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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 Carl and Joan Mayer. See more of Captain Benson’s articles here. This article was originally published May 7, 1972.  Cornell Steamboat Company Steamer "City of Kingston" turning in Rondout Creek near the tip of Island Dock (right). Donald C. Ringwald Collection, Hudson River Maritime Museum. Within a few years after the introduction of steamboating on the Hudson River, Rondout Creek soon developed into the leading port between New York and Albany. This was due principally to the fact that it was the eastern terminus of the D. & H. Canal. Shipments of Ulster County blue stone. Rosendale cement, lime, the concentration of brickyards along the river north of Kingston, and the natural ice industry also all played major parts in the growth of Rondout harbor. As activity along the creek grew, so did the size of the steamboats serving Rondout. Any steamboat serving Rondout, obviously had to be able to turn around in the creek. The width of the creek, as a result, had some bearing on the design of the steamboat, particularly its length. I suppose this factor also had a direct bearing on the location of the steamboat docks as well as the early growth of Rondout itself. The creek is at its navigable widest just south of where the Freeman Building is now located and this was where the steamboat wharves and docks were located — between the foot of Broadway east to the foot of Hasbrouck Avenue. Steamboats in regular service out of Rondout almost always turned around as soon as they entered the creek, prior to the unloading of passengers and freight. This fact is borne out by old time photographs of steamers berthed at Rondout. Of the many photographs have seen, all but one show the steamboats facing downstream. The sole exception is a photo of the “Mary Powell”, and in this one photograph only she lies head up.  Steamboat "Mary Powell" docked on the north side of Rondout Creek, at Ponckhockie, bow facing east, toward the Hudson. Al Marquart Collection, Hudson River Maritime Museum. Rondout’s Largest For years, the largest steamboat sailing out of Rondout Creek was the “Thomas Cornell,” built in 1863 and 310 feet long. Other larger steamboats out of Rondout were the famous “Mary Powell” at 288 feet, the “James W. Baldwin” at 275, and the “Benjamin B. Odell” at 264. The longest one of all to sail regularly out of Rondout was the Day Liner “Albany,” 326 feet long, which replaced the “Mary Powell” on the Rondout to New York run during the season of 1914 through 1917. I, have been told the “Albany,” on occasion, used to use the steam yacht “C. A. Schults” — that once ran between Rondout and Eddyville — to help pull her bow around. All of the, others turned unassisted. For many years, Ben Johnston owned a drug store on East Strand. Johnston told me when the “Benjamin B. Odell” turned around in the creek, at times the vibrations set up by her turning propeller would shake bottles off the shelves in his drug store. This was due to the fact that all the land along the Strand was filled-in land.  Steamer "Benjamin B. Odell" on her first voyage, 1911. Photo by Ralph P. Young, Marlborough, NY. Neil Keyser Collection, Hudson River Maritime Museum. It is my understanding that the area all along the Strand was once a dandy beach — and the old sloop and schooner captains would beach, or strand, their vessels on this beach at high tide. Then, when the tide went out, they would make bottom repairs or caulk under-water leaking seams on their boats exposed by the drop in tide. When the tide came back in, they would float their sloops and schooners. I have been told this act of stranding their vessels on this beach is what gave the Strand its name when the area was filled in and the beach was developed into a street.  