This year is the 100th anniversary of the opening of the Rondout Suspension Bridge (or the Wurts Street Bridge, the Port Ewen Bridge, or the Rondout-Port Ewen Bridge, etc!), which opened to vehicle traffic on November 29, 1921. 

The bridge was constructed to replace the Rondout-Port Ewen ferry Riverside, which was affectionately (or not so affectionately) known as "Skillypot," from the Dutch "skillput," meaning "tortise." Spanning such a short distance, the ferry was small, and with the advent of automobiles, only able to carry one vehicle across Rondout Creek at a time, causing long delays. Motorists advocated for the construction of a bridge, which was set to begin in 1917. But when the United States joined the First World War that spring, construction was delayed until 1921.

Staff at the museum had long known that there was a woman welder on the construction crew, but we knew nothing beyond that. Had she learned to weld at a shipbuilding yard during the First World War? Was she a local resident, or someone from far away? There were more questions than answers, until a few weeks ago when HRMM volunteer researcher and contributing scholar George Thompson ran across a newspaper article that he said went "viral" in 1921. Entitled, "Woman Spider," and featured in the Morning Oregonian from Portland, Oregon, the article indicated that "Catherine Nelson, of Jersey City" was our famous woman welder.

Having a name sparked off a flurry of research and the collection of 37 separate newspaper articles, all variations on the same theme. Fourteen articles were all published on the same day, September 3, 1921. But only one had more information than the rest - "Never Dizzy, Says Woman Fly, Though Welding 300 Feet in Air. Mrs. Catherine Nelson Has No Nerves, She Loves Her work and Is Paid $30 a Day," published in the Boston Globe. Which, wonderfully, included a photo of Mrs. Catherine Nelson!

Here is the full article from the Boston Globe:

KINGSTON, NY, Sept 3 – Three hundred feet above the surface of Rondout Creek, a worker in overalls and cap has been moving about surefootedly for several days on the preliminary structure that is to support a suspension bridge across that stream.

Thousands of glances, awed and admiring, have been cast upward at the worker, stepping backward and forward and wielding an instrument that blazed blue and gold flames and welded together the cables from which the bridge will swing.

“Some nerve that fellow’s got!” was a favorite remark, to which would come the reply: “You said it!”

But there’s more than awe and admiration now directed aloft, for it turns out that “that fellow” is a woman – Mrs. Catherine Nelson of Jersey City, the only woman outdoor welder in the world.

Isn’t Afraid of Work

She isn’t afraid of her work; she loves it; and – of course this is a big inducement – she gets $30 a day for it. She has never had an accident in her seven years’ experience at the trade. She’s as strong as a man, weighing 180 pounds to her 5 ft 6 in of height, and is a good looking, altogether feminine, Scandinavian blonde. She’s 31.
​
"I was born in Denmark and was married there," Mrs Nelson told the reporter. "But my husband died and left me with two small children, so I had to shift for myself.

"For two years I worked as a stewardess on an ocean liner, but I could not have my children with me and my pay wasn’t much, so I cast about for harder and better-paid work, so I could have my own little home.

"My husband was a garage keeper in Denmark, and I had worked with him, so I knew something of machinery. I got a job in a machine shop in this country. They had an electrical welding department there and I soon got a place there. I grew to love the work and I’ve been at it for seven years.

Does Not Get Dizzy

"This is the highest job I’ve been on, but one of my first was on a water tower at Bayonne, 225 feet tall. I’ve been on smokestacks and tanks plenty. No, I don’t get dizzy. I wear overalls and softsoled shoes, and I’m always sure of myself, for I haven’t any nerves.

"I like to pride myself on the fact that I’ve never turned down a single welding job because it might be dangerous.'

Showing Mrs. Nelson’s standing in her trade, it was she who was sent up from Jersey City when Terry & Tench, the bridge contractors, asked the Weehawken Welding Company for their best operator. 

"My children and I are happy and comfortable now,' she said; 'and I hope to afford to take them home to Denmark for Christmas. But I will come back and tackle some more welding jobs."

The last published article we could find, "Says She Has No Nerves," published in the Chickasha Star, in Chickasha, Oklahoma on September 16, 1921, is almost a verbatim reprint of the Boston Globe article.

