​An original song by Melissa Holland. Performed by Melissa Holland (keyboard and vocals) with photography by Paul Hewitt. Melissa and Paul live in Beacon, New York on the Hudson River. Beacon was Pete Seeger's home town, and he was dedicated to revitalizing the Hudson after it had been badly contaminated by pollution. Melissa Holland performed regularly with Pete Seeger, and she performs regularly at the Hudson Valley Folk Guild.

THE HUDSON RIVER FLOWS - LYRICS

​We know the Hudson River flows
North and South, fast and slow
We know the Hudson River flows
She’s alive and well today

Years ago, they said she was dead
But people got together and they used their heads
Some said the future looked grim
But they dove right in

We know the Hudson River flows
North and South, fast and slow
We know the Hudson River flows
She’s alive and well today

Working, planning, side by side
Before too long they turned the tide
But the job is never done
It goes on and on

We know the Hudson River flows
North and South, fast and slow
We know the Hudson River flows
She’s alive and well today

Put those big old frackers down
Leave the gas underground
There’s power sources we’ve ignored.
That we can explore.

If we want her to stay
Education is the way
Don’t give up
Stand your ground and pass the torch on down.

We know the Hudson River flows
North and South, fast and slow
We know the Hudson River flows
She’s alive and well today
She’s alive and well today
She’s alive and well today

​Thanks to HRMM volunteer Mark Heller for sharing his knowledge of Hudson River music history for this series.​

                                                            No. 92- “New York”       
Many of the homes of this area contain a picture of a large steamboat- a colored picture showing a magnificent white passenger vessel against the background of a green towering mountain. This picture shows the steamboat “New York,” one of the vessels of the celebrated Hudson River Dayline, whose career was cut short after 21 years of service by a fire which burned her to the water’s edge.
              
The steel hull of the “New York” was built by Harlan & Hollingsworth at Wilmington, Delaware, in 1887. W. & A. Fletcher Company (North River Iron Works), of Hoboken, New Jersey, built her engine. Her hull was 301 feet long with an overall length of 311 feet, a breadth of beam of 40 feet 4 inches which widened to 74 feet over the guards, depth of hold measuring 11 feet 2 inches. Her gross tonnage was listed at 1,552 with a net tonnage rating of 1,091. The vertical beam engine of the “New York” had a cylinder diameter of 75 inches with a 12 foot stroke, and she carried three 33 foot boilers with a shell diameter 9¼ feet and front width measuring 11 feet. Her wheels, of the feathering type, were constructed of steel with 12 buckets measuring 12½ feet long by 3 feet 9 inches in width. In 1897 the “New York” was lengthened, 34 feet being added to the length of her hull making her 335 feet long and increasing her tonnage rating to 1,921 gross and 1,751 net tons.
              
The “New York” replaced the steamboat “Chauncey Vibbard,” which had been in service for years on the Hudson River Dayline. She was the second steel-hulled vessel built for the Dayline, and combined speed, luxury and beauty to surpass in elegance and appearance any marine craft built for the Hudson river up to that period.
              
The construction of the “New York” was somewhat different from the usual methods of steamboat construction, thus giving her a bit different appearance from the usual Hudson river boats. Instead of placing the shaft forward of the cylinder as in most beam engines, the cylinder was placed forward of the shaft.
              
On August 14, 1907, the “New York” made the run from New York to Albany in six hours and 13 minutes, an indication of the speed which the steamboat possessed, and together with her consort, the “Albany,” she formed a combination which was unquestionably the finest river day boat passenger steamers in the world.
              
October 1908 marked the event which indirectly led to the destruction of the “New York.” The tugboat “William Flannery” crashed into the “New York” in the North River off West 13th street, damaging the dayline steamer to such an extent around the guards, that she was taken to the Thomas Marvel Shipbuilding yards at Newburgh for repairs. On the morning of October 16, 1908, as she lay in the yards in Newburgh, fire was discovered in the after hold of the “New York.” Captain A.H. Harquart and the crew of 73 men were asleep in their berths but were aroused in time to get ashore safely. The fire gained headway so quickly that in less than five minutes from the time the alarm was sounded, the after end of the magnificent steamer was in flames. Captain Harquart realized that it would be impossible to save the vessel and ordered the crew ashore, but soon after they had landed it was discovered that four colored (sic) waiters were missing. A search of the shipyards was unsuccessful- and later it was found that the four men had been trapped below the decks by the flames and had perished.
              
