Editor's Note: These articles are from 1801 and 1824. 

 November 16, 1801 -  Daily Advertiser (New York, New York),
 On Saturday night last, about 11 o'clock, Mr. Robert Richardson, a gentleman we understand from New Ark [sic], was leaning over the railing of the Battery, and fell into the North River.  About two hours after, he was taken up off the White-hall dock by the people on board the sloop Mink from Albany -- who accidentally heard his cries, and who preserved him, when exhausted and powerless, he was beginning to sink amidst the pitiless waves.

 June 4, 1824 -  Spectator (New York, New York)
                                             WONDERFUL PRESERVATION.
On Friday last, a lad, son of Mr. Frederick Hazen, of West Springfield, Mass. while on a passage from New-York to Albany, was accidentally knocked overboard by the jib while beating.  The wind blowing heavy and the waves running high, it was thought by all on board that all attempts to save him would be fruitless, as well as extremely hazardous.  The small boat being at the time hoisted under the stern of the sloop, a young man by the name of Richard Schuyler, son of Capt. Samuel Schuyler, of the sloop, sprang into the boat at the risk of his life, was lowered down, and alone and single handed, gallantly dashed through the waves, and to the astonishment of the amazed spectators rescued the lad from a watery tomb, just as he was about sinking to rise no more.  Such an act as this reflects the highest honor on the noble minded young man who periled his own life to save that of a fellow being, and a stranger.

Editor's Note: These articles are from 1749 to 1817. ​See more Sunday News here.

August 14, 1749 -  New York Evening Post
New York. Last Tuesday evening a young man of about 19 years of age, apprentice to a baker in this city, went to bed in an upper room, being intoxicated, got up in the night, opened a door which was in the second story and fell down into a gang-way, where he lay till four o’clock in the morning, at which time the people of the house arose to work, and finding him there, took him up; but he died a few minuets after.

Last week, one Mr. Knox, Master of a small sloop send up the North-River, and coming near the Highlands, two men came on board him in a canoe and asked Mr. Knox for a dram, which he readily gave them; and after taking a turn or two upon deck, each of them drew forth a postol, which they had conceal’d, and coming up to Mr. Knox demanded his money, he told them that he had none, whereupon they forc’d him down into the fore-castle, one of them went into the cabbin, broke open his chest but finding no money took a bottle of rum and so went off leaving Mr. Knox barr’d down in the fore-castle, where he remained till his Negro, whom they had confin’d upon deck, released him.
 
We also hear that a sloop belonging to Capt. Bayard, was robb’d at or near the same place of nine pound in money which was all they had on board.
 
We hear that a person was lately robbed on the road near Whippany, of about twenty sillings, by two fellows who search’d the linings of his cloaths, hat and even shoes to see if he had none conceal’d.

August 22, 1797 Albany Centinel
 On Tuesday night last, about 12 o'clock, was detected at Corporation dock a
gang of villains, belonging to the sloop Fanny, of Crow harbour, last from
Albany, in the very act of stealing from the brig Farmer, Captain Whittemore,
four boxes of Sugar, together with a boat belonging to the said brig.  There was
found on board the sloop in the morning a quantity of hats, &c. stolen from Mr.
Mayell on the night of the fourteenth instant; a quantity of cordage stolen
about three weeks since from Mr. Elderkin's store, and a number of books and
papers which by their contents belong to Mr. Foote of Newburgh.  Four of
the above gang are now in custody, one of whom has been only two days out of
goal, after confinement of six months.  The captain, Alpheus Vincent, alias
Wilson, is not yet taken. [Vincent is safely lodged in jail in Albany.]

October 1, 1817 - National Advocate (New York, New York)
NOTICE. -- The sloop YOUNG FOX, belonging to the subscriber, was taken in a clandestine manner by persons unknown, from Delafield's wharf Whitehall, on the night of the 21st instant.  Said sloop was burthen 73 tons, yellow sides, no figure head, &c.  Whoever will return said sloop, or give information so that she can be recovered, shall be suitably rewarded, on application to GEO. COGGESHALL, at Irving, Smith & Holly's, 133 Pearl-st.

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Belledoni’s Latest Fad. New York Girls Now Make Trips In Canoes and Become Heroines.
Special Correspondence of The Post.
New York, June 3. – The canoe threatens to become femininely  fashionable. A woman and a canoe – the two ought to go well together, for ever since there were women and canoes they have both had the reputation of being cranky.

“The fact of the matter is, the canoe has been slandered,” said a belle, in talking about canoing for women, “until it has got the reputation of being unsafe. That is what makes it popular among the more dashing of our girls.” She and her brother have made the trip up the Hudson to Albany and back, camping out on the way, and otherwise taking advantage of all the opportunities for roughing it.

“What did you wear? And what did you do with your clothes?” I asked. “You surely didn’t take  Sunday bonnet along.”

“I wore a blue flannel dress made all in one piece, with a blouse waist, no drapery, the skirt reaching to the tops of a pair of extra high boots. It weighed a pound and a half. I wore a sailor hat and carried a light jacket, to be ready for changes of weather. Our canoe is rather small to be used as a tandem – it measures fourteen feet by thirty inches – so that one could not have taken much luggage if we had wished. All that we carried weighed only about thirty pounds, and of this our photographic materials, plates, camera, etc., weighed between fifteen and twenty pounds.”

“What did you do at night, sleep on the ground and cover with your canoe, or go to a hotel?”