Steamer "Benjamin B. Odell" docked at Rondout, NY, 1911. Steamer "Mary Powell" in background. Saulpaugh Collection, Hudson River Maritime Museum. An old boatman also once told me about an incident that took place when the “Benjamin B. Odell” was turning around off her Rondout wharf. Normally, she would come along-side the dock, can her bow out from the dock and put a stern line from the port quarter out to a bollard on the dock. Then, she would go ahead slow and swing around like a slowly moving giant pendulum. Captain George Greenwood would be up on the bridge and the mate down on the main deck in charge of the deckhands tending the lines. On this particular day, just as the “Odell” got broadside in the creek, the stern line snapped. The mate had a police whistle and blew a series of toots on it to let the captain know the line had snapped. Before the mate could get another line out, the “Odell” started to move across the creek. Except for stopping the engine, Captain Greenwood gave no indication anything was wrong. The mate in the excitement didn’t notice the engine had stopped and continued to blow his police whistle. After several series of excited toots and getting no response from the captain, the mate bounded up the companionways at the stern of the “Odell” to the top deck. There, Captain Greenwood stood calmly on the bridge watching the slowly approaching south shore of the creek. Captain Greenwood let the “Odell’s” bow slowly drift right onto the creek’s south shore and the incoming tide carry her stern up stream. When the angle was right, Captain Greenwood backed down, put the “Odell’s” port quarter close to the Rondout dock, got out a spring line, went slowly ahead and brought his steamer alongside the dock so perfectly he wouldn’t have broken an egg had one been between the steamboat and the dock. The old time captains, like Captain Greenwood, were superb ship handlers. They knew exactly what their steamboats would do in any combination of wind and tide. They were true masters of their trade, made the difficult look easy, and rarely got the recognition they deserved. It seems the only time anyone took notice of them was in the rare event something went wrong. And, then, it was often due to something over which they had little control, such as a mechanical failure, rarely an error in judgment. AuthorCaptain William Odell Benson was a life-long resident of Sleightsburgh, N.Y., where he was born on March 17, 1911, the son of the late Albert and Ida Olson Benson. He served as captain of Callanan Company tugs including Peter Callanan, and Callanan No. 1 and was an early member of the Hudson River Maritime Museum. He retained, and shared, lifelong memories of incidents and anecdotes along the Hudson 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!
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 Firefighters view the remains of the trucks that started it all - one carrying carbon disulfide (right) and the other carrying paint supplies (left). From the "Report: The Holland Tunnel Chemical Fire." May 13, 1949. National Board of Fire Underwriters, N.Y., [July 1949.] Courtesy Hoboken Historical Museum. Last week we learned about the Lincoln Tunnel, but the earlier Holland Tunnel has stories of its own. Opened in 1927, the Holland Tunnel was at the time the longest vehicular underwater tunnel in the world. It connects Jersey City, NJ to lower Manhattan and is still in use today. But in 1949, an extraordinary event would occur. On Friday, May 13, 1949 truck carrying 55 gallon drums of carbon disulfide entered the tunnel. Carbon disulfide is still used today, primarily in the manufacture of viscose rayon and cellophane film. The driver had no idea of the danger of his cargo, which was actually banned from the tunnel because of its toxic and highly flammable fumes. Less than a hundred yards into the tunnel, a drum broke loose from the truck and fell onto the roadway, breaking open and releasing the highly flammable gas. The resulting fire would burn for hours. To tell the full story, we actually have FOUR media resources for you today - two original newsreels from 1949 recounting the event, a podcast entitled "A Miraculous Disaster – In 1949 The Holland Tunnel Burned At 4,000-Degrees And No One Died," and an original report from the National Board of Fire Underwriters. Although no one died in the fire itself, 66 people were treated and 27 hospitalized for smoke inhalation. Among them was Battalion Chief firefighter Gunther E. Beake, who succumbed to injuries from toxic smoke inhalation on August 23, 1949. The incident ultimately resulted in legislation in both New Jersey and New York enacting stiffer penalties and fines for companies who violated cargo rules. 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!