The “New York” was completely destroyed and later the engine was taken from the smoke-blackened hull, rebuilt, and placed in the new steamboat “Robert Fulton,” which is now in service under the banner of the Hudson River Dayline.  

During the summer of 1884, Black veterans of the Civil War gathered on piers in Manhattan and what was then the independent city of Brooklyn. The steamboat John Lenox pulled up, towing a barge, and soldiers who served in a battalion named for abolitionist William Lloyd Garrison climbed aboard along with their families. This flotilla steamed through the New York Harbor and up the Hudson River, landing at a spot on the New Jersey banks that was called Excelsior Grove.[1] The veterans could spend the day swimming, hiking towards the Palisades rock formations that towered above, picking pimpernel flowers and wild strawberries, resting in the shade under oak and tulip trees, and listening to music.[2] Chatting with former comrades in arms and practicing military drills, Black soldiers remembered fighting in the battles that ended slavery.[3]

This was one of many “excursions” to give city people without much spare change the chance to escape for a day from their dense and crowded urban neighborhoods. Getting out of the city was more than a matter of relaxation and recreation during this era, when most believed that bad smells were what made them sick.[4] Urban sanitation systems had not caught up with the rising population and rank odors wafted from overflowing outhouses and piles of uncollected garbage that festered in the streets.[5] On the decks of steamboats and in leafy waterfront groves, city people breathed deeply, hoping that the fresh air would fortify their weary bodies. At least sixty-nine lush excursion destinations with cool breezes, refreshing shade, and gorgeous views opened within a forty-nine mile radius of lower Manhattan between 1865 and 1900.

Everyone who lived in the densest, most impoverished, and least sanitary parts of the city yearned for a change of air and scenery, but excursions were especially meaningful to Black New Yorkers during the tense Reconstruction Era. While people of African descent were working to transform emancipation into an opportunity to finally secure full political and social equality, white neighbors adapted white supremacy for a nation without slavery. In New York, Black people faced harassment by the police, severe economic discrimination, and violence at the polls.[6] Intimidation and threats met them in the city’s parks, where they tried to claim their equal right to public space.[7] “Sable soldiers” were “drilling (in the dark) in one of our public squares,” reported the New York Herald in 1867. It was not safe to display Black “martial glory” in the parks except under the protective cover of nightfall because many white men considered military service to be their exclusive honor.[8] But outside the city in places like Excelsior Grove, soldiers like those who served in the William Lloyd Garrison Post No. 107 could wear their uniforms with pride, in safety. On chartered steamboats and in privately rented groves, Black New Yorkers could enjoy blooming landscapes together, away from the judgmental eyes and clenched white fists that greeted them whenever they went outdoors in the city. Excursions offered Black people the chance to breathe—and not just the fresh air that was scarce in Manhattan.

New Yorkers of African descent were able to access these getaways starting in the 1870s because at least some white owners of steamboats and groves would accommodate any party with money to spend. These entrepreneurs got rich as excursionists bought cheap refreshments and pooled their pennies to rent the leafy grounds and the flotillas that carried them there. Orville Dudley was one of the businessmen whose eagerness for profit outweighed his racism when he decided whether or not to rent his grove in Hastings-on-Hudson to city people of African descent. A Black social club called the Green Horns visited Dudley’s Grove in August of 1870 and the Bethel African Church arrived the following summer. Dudley used the worst racist slur to describe these excursionists in his recordkeeping book. He called one party “a mean lot” and wrote of the other, “rough don't want them again.”[9] But Dudley loved money and Black people from the city had it, so he continued renting the grove to their excursion parties.[10] By the 1880s, Black churches, militia companies, and mutual aid associations visited destinations owned by other entrepreneurs too, like Excelsior and Riverside Groves and Iona Island.[11]