“We started with the intention of camping out every night, but camping places between here and Albany are not numerous and we sometimes had to stop at a hotel. But we did camp out about two-thirds of the time. We carried a small tent – made of sheeting, so that it would be of less weight than one of canvas – a blanket apiece and a rubber blanket to spread on the ground. We had a tin pail apiece, and a tin cup, tin plate and a knife each, and a few other primitive and strictly necessary articles. Then we carried a few canned meats, but not much in that line, as we expected to be able to buy most of what we would want at our camping places. In that we were sometimes badly disappointed. One evening we camped near Esopus, tired and hungry after paddling all day, and walked over the hill to the country store to find something to eat. But all that was to be had was a loaf of baker’s bread and a bundle of wilted beets. On another occasion all that we could get was some bread and milk and green plums. But usually we fared reasonably well. Then the numerous ice houses along the Hudson and the ice barges constantly going up and down made it easy to keep a tin pail full of ice chips, which seemed quite a luxury.”

“You did not feel afraid tossing about in all that wind and water in such a tiny shell of a boat?”

“Not in the least. I knew the canoe, and I felt just as safe there as I would on dry land. If the persons in a canoe know how to handle it and are reasonably prudent in their actions there is absolutely no danger. If they only sit still in the bottom of the boat they can’t overturn it if they try. One day we went aboard a brick barge, and the astonishment the men who ran the big, clumsy thing showed over our tiny craft was quite amusing. They considered us miracles, of course, because we were willing to go on the water in such a cockle shell and were absolutely sure that we would be upset in less than half an hour. And as for me, they could hardly believe the evidence of their eyes that I had been aboard the canoe, and nothing could have convinced them that there was another woman on the face of the earth who would dare venture in on the water.”
​
So the belle in a canoe is something of a proud heroine. – Clara Belle

​The hamlet of New Baltimore is an unincorporated community of less than 200 homes situated on the west bank of the Hudson River approximately 15 miles south of Albany. From the river, New Baltimore is identified by several early nineteenth century houses with verandahs, the steeple of the Dutch Reformed Church and the squared bell tower of a former Methodist church. Driving through the hamlet, one might notice the well-preserved nineteenth century houses, carriage barns and church buildings, as well as the lawns and mature trees which contribute to its attractiveness. The core of the hamlet was entered on the National Register of Historic Places in 1996. Appearances, however, can be deceiving. At its height of its prosperity and physical development, New Baltimore was a substantial community with hotels, stores, hundreds of houses, docks and industries. Of the latter, shipbuilding and ice harvesting were dominant. Today’s New Baltimore reflects little of the urban density and industrial character typical of much of its waterfront during the nineteenth and early twentieth centuries.
 
The hamlet was first settled by several Dutch families and New Englanders at the end of the eighteenth century. By 1800, the place had accumulated two dozen houses and the name New Baltimore, often abbreviated as simply “Baltimore.”  New Baltimore was strategically located just below an area of the river choked with islands and bars that often impeded ship navigation to Albany. One of these obstructions, the infamous “overslaugh” bottled up shipping during periods of low water. New Baltimore had the advantage of being below these obstructions and still close to Albany. A promotional map from 1809 encouraging investment in real estate describes the place as “commanding a spacious harbor and intersected by extensive turnpike roads opening a fair prospect for the mercantile and seafaring adventurer.”

​Shipbuilding was clearly underway in New Baltimore by 1793 when the sloop Sea Flower was built by Nathan Dunbar. This was followed by more than a dozen new sloops, schooners and a brig built for the river trade and even trade with the West Indies. These sailing vessels tended to average 60 to 70 feet in length on deck and carried freight and passengers up and down the river while maintaining communications between Hudson River towns, New York City and southern New England. At least one New Baltimore sloop remained in service locally into the 1870s. The town’s yards also thrived repairing and rebuilding sailing vessels. By 1830, a community of shipbuilders, masters, owners and merchants had emerged building docks, warehouses, several shipyards and a series of mostly frame houses on small lots along what are now Main and Washington streets.

​
​A drydock was added to New Baltimore’s yard facilities in 1835. Sloops continued to be built and repaired here into the 1850s, when steamboats and barges began to be produced. In 1858, Jedediah R. and Henry S. Baldwin purchased the Goldsmith and Ten Eyck shipyard and began a business that continued almost uninterrupted until 1919. The Baldwins built at least 100 steamboats, canal barges, hay barges, tugboats and a large steam dredge over their 61-year history and repaired many more. A marine railway was built at the company’s Mill Street yard in 1884 which facilitated the launching of new boats and the repair of passenger steamboats of all but the largest sizes. Among the more notable boats built here were the 182-foot sidewheeler Andrew Harder in 1863, 253-foot propeller steamboat Nuhpa in 1865, the sidewheel towboat Jacob Leonard in 1872, the 127-foot sidewheel steamboat G.V.S. Quackenbush in 1878 and the 139-foot hay and excursion barge Andrew M. Church in 1892. Between 1905 and 1906, 13 boats were launched at the Baldwin yard. Photographs of the yard taken in the late nineteenth and early twentieth centuries show the marine railway in use, new boats being built on the shoulders of the railway slip, an office and loft building, several storage buildings, a steam mill for sawing and planning lumber, a basin adjacent to the river to keep logs from drying and checking, several steam boxes with brick furnaces and teams of workers with caulking mallets in hand. Launches of the larger boats were often celebratory events for the community and recorded in photographs. 