 Tin foghorn from the "William S. Earl" tugboat, painted dark green with "W. S. EARL" stenciled in white. Hudson River Maritime Museum Collection. Today's featured artifact is a unique one. The museum has several of these tin foghorns in its collection, but this is one of the only ones with a name attached! This dark green tin foghorn belonged to the William S. Earl, often abbreviated to Wm. S. Earl, a Cornell Steamboat Company tugboat in operation on the Rondout from 1884 until 1947. Built in 1859 in Philadelphia, PA, she was seriously damaged by fire on three separate occasions - on December 1, 1881 in Greenbush, NY; on December 13, 1903 at Rondout, and on May 30, 1936 also at Rondout. Each time she was rebuilt and continued to operate. One of the oldest propeller tugs in the Cornell fleet, she was beaten in age only by the Terror, an aptly named tugboat built in 1854, purchased by Cornell in 1892, and condemned by steamboat inspectors as unsafe in 1910.  Tugboat "William S. Earl" docked at the Cornell Steamboat Company headquarters on Rondout Creek, likely getting minor work done, judging by the floating dock tied alongside. Donald C. Ringwald Collection, Hudson River Maritime Museum. The Wm. S. Earl was finally abandoned July 20, 1949 and scuttled in Port Ewen, NY at 90 years old. Her long life and frequent rehabilitation was attributed Edward Coykendall (grandson of Thomas Cornell), who considered the Wm. S. Earl a favorite.  Mouthpiece of the foghorn of the Cornell Steamboat Company tugboat "William S. Earl." Hudson River Maritime Museum Collection. The foghorn itself appears designed to be blown by the mouth and the sound likely would not have traveled very far, but it would have been enough to notify other boats of the Wm. S. Earl's presence in a fog. Essentially, foghorns like this helped prevent boats from hitting each other! The Smithsonian National Museum of American History also has several tin foghorns, including this one, which was used on fishing dories off the Grand Banks in the 1880s. To learn more about the history of fog signals, check out this detailed article from the United States Lighthouse Society. 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 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. For more of Murdock's articles, see the "Steamboat Biographies" category  Photo of the steamer "Ansonia" at dock, likely in Saugerties, NY. Hudson River Maritime Museum Collection. The “Ansonia” was built for the New York-Derby, Conn., route in the year 1848, with George Deming, captain, Frederick Perkins, pilot, and John M. White, chief engineer. She was 190 feet long with a 28 foot beam, and ran on Long Island Sound on the Derby route until 1860, when she was purchased by Brett & Matthews of Fishkill Landing, refitted and renamed the “William Kent.” Under the name of the “William Kent,” this steamboat sailed the Hudson between Fishkill Landing and New York until 1861, when she was chartered by the government for the transportation of troops for the sum of $700 per day. She was employed by the federal government for a period of 77 days and was then discharged from service. About this time the government passed a law which said that unless a steamboat was entirely rebuilt, her name could not be changed. The purpose of the law was to protect the public who might think they were traveling on a new boat when in reality the only thing new would be the name. This law necessitated the name “Ansonia” being again emblazoned on the sides of the “William Kent,” and so under the original name of the “Ansonia” she plied the Delaware river between Philadelphia and Cape May in the year 1862. Following this sojourn at the Quaker City, the “Ansonia” was brought back to New York and placed in service on her former route between Fishkill Landing and the metropolis as a freight and passenger carrier under Captain J.T. Brett. Following this she was sold to the Saugerties Steamboat Company and began regular trips between Saugerties and New York. In the winter of 1892 the Ansonia was rebuilt at South Brooklyn, being lengthened to 205 feet, and her name was changed to the “Ulster,” with a tonnage rating of 780 gross tons or 580 net tons.  