Excursions opened a previously closed window for Black New Yorkers eager to get out of doors and out of the city. During the early nineteenth century, people of African descent were not welcome to join white patrons who gazed at flowers, ate ice cream, and sipped alcohol in the shade at commercial “pleasure gardens” in what was then the outskirts of New York.[12] Black entrepreneurs tried to open their own gardens in the 1820s, but faced racism on top of the usual business risks of bad weather and fire. The police ordered the closure of one of the gardens, while three others lasted for just one summer.[13] Near mid-century, beer gardens began opening in forested spots of upper Manhattan, but German American proprietors kept people of African descent out, decorated the grounds with racist imagery, and hosted offensive minstrel shows, where white actors with darkened skin performed gross stereotypes. By excluding and ridiculing people of African descent, these immigrant entrepreneurs—who themselves faced bias and prejudice in a nativist society—shored up their own access to white privilege.[14] After the turn of the century, amusement parks like Coney Island often had segregated facilities and were full of racist games like “African Dodger” and “Kill the Coon,” which beckoned visitors to throw balls at the heads of employees who were either Black or wearing blackface.[15] But between the eras of commercial gardens and amusement parks, steamboat excursions offered Black New Yorkers a rare chance to escape from the city with safety and dignity.

In green refuges along the Hudson, Black residents of the metropolitan area strengthened social and political ties. New York’s Black community was growing at a rate more than double that of the white population in the 1870s, fueled in part by migrants fleeing white terrorism in the South.[16] But white supremacy shaped northern cities too, so Black New Yorkers who could not count on equal access to goods and services created their own institutions to care for one another, fundraising for these efforts by holding excursions. The Good Samaritan Home Association, for example, financed mutual aid work by selling fifty-cent tickets for an excursion to Dudley’s Grove. Funds raised at this grove also supported the Progressive American, an autonomous Black newspaper that offered a counter voice to the white supremacist media of the time.[17] Excursions for churches, militia companies, and social clubs stopped in New York and Brooklyn, uniting newcomers with longtime residents of both cities to build a metropolitan Black community.[18] Excursions forged connections between people of African descent at an important political turning point. Municipal leaders had rarely considered people of African descent as constituents before the Fourteenth Amendment made Black Americans citizens in 1868 and then the 1870 ratification of the Fifteenth Amendment promised all male citizens the right to vote.[19] Excursions helped consolidate the Black community as unprecedented access to the ballot box presented new opportunities to shape urban politics.

Excursions were further politicized because Black leisure was controversial in a society rooted in slavery. Myths that people of African descent were devious, sneaky, and born to work circulated widely to justify an institution that relied on surveillance, control, and forced labor. During the Reconstruction Era, Black Americans who seized chances to leisure resisted the ideology that had rationalized slavery. By going on excursions, Black residents of New York, Boston, Wilmington, and Washington, D.C. insisted that they were deserving of pleasure, relaxation, comfort, and ease.[20] Whites responded by doubling down on the trope that people of African descent were dangerous when left to their own devices.[21] Along with racist images, stories, and performances, newspaper coverage of excursions made the case against Black leisure.

Black excursions rarely made the news unless something went wrong.[22] Plenty of excursions passed peacefully, but white readers eagerly consumed sensationalized news of violence. The New York Times cast an 1887 Good Samaritan Home excursion as a scene of chaos, where “the razor went flashing through the air, the beer mug rose on high, a cane whirred overhead, and then the blood flowed.”[23] A score of other papers published their own accounts of the damage wrought by these “Implements of War” as the steamboat chugged away from Dudley’s Grove, back towards the city.[24] But this “riot lasted” for only ten minutes, admitted the Times, while the Tribune called the event “almost a riot,” rather than a full blown rebellion.[25] Newspapers exaggerated scuffles on excursions for white readers ready to believe that people of African descent had violent tendencies.[26] As Black excursionists left urban hardships behind, racist ideology followed in their wake.