​​Small boats were also produced and serviced in New Baltimore. In the 1880s, Herrick & Powell produced yachts and launches with steam and early internal combustion engines. In 1898, William H. Couser moved his boat shop to Mill Street where he produced and repaired small craft for some years. The Baldwin firm built or repaired at least one small auxiliary schooner at its Mill Street yard and briefly operated a small yard nearby at Matthews Point for building smaller tugs.

​​New Baltimore’s mid and later nineteenth century prosperity was expressed in its fine homes and churches. Stylish homes with verandahs overlooking the river and sometimes distinctive cupolas were built by the town’s leading industrialists and merchants in the latest styles of the day. Steamboats connected New Baltimore to Albany, Hudson and ports in between and a five-story hotel was built on the town square. Large warehouses flanked the public dock and coal pockets were built near the steamboat dock and a short distance south on Mill Street. By the 1890s, the waterfront was flanked by enormous icehouses at its north and south ends and across the river on Hotaling Island.
 
New Baltimore’s decline was gradual. The West Shore Railroad by-passed the hamlet by more than a mile when service began in 1883, limiting the possibilities that direct rail service might have provided. Major fires in 1897, 1905, 1912 and 1929 largely destroyed the business center of the community. The natural ice industry declined during this same period due to public concerns over bacterial contamination from polluted river water and the simultaneous rise of clean manufactured ice.
 
The Baldwin shipyard was purchased by William Wade in 1919 and incorporated as the New Baltimore Shipbuilding and Repair Corporation. It may have built one or more wooden tugs. The last launch in town was the 90-foot wooden steamship Kittaning built in 1922 for the Manhattan State Hospital on Ward’s Island. Thereafter, the yard became a dock for Wade’s adapted sand and dredging company. While ideal for building wooden sloops, barges, tugs, ferries, and small to mid-sized steamboats, New Baltimore did not have enough available flat land along the river or the access to rail shipments necessary to create an efficient yard for building with steel. Steel shipbuilding succeeded elsewhere on the Hudson River where adequate land and infrastructure were available, notably at Kingston, Newburgh, and Cohoes.

With its prime industries lost, New Baltimore lost status, population, and a number of ancillary businesses that once thrived on its booming economy. Images taken by Office of War Information photographer John Collier, Jr. in October 1941 show a town with little apparent activity, dilapidated fences, unpainted porches and a waterfront with rotting barges. Buildings continued to be lost to fire and neglect and trees reclaimed industrial sites and yards. Areas of dense-packed housing were gradually thinned and by the 1970s, the town had lost as much as one-fourth of its historic building stock.
 
The hamlet’s stabilization and recovery, beginning in the 1970s, paralleled a broadened appreciation for the Hudson River and the gradual clean-up of its waters. Today, the hamlet is an attractive bedroom community for families and individuals with employment in adjacent communities and nearby cities. Its maritime heritage is echoed in the houses of the shipbuilders, captains, shipwrights and rivermen, the remains of the earth-filled docks and slips, a lone derrick, several subbing posts along the shoreline and the stone foundations of some of its lost buildings and industrial sites.
​

Sources:
Bush, Clesson S. Episodes from a Hudson River Town, New Baltimore, New York. SUNY Albany, 2011.
Gambino, Anthony J. By the Shores of New Baltimore: Its Shipyards and Nautical History. Self-published C.D., 2009.

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. See more of Murdock's articles in "Steamboat Biographies". See more Sunday News here.

                                                                 No. 31- Iron Witch
The “Iron Witch,” built in 1844 by Hogg and Delamater of New York, was constructed for Hudson river service and was one of the “freaks” of the early forties, having an iron hull. She was designed by John Ericsson, designer of the famous “Monitor” which engaged the Confederate ram “Merrimac” in the first battle of iron-clad vessels during the Civil War, and was fitted with a special type of engine and very small side-wheels.

The “Iron Witch” appeared on the river on August 10, 1846, and was placed in service on the Albany day route in line with the “Metamora”, forming an opposition line.

The first trip, from New York to Albany, required nine hours and 23 minutes. This time, which was the best she could do, placed the “Iron Witch” as a failure, and she was withdrawn from service in September. During the winter her side paddle wheels were removed and side screw wheels geared to the shaft were substituted, but they were of less value as a sped producer, and the steamer was abandoned.

After a time a beam engine with ordinary radial wheels was placed in the hull of the “Iron Witch”, and she was renamed the “Erie”. Under this name she was placed in service between New York and Piermont, the terminus of the Erie Railroad before the Civil War. In 1861 this engine was removed and placed in the ferryboat “Pavonia”, the first ferryboat built for the Erie Railroad Company to operate between New York and Jersey City. The “Delaware” and “Susquehanna” were the next two ferryboats built for the Erie Railroad in 1863. Then in 1869 the Erie Company had the “Jay Gould” and the “James Fisk, Jr.” built and added to their fleet of ferrys which were at that time the most handsome ferryboats in New York harbor.

Thus to the “Iron Witch” goes the honor of being the beginning of the Erie Railroad Company’s present fleet of ferryboats. 

“The maintenance of a merchant marine is of the utmost importance for national defense and the service of our commerce.” President Calvin Coolidge

“In peacetime, the U.S. Merchant Marine includes all of the privately owned and operated vessels flying the American flag – passenger ships, freighters, tankers, tugs, and a wide miscellany of other craft. Merchant Marine vessels ply the high seas, the Great Lakes, and the inland waters, such as the Chesapeake Bay and navigable rivers.”  Heroes in Dungarees by John Bunker

During the colonial period, businessmen and legislators realized that prosperity was connected to trade. The more shipment of imports and exports through colonial ports the more money there was to be made. Carrying American produced goods to market in American made and managed ships kept the money in American pockets. Formation of the United States Merchant Marine is dated to 1775 when citizens at Machias, Massachusetts (now Maine) seized the British schooner HMS Margaretta in response to receiving word of  the Battles of Lexington and Concord. 

