1938. The “Bear Mountain” was purchased with the intentions of placing her in service on the route of the “Mandalay” between New York and Atlantic Highlands, New Jersey; but she actually appeared in service on the Coney Island route where she was running in 1940.

Editor’s Note: The following text is a verbatim transcription of an article featuring stories by Captain William O. Benson (1911-1986). Beginning in 1971, Benson, a retired tugboat captain, reminisced about his 40 years on the Hudson River in a regular column for the Kingston (NY) Freeman’s Sunday Tempo magazine. Captain Benson's articles were compiled and transcribed by HRMM Contributing Scholar Carl Mayer. This article was originally published on ​July 8, 1983 in the Ulster County Gazette.

By WILLIAM O. BENSON as told to Ann Marrott
The Cornell Steamboat Company was quite an operation in its day.  At its height, about 1930, I would say Cornell was the largest tugboat company in the world.  With the railroad, ferry and tugboat operations, it employed between 800 and 900 people. 

I worked on the Cornell boats from 1930 to 1946 and was fond of some of her tugs like “Jumbo” and “Hercules” and the “Perseverance.”

One story about the “Jumbo” comes to mind.  On a June night in 1929, the “Jumbo” was going up under the Poughkeepsie bridge with a large heavy tow at about 2 in the morning.  It was very foggy and the tide was low.  They ran aground at Crum Elbow. 

Mel, one of the pilots, saw a man walking along the railroad tracks swinging a lantern.  He yelled over, “Hey.  Call our Kingston Office and tell ‘em we've run aground here and to send some boats to pull us off.” The man agreed. 

But the tide started to raise about four or five in the morning and they were able to back off themselves and started up the river.  Mel said to the pilot, if any of the tugs come down the river, don’t say anything about us running aground. 

Sure enough, when they got around Esopus Island, there were four or five tugs all coming down to pull the “Jumbo” out.  The superintendent out of the New York office was on the first tug and said, “Hey, we got a call that you fellows had run aground at Crum Elbow and we’ve come to pull you off. 

“No, we weren’t run aground, were we, Will?”

“No.  We’ve been coming all night.  Gee, that’s funny.  Who would call you up and tell you a think like that?” the other one asked. 

Then they all turned around and went back into the creek and no one knew the difference. 

The next was told to me by an older man about 1910.  Cornell owned a boat called the “Terror.” In making up a tow to Rockland Lake, a deckhand got his leg caught in a howser and he was thrown overboard and drowned.  Well, the family was going to sue Cornell for his death. 

So one day this friend of mine went to dock the boat in New York when he was told to take the “Terror” back to Rondout and not to stop for anything, no matter what.  They wouldn’t tell him why. 

When he got to Rondout about three that morning, there were seven or eight men waiting for him.  They immediately stripped her of her pumps and anything else valuable.  The next morning they hauled her over to the dock where the people were ready to claim her, but by that time the boat was worth only $100. 

Cornell had its wrecks, too.  The little tug “Cornell” was going down the river Nov. 4, 1955 helping the “Mary Cornell” with a big tow off of Tarrytown.  There was a south wind and ebb tide running.  It was very choppy and the “Cornell” was a boat that was low in the water.  Before she could get away from the tow, and the swells that were breaking between her and the scows, she started to sink and went right down.  She was the first diesel Cornell ever had. 

Another wreck occurred in 1919 when the Cornell tug “Hercules” was expressing a coal boat to Cornwall, when off Jones Point the pilot said to the deckhand, steer her for awhile.  I’m going down to the galley and knit my fishnets. 

The deckie dozed off near Fort Montgomery and the boat hit the shore, putting a hole in the bow.  The “Hercules” sank in 45 feet of water.  The only way the wrecking crew could locate her was by the howser she had had on the coal boat.  After they raised her, the “Hercules” ran for about 12 years. 

When Fred Coykendall asked the pilot how it happened, the pilot told him what he had been doing.  Coykendall said to the pilot, “well, now you can go home and knit your nets to your heart’s desire for the rest of your life.” And the pilot never came back on the boats again. 

I remember the last time I saw the “Lion,” one of Cornell’s tugs.  It was March, 1956.  The “Lion” left the Rondout Creek, her home port, forever.  She was towed away to Staten Island.  She had been tied up in the Cornell shops since the previous December, where they stripped her of everything they could use on other tugs, especially parts of her engine. 

She didn’t owe the Cornell Steamboat Company anything.  She had dragged heavy tows up and down the river, sometimes as large as 45 loaded scows.  I felt sad seeing her towed away, being that I worked on her on and off for many, many years. 
​
It also brought back some of the memories of the men that I had worked with, but who are long departed from the Hudson now.  But it was the old “Lion’s” time to step down for something new and younger.  Well knowing that, I will follow that trail, also.