Despite biased coverage, excursions offered Black residents of the metropolitan area some respite from the intense racism that they experienced in daily life. Boarding steamboats with members of their growing community, excursionists traded provocations by white neighbors and harassment by the police on dusty and filthy urban streets for verdant views, salty breezes, and the dignity of autonomous Black spaces. Excursions posed a stark contrast to Manhattan, both in terms of environment and atmosphere. For Black people navigating white supremacy in a dense, polluted, and divided city, the Hudson River was a pathway towards relief that was all too brief.

Editor's Note: This detailed account of the fire on the Citizens' Line steamer City of Troy at Dobbs Ferry is from the April 6, 1907 New York Times. The tone of the article reflects the time period in which it was written.

CITY OF TROY BURNS IN HUDSON
The Old River Steamer Lands Her 65 Passengers Just in Time.
​
A FIRE OFF DOBBS FERRY
Captain the Last to Leave After Bringing Her to Edwin Gould's Pier.

BOAT A WRECK IN AN HOUR
Fire Started in Mid-River at 9 o'clock - No Panic - Some Passengers , Helped Fight the Flames.

With her hold a mass of crackling flames, the big steamer City of Troy of the Citizens' Line, a wooden side-wheeler, 280 feet long, on which were 65 passengers, plowed through the Hudson at full speed last night, her Captain endeavoring to find a pier to which he might tie long enough to land the passengers and crew. The City of Troy was on the Jersey side of the river off Yonkers, going up the river, when the fire was discovered, and it was an hour later before she was finally tied up at the private pier of Edwin Gould at Dobbs Ferry. There every passenger was safely landed. Mate W. S. Eagle was the only one overcome by smoke. He was taken ashore and soon recovered. The vessel, an hour later, was a blackened mass burned to the water's edge.

Some of the passengers who had retired early, were already asleep when shortly after 8 o'clock tiny puffs of smoke creeping up through hatches and companionways were noticed by other passengers and deckhands.

The fire alarm signal was rung through the boat and the crew rushed to their places, while terrified passengers rushed to the decks begging to be told what had happened. Many had been awakened from sleep by the alarm, and these, rushing on deck, added to the excitement. In the meantime the flames had been found in the hold amidships.

It is thought detective insulation on the electric wiring in the pantry started the fire. It gained rapid headway, eating its way fore and aft and licking at the deck above. Several streams of water were quickly turned into the hold and a desperate fight was made to check the flames. Many of the more cool-headed of the passengers joined with the crew in handling hose and carrying water.

Across the River on Fire.
Despite their efforts[,] the flames continued to gain headway. When it was seen that there was no longer hope of saving the boat[,] Capt Charles H. Bruder turned his vessel's head off the shore and rung for full speed ahead. Straight across the river the boat ploughed, and at the Dobbs Ferry pier an effort was made to tie up.

For some reason the boat could not be made fast, and, despairingly, Capt. Bruder turned toward the pier of the Manila Anchor Brewery. The terror of the passengers was redoubled when it was found that here also the boat would be unable to land. By this time, too, the flames had gained dangerous headway and the passengers crowded on to the upper decks.

When the vessel approached Dobbs Ferry there was to those ashore no sign of fire aboard except a cloud of smoke trailing off to the stern, as she ran shoreward, and her whistles for help did not seem justified to those who saw her approaching.

There was no panic aboard as the boat neared land. All hands were ready to leave as quickly and quietly as might be. Planks were run out to the pier, and everybody got off safely, though it was said none of the baggage was saved. There being only a few passengers, they got off in two minutes.

Some time after she landed the vessel drifted away from the pier somewhat. She was then ablaze from stem to stern. Capt. Bruder was the last man off and he left in a rowboat.

When the steamboat was laid alongside the pier the crew had knocked out the forerail and had a gangplank ready to run out. It took but a couple of minutes to get the passengers ashore and on to the tracks of the Central Railroad. The fire broke out all over the vessel, flames breaking forth in a dozen places just as the last of the passengers got ashore.

Running toward the east side of the river, the steamboat had been running with the wind, so that there did not seem to be much draught for the fire, but once she stopped and the wind began to whistle through her the flames seemed to leap out in a dozen places.