As a cable welder, Catherine Nelson was responsible for welding together the cable splices that made up the longest length of the cable span. Wire cable is produced in limited sections, and often the cable was spliced together with welding, which is among the strongest of the splices, replacing the earlier versions of wire wrapping, and later screw splicing. Welded splices are stronger and more durable than both. 

Most welding was typically done in a shop setting, but some, as with Catherine Nelson, were done on site. She may have done additional welding while walking the cables, as most of the newspaper stories focus on her working 300 feet up in the air. 

Once the initial suspension cables were in place, supporting cables for the deck of the bridge could be constructed, which were designed to provide additional support, rigidity, and to spread the weight load across the entire bridge. 

This particular bridge is said to be unique for its "stiffening truss," located under the deck of the bridge. 

The bridge was opened on November 29, 1921 to great fanfare. It remains the oldest suspension bridge in the Hudson Valley, predating the longer Bear Mountain Bridge by several years.

As for Catherine Nelson? We've yet to find any additional information about her, but if you have any leads, or are a relative with family stories, please let us know in the comments!​

​​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!​

Did you know that the Statue of Liberty was an official lighthouse from its opening in 1886 until 1901, when it was transferred to the War Department. The Statue of Liberty was also the first electrically lit lighthouse in the country. 

To learn more about the history of the Statue of Liberty and her days as a lighthouse, check out the museum's RiverWise film, "When the Lady Was a Lighthouse." 

To learn even more about the Statue of Liberty's time as a lighthouse, including a list of keepers, you can visit her page on the Hudson River Lighthouses website.

Today's Featured Artifact is this beautiful brass engine room gong, once found on a steamboat owned by the Homer Ramsdell Transportation Company, based in Newburgh.

Most steamboats and many diesel tugs were known as "bell boats," meaning the captain or pilot and the engineers communicated by a system of bells. Up in the wheelhouse, the pilot could only control the direction of the boat, with the pilot's wheel. If he wanted to change direction or speed, he had to communicate with the engineers down in the engine room. Imagine driving a car where one person is steering, and another person, who cannot see the road, is controlling the gas pedal and brakes. Thankfully, most boats are not as fast or maneuverable as a car, but the changes still had to be quickly executed to ensure safe and smooth operation of the boat.

The larger, louder bell, called a "gong," signaled a change in direction. Smaller bells, called "jingles," usually signaled a change in speed. Controls in the pilot house were connected to the bells in the engine room, making them ring. Many transportation companies had their own code, although New York Harbor had a code shared by many boats. 

In this sound clip, collected by steamboat sound recording enthusiast Conrad Milster, we can hear the gong and jingle aboard the Newburgh ferryboat Dutchess. 

Here are some examples of simplified bell signals, to give you an idea of how the system would work.

When the steamboat was stopped:

• 1 gong = work ahead (move forwards)
• 2 gongs = go astern (backwards)

When working ahead or backing (moving forwards or backwards):

• 1 gong = stop

Jingles to change speed:

• 1 jingle = increase speed
• 2 jingles = decrease speed

Signals could also be combined. For example, when stopped:

• 1 gong and 2 jingles = dead slow ahead
• 2 gongs and 1 jingle = half speed astern (backwards)

Mystic Seaport operates a historic steamboat that still uses the bell and jingle system. In this video, the captain of the Sabino explains how he and the engineer communicate. The video includes great footage from the engine room as well. 

You can visit the museum's engine room gong, which is on permanent display in the East Gallery, along with many other fascinating maritime artifacts, at the Hudson River Maritime Museum. We hope to see you soon!

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!​

​Bushnell’s Basin is a small hamlet just west of I-490 and east of the Irondequoit Creek. It was settled before the canal arrived and manufactured gunpowder and milled lumber. An inn was established in 1818 and after a long decline briefly became a nudist retreat. The inn was rescued from oblivion in the 1970s. Richardson’s CanalHouse became a high-end restaurant for Rochester area diners. Located a few feet below the canal berm, it is also an exceptional example of early-nineteenth century architecture.  
 
I was up before dawn in hopes of sketching the inn. It was chilly and damp. Sketching in the dark is literally sketchy, but under a street lamp, I was able to rough the outline of the building and its wooded setting. As the sky lightened, I was able to add some detail and color. Brent caught up with me, and we walked into the hamlet to get strong coffee and a bag of really good bagels.
 