After the Revolutionary War American ships were no longer under the protection of the British empire.  The new nation offered incentives for goods to be moved on American ships. Wars on the European continent turned attention away from American activity as U.S. ships opened up new trade routes in the early Federal period. The Empress of China  reached China in 1784, the first U.S. registered ship to do so. American shipping and shipbuilding flourished in the early 1800s.

The years between the War of 1812 and the Civil War saw the development of canal systems connect the western interior with seaport markets. “Those years saw the merchant marine rise to its zenith in terms of the percentage of American trade carried. Only in the aftermaths of World Wars I and II would its percentage of world tonnage stand as high.” America's Maritime Legacy by Robert A. Kilmarx

Sail powered packet ships, carrying passengers, pushed their crews hard. There was money to be made in quick passages across to Europe and back. Clipper ships also relied on speed as they carried high value cargoes of silk, spices and tea across the Pacific and the slave trade across the Atlantic.

The hybrid sailing ship/sidewheeler steamer  Savannah’s 1819 Atlantic crossing, the first with a steam powered engine, signaled the start of the transition from sail to steam. The May 22 date for National Maritime Day commemorates the day Savannah set sail from Savannah, Georgia to England. The Savannah transported both passengers and cargo. More information about the SS Savannah is here: 

Restoration of the merchant marine after the disruption of the Civil War was a national political issue in 1872. The Republican party advocated adopting measures to restore American commerce and shipbuilding. Mail packets, carrying mail around the world were active in this period. Financial scandals were associated with mail packet contracts. Training sailors in an academic setting began in the last quarter of the 1800s, predecessors of the present day Maritime Academies. The period between the end of the Civil War in 1865 and the European outbreak of World War I was a dynamic time for shipping. American raw materials and agricultural products were shipped to world markets and products from those markets received and used by American industries.

​John Bunker writes: “When we entered the war, the Merchant Marine, although still privately owned, came under government control. The men who sailed the ships were civilians, but they also were under government control and subject to disciplinary action by the U.S. Coast Guard and, when overseas, by local U.S. military authorities. Compared with soldiers and sailors, merchant seaman had much more freedom of movement. After completing a voyage, they could usually leave a ship but had to join another vessel within a reasonable period of time or be drafted into the U.S. Armed Forces. There was no uniform required for merchant seamen. Some officers wore uniforms; many did not. During the war, merchant ships were operated by some forty steamship companies, and the War Shipping Administration assigned new ships to them as they were completed. A total of 733 U.S.-flag merchant ships were lost during World War II. More than 6,000 merchant seamen died as the result of enemy action.”p12

​U.S. Maritime Service personnel operated the 2,700 Liberty ships during World War II. The U.S. Maritime Service was the only service at the time with African American crew members serving in every capacity aboard ship. Seventeen Liberty Ships were named for African-Americans. Approximately 10%, 24,000, African Americans served in the Merchant Marine during World War II.

During World War II the U.S. Merchant Marines moved war personnel and material under conditions shown above.

​The American Merchant Mariner’s memorial in Battery Park, New York City reads: "This memorial serves as a marker for America’s merchant mariners resting in the unmarked ocean depths." Poignantly the sailor in the water is covered twice a day at high tide.  Installed in 1991 by sculptor Marisol Escobar designed based on a photo of the sinking of the SS Muskogee by German U-boat 123 on March 22nd, 1942. The photo was taken by the U-boat captain. The American crew all died at sea.

​

​Merchant mariners who served in World War II were denied veterans recognition and benefits including the GI Bill. This despite having suffered a per capita casualty rate greater then those of the U.S. Armed Forces. In 1988 a federal court order granted veteran status to merchant mariners who participated in World War II.

On May 31, 1993, the Hudson River Maritime Museum received a brass plaque reading: “The United States Merchant Marine. This plaque is dedicated in memory of those who served in the U.S. Merchant Marine during W.W. II and in particular to those who did not survive “The Battle of the Atlantic”. Their dedication, deeds and sacrifices while transporting war material to the war shared their sacrifices and final victory, we, their surviving shipmates dedicate this memorial with the promise that they shall not be forgotten. Died 6,834. Wounded 11,000. Ship Sunk 833. P.O.W. 604. Died in Prisoner of War Camps 61. American Merchant Marine Veterans – May 31, 1993.”

Today, the Maritime Administration (MARAD) is the Department of Transportation agency responsible for the U.S. waterborne transportation system. Founded in 1950 the mission of MARAD is to foster, promote and develop the maritime industry of the United States to meet the nation’s economic and security needs. MARAD maintains the Ready Reserve Fleet, a fleet of cargo ships in reserve to provide surge sea-lift during war and national emergencies. A predecessor of the RRF, the Hudson River Reserve Fleet of World War II ships, popularly referred to as the Ghost Fleet, was in the Jones Point area from 1946 to 1971. More about the Maritime Administration including a Vessel History Database can be found here: https://www.maritime.dot.gov/

Modern day training of merchant marines is held at seven academies, two of which U.S. Merchant Marine Academy and SUNY Maritime College, are in New York State.

The U.S. Merchant Marine Academy, Kings Point, NY (USMMA) is one of the five United States service academies. When the academy was dedicated on 30 September 1943, President Franklin D. Roosevelt, noted "the Academy serves the Merchant Marine as West Point serves the Army and Annapolis the Navy."