The fire swept through the boat within a very few minutes. All effort had to be turned toward saving the brewery and the pier as well as the cottage on the pier. The latter was saved, as was the brewery, but a portion of the pier will have to be rebuilt, even to the pilings as the fire extended to it.

Then Capt Bruder ran his boat toward Mr. Gould's dock. Here at last he was able to make fast, and with the flames crackling almost at their heels[,] the passengers were tossed and tumbled over the gang planks to the pier.

The Dobbs Ferry Fire Department had turned out as the blazing City of Troy was seen approaching the town, and the men set to work to save the steamer. Their work was hopeless, however, and the flames were already eating into the upper works of the steamer when the word flashed through the crowd that a woman passenger was still asleep in her berth.

Alfred Smith and Robert Wilson of the Fire Department immediately darted down into the burning cabin. Choking with the dense smoke they fought their way from stateroom to stateroom until they came to one which was locked.

Sleeping Passenger Saved.
Putting their shoulders to the door they smashed it in. In the berth they found a woman, whom neither smoke nor noise had awakened. She had not been overcome by smoke, however, and grabbing her in their arms, Smith and Wilson rushed with her to the deck. From here she was got safely ashore.

In the meantime the flames had been communicated to the pier, and this, too, soon blazing fiercely, driving the firemen, back foot by foot, until at last they were compelled to abandon all hopes of saving the vessel. On board of her were thirteen horses, besides a valuable cargo of freight. All the horses and the freight were lost.
Before the firemen were driven from the pier an effort was made to reach the horses. Several men dropped into the burning hold, but it was quickly found that the horses could not be reached.

The passengers hurried to the railroad station after leaving the boat, and many of them returned to this city on the 11:30 o'clock train, while others left for Troy shortly after midnight.

STORIES OF PASSENGERS.
All Praise Bravery of Capt. Bruder, Who Was Last to Leave.
Seven passengers and about twenty-five members of the City of Troy's crew arrived at the Grand Central Station on the 12:53 train from Yonkers this morning. The passengers looked very little the worse for their experience, but it was different with most of the crew.

They were asleep in their bunks when the fire was discovered, and as the quarters were close to where the fire started they had no time to get together their belongings. Several of the negro stewards when they got to New York had on only an undershirt, overalls, shoes, and a blanket. They were bareheaded, and were still wondering what had happened when sadly they walked down the platform of the Grand Central.

On only one point did those who got here this morning agree, and that was the bravery of Capt. Bruder, the skipper of the City of Troy. The skipper, all said, was the bravest man on the boat, and it was not until the last person had been safely landed that he made his way through the smoke to the gangway that led to Edwin Gould's dock at Dobbs Ferry.

"I was in the engine room watching the machinery;" said Carl Carlson of 5 Water Street, this city, "when the fire was discovered. I immediately ran up on deck and made my way to the bridge. where I informed Capt. Bruder what was the matter. I never saw a cooler man than that Hudson River skipper. He did not lose his head for a single second. He called his officers to him and then ordered every man to the place assigned to him in the fire drill.

Captain Reassures Passengers.
Then he made his way to the saloon where the passengers were and begged them to keep cool and trust to him to get them to land. He said that we were in danger, but that the greatest danger of all was a panic. When we got ashore he told us to meet him at the police station and he would furnish us transportation to wherever we wished to go. Then the skipper rushed back to the bridge and guided the boat to the pier at Dobbs Ferry. So far as I know no one was lost, although I did hear that two men had jumped overboard but were rescued.

"The passengers had just finished dinner and were making themselves known to one another in the saloon," said R. H. Keller of Troy, "when the skipper came into the saloon and informed us in a cool business-like way that bad luck had come our way, and that the boat was on fire. Several of the women appeared to be on the verge of going into hysterics, but the skipper had foreseen all that and assured them that the greatest danger of all lay in their losing their heads. Then he told us what to do and where to go, and hurried back to his place on the bridge.

"It was as cool a piece of work as I have ever seen under such serious conditions. 'Meet me at the police station and I'll send you home,' the skipper said as he hurried out of the saloon."