After breakfast, we said goodbye to our neighboring boaters, used the bow thruster to extricate the Belle from the adjacent boats and headed west over a very historic stretch of the canal known as the Great Embankment, an earthen berm elevating the canal above the Irondequoit Creek and valley. The first iteration of this high embankment was built between 1818 and 1822 and was heroically built with wheelbarrows and shovels, raising the canal high above the surrounding countryside. It has been widened and reinforced a number of times, notably after devastating failures in 1912 and 1974 which flooded the lands below. Vegetation has grown up along the sides of the embankment, but between gaps in the trees, one can still see fields well below the grade of the canal.
 
We entered Pittsford about ten minutes later. Pittsford is a pretty village with fine early nineteenth century architecture including the old Phoenix Hotel completed around 1820. Over the years, this hotel hosted DeWitt Clinton, Lafayette, Daniel Webster and Cornelius Vanderbilt among others. In the twentieth century Pittsford became a suburb of the growing city of Rochester. The historic buildings of the village are treasured and protected. The docks here were full of boaters, making even a short visit impossible.

​On the west side of Pittsford, we could see the stub of a short channel where the Erie Canal bent north along its original path into downtown Rochester. The Barge Canal, built between 1905 and 1918 bypassed downtown Rochester. Demolition necessary for widening would have been too costly and disruptive. The canal was already snarling traffic as downtown lift bridges were constantly being raised and lowered, closing critical city streets each time.
 
We locked up through E-32 and E-33 which are situated in close proximity to each other just south of Brighton. We passed through about four miles of urban sprawl, malls, ugly highway bridges, and incessant traffic noise before reaching the relative quiet of Genesee Valley Park and our intersection with the Genesee River.
 
The Genesee River flows north from the cavernous valley now occupied by Letchworth State Park to the High Falls in downtown Rochester before emptying into Lake Ontario. The falls were a major source of water power and sprouted mills in the early years of the nineteenth century. Once the Erie Canal arrived and provided the means to ship grain in bulk inexpensively to Albany and New York, Rochester exploded in population and industry, growing from a population of 2,500 in 1821 to 13,500 in 1834. The river south of the city is languid and curving with park-like banks.

We encountered kayakers at the Genesee Waterway Center listening to music with earphones and unaware of our approach, so the Belle slowed to a crawl to avoid each of them. We passed the University of Rochester’s riverside chapel and passed beneath several city bridges before reaching the Corn Hill Landing. Just ahead was the Court Street dam and the end of navigation. Beyond the dam, the river is shallow, rocky and swift as it passes through downtown and over the precipice at High Falls.

We found plenty of room at the landing, tied up, locked up our boat and set off on foot to explore a little of Rochester. Our first destination was the 1842 Erie Canal aqueduct over the Genesee River, the second one built at the site. After the Barge Canal bypassed downtown, the stone-arched structure was modified in 1924 to carry subway trains through the trough of the closed canal while a second series of arches carried vehicular traffic above on what became Broad Street. The subway is gone and some canal aficionados still dream of watering the aqueduct for small boats. Other stone arch bridges remain over the river. The Main Street Bridge north of the canal was once lined by stores along the lines of the Pons de Vecchio in Florence so that walking down Main Street, there was no awareness of crossing over the powerful river. The stores were removed during urban renewal destroying this interesting anachronism but restoring a visual connection to the river.

We walked up State Street and the wedding cake-like Powers building toward the High Falls district north of downtown. We explored Brown’s Race and the stone ruins of the Triphammer forge before walking over the high Platt Street Bridge where we got a good look at the High Falls on the Genesee. Here, just beyond utilitarian rail and highway bridges, the river falls 100 feet straight over a cliff into a limestone chasm, pock marked by hydraulic tunnels once associated with the thriving milling industry.

​It was here on Friday the 13th of November 1829 that Sam Patch, popularly known as the “Jersey Jumper” attempted to jump the falls before 8000 spectators, weeks after successfully conquering Niagara Falls. He failed to surface and his frozen body was discovered months later near the river’s mouth.

​We attempted to get lunch at the Genesee Brewery on Cataract Street, but the line was long and we were anxious to return to our boat and find a quiet place to tie up for the night before it got dark. We met a couple from Texas with a smaller version of our boat tied up right behind us. They recently purchased it from the rental company in Macedon and they invited us to take a tour. We were impressed!
 