​July 31,  Evening Post (NY)
STEAM BOATS. City of New-York, ss.
John T. Haviland and David Morris being sworn, severally, depose that they were pilots on board the Steam Boat Hope, on her passage from Albany to New-York last Saturday—that the said boat set out from Albany at 9 o'clock A. M. in company with the North River Steam Boat—that the Hope led the North River about two hundred yards when both boats were fairly underway, and continued to lead about that distance until she arrived at Paddock’s Point, or thereabout, when the steam of the Hope being considerably exhausted, the North River gained upon her, but did not approach within fifty yards of her, until the North River ran foul of the Hope, as hereinafter mentioned—that the North River came up and struck the Hope on her larboard quarter, a little below Paddock’s Point, on the east side of Hudson River, when the Hope was laying her course direct down the River—that when the North River struck the Hope, as aforesaid, there was room for four or five Steam Boats to pass between the Hope and the edge of the channel——That after the North River Steam Boat had struck the Hope, she kept her engine a-going until the Hope grounded, when the engine of the North River was stopped. That the pilot of the North, River Boat immediately called out to set the engine in motion, and that he would pay the damage. That the Hope draws more water than the North River, and therefore these deponents deemed it expedient to follow the channel from Albany to the place where the Hope was ran ashore by the North River. That these deponents did not intentionally run the Hope in the way of the North River to prevent her passing the Hope at any time during the passage from Albany to the place where the Hope grounded as aforesaid, and further these deponents say not.
            JOHN T. HAVILAND.  DAVID MORRIS.
Sworn before me this 30th day of July 1811. GARRIT GILBERT, Special Justice.

​September 17, 1811 Evening Post (NY) THE NEW ALBANY STEAM BOATS, HOPE AND PERSEVERANCE.
The Hope, Capt. Bunker, will leave New-York every Wednesday morning at 9 o’clock, and Albany every Saturday morning at the same hour.
The Perseverance, Capt. Sherman, will leave N. York every Saturday afternoon at half past 5 o'clock, and Albany every Wednesday morning at 9 o'clock, throughout the season.
Said boats will lay at the foot of Liberty-street, New-York, and in front of the Eagle Tavern, Albany.

December 3, ​1812 Alexandria Gazette (VA) STEAM BOATS FOR SALE.
THE ALBANY STEAM BOATS, Hope aud Perseverence [sic],
With their Machinery, Tackle and Apparel. These boats having run only one season are in the best order and repair. For terms apply to the Printers, or to H. Bleecker, Capitol Hill, Washington.

January 17, ​1824 Alexandria Gazette (Washington, DC)
THE HOPE LOST.
Baton Rouge, Dec. 13, [1823]—We learn from persons who have arrived here from Natchez, that the steam boat Hope, which left New Orleans some time since, struck a snag in the Mississippi river [on Dec. 7, 1823], about 20 miles above this place, and immediately went to the bottom. The passengers and crew with difficulty escaped.     Gaz.

January 23, ​1824-01-23 Philadelphia Inquirer
The St. Francisville paper informs us that on the evening of the 7th of December [1823], the steam boat Hope, on her passage from New Orleans to Alexandria, struck on a snag about nine miles below that place, directly opposite the mouth of Sandy Creek, and sunk. She went down in about a minute and a half after striking. Fortunately, no lives were lost.

Editor's note: The following text is from "The First Steamboat Race" by Jerry Canavit https://steamboats.com/jpgs/firststeamboatrace-canavit.pdf. Thank you to Contributing Scholar Carl Mayer for finding, cataloging and transcribing this article. The language, spelling and grammar of the article reflects the time period when it was written.

The First Steamboat Race. Jerry Canavit, ASN
With the success of Robert Fulton’s steamboats NORTH RIVER and CAR OF NEPTUNE, Captain Elihu S. Bunker decided he would run an opposition service line on the Hudson River from Albany to New York City. He planned to do this despite the exclusive monopoly held by Messrs. Fulton and Livingston that had been granted by the State of New York.

A group of businessmen from Albany, headed by James Van Ingen, contracted to have two vessels constructed for Capt. Bunker, similar in size and accommodation to Fulton’s NORTH RIVER steamboat to compete for a share of this lucrative business. The boats were named HOPE and PERSEVERANCE.

The steamboat HOPE was launched on March 9, 1811 — the PERSEVERENCE [sic] followed a few months later. The HOPE made her maiden voyage out of New York City on June 22, 1811 under the command of Capt. Bunker. Nearly 50 passengers were on board for this initial trip as thousands of spectators were present as the HOPE left for Albany. The large crowd was present not only to show their support for the new boat’s challenge to the “Old Line” in defiance of the present navigation monopoly, but to also witness the very popular Pandean Band, who after the vessel’s departure, began playing very popular patriotic music of the day.

Despite a strong headwind, the HOPE arrived at Albany in 38 hours and great satisfaction was expressed by all of the passengers.