Steamboat "Ulster" (formerly "Ansonia") run up on the rocks at the base of Storm King Mountain after a storm, 1897. Hudson River Maritime Museum Collection. On November 11, 1897, the “Ulster” ran on the rocks at Butter Hill, just below Cornwall-on-Hudson about midnight and rested there with her stern submerged in the water and her bow on the rocks. She slipped off the rocks and sunk in 30 feet of water. At the time of the accident she was heavily loaded with freight and carried 105 passengers, all of whom were safely landed on shore. A further account of this disaster tells of the “Ulster” leaving New York about seven o’clock in the evening on an exceedingly stormy night. When she reached Haverstraw Bay, a wind storm arose and blew down the river at a rate of about 30 miles an hour. The pilot hugged the west shore of the river so as not to face the full force of the gale. The river was very rough and when opposite Butter Hill, the “Ulster” was blown on the rocky shore and a hole stove in her hull. Most of the passengers were in their berths at the time but they were quickly aroused and gotten off with a minimum of confusion. The “Ulster” was raised and rebuilt and placed in service on her regular route, running until the fall of 1921, when she was taken up to Rondout creek to Hiltebrant’s shipyard and was there rebuilt in the winter of 1922. The Vulcan Iron Works of Jersey City constructed a new boiler for the steamer and her name was changed to the “Robert A. Snyder” in honor of the late Robert A. Snyder who was for many years the president and superintendent of the Saugerties and New York Steamboat Company. She ran on the Saugerties line in conjunction with the steamboat “Ida."  Steamboat "Robert A. Snyder" (formerly "Ulster" and "Ansonia") tied up at Saugerties, May, 1933. Taken out of service in 1931. Donald C. Ringwald Collection, Hudson River Maritime Museum. On Friday, February 20, 1936, the “Robert A. Snyder” was crushed by the ice as she lay in the lower creek off Saugerties where she had been tied up with her sister ship, the “Ida”, since the Saugerties Line ceased operation some four years before. The water was shallow at that point and the remains of the once famous boat now lies rotting to pieces on the muddy bottom of the Saugerties Creek, a sight that will bring back many memories of the olden days on the Hudson river to any of the old boatmen who were active at the time when the “Robert A. Snyder” was running on her regular schedule. AuthorGeorge W. Murdock, (b. 1853-d. 1940) was a veteran marine engineer who served on the steamboats "Utica", "Sunnyside", "City of Troy", and "Mary Powell". He also helped dismantle engines in scrapped steamboats in the winter months and later in his career worked as an engineer at the brickyards in Port Ewen. In 1883 he moved to Brooklyn, NY and operated several private yachts. He ended his career working in power houses in the outer boroughs of New York City. His mother Catherine Murdock was the keeper of the Rondout Lighthouse for 50 years. 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 Carl and Joan Mayer. See more of Captain Benson’s articles here. This article was originally published October 14, 1972.  The Central Hudson Line steamer "Jacob H. Tremper" docked at Newburgh, c. 1920. Donald C. Ringwald Collection, Hudson River Maritime Museum. For a period of over 70 years prior to 1928, there was a steamboat service between Newburgh and Albany. At its peak there was a steamboat in each direction, carrying freight and passengers on a daily basis. The steamers would make landings at almost every city, village and hamlet along the banks of the upper river. During the latter part of the 19th century and the first part of the 20th century, the steamboats “Jacob H. Tremper” and “M. Martin” were the two steamboats providing the service. At the end of the 1918 season, the “Martin” had outlived her usefulness and for the next ten years the “Tremper’” carried on alone, going up one day and returning the next. As the 1920’s wore on, business on the line continued to dwindle. The “Tremper” stopped carrying passengers and in her final years was used to carry freight only. After over 40 years of service, the “Tremper" really showed her age. Her guards hung low above the water and eel grass would hang from her paddle boxes. One morning in the late summer of her final season, the steamer “Trojan” of the Hudson River Night Line was landing at Albany just as the “Jacob H. Tremper” paddled by one her down river trip. Three lady passengers were out on the upper deck watching her go by. As Captain George Warner of the “Trojan” came down from the bridge, one of the lady passengers said to him, “My goodness Captain, what old boat is that?” The Captain replied, “Why my good ladies, did you ever hear of the ‘Half Moon’?” "Yes,” said the lady, “Henry Hudson discovered this river with the ‘Half Moon’.” “Well,” the Captain said, “That is the other half of the ‘Half Moon’.” During the mid-1920’s when I was a teenage boy growing up in Sleightsburgh, it used to be quite a sight to see the old “Jacob H. Tremper” coming in Rondout Creek about 10:30 a.m. on her up trip and then about 3 or 4 p.m. the next day on her down trip. Her guards would nearly be dragging in the water, her forward deck would be loaded with freight, and water would be pouring out of the lattice work on her wheel houses.  