​USMMA graduates earn:

• a Bachelor of Science degree;
• an unlimited US Coast Guard License as a Merchant Marine Officer, either 3rd Mate or 3rd Assistant Engineer
• a Commission as an ensign in the U.S. Navy Reserve Strategic Sealift Officer Program (see: Navy Reserve Merchant Marine Insignia), or if accepted, as an ensign in the U.S. Navy, U.S. Coast Guard, or National Oceanic and Atmospheric Administration, or as a 2nd lieutenant in the U.S. Marine Corps, U.S. Army, or U.S. Air Force. Graduates who choose military service must serve at least five years in the active duty force of their respective service.

USMMA graduates fulfill their service obligations on their own, providing annual proof of employment in a wide variety of MARAD approved occupations. Either as active duty officers in any branch of the military or uniformed services, including the Public Health Service and the National Oceanic Atmospheric Administration or entering the civilian work force in the maritime industry.
​
State-supported maritime colleges:
There are six state-supported maritime colleges. These graduates earn appropriate licenses from the U.S. Coast Guard and/or U.S. Merchant Marine. They have the opportunity to participate in a commissioning program, but do not receive an immediate commission as an Officer within a service.

• California State University Maritime Academy 
• Great Lakes Maritime Academy 
• Maine Maritime Academy 
• Massachusetts Maritime Academy 
• State University of New York Maritime College 
• Texas A&M Maritime Academy 

​More information about the U.S. Merchant Marines can be found here:

• https://www.maritime.dot.gov/about-us
• https://www.usmma.edu/
• https://www.history.navy.mil/content/history/museums/nmusn/explore/photography/wwii/wwii-atlantic/battle-of-the-atlantic/merchant-ships/merchant-marine-service.html
• https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/United_States_Merchant_Marine
• https://www.archives.gov/news/articles/merchant-marine-records-document-maritime-service
• https://ammv.us/
• http://righttofightexhibit.org/during-war/merchant-marine.php 
• “Heroes in Dungarees: The Story of the American Merchant Marine in World War II” by John Bunker
• “America’s Maritime Legacy, A History of the U.S. Merchant Marine and the Shipbuilding Industry since Colonial Times” by Robert A. Kilmarx

Thank you to John Phelan, HRMM Wooden Boat School Coordinator and Dock Master for suggesting this blog post topic. John graduated from the U.S. Merchant Marine Academy and held the title of Chief Mate working on product tankers for a major oil corporation during his years at sea.

​​If you enjoyed this post and would like to support more history blog content, please make a donation to the Hudson River Maritime Museum or become a member today!

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 volunteers. See more of Captain Benson’s articles here.
This article was originally published April 14, 1974.

​​Back in the 1930’s when I was a deckhand and pilot on tugboats of the Cornell Steamboat Company, Cornell had a helper tug captain by the name of Edward N. Van Woert from Athens.  Captain Ed worked for Cornell for 55 years, most of that time as captain of the tugboat “G. C. Adams.”

Captain Van Woert was a good source of stories of old time steamboating on the Hudson.  He once told me of his father’s experience as a little boy at Athens following the wreck of the steamboat “Swallow.” The event had taken place way back in 1845 on the night of April 7, now nearly 130 years ago. 

When Captain Ed told me his “Swallow” incident in the 1930’s, he was nearing the end of his boating career.  He related how his father in turn had told him how he had been awakened by his mother with the news that there had been a steamboat wreck the night before.  As a small boy his father went down to the shore at Athens and remembered seeing the bodies of those who had lost their lives in the disaster lying on the shore and being placed in wagons for removal. 

The wreck of the “Swallow” was one of the more spectacular disasters of the era and created a vivid impression all along the river.  Occurring as it did before the age of photography, several artists scurried to the scene and soon their impressions of the wreck were immortalized for posterity in lithographs that quickly appeared on the market for sale. 

The “Swallow” wreck took place some six years before the railroad was to reach Albany from New York.  In the absence of a railroad, virtually all passengers, freight and mail moving between New York and Albany did so by steamboat.  It was an era of fierce and unfettered competition.  Steamboat racing was a frequent occurrence, the idea being that the first steamer to reach a landing would be the one to get the waiting passengers. 

Old time records describe the season of 1845 as a particularly lively one.  A total of 18 steamboats were engaged in service between New York and Albany, although not all at the same time due to engine breakdowns, accidents and other mishaps.  Frequently, however, there were as many as six departures daily in each direction. 

Due to the highly competitive nature of the service, fares for passage would vary widely depending on he extent of the competition.  During 1845, the fee for one way passage is said to have ranged from a high of $1.50 to a low of 12 1/2 cents.  Presumably, what was lost in passage fares was made up by what was charged for a berth and meals once the passengers were safely aboard and the steamer had left the dock. 

On the night of April 7, 1845, the night the ‘‘Swallow” was to meet her end, she was one of three steamboats scheduled to leave Albany at 6 p.m.  Later accounts stated the “Swallow” had been racing with the steamboats ‘‘Rochester” and “Express."  In any event, as the steamers neared Athens at about 8 p.m., the “Swallow” was in the lead. 

The night was dark and overcast.  Just above Athens a heavy early spring snow squall set in, obliterating the nearby shorelines.  What then took place varies somewhat in the retelling.  One account has it that the first pilot, a Mr. Burnett, had been down to supper and coming from the brightly lighted dining area into the darkened pilot house, his eyes had not yet become adjusted to the darkness of the night.  Another account has it the first pilot came into the pilot house and immediately said to the second pilot, "Sir, you are off course.”