The NORTH RIVER steamboat (often mistakenly referred to as the Clermont) was under the command of Capt. Andrew Bartholomew and was built by shipbuilder Charles Browne of New York City for Fulton and Livingston. She was launched on May 17, 1807 and was the first commercially successful steamboat to operate on the Hudson River (or any other river, for that matter). She measured 133’ x 13’ x 7,’ admeasured 182 tons, had a copper boiler, a Watt steam engine (generating 20 hp), and 3 cabins with 52 berths. She was enlarged in 1808 to measure 149' x 17'11" x 7'.

The HOPE was a slightly larger boat, running 280 tons and measuring 149’ x 20’ x 7’7.” She had a steam engine built by Robert McQueen and her accommodations were very similar to those of the NORTH RIVER.

The challenge of the new vessels would eventually have to be addressed in the courts, but before the legal problems could be worked out, the “monopoly” would issue a more immediate challenge to the new upstarts.

On July 27, 1811, the HOPE was challenged to a race by the owners of the steamboat NORTH RIVER.

The Race:
The race would be from Albany to New York. On July 27, the two boats lay side-by-side in their slips at Albany getting up steam in preparation for the contest. Whether the HOPE challenged the NORTH RIVER (James Flexner) or the NORTH RIVER challenged the HOPE (F. Van Loon Ryder) is unclear. The contest was to be settled on the river before it would be settled in the courts.

Both vessels left Albany at 9:00 AM. The HOPE got off to a better start, and kept the center of the narrow channel, blocking every attempt of the NORTH RIVER to pass. With stern and bow so close they seemed almost as one craft traveling together under a single cloud of smoke. The two steamboats pounded down the river at almost 5 miles-per-hour, while spectators crowded the banks to cheer the opponent of “the pernicious monopoly.” As they passed Norman’s Kill, Van Weis [sic] Point and Shodack Island, they maintained their positions — with the HOPE in the lead and the NORTH RIVER seemingly glued to her stern. As they passed Coxsackie and the Hudson River Islands they continued to run together as one. When about two miles above the town of Hudson and opposite Stockport Creek, the NORTH RIVER tried to make use of its lighter draught to pass the HOPE in shallow water. Gradually it pulled abreast of its rival — then there was a resounding crash. The vessels had collided. Although investigation revealed that neither was seriously damaged and no one was injured, the captains called off the race. The first steamboat race in history had ended without a winner.

Later, Capt. Bartholomew of the NORTH RIVER challenged Capt. Bunker to complete the race. The wager was $2,000 and the distance, any number of miles — at the discretion of Capt. Bunker. However, the race was never held. The HOPE (and sister ship PERSEVERENCE) continued to run throughout the 1811 season with passengers and freight between New York and Albany and enjoyed as much success as did the Fulton boats.

In 1812, the contest continued — this time in the courts. In the case Livingston vs. Van Ingen, a New York Chancery Court ruled against Fulton and Livingston. The decision was then appealed to the New York Court of Errors where it was overturned, giving Fulton and Livingston the sole right to “navigate the waters of New York State by boats propelled by fire or steam.”

The courts had decided that both the HOPE and PERSEVERENCE were operating illegally and ordered the steamboats to cease operating. It is not clear whether the vessels were disassembled by the owners to avoid confiscation, or if they were actually confiscated by Fulton and Livingston and broken up. Other accounts claim that the HOPE was sold to Robert Fulton and the PERSEVERANCE to Aaron Ogden, and the parts were then used in other vessels. Which version is correct is not known to this writer.

[Steamboats HOPE and PERSEVERANCE finished the 1811 season, but did not run in 1812. Starting on Nov. 18, 1812, a daily ad to sell the two boats appeared in the Alexandria Gazette (VA) for the next three months.

"On July 2, 1813, Steam Boat Hope left Albany for points south. She sank in the Mississippi on Dec. 7, 1823, after hitting a snag, going from New Orleans to Alexandria, about nine miles before her destination, opposite the mouth of Sandy Creek. Fortunately, no lives were lost." CM]

Although the NORTH RIVER steamboat did not actually win the first steamboat race in history, she did prevail in the courts. And, who knows, perhaps if the NORTH RIVER had been able to get around the HOPE, she might have won. But she didn’t. She won in the courts though, even if it was just a short-term victory — as the monopoly would later be broken by the courts in 1824 (Gibbons vs Ogden).

Other and more famous steamboat races would occur, but the contest on July 27, 1811 was the first — and started it all. The steamboat race would become part of Americana — as stories of the Diana and Baltic, Eclipse and A. L. Shotwell, and Robt. E. Lee and Natchez and others would live on for generations.

Mark Twain once commented “I think the most enjoyable of all races is a steamboat race. Two red-hot steamboats raging along, neck-and-neck, straining every nerve — every rivit [sic] in the boilers — quaking, shaking and groaning from stem to stern, sprouting white steam from the pipes, pouring black smoke from the chimneys, raining down sparks, parting the river into long breaks of hissing foam. This is a sport that makes a body’s very liver curl with enjoyment. A horse race is pretty tame in comparison.”