Steamer "Jacob H. Tremper" turning in Rondout Creek. Steamer "Edwin B. Gardner" at dock at left, "Marlboro" in the background." Saulpaugh Collection, Hudson River Maritime Museum. When it would be flood tide, she would come very close to Sleight’s dock at Sleightsburgh so as to turn and put her port bow to the dock, under the stern of the “Benjamin B. Odell” or “Homer Ramsdell,” at Rondout. At that time, Sleight’s store was still in operation adjacent to the old chain ferry slip. When the “Tremper” would pass close to the dock, some of the Sleightsburgh boys would get overripe tomatoes or rotten eggs from Sleight’s store and see how many letters in the name on her paddle box they could hit. Although I am somewhat reluctant to admit it now, I was one of them. How the mate would shake his fist and swear at us! Since the “Tremper” no longer carried passengers, her deck crew no longer bothered to scrub the white work. The splotches from the eggs and tomatoes would be on all summer and fall. She sure did look like a “Half Moon.” As a boy, it never occurred to me the “Tremper” was nearing the end of her career. In the eyes of a barefoot youth, time stood still and somehow it seemed summer would last forever. Then, it seemed impossible that in but a few short years the “Jacob H. Tremper” would no longer be coming in Rondout Creek, black soft coal smoke trailing from her tall, black smokestack, a white plume of steam rising skyward from her whistle as she blew off the Cornell coal pocket for the deckhands to get ready to handle her lines. AuthorCaptain William Odell Benson was a life-long resident of Sleightsburgh, N.Y., where he was born on March 17, 1911, the son of the late Albert and Ida Olson Benson. He served as captain of Callanan Company tugs including Peter Callanan, and Callanan No. 1 and was an early member of the Hudson River Maritime Museum. He retained, and shared, lifelong memories of incidents and anecdotes along the Hudson 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!
 The under-construction Lincoln Tunnel, 1936. Wikimedia Commons. Today's Media Monday post is this wonderful film from 1938 about the construction of the Lincoln Tunnel! First proposed in the 1920s as the "Midtown Hudson Tunnel," construction on the tunnel began in 1934, connecting Weekhawken, NJ and midtown Manhattan. The first tube opened in 1937, just a year before this film was produced. The Port Authority advertised the tunnel as "The Direct Way to Times Square" and in the first 24 hours over 7,500 vehicles used the tunnel, which officially opened December 22, 1937, just in time for the busy holiday season. Bus companies were especially happy to be allowed to use the tunnel - previously they had had to board ferries in Weehawken bound for New York City. Two more tubes were later added due to traffic increases, opening in 1945 and 1957, respectively. Construction of the second tube began almost immediately, as the equipment and personnel were already on site. Automobile tunnels under the Hudson River helped alleviate some of the congestion of bridges and ferries, changing New York City streets forever. 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 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. For more of Murdock's articles, see the "Steamboat Biographies" category  Towing steamboat "Sandy" (formerly the "Sarah E. Brown") sunk in Rondout Creek after freshet of March 13, 1893. Note the name "SANDY" on the sidewheel cover at left. Saulpaugh Collection, Hudson River Maritime Museum. The tale of the steamboat “Sarah E. Brown,” known for a period in her existence as the “fish market boat,” begins in 1860, travels through the Civil War and comes to the Rondout creek harbor, and finally ends as the wreckers tear apart the remains of the vessel which lost a battle with the ice in the creek and was wrecked beyond repair, in the year 1893. The wooden hull of the “Sarah E. Brown” was built at Brooklyn in 1860. She was 91 feet long, breadth of beam 19 feet five inches, depth of hold five feet eight inches. Her gross tonnage was listed at 45, with a net tonnage of 22, and she was propelled by a vertical beam engine with a cylinder diameter of 24 inches with a six foot stroke. As can be ascertained from the above dimensions, the “Sarah E. Brown” was a small side wheel steamboat, which was built for towing service in and around New York harbor. There were many vessels similar to the “Sarah E. Brown” in use for the same purpose at that period in steamboat history. Shortly after the outbreak of the Civil War in 1861, the “Sarah E. Brown” was taken over by the war department and placed in service on the Potomac river, being used principally in places where the river was too shallow for the larger vessels to navigate safely. In 1865, at the close of