What no one questions, however, is the fact that shortly thereafter the “Swallow,” proceeding at full speed, piled up on a rock outcropping a short way off the Athens shore — then known variously as Dopers Island and Noah’s Brig.  From that moment, onward — and to this very day — the point of impact has been known as Swallow Rocks. 

The steamboat was driven some 30 feet upon the rocks and her wooden hull nearly broke in two at the forward gangway.  The force of the impact caused the ‘‘Swallow’’ to catch fire and the after part of the steamer immediately began to sink. The “Swallow's” stern section sank rather quickly — which fortunately extinguished the flames — but unfortunately trapped a number of passengers in the berthing section. 
​
The following steamboats “Rochester” and “Express” soon happened upon the scene and were able to rescue about 200 of the"Swallow’s” approximately 300 passengers who were aboard the night of the disaster.  One of the rescued was a Robert Thompson of Kingston. 

The residents of Athens and Hudson across the river were said to be alerted to the accident by the tolling of church bells ... and a large number of people of both communities soon gathered along the river banks and started large bonfires. 

A number of small boats put out from both Athens and Hudson and rescued other survivors who were swimming in the chill[y] waters of the river, clinging to floating debris, or who had climbed over the steamer’s bow onto the rocks the “Swallow” had hit.  A number of both passengers and crew were not so fortunate and lost their lives in the disaster.  The exact number of those who lost their lives varied in accounts of the time from a low of 15 to a high of 40. 

The impact of the wreck of the “Swallow” made an impression in the Hudson Valley that lasted for generations and is one that is always mentioned in any recounting of old time steamboat accidents on the Hudson River.  In addition to achieving a lasting fame of sorts in the naming of Swallow Rocks at Athens, the steamer’s name was perpetuated in a dwelling at Valatie, a few miles inland and north of Hudson.  The wreck was dismantled and timbers and lumber from the steamer were used to build a two-story house at Valatie which became known locally as the Swallow House.  As far as I know it is still standing.

Reminiscences of the North River – Major Noah’s reminiscences of olden times, are no less famous for their abundance than for their interest. In a recent number of his Sunday Times he gives some interesting information, showing the progress which has been made in the navigation of the Hudson within the past half century. He says:

In the year 1800, merchants residing a hundred miles or more from New York, and distant from the North River ten or fifteen miles, sent their bed and bedding to the landing from which they were to sail for the city, by a team, and themselves followed on horseback. At the landing, their bed & c., was placed on board the sloop that conveyed their produce to market, and by it they took passage for the city. The horse was put to pasture or in the stable until their return, when the owner rode him home; and by the team that went for merchandise the bed and bedding were returned. Such was the convenience of riding at that day.

Six years afterwards, according to the Major, a company composed of five individuals associated themselves together and built the sloop “Experiment,” for the purpose of “rendering the passage between N.Y. and Albany by water more expeditious, convenient and pleasant to ladies and gentlemen travelling north and south through the State of New York, as well as to promote the interest of those concerned, (as expressed in the words of the agreement,) by building a packet of one hundred and ten tons burthen, for the purpose of carrying passengers only.

The next year, 1807, the company was increased and another sloop was built, which performed the trip between Albany and New York in 27 hours – a remarkable trip in those days. This was the same year that Fulton made his successful trip by steam in 36 hours, and from thence steady progress was on its feet.

The old North River Boat, (says the Times,) in her original construction, had a strange appearance. Her water-wheels were without any houses as at the present day; and had crossheads connected with the piston, instead of the walking beam now in general use. The countryman, when he first saw her from Hudson, told his wife he had seen the devil going to Albany in a saw mill.

The experiment was at one time made to run horse-boats on the River, but signally failed.
​
Steamboats on the North River first performed their trips with wood. Lackawanna coal was afterwards introduced, by which the expense of fuel was reduced from $150 a trip to $30. This was the commencement of a new era in steamboating, hardly less in importance than the original application of steam to boats. – Ex. Paper.

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 volunteers. See more of Captain Benson’s articles here.
​This article was originally published April 30, 1972.

In the days when the Hudson River was relatively pollution free, every spring shad fisherman could be found with their nets from New York City north to Castleton.  Shad fishermen would frequently venture far from home, going to a spot on the river that was particularly to their liking and there set up their operation.  One of these was Bernard “Nod'' Washburn of Sleightsburgh.  

When I was a boy, "Nod" Washburn was a neighbor of ours.  He was then an old man.  and would fascinate me with the recounting of his shad fishing experiences.  “Nod” also impressed me as a boy with an expression he would use when something especially caught his fancy.  He would say, “By the handle of the great horned spoon!,’’ an expression I never heard anyone else use. 

In the 1880's, 1890's and the early years of this century, “Nod" and his father always fished for the spring run of shad at Cranston’s, later known as Highland Falls.  The steamboat landing at that point was then known as Cranston’s after the large hotel then located there.

The hotel later became what is now Ladycliff Academy, just south of Highland Falls village. 

A Portable Shanty
With the coming of spring, “Nod” and his father would load their round bottom shad boat with nets, floats, supplies and a portable shanty to live in.  They would then leave Sleightsburgh and row over to the Romer and Tremper steamboat dock at Rondout. 

There, their boat and gear would be hauled aboard either the “William F. Romer" or the “James W. Baldwin.”  Leaving Rondout at 6 p.m., they would then sail down the river, as the old timers would say, on the “night boat.”