We got underway and headed up the river to the junction with the canal. Lora and Shauna made sandwiches and upon reaching the four corners of the river and canal, we turned west with hopes of reaching Spencerport for the evening. During the first hour, we passed through a channel cut straight through layers of limestone. This channel was bridged by about a dozen structures including highway bridges and a series of massive steel railroad bridges, most of which were abandoned. In Gates, at the western end of the rock cut, we re-entered the path of the original Erie Canal at Junction Lock. Here, the other stub of the original canal coming out of downtown Rochester remains. Quite a few folks in this area use the towpath for dog walking, jogging and photography.
 
Brent drove the boat the remainder of the way to Spencerport. The canal here passed through open fields and woods.  One farm appeared to have found a new life as a wedding venue. After passing an abandoned dormitory barge, two fisherman darted out of a hidden boat basin into our path without looking and Brent had to throw the Belle into reverse in order to avoid running them over.
 
We arrived in Spencerport just before dark. Our boater friends from Bushnell’s Basin were here with a campfire and warily watched us dock our big, clumsy steel boat next to their fiberglass cruiser. They took our lines and exclaimed wryly that we were like “dog s--t on the bottom of their shoes.” We responded by picking up a six-pack of locally-brewed “Too Kind” beer for them at the in-town grocery. It began to rain. We buttoned up the Belle, prepared leftovers for supper and played a trivia game. Brent is very competitive and we got loud enough to probably annoy our friends and a few other boaters. After a few off-color outbursts, we figured it would be best to call it a day. It rained hard but we had a dry and restful night.  

​Muddy Paddle's Erie Canal adventure will return next Friday! To read other adventures by Muddy Paddle, see: Muddy Paddle: Able Seaman, about Muddy Paddle's adventures on the replica Half Moon, and Muddy Paddle's Excellent Adventure on the Hudson, about his canoe trip down the Hudson River.
 
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Editor's Note: This story is from the October 5, 1889 issue of Harper's Weekly. ​The tone of the article reflects the time period in which it was written.

"A Barge Party - On our next page we have a view of a merry party enjoying a moonlight row on the Hudson River. The barge belongs to the Nyack Rowing Association. The scene is that wide and beautiful expanse of the Hudson which our Dutch ancestors named the Tappan Zee. It lies between Tarrytown and Nyack, and although not beyond the reach of tide-water and subject to the current, it still possesses the attraction of a calm and beautiful lake. Viewed from certain points it loses the impression of a river altogether, and seems a fair and beautiful sheet of water locked in by towering hills. The light-house in the centre of the picture is known as the Tarrytown Bay Light. On the left lies Kingsland Island, and in the background we have the village of Tarrytown, adorned with its gleaming electric lights.

These rowing parties are a source of keen delight to the lady friends of the members of each association. So far the clubs had not yielded sufficiently to the spirit of the age to admit lady members, and if any one connected with the association desires to give his fair friends an outing, he must engage the barge beforehand and make it a special event. As a general thing it is required that some member of the club shall act as coxswain; this to assure safety to the previous craft. The party may then be made up in accordance with the fancy of the gentleman who acts as host. Most of the associations have very attractive club-houses, where, after the pleasure of rowing has begun to pall, parties can assemble, have supper, and if there are lady guests sufficient, enjoy a dance. The club-house of the Nyack Association is a very attractive structure, built over the water, and forms a pleasant feature in the landscape. The members of these clubs are not heavily taxed, their dues scarcely amounting to more than $25 or $50 per year, yet their club-houses are daintily furnished, their boats of the best and finest build, and all their appurtenances of a superior order. So much can be done by combination.