As far as I was able to ascertain," said Frank Fletcher, one of the engineers of the City of Troy, "the fire started in the pantry, which is located on the main deck about amidships. I have not yet learned the cause, but imagine that defective insulation must have started it. The moment the skipper realized what the matter was[,] he headed straight for Dobbs Ferry. There was not any panic, and we did not lose a soul, either among the passengers or the crew."

Four Streams Didn't Check Flames.
"When the fire alarm was sounded Capt Bruder hustled every man to the place assigned to him in the fire drill, and soon we had four streams playing on the fire. Despite our efforts the flames gained rapidly on us, and in a few minutes after we bumped up against the dock at Dobbs Ferry the boat was a mass of flames from stem to stern.

"We were going at full speed when the fire started, that is, about 14 knots an hour. The most pitiful incident of the fire was the loss of seven [or 13?] fine horses that we had on board. We all wanted to save the poor beasts, but it was impossible to do so. I do not know to whom the animals belonged."

Michael Murray and Thomas O'Hara were two of the crew that arrived here this morning. They did the talking for their fellows and all agreed that they were mighty lucky to get back to New York alive.

Most of these men were asleep when the fire drill was sounded. They did not stop to pick up any of their personal belongings, but hustled on deck to help try put out the fire. O'Hara said that Capt. Bruder had to be taken off the ship in a lifeboat, as the vessel was ablaze from stem to stern on the landing side when the skipper deserted the boat, after the last of the passengers were taken off.

Some of the others said that O'Hara was mistaken in this and that the skipper had left the boat via the gangplank, which he reached by a perilous groping through the smoke that enveloped the ship.

The negro cooks and stewards were the great sufferers and saved almost nothing at all. Several of them had very few clothes on last night and were trying to keep themselves warm with blankets that had been given them by kindhearted people in Dobbs Ferry.

One of the crew said that one of the officers found a crowd of fifteen excited Italians preparing to jump overboard. He remained among them until the boat landed, after issuing a standing threat to brain the first man that moved, with a belaying-pin. The Italian re[m]ained quiet.

The City of Troy was a wooden side-wheel steamboat, 280.6 feet long and 38 feet in breadth, drawing ten feet of water. She was built in Brooklyn in 1876 for inland passenger service, and had continued in the Hudson River service for the Citizens' Steamboat Company since. She cost $250,000 originally. Her gross tonnage was 1,527, and net tonnage 1,280. The steamboat had a crew of forty-eight men and 200 staterooms.

Some thirteen years ago, when the present management of the Citizens Line assumed control, the boat was remodeled at a cost of $150,000. On each deck she was provided with fire cocks and hose. The officers and crew have always been considered most efficient, and were well versed in the fire drill.

South Street Seaport’s tugboat W.O. Decker has made herself at home on our docks for several months on her way to the Scarano Shipyard in Albany.  Built in 1930 for Frederick and John Russell’s Newtown Creek Towing Co. as the Russell 1, she was small as tugboats go and intended for use in the confined and narrow Newtown Creek, separating Queens and Brooklyn.  As such, she was referred to as a “creek” tug.  Built of wood and powered by steam, she measured 52 ft. in length overall and 15 ft. in beam with a depth of 5 ft. 6 in.  Her steam engine was replaced by the first of several diesel engines in 1946.  With the exception of a shorter stack, her outward appearance has not materially changed.
 
Creek tugs such as the W.O. Decker were typically used to tow barges in and out of the navigable creeks which branched off of New York Harbor.  They served as stern tugs assisting larger tugboats towing strings of barges and they helped berth coastal schooners at docks on the creeks where lumber and coal were off-loaded.  They were also used in shifting barges and car floats.  It was not uncommon for creek tugs to tow three to four barges at a time, requiring expert handling in narrow and twisting waterways full of berthed ships, bridges, barges and moving tows.
 