On the way down river, the Washburns would sleep right in their shad boat that was being carried on the freight deck.  Being known by the crew, they would have their supper down in the crew's mess room.  “Nod" told me he always preferred to go down on the “Romer” because he knew the steward, Henry Bell, would always give them a good supper.  In return, the Washburns always saw to it that Steward Bell and his family received their share of fresh shad for the season. 

They would arrive at Cranston's about 2 a.m. in the lonely morning hours, after making all the landings between Rondout and Highland Falls.  "Nod" said they couldn't get much sleep because at every landing there would be the noise of loading freight, the rumble of the hand freight trucks, and the mate hollering at the freight handlers to hurry up so the steamer could get away on time. 

Leaving the ‘Romer’
After the “Romer” left the dock at Cranston’s, she would pull out in the river and stop, swing out her forward davits, lower the Washburn's boat and all its gear in the river, and then continue on her way to New York City.  "Nod" and his father would then row over to Boat House Point on the east shore, pick out a good location and set up their shanty.  They would then get their fishing gear ready "to get on the make" with the first flood tide.

If the tide was right, they would make their first drift at about 8 or 10 a.m.  Sometimes they missed the first flood tide, and after getting things all set, would be so tired they would sleep until late morning.  They camped and fished off Highland Falls yearly from about the first of April until Memorial Day. 

On nights when the Washburns had shad to ship to New York, they would raise a red lantern to let either William Mabie, the pilot on the “Romer" or Abram Brooks, the pilot on the "Baldwin” know there would be shad to be put aboard the steamer.  When put on the steamboat, the shad were packed in long boxes filled with ice on the freight deck, and the mate would see to it they were well taken care of.  “Nod" and his father preferred the Romer" as their friend "Billy" Mabie[,] the pilot, would always drop a copy of the Kingston Daily Freeman in their boat to be read when drifting with their nets on the flood and ebb tides. 

When the steamboat reached New York, a representative of the New York markets would meet the boat at the Franklyn Street pier and buy the shad.  The mate Henry Kellerman of the “Romer" or the mate of the “Baldwin" did all the financial transactions in the big city.  When the steamboat came back up the  next night, the fishermen would have to be over at the dock at Cranston's to collect their money, which was always right to the penny.  Then they would settle their account with the mate. 

‘True Blue’ Mate
Washburn said never once was anything written on paper.  Everything was left to the honesty of the mate.  Always he was ‘‘true blue," as a boatman would say. 

As spring wore on and it came to the latter part of May, changes would come to the river.  The south wind of summer would begin to blow up through the Highlands, bringing with it the smoke from the chemical works at Manitou; the “Mary Powell” would commence her daily runs to New York; the mosquito[e]s would rise from the marshes in back of Conn's Hook; the water would start to get warm and the shad would start to get soft. 

One morning, “Nod" Washburn's father would say, "Well 'Nod', who comes up tonight?” “Nod" would answer, "Well, Pop, it’s the ‘Romer,’ she went down last night."

His dad would say, "We are going to get her up tonight.  I’m getting homesick for Sleightsburgh.  When I get aboard, I am going up in the pilot house and shoot the breeze with ‘Billy’ Mabie and find out all that we missed since we've been away from Sleightsburgh and Port Ewen.  When we get home tomorrow, I can sleep all day."

Back in Rondout
When their boat was put off the "Romer" in Rondout Creek, the Washburns would just row across the creek to the shore by the old sleigh factory that used to be east of the shipyard, pull their boat up on shore, and go up the hill to their home and go to sleep.  Then, later, they would go back down, unload their boat, and put their shad nets away for another season. 

Back in those days, "Nod" said you could leave your boat down on shore with all supplies in it and nobody would touch a thing — even if it sat there for a week.  So ended another long ago day of shad fishing in the lordly Hudson.

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Like many nautical terms, the words “barge” and “scow” are fraught with diverse definitions depending upon timeframes, local usages and individual perspectives and backgrounds. In this way, these words are not unlike “ship,” which in common usage refers to anything big capable of independently making its way across the water. At various times in history, the word ship referred only to sailing vessels with square sails on three masts (as opposed to brigs, barks, barkentines, etc.) while also meaning the collective team of crew and officers of any vessel. Paradoxically, the big steamers of the late nineteenth and early twentieth centuries on the Hudson were never called ships; they were always referred to as boats regardless of size or capability.
 
Historically, the words barge and scow have applied to everything from the flat bottomed sailing barges of the Thames, floating pleasure palaces and funerary boats to the garbage boats of the first half of the twentieth century. Today, these terms generally bring to mind simple floating boxes that carry cargo and are pushed or towed by tugboats. They often suggest craft with flat bottoms and shallow drafts. Let’s take a brief look at what these words have represented here on the Hudson River.

Simple barge-like cargo boats that could be easily built and poled, rowed or sailed appeared in New England and possibly in New York. Some of these, referred to as gundalows, were typically rectangular in plan and featured flat bottoms, inclined ends, retractable masts near the bow and rudders and tillers aft. They were well adapted for carrying lumber and hay and persisted into the late nineteenth century in some rivers.
 