the war, the “Sarah E. Brown” was brought north to the Brooklyn Navy Yard and tied up, and the following year she was sold to Thomas Cornell along with another side wheel steamboat, the “Ceres.” These two vessels, both painted black according to the practice of the federal government during the war, arrived at Rondout and were used for towing purposes in and around the Rondout creek. Under the command of Captain Sandy Forsythe, the “Sarah E. Brown,” with Peter Powell as chief engineer, became a familiar sight along the river in the vicinity of the mouth of the Rondout creek. The year 1869 marks the event which brought the nickname of the “fish market boat” to the “Sarah E. Brown.” A collision with an ice barge stove in the wheelhouse of the “Sarah E. Brown” carrying away much of the woodwork and leaving only the letters S.E.B. of her full name. Immediately some wag along the docks found the three letters could be the initial letters to the words “suckers,” “eels” and “bullheads,” and so the “Sarah E. Brown” came into the name of the “fish market boat.” During the winter of 1870 the “Sarah E. Brown” was rebuilt at Sleightsburgh by Morgan Everyone, and Major Cornell was asked what name he wished for the rebuilt craft. It is reported that Major Cornell in turn asked Captain Sandy Forsythe what name he thought would be appropriate, and the captain replied that the name “Sandy” would do. Thus the “Sarah E. Brown” became the towboat “Sandy.” The “Sandy” was in use around the Rondout harbor until the fall of 1892, and then it was an accident which occurred during the period when she was tied up for the winter, that brought the career of the “Sandy” to a close. N March 13, 1893, the ice in the upper section of the Rondout creek broke loose due to a spring freshet, and thousands off tons of ice rode the raging torrent down the creek. The onslaught of this mass swept many of the tied-up vessels from their moorings, and the side of the “Sandy” was crushed, causing the wrecked steamboat to sink. She was raised but was found to be in such condition that she was no longer of any use, and she was sold to Jacob Herold and broken up at Rondout. AuthorGeorge W. Murdock, (b. 1853-d. 1940) was a veteran marine engineer who served on the steamboats "Utica", "Sunnyside", "City of Troy", and "Mary Powell". He also helped dismantle engines in scrapped steamboats in the winter months and later in his career worked as an engineer at the brickyards in Port Ewen. In 1883 he moved to Brooklyn, NY and operated several private yachts. He ended his career working in power houses in the outer boroughs of New York City. His mother Catherine Murdock was the keeper of the Rondout Lighthouse for 50 years. 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 Carl and Joan Mayer. See more of Captain Benson’s articles here. This article was originally published October 13, 1974.  Steamboat "Alexander Hamilton" heading north on the Hudson River, flags flying in the breeze. Donald C. Ringwald Collection, Hudson River Maritime Museum. Ever since the rumble of summer thunder in the Catskills was attributed by Washington Irving to a form of bowling by his merry little men, the Hudson Valley has had a certain renown for its thunder and lightning storms. Many a boatman has been a witness to spectacular lightning displays, primarily because his boat has been in the middle of the river and he had, as a result, a particularly good vantage point. There have been a number of instances where river boats have even been struck by lightning, although I don’t know of a single instance where a boat has been seriously damaged as a result. This has probably been due, I suppose, to the fact the boat has been effectively grounded by the water on which it floated. When boats have been struck by lightning, almost always the target for the lightning bolt has been the flag poles. In some instances, a flag pole has been split right down the middle. In others, a flag pole has been snapped off like a matchstick. Events, such as I describe, I know have occurred to the Day Liners “Alexander Hamilton," "Hendrick Hudson" and “Albany.” Since the beginning of steamboating, steamers have always carried flagpoles and generally, a generous display of flags and bunting. If nothing else, the flags gaily flapping in the breeze helped attract attention to the steamer. Even at night or in the dreariest weather, one would always find a pennant or a wind sock flying from the forward flag pole, for this would help tell the pilot from which direction the wind was blowing.  