The Russell 1 was sold to Mary Decker in Staten Island in 1946.  She renamed the tug for her father-in-law William Oscar Decker and repowered the boat with the first diesel engine.  The W.O. Decker worked for many years in the Arthur Kill and towed construction barges up narrow passages for the building of bridges on the New Jersey Turnpike.  The Decker family sold the tug in 1967 to the George Rogers Construction Co. of Mariners Harbor.  That company sold her the following year to the Youghiogheny and Ohio Coal Company where she was renamed Susan Dayton.  For much of the following decade she towed coal barges.
 
In 1978, the tugboat was purchased by George Matteson.  Matteson, captain, author and advocate for the preservation of historic ships, brought her to South Street Seaport where in exchange for berthing privileges, she was used for shifting the Seaport’s growing collection of historic ships.  Matteson donated the tug to the Seaport in 1986.  She was placed on the National Register of Historic Places in 1996.  Built at a time when New York Harbor was the busiest port in the world, she is one of only a few wooden tugboats that remain operational.
 
The W.O. Decker is photogenic and we hope you will take the opportunity to visit her while she is on our dock.  The tugboat will not be open for boarding, but you are welcome to observe her and take a boatload of pictures!
          
Source:  Norman Brouwer, (former Ship Historian, South Street Seaport Museum), National Register of Historic Places Nomination Form, 1996.

Welcome to Week 14 of the #HudsonRiverscapes Photo Contest! We asked members of the public to submit their best photos (no people) of the Hudson River and tributaries, and just look at all the beautiful shots they delivered. 
​
We are delighted to share with you these wonderful images of our beloved Hudson River. If you would like to submit your own photos to this contest, you can find out more about the rules - and prizes! - here. ​

Welcome to Week 14 of the #HudsonRiverscapes Photo Contest! We asked members of the public to submit their best photos (no people) of the Hudson River and tributaries, and just look at all the beautiful shots they delivered. 
​
We are delighted to share with you these wonderful images of our beloved Hudson River. If you would like to submit your own photos to this contest, you can find out more about the rules - and prizes! - here. 

​An original song by Melissa Holland, performed by Ms Holland (keyboard and vocals) with photography by Paul Hewitt. Melissa and Paul live in Beacon, NY located in Dutchess County on the Hudson River. Beacon was Pete Seeger's hometown, and he was dedicated to revitalizing the Hudson after it had been badly contaminated by pollution. Melissa Holland performed regularly with Pete Seeger, and this was his favorite song of hers. She's an active member and regular performer at the Hudson Valley Folk Guild and the Hyde Park Free Library.

I'M SO LUCKY I LIVE BY THE RIVER (HUDSON RIVER)" LYRICS

​I’m so lucky I live by the river
I’m so lucky I can hear the sound
Of the waves against the rocks
And the rustling of the trees
See the skies reflection change from blue to bright green
I’m so lucky I live by the river
I’m so lucky I live by the river
I’m so lucky the mountains reach its shores
Towering above me, like giant palace walls
These ancient granite statues make me feel so safe and small

I’m so lucky I live by the river
I can swim or climb, I can sit and stare
I can slow down time or immerse myself in prayer
I’m so lucky I live by the river
I’m so lucky to walk out on the dock
And watch the colored kayaks race on by
The graceful sailboats lean
The fishermen so quiet cast their lines and cast their dreams
I’m so lucky I live by the river​

​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!​

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.”
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So the belle in a canoe is something of a proud heroine. – Clara Belle

Welcome to Week 12 of the #HudsonRiverscapes Photo Contest! We asked members of the public to submit their best photos (no people) of the Hudson River and tributaries, and just look at all the beautiful shots they delivered. 

We are delighted to share with you these wonderful images of our beloved Hudson River. If you would like to submit your own photos to this contest, you can find out more about the rules - and prizes! - here. ​

​This is a contest, but all voting takes place on Facebook. To vote, simply log into your account, click the button below, and like and/or comment on your favorite. At the end of each week, the photo with the most likes and comments wins a Household Membership to the Hudson River Maritime Museum. If you don't get to vote this week, keep liking and commenting anyway - all photos are entered into the Grand Prize at the end of the contest - a free private charter aboard Solaris for 2021!

​Thank you for everyone who participated this week!