With the inauguration of canals in New York State, specialized boats based on narrow boat prototypes in Europe were introduced. Some of these found their way to the Hudson River. Flat bottomed, horse-drawn packet boats and line boats carried passengers or a mix of passengers and freight. But with a few notable exceptions, they remained in the canals. However, mule-drawn freight barges often plied the Hudson when they were gathered up in the huge steam tows of the nineteenth century and taken with their cargo to New York. These barges and scows featured specialized designs based on intended trades and the building preferences of yards all across New York and the neighboring states. Barges carrying coal were markedly different from those intended to carry perishable cargoes such as grain. They also differ depending upon the dates of policy changes on the canals (squared bows prohibited due to embankment damage) and the dates of canal expansion projects when the dimensions of the canals and the lock chambers were enlarged allowing deeper and wider barges to grow simultaneously. A number of canalboats were fitted with sail rigs for use when these barges reached the open water of large lakes and rivers where animal towing was no longer possible. Hoodledashers, powered canal barges usually towing a second, unpowered barge, became a feature of the greatly expanded NYS Barge Canal of 1915. One, the Frank A. Lowery, was abandoned in the Rondout in 1953 and remains identifiable. Many canal barges have found their way to the bottom of the Hudson and its tributaries, including a rare bifurcated and hinged Morris Canal barge from the nineteenth century.

​Unlike the canals, barges built for use on the Hudson River were less limited in terms of configuration or dimensions. One of the few commonalities among them was the presence of log fenders suspended from the rails along the sides. A large number of box-like barges with living cabins aft were built to carry coal in their holds. Many measured 100 feet in length and 25-30 feet in beam. Some included midship houses for collapsible masts, derrick booms and winches to facilitate loading and unloading. Rectangular scows with inclined ends were built in large numbers to carry deck loads of trap rock, sand, brick and other bulk or non-perishable freight. They often featured deck cabins for their keepers and families and bulkheads fore and aft to contain the material and separate it from the living quarters. Barge hulls were readily used for dredging equipment, pile drivers and derricks used in salvage and construction. Specialized dump scows were built by the New York Sanitation Department with trap bottoms that could release garbage and refuse when outside of New York harbor. The weathered wooden bones of scows and coal barges can be found all along the river as well as in our own Rondout Creek. A prominent derrick barge lies abandoned in Athens.
 
The railroads were major barge builders in the late nineteenth and early twentieth centuries. Their ferries, tugs, lighters and barges and car floats (the term used for the long narrow barges that carried rail cars between terminals) were legion and referred to as the “railroad navy.”  All of this floating equipment was necessary to move freight from ships to railroad terminals and to move freight and rail cars between terminals and to customers across a metropolitan region divided by rivers, bays and inlets. Among the specialized barges built by the railroads were the hundreds of covered barges built to transport perishable and high value freight throughout the New York area. These distinctive boats with scow-like hulls and boxy cabins with double barn doors on each side made their way up the Hudson on occasion. A number of them found waterfront retirement homes as shad fishing cabins and marina headquarters when no longer useful to the railroads. The Pennsy 399, built in 1942 for the Pennsylvania Railroad, has been restored and is currently docked in the Rondout.
 
Then there were the early nineteenth century “safety barges” built to transport squeamish passengers afraid of dying in the notorious steamboat explosions or fires that characterized the early years of steam navigation. These were often double decker affairs that looked like steamboats without the paddlewheels or the stacks. A closely related barge type that appears to have grown out of the safety barge model was the hay and produce barge. These craft appear to have proliferated after the Civil War when New York City’s demand for upstate hay became insatiable. Towed in great rafts by paddlewheel towboats and later by tugboats, they were typically double-deckers with shallow draft moulded hulls, tall masts to carry stiffening stays, pilothouses and rudders. In addition to their workaday role carrying hay, livestock and produce, they were popular for inexpensive passenger excursions on Sundays. One example, the Andrew M. Church, built in New Baltimore in 1892, was 139 feet long, carried three decks and was equipped with a rudder and a pilothouse to facilitate tracking and docking. She made her inaugural voyage taking four Sunday School classes to a local picnic ground. Sometimes, these barges were rafted together and towed in pairs or even groups of four. They were still in use carrying hay in the 1930s, and a specialized version, the cattle barge, persisted even longer.

Barges were also built in the nineteenth century for oyster processing and sales, chapels and even municipal bathing pools. Hospital barges appeared in the 1870s initially through the philanthropy of the Starin Line and were towed around New York harbor in good weather to offer fresh air and a change of scenery to invalid patients. Ultimately, the concept evolved into that of a floating clinic set up in disadvantaged communities. The last of these, the 1973 Lila Acheson Wallace is now docked on the Rondout Creek waiting to be repurposed.
 
Specialized lumber barges also made an appearance with moulded hulls based on the hay barge model. They were built with aft cabins and pilothouses and appear to have carried large deckloads of lumber.
 
Another distinctive Hudson River barge is the ice barge. Transporting the blocks of ice cut from the river during the winter months and stored in enormous white warehouses along the river shore to urban centers where refrigeration was essential, these barn like barges with rounded bows and sterns carried distinctive windmills to pump out melt water and derrick masts and booms to facilitate loading and unloading.
 
There is no less variety in the steel barges plying the Hudson River currently. Many are specialized to carry and handle petroleum products, steel recycling, turbines, rock and dry cement. They are typically pushed by diesel tugs but on occasion they are breast towed or towed aft in the nineteenth century manner to facilitate handling and docking. Some are still named for places or members of the respective towing company families and are routinely maintained and painted with pride. Articulated tug and barge combinations (ATBs) represent a relatively recent innovation. They are designed to allow the bow of a tug to precisely fit a notch in the stern of the barge so that when underway, a single unit is created, simplifying handling while avoiding the regulations entailed in designing and operating a comparable motorship.
 
While less visually interesting than their nineteenth century antecedents, today’s barges carry far more tonnage and operate more safely and efficiently.