Hope and Perseverance would turn out to be not only the names of two important riverboats on the Hudson River, but would be the words that best describe the attitude and spirit of those who would eventually break the navigation monopoly of Fulton and Livingston and open up commerce to the waters and streams of the United States of America.

A Stranger, lately arrived here, who calls himself Dr. Anthony Yeldall, and sells Medicines from a Stage; who by his Harangues, the odd Tricks of his Merry-Andrew, and the surprising Feats of Activity of his little Boy, highly diverts the People, has for several Weeks past exhibited at Brucklyn, on Long-Island; to which Place, it is said, several thousand of People, mostly from this City, have flocked to see and hear him every Day of his Exhibition.

On Monday last a great Multitude, as usual, having attended him; on their Return to cross the Ferry, the Boats being insufficient to carry them all, were prodigiously crowded; every one got in as soon as he could, and when the Boat was full, they put off, without waiting for the Ferry-men.

One of the Boats thus put off about Sunset, having on board 110 Persons, Men, Women and Children. Before they could well fix themselves for rowing, the Rapidity of the Tide drove the Boat upon and over a Rock, by which the Rudder was beat off, and the Bottom shattered, through;which the Water rushed in Sluces [?]

Before they could think of any Measures for their Preservation, the Boat was driven upon and over another Rock, which increased the Leaks, together with the Confusion and Dismay of the People on board, where the Water rapidly increased every Moment.

The Tears and Cries of the Women and Children, the Looks of Astonishment and Terror of the whole Company, at the Prospect of immediate Death, from which no Means of Deliverance appeared, produced a Scene of Distress, that Words cannot describe. The Men were thrown into a Stupefaction, that hindered them from attempting any Thing for their Preservation; and their confused Noise and Gestures, were by the People on Shore supposed to be the Effects of Mirth and Jollity.

​At last some of the Boys on board began to lade out the Water with their Hats, which being observed by the People on shore, and in Boats at a Distance, convinced them that those distressed People were in Need of Assistance, which was given with all possible Expedition, by several Boats which arrived just in Time to save the People in the leaky Boat, which was upon the Point of sinking, the Water being above the Knees of the Men, and up to the Middle of some of the Children, and the Edge of the Boat not above a Hand's Breath above Water.

To such a Number of People in present Health and high Spirits, this striking Prospect of immediate Death, and providential Deliverance from it -- whereby many Families have been saved from Mourning, Lamentation and Woe, should not fail to making a strong and lasting Impression, and having a good Effect, not only upon the Persons who were the immediate Actors in the Scene, and their near Relatives, but upon all who were Witnesses of it.

​LETTER IX. PASSAGE UP THE RIVER HUDSON. -- ACCOUNT OF THE ACADEMY AT WEST POINT. -- PASS OF THE HIGHLANDS. -- ARNOLD'S TREACHERY. -- ALBANY AND ITS ENVIRONS.
Albany, July, 1819.
MY DEAR FRIEND: THE hasty letter I addressed to you from Connecticut, will have explained to you my unusual silence, and relieved you from any apprehension that it might be occasioned by a broken neck; but in truth you are rather unconscionable in epistolary demands. You had not manner of title to look for a letter by the Martha, and yet I thank you that you did look for it. It tells me that your thoughts are as often on this side the ocean as mine are on yours.

We have just made the passage up the magnificent Hudson (160 miles) from New-York to this city, which has indeed but one, though that no unimportant title to so grand a name, in being the capital of the state. It is probably, however, that the government will soon have to travel in search of the centre of the republic in like manner with that of Pennsylvania. Albany indeed seems to stand as in expectation of her falling honours, for though there are some well-finished streets and many commodious and elegant private dwellings, the general appearance of the town is old and shabby.

You will not care to trace with me the beautiful course of this river. The features of nature, so unspeakably (p.109) lovely to contemplate, are often tiresome in description. A few observations upon the military academy at West Point will perhaps interest you more than a sketch of the rocks and woody precipices upon which it stands.

This interesting academy, which flourishes under the eye of the Central Government, was established in 1802. Its first organization was devolved by Congress upon the late General Williams, whose talents and unremitting industry did honour to himself and to his country which employed them. The average number of youths educated at West Point varies from 230 to 250; 336 dollars are expended yearly upon each cadet, and the support of the establishment is rated by the government at the sum of 115,000 dollars per annum. The branches of education taught at the academy are similar to those taught at Woolwich and the Polytechnic school of Paris. About one thousand youths from all the sections of the Union have here received a liberal and scientific education.