Hudson River Day Line Steamboat "DeWitt Clinton" with many flags flying, underway on the Hudson River. Donald C. Ringwald Collection, Hudson River Maritime Museum. The Day Liners, in particular, always had a lot of flag poles. The big sidewheelers carried eleven flag poles — one at the bow from which on a good day would fly the union jack, one in back of the pilot house from which would fly the house flag, one at the stern from which would fly the national ensign, and eight side poles from which would fly smaller American flags. During their profit making years, a Day Liner would start the season with a complete set of new flags for sunny days, a complete set of older flags for rainy days, and a set of pennants for windy days. Prior to World War I, the side poles used to fly the flags of foreign countries, allegedly as a tribute to the diverse population of New York City and its reputation as the nation’s “melting pot," not to mention the possibility of perhaps attracting the people of these diverse backgrounds to ride the steamers. When lightning would strike a steamer’s flag pole, the jack staff - the one at the bow - seemed to be the greatest attraction. One one occasion in the 1930's, the “Alexander Hamilton” was in the lower river when she ran into a severe thunderstorm. The passengers scurried for cover. Shortly thereafter a bolt of lightning struck the jack staff, snapping it off. The pilot later related a ball of fire appeared to roll down the edge of the deck from the broken jack staff to about opposite the pilot house and then roll overboard, with no visible damage other than the broken bow flag pole.  Steamboat "Hendrick Hudson" underway, starboard view, name flag flying from pilot house. Donald C. Ringwald Collection, Hudson River Maritime Museum. The "Hendrick Hudson” had a similar experience but without the accompanying fire-ball. The lightning bolt that struck the "Albany” did so in August 1926 while she lay along the Day Line pier at the foot of 42nd Street, New York during a heavy thunder shower. The lightning in this case struck the stern flag pole and split it down the middle so it lay open like a large palm. In both cases there was no other damage whatever.  Steamboat "Mary Powell" underway on the Hudson, flags flying. Saulpaugh Collection, Hudson River Maritime Museum. Perhaps the most spectacular damage from a thunderstorm to a river steamer occurred on June 20, 1899 to the well-known “Mary Powell.” Here, however, the damage was caused by tornado like winds accompanying the storm and not by lightning. Captain A. E. Anderson at the time said it was the worst storm he had encountered in his then 25 years of steamboating. The “Powell” was on her regular up trip from New York to Rondout. Going through Haverstraw Bay, there appeared to be two thunderstorms, one to the southwest and one to the north, both accompanied by generous displays of lightning. Near Stony Point the two storms appeared to meet with the “Mary Powell” right at the center. A cyclonic funnel of dust laden wind seemed to move out from the west shore straight toward the graceful steamboat. The wind caught the "Mary Powell” with great force and listed her sharply to starboard. The starboard smoke stack came crashing down toward the bow onto the paddle box, the stack’s guys snapped and the supporting rods twisted. A very short time later, the port smoke stack also toppled over athwart in this instance the aptly named hurricane deck. The resulting shower of sparks was doused by a deluge of rain that accompanied the storm. In about 15 minutes the storm abated and it was all over. In addition to the toppled smoke stacks, a sliding door had been blown in, the life boats had been lifted from their chocks and the davits bent, and quite a number of folding chairs had been blown overboard. The “Powell's” engineers started her blowers and the steamer continued on her way, making her regular landings at Cranston’s (later Highland Falls), West Point, Cornwall, Newburgh, New Hamburg, Milton, Poughkeepsie, Hyde Park and Rondout. At the time of the great storm, the "Mary Powell” had aboard approximately 200 passengers. Fortunately, none were injured although many were probably shaken by their experience. The “Mary Powell” must have presented a strange appearance as she steamed into Rondout Creek with her fallen smoke stacks. Repair crews had been alerted and as soon as she docked, the workmen commenced work. A gang of men worked throughout the night and it is said the steamer left Kingston the following morning for New York on her regular schedule. AuthorCaptain William Odell Benson was a life-long resident of Sleightsburgh, N.Y., where he was born on March 17, 1911, the son of the late Albert and Ida Olson Benson. He served as captain of Callanan Company tugs including Peter Callanan, and Callanan No. 1 and was an early member of the Hudson River Maritime Museum. He retained, and shared, lifelong memories of incidents and anecdotes along the Hudson 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!