A few of these now fill respectable posts in the corps of engineers, artillery, and other branches of the little army, amounting to a few thousands, which, scattered through this vast empire, are actively employed in the erection and conservation of forts, the protection of the Indian frontier, drawing of boundary lines, roads, & c. By far the greater number, however, retire from this little military fortress to the shade of private life, as peaceful cultivators of the soil, from whence some have been called by the voices of their fellow citizens to fill important civil offices; and all would be found ready, at the first
call of the Republic, to rush foremost for her defence.

In ascending the Hudson, we had no sooner passed the Highlands, than our eyes fell upon carpets of mossy verdure, and woods, whose foliage was fresh as if daily washed by showers. We could have imagined ourselves in a second spring, but for the tropical heat which followed us; and which was only broken two days since by the grandest and longest thunder-storm that I ever witnessed. The sun has not yet pierced the clouds; his doing so will be the signal for our departure. I have found this extreme heat much less oppressive than I could have believed possible; indeed, I will confess, under hazard of your thinking me fit to live with the giants under mount Aetna, that I have enjoyed it exceedingly. I find a purity and elasticity in the air that exhilarates my spirits, even while I am half melted by its fervour. ***

In this neighbourhood nature presents many beautiful and some grand features; chief among these, is the well-known cataract of the Mohawk; whose waters precipitate themselves over a fine wall of rock just before they unite with the Hudson.

Its height is stated variously; perhaps sixty feet is nearest the mark; its immense breadth is by some accounted a disadvantage; I imaging this to be the true source of its grandeur, particularly as there is nothing in the surrounding scenery to assist the effect.

For us, however, circumstances combined to throw charms around the spot, when beneath an Italian sky, and on a carpet of verdure which fairy feet might have sought to print their magic rings, we stretched ourselves with * * * * under the shade of a spreading tree, and cast our eyes upon the foaming Cohoez, whose dash and roar seemed to cool the fervid air. A group of smiling handmaids meantime spread a repast which an epicure might have envied. The scene, the air, the laughing heavens, and the cheerful companions, have graven the place on my memory as one of those "sunny spots"; which chequer with gold the shadowy path of human life.

There are several very pleasing falls of water to be found in the hills of the surrounding country, and though in grandeur that of the Mohawk stands pre-eminent, in beauty some may more than rival it. I have frequently been surprised, in the small section of this vast country that I have visited, to find, upon a more close examination, wild and romantic features in a landscape whose outline wore a character of mild beauty or dull uniformity; rocky glens, clothed with shaggy wood, and traversed by brawling streams, broken into cascades, are not unfrequently found in hills, rising gently out of vast and swampy plains, or skirting valleys, watered by placid rivers, whose banks of alluvial soil are rich with golden harvests.

During the era of steamboating on the Hudson River, incidents involving steamers running aground were rather rare and infrequent occurrences.  When one considers the large number of steamboats that once plied the waters of the Hudson, the absence at that time of today’s electronic devices such as radar and depth recorders, and the narrowness and shallowness of the upper river, the fact that groundings seldom did occur was a real tribute to the skill of the pilots.

I always have had a certain admiration for the skill of the pilots of the big steamers of the old Hudson River Night Line — the steamboats that served Albany and Troy.  The Albany steamers in particular, the “Berkshire” and the “C. W. Morse” later named the “Fort Orange," were the two largest steamboats ever built for service on the Hudson.  Unlike the Day Liners which operated only during daylight during the best months of the year, the Night Liners in their heyday obviously operated at night and from early spring until late fall when the thick fogs of the changing seasons were at their worst. 

The Albany night boats also until the very end of their careers never had the advantage of the deep channel that permitted ocean going vessels to reach Albany, for the so called deeper Hudson project wasn’t completed until 1930.  As a matter of fact, prior to that there was a big sand bar a few miles below Albany that combined with the "Fulton's" suction, caused the “Berkshire” to be stopped right dead in her tracks, aground on the bottom of the channel!  This grounding, of course, was momentary and since the bottom was sandy, it did no damage. 

Captain Edmund Wilson of the “Berkshire," however, had a few choice words not usually found in a dictionary directed at the captain and pilots of the “Robert Fulton."

This incident was related to me years later by Francis “Dick” Chapman who was pilot on the “Berkshire” at the time and later was pilot with me on the tugboat “Lion” of the Cornell Steamboat Company. 

The other incident took place nearly twenty years later in August 1935.  At that time, the Night Line had fallen on hard times and, in order to obtain revenues wherever they could, on weekends would run a series of moonlight sails out of Albany.  The steamer "Berkshire" would usually have the trip.  She would leave Albany and sail down river as far as Coxsackie or Stuyvesant where she would turn around and go back to Albany. 

On this particular night, the Cornell tugboat ‘‘Pocahontas’’ was going down river with the down tow with the tug "Wilson P. Foss’’ as her helper.  The “Berkshire” passed the tow off New Baltimore.  As the ‘‘Berker” was turning around at Lower Bronck’s Island, her bow got in the mud on the west bank of the narrow channel.  Try as she would, she couldn’t back off.  Finally, she blew five whistles for the “Foss” to come to her assistance. 

Captain Larry Gibbons of the "Foss" went down and put a line on her stern and pulled her off.  Since she was crossways in the river with a south wind and an ebb tide, the "Berkshire" couldn’t turn until the ‘‘Foss’’ shoved on her bow and got her headed upstream.  Maybe if fortunately there hadn't been a tug around to pull on her, it might have caused serious trouble to the "Berkshire, ” she being such a large steamboat. 

Actually, because of the difficult economic times, the “Berkshire" was being forced to make a turn around in a part of the river that was really too narrow for so large a steamer, something that was never envisioned she would be required to do in the service for which she was originally designed. 
​
The Great Depression of the 1930's continued its unrelenting predatory toll of steamboat services and in 1936 the "Berkshire" didn’t run at all.  She ran again in 1937, but this was to be her last year in service on the Hudson.  After Labor Day 1937, she was layed up for good and in 1941 was acquired by the Federal government.  That summer, the “Berkshire” was towed to Bermuda to house construction workers building the bases there acquired in the Roosevelt-Churchill bases for destroyers agreement of 1940.  After World War II, she was towed back to Philadelphia and broken up

Editor's Note: Article text is from a former museum exhibit at Hudson River Maritime Museum.

The Launching of Hendrick Hudson March 31, 1906 was a festive day in Newburgh. That morning, that shipbuilding city would witness the launching of the magnificent steamer Hendrick Hudson for the Hudson River Day Line. At the T.S. Marvel Shipbuilding Company's yard, the new flagship of the Day Line would make her initial plunge into the waters of the Hudson at eleven o'clock.

She was the line's flagship for only seven years, relinquishing it in 1913 to the slightly larger Washington Irving, but she regained her title and her former position of eminence in 1926 after the unfortunate sinking of Washington Irving in New York harbor.

Little Katharine Olcott, the daughter of the line's owner, performed the duties of the sponsor admirably when she smashed a bottle of Catskill Mountain water on the stem as she said, "I christen thee Hendrick Hudson."

White carrier pigeons were released from the vessel's deck as she moved down the ways. At that moment, the sun broke through the cloudy skies, the whistles of the vessels assembled at Newburgh that day were blown in a cacophonous chorus, and a cannon on the deck of the Day Liner New York was fired in salute.

A few moments later, the massive hull was afloat and in the charge of Cornell's  tug Hercules. It was indeed a day that Newburgh would long remember.

T. S. Marvel said, "I always use champagne…"

When Hendrick Hudson was built, the Hudson River Day Line did not serve alcohol aboard the vessels. The family of Eben E. Olcott, the line's owner, was strictly teetotal – particularly Mrs. Olcott. He proposed to christen his new steamer with water from the Catskill Mountains, and a bottle of this clear, shimmering liquid, gaily decorated with ribbons in the usual style, was handed to the sponsor, little Katherine Olcott, with her father looking on admiringly.

Thomas S. Marvel, the builder, absolutely refused to launch a vessel without the traditional champagne christening. He complied with Olcott's wishes – or so it seemed from the launching platform – but sent one of the shipyard men up to a saloon on South Water Street for a bottle of bubbly. The man soon returned from his mission.

With bottle in hand and well out of sight of Olcott, Thomas Marvel stationed himself near the aft end of the vessel, and when she began to move (and Katherine had christened her with the Catskill water), he smashed the bottle of champagne on her hull plates and quickly moved to safer ground.

​Hendrick Hudson was well and truly christened. The Olcotts never knew.

Editor's Note: The following text is a verbatim transcription of an article written by George W. Murdock, for the Kingston (NY) Daily Freeman newspaper in the 1930s. Murdock, a veteran marine engineer, wrote a regular column. Articles transcribed by HRMM volunteer Adam Kaplan. ​

“Here is a home-boat that more of the local residents will remember, and I think that she was one of the finest boats ever to appear on the Hudson river,” said Mr. Murdock, commenting on the “Thomas Cornell,” which sailed regularly out of the Rondout creek.
           
The “Thomas Cornell” was a wooden hull steamboat built in 1863 by E.S. Whitlock at Brooklyn. Her engine was constructed by the Morgan Iron Works at New York in 1852 and came from the lake steamboat “Southern Michigan.” She was 310 feet long, breadth of beam 34 feet, depth of hold 10 feet, gross tonnage 1,256, and powered with a vertical beam engine with a cylinder diameter of 72 inches and a 12 foot stroke.
           