 Aerial photo of Bannerman's Island Arsenal, taken c. 1943 by the War Department, National Archives. Perhaps you've taken a Metro North or Amtrak train to or from New York City and seen this ruined castle on the Hudson. Or maybe you've seen it from scenic route 218 along the face of Storm King Mountain. Or maybe you've seen it from the shores of Newburgh, NY. Either way, Pollopel Island has been host to this curious structure since the early 1900s. To learn more about Bannerman's Castle, check out the video below! Want to visit Bannerman's Castle? You can! The island and castle are managed by the Bannerman's Castle Trust, a non-profit friends group working hand-in-hand with New York State Office of Parks, Recreation, and Historic Preservation to preserve, stabilize, and provide access to the castle. To book a program or support the Trust, visit their website at bannermancastle.org. 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!
Advertisement for excursion aboard the steamboat "Mary Powell" to go see Billy Sunday's Tabernacle in New York City, June, 1917. Donald C. Ringwald Collection, Hudson River Maritime Museum.
In 1917 the steamboat Mary Powell took one of her last excursions. The above advertisement, published in June, 1917, gives Hudson Valley residents the opportunity to travel down to New York City to see Billy Sunday's Tabernacle.
Sunday was a former baseball star turned evangelical Christian and had been known for his fiery revivals. But although he once said Prohibition was a greater cause than the First World War, when the U.S. entered the war in April of 1917, he turned to his pulpit to decry Germany and Kaiser Wilhelm as tools of the Devil.
Crowd gathered around exit at Pennsylvania Station in New York City awaiting the arrival of Billy Sunday, 1917. Library of Congress.
He arrived in New York City to enormous crowds just days after the U.S. entrance into the war. Thousands met him at Penn Station, where he required a police escort. Thousands more thronged into his custom-built Tabernacle where he preached fiery revivals with a patriotic tinge. The tabernacle included 16,000 seats. He gave revivals multiple times a week in New York City for over ten weeks. ​
Billy Sunday's enormous Tabernacle, purpose-built in New York City for his 1917 revival series. This photograph taken April 8, 1917, just two days after the United States entered the First World War. Library of Congress.
The inside of Sunday's New York City Tabernacle, 1917, which could hold 16,000-20,000 people. Library of Congress.
Without amplification, Sunday used enormous gestures, a gregarious personality, and special acoustics along with music to make his points.
Recording of "Sail On" by the Billy Sunday Chorus, recorded at the New York Tabernacle, June 11, 1917. Library of Congress. Listen to the recording with the sound player below or follow the link by clicking on the image.
While in New York City in 1917, Sunday purportedly converted nearly 100,000 people to his brand of Christianity and was in the pages of the New York Times constantly during the ten weeks of the revival.
But like the Mary Powell, Billy Sunday's career waned after 1917, especially after the end of the First World War and the onset of Prohibition - his cause celebre - in 1920. He continued to preach the revival circuit, albeit to smaller and smaller crowds, until his death in 1935. The Mary Powell's 1917 season was her last. She was out of service in 1918, sidelined due to coal shortages thanks to the First World War, and sold in 1919 for scrap.
To learn more about the Mary Powell and her long career, visit our online exhibit, "Mary Powell: Queen of the Hudson."
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!​ |
AuthorThis blog is written by Hudson River Maritime Museum staff, volunteers and guest contributors. Archives
August 2021
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