She was built for Thomas Cornell of Rondout to take the place of the steamboat “Manhattan,” and as a companion vessel for the “James W. Baldwin,” running on the Rondout-New York night line. The “Thomas Cornell” was a steamboat of superior construction and was a fitting monument to the man whose name she bore. In addition to being strengthened by heavy hog-frames, the “Thomas Cornell” was a model of real beauty, complete in all of her fittings, luxurious in her passenger accommodations, plenty of room for carrying large freight cargoes, and possessing great speed. Her fastest trip was made in the summer of 1870, when she left New York at 4 o’clock in the afternoon, made her regular landings, and arrived at her berth in the Rondout creek at 8:50 p.m.
           
The “Thomas Cornell” went into service in the summer of 1863 and continued on the Rondout-New York route until 1882, when she was wrecked.
           
On March 27, 1882, she left Rondout on her regular schedule to New York, pulling away from the dock at 6 o’clock heavily loaded with freight and passengers. The weather was hazy and a drizzling rain was falling. At 8 o’clock when the “Thomas Cornell” was 10 miles below Poughkeepsie, a heavy fog settled over the river. Pilot Henry Briggs was at the wheel when suddenly, while proceeding at half speed, the great hull of the magnificent vessel crashed upon the rocks at Danskammer Point, about opposite New Hamburgh, where there was 30 to 40 feet of water at the stern. She immediately sank at the stern with her bow lodged high and dry on the rocks. The passengers climbed over the bow of the boat to the shore, where in the midst of a swamp, they built fires and huddled about them until the Poughkeepsie steamer “John L. Hasbrouck” came to their relief and took them off. No lives were lost, but the “Thomas Cornell’s” hog-frame was broken and she was so badly strained that she was abandoned.
           
​The wrecked hull was finally released and taken to Rondout, where her boilers and engine were removed. The hull was then sold, cut in two parts, and converted into two coal barges for Long Island Sound traffic. The engine was transported to Port Ewen, where a shanty was built over it, but it was never used and was finally scrapped.

THE VAMOOSE DISABLED. Her intermediate Valve Post Bridges Broken in Six Pieces.
The Vamoose left her pier in New London at 11:15 o'clock yesterday morning and backed slowly out into the stream. As she turned and began to get under way, she was saluted by all of the steam and sailing craft in the harbor. The new Gardiner schooner Alcæa which arrived in the harbor on Sunday saluted with her cannon and the boys on the school ship Constellation cheered her as she passed by. In a few moments she passed the New London light and started down the Sound at a sixteen-mile an hour gait under 125 pounds of steam.

Papers were thrown on the Bartlett Reef lightship from the Vamoose as she passed, and then every one settled down expecting to reach New York at 5 o'clock. In this they were disappointed, for about 4 o'clock, when off Eaton's Neck light, on the Long Island shore, there was a heavy jar, and the engines suddenly stopped. At first it was thought her propeller had struck a sunken log, but it was soon apparent that the trouble was in the engine room.

Investigation showed that the bridges of her intermediate valve post were broken in six pieces and that it would take nearly three hours to disconnect it from the other cylinders. Several sharp blasts were sounded on the whistle for assistance, and soon the steam oyster boat I. M. Mersereau of New York came alongside and offered to tow her in to Wilson's Point, near the Norwalk Islands.

The towing process proved very slow work, and it was nearly 6:30 o'clock when the Vamoose was finally brought up alongside of the Long Island and Housatonic Railroad Companies' dock at Wilson Point. The Captain of the Mersereau declined to take pay for his services, and said that he might be in trouble some time himself.

The accident to the Vamoose may necessitate a new cylinder, if so, it will be a long and expensive job, at any rate it is certain that she will do no racing for some time to come.

MR. MUNRO INDIGNANT AND THE VAMOOSE PEOPLE DISGUSTED.
Norman L. Munro, owner of the steam yacht Norwood, was a very much disgusted man yesterday. He was also considerably incensed and indignant. The cause of his irritation was threefold. He was surprised and displeased at the action of Capt. Hall, Secretary of the American Yacht Club, in declaring the race between the Norwood and the Vamoose off; he was disgusted at what he considers the determination of the Vamoose people to stand him off or shake him off and avoid a race with the Norwood, and he was indignant at the treatment the Norwood has received throughout the whole business of trying to got a tilt with the Vamoose.

He declared early yesterday morning that the Norwood would start at noon and go over the course alone if the Vamoose was not on hand to make a race. The agreement being to have the race the next day if the first attempt failed. But he was informed that the water was too rough even for the Vamoose to venture out, and so he was compelled to abandon this intention. What made him particularly indignant was that Capt. Hall should declare the race between the rivals off without giving any reason for so doing, because Mr. Munro believed there was very excellent reason, and that was that the Vamoose was not in condition to race and was on her way yesterday afternoon for New York for repairs.

On Sunday morning Mr. Munro received the following letter from his representative on the Norwood, which he thinks throws a great deal of much needed light on the matter:

NEW LONDON, Saturday, June 18, 1892. Mr. N. L. Munro,
Dear Sir: The Vamoose met with two accidents Friday evening. See clippings from Saturday's New London Telegraph.

They now have two pieces of timber about four feet long. 3 by 6, one piece on each side of the guard or gunnel at the bow of the boat, secured on with a clamp that lays over the deck, and another fastened halfway down from there to the water line.

Her stern was completely spit down to the water line after she struck the Stonington dock.
People here look on it with suspicion, and say as much as if it was intentionally done. It certainly looks strange that they should run into both docks. Yours truly, GEO. JOHNSTON.

The two accidents to the Vamoose mentioned the letter are told in detail as follows: It was on her return from a trip in the Sound on Friday afternoon that the accidents occurred. In an endeavor to lay up at the new railroad wharf, the Vamoose went head on against one of the spiles and split the spile clear to the water as cleanly as if done with a wedge. The stern of the Vamoose was seemingly uninjured by the collision, and she backed into the river and was headed for the Stonington wharf.

In endeavoring to make that wharf, there was another miscalculation, and her nose was run clean into the wharf with such force as to tear the screws out and break the iron head-piece that held the flagstaff, and split her stern down to the water line in two places. It was said by onlookers that the people aboard the Vamoose took the matter very coolly, just as though such collisions were an ordinary occurrence.

“This accident to the Vamoose," said Mr. Munro, “apparently explains the reason for the telegram of Capt. Hall declaring the Norwood-Vamoose race off. The accident seems to have been overlooked."

Mr. Munro intimated that he would have been surprised if the Vamoose had been able to race Saturday after the damage she received, and, being in the patched condition described by his agent, Mr. Johnston. She was able to get outside, but it would have been a remarkable thing if she could have made racing speed after she got there. But it was altogether too rough for the Norwood, an open launch, to go outside, and one of the stipulations of the race was that it was to be in fair weather and smooth water. 

“It is strange,” continued Mr. Munro, “that Capt. Hall should declare the race off without giving any reason for doing so. Such action I think very unsportsmanlike. There has been trouble before about cups offered by the American Yacht Club. There was trouble about the cup offered by the club for a race between the Atlanta and the Stiletto, and also about the race between Jay Gould’s launch, the Surprise, and my launch, the Henrietta."

“The Norwood is the fastest boat in the world, and is ready to prove it at any time under proper conditions. We will race the Vamoose at any place where we can get smooth water. Why couldn't they change the course at New London, as was suggested, to points that would ensure smooth water? A course could be laid out at New London where we could get smooth water five days out of seven, but at Race Rock it would be hard to find water one day in seven in which the open launch Norwood could live. We want to race the Vamoose, but it would seem that the Vamoose is very anxious not to race us. The Norwood will race any steamboat in America, of any kind or description, from one mile to eighty knots [sic], through smooth water. We will race for five cents or $20,000, and if the Norwood is beaten, the victors are welcome to take her. I don't think the Norwood is getting a square deal, and I want to say that when she does, she can beat anything afloat.”

The Norwood will give an exhibition of what she can do on a spurt on the day of the Yale-Harvard race. She is also going to beat the record of the Spanish torpedo boat, the Arrow, which now holds the record of having made the fastest time of anything afloat.

“If this is an attempt to shake me off and avoid a trial with the Norwood, and that is the way it looks to me, it will be a failure.” concluded Mr. Munro.

To say that the Vamoose people are angry and indignant would be putting it mildly, as a more disgusted lot of men could not have been found in New London when they received Mr. Hall's very brief telegram announcing that the race was off for the present. Engineer Heilbrun, who has charge of the yacht in Mr. Hearst's absence, said:

"We were ready and willing to race. I supposed that the race was to take place on the next clear day, or when we could get smooth water. Instead of that, the only representative of the American Yacht Club at New London left on the 1 o'clock train, when, if he had waited, he could have started the boats at 2 o'clock when there was smooth water. Or else he could have telegraphed the American Yacht Club and have asked authority to alter the course to this side of Race Rock, where the water was smooth. Mr. Munro's representative said that he was willing to have the course altered, and so was I, though it conceded an advantage to the Norwood. I did this so as to get a race at all hazards, and have it over, as I was sick and tired of waiting. I received no word from the American Yacht Club until 8:30 P. M. on Sunday evening, or over thirty hours after Mr. Wilkie left. I telegraphed to Mr. Hearst's representative in New York and he said, ‘Go Home' and for home I've started. In conclusion, there is one thing I would like to say, and that is that the public know that the Vamoose has been on hand every time, and it is not her fault that there was no race."
​
Capt. George W. Hall, Chairman of the Regatta Committee of the American Yacht Club, said it was proposed to have the race decided on July 2. The tide that day would be favorable to the yachts and help them on their journey. It would not do, he said, to race against a head tide, and the chances of having smooth water in July would be very good. Then the start will be made west of Race Rock, instead of four miles east of the rock. This will make the course about seventy-five miles instead of eighty, but the yachts will start in smooth water.