In our glorious Hudson River we have a stream that the world cannot rival, so wonderful is its picturesque loveliness. High upon the walls of the Governor’s Room in the New York City Hall is a dingy painting of a broad-headed, short-haired, sparsely bearded man, with an enormous ruff about his neck, and wearing otherwise the costume of the days of King James the First of England. Who painted it nobody knows, but all are well aware that it is the portrait of one Hendrik Hudson, who “on a May-day morning knelt in the church of St. Ethelburga, Amsterdam, and partook of the sacrament, and soon after left the Thames for circumpolar waters.” It was on the 11th of September, 1609, that this same mariner passed through a narrow strait on an almost unknown continent, and entered upon a broad stream where “the indescribable beauty of the virgin land through which he was passing filled his heart and mind with exquisite pleasure.”
​
The annually increasing army of tourists and pleasure seekers, which begin their campaign every spring and continue their march until late in the autumn, sending every year a stronger corps of observation into these enchanted lands, all agree with Hendrik Hudson. Certainly it only remains for tradition to weave its romances, and for a few of our more gifted poets and story-tellers to guild with their imagination these wonderful hills and valleys, these sunny slopes and fairy coves and inlets, to make for us an enchanted land that shall rival the heights where the spectre of the Brocken dwells, or any other elf-inhabited spot in Europe.

When it comes to song lyrics, the Hudson River is truly global. Today's Music Monday song is by Swedish singer songwriter Eva Eastwood (birth name Eva Östlund). Although primarily a rockabilly artist, Eastwood's 2006 album, Ton of Heart, took a more country/folk turn, and featured all-English songs, including "Hudson River." Today, Eastwood remains a top-charting artist in Sweden.

HUDSON RIVER SONG - LYRICS
by Eva Eastwood
​
As far as I could see now, Mama
I stood in front of a big wall
and the hole you left within my heart
kept me listenin' for an important call

And I promise you that I stood up
When I heard somebody say let's let her
A voice as strong as the Hudson River.

5 o'clock a.m. I turned to see what your friend had got
In spite of who I am he opened up for me a shot

And the love that he delivered
Was as deep as the Hudson River

Hallelujah, Hallelujah, Hallelujah, Hallelujah

Maybe I ain't never turned to God
If I could have kept you here for real
Maybe I ain't never been so odd
If I wouldn't have had this heart to heal
And I done so many stupid things
At the time I thought that I would wither
When I was lonesome as the Hudson River

To feel the whole of you, I turned to see what your friend had got
In spite of who I am he opened up for me a shot
And imagined I needed a forgiver
Just as precious as the Hudson River

5 o'clock a.m. I turned to see what your friend had got
In spite of who I am he always kept the door unlocked
And the tone of love that he delivered
Was as strong as the Hudson River

Hallelujah, Hallelujah, Hallelujah, Hallelujah

​It was a sunny and cloudless morning and we spent a few relaxing hours getting organized and making breakfast. It is Lora and Brent’s anniversary so Brent went out to pick a pink wildflower for Lora for the breakfast table. We called the lock operator at E-29 and cast off lines around 9:00 AM, entering the lock almost immediately. After about a mile, we stopped at a dock to look at the ruins of old lock 60 built in 1841 and now maintained as a park. When we got underway again, Shauna and Lora set up folding lawn chairs in the bow and just enjoyed the sun and the unfolding landscapes and wildlife. By now they had learned that the ducks would always swim aside at the last minute as we approached. Yelling back to the guy at the helm was not necessary.  

​We continued west to Macedon and locked up at E-30. Macedon, named for Alexander the Great’s homeland, is a small canal town once prominent in the manufacturing of seed drills. Today, it is the home of Erie Canal Adventures, a canalboat rental company and marina. The facility is situated around a basin on the west end of town where several freshly painted red and green narrow boats are ready for the next renters. Previously owned by Peter Wiles who introduced these boats to the Barge Canal, the company still takes pride in maintaining their fleet and making trips enjoyable for their customers.
 
An enormous thunderstorm blew up as we approached a wide section of the canal which came to be known as Wayneport. Towering clouds ominously darkened the sky as thunder boomed. Heavy rain and a brief pelting of hail reduced our visibility and we slowed to a crawl hoping to avoid the canal banks or any approaching boats. The storm passed over quickly and the temperature dropped about 20 degrees. We had planned to visit the Union Burying Ground here where canal laborers with smallpox were buried, but we had passed the bridge at Wayneport Road and decided not to turn back. Three miles later, we entered Fairport.

​Fairport is a substantial canal town and boater mecca. Esplanades have been created between a high truss road bridge at the east edge of downtown and the 1914 Main Street Lift Bridge at the center. This area is lined with restaurants, shops and expensive fiberglass cruisers. The village developed in the mid-nineteenth century and industries included the packing and export of fruit and vinegar. The predecessor of the American Can Company got its start here and in spite of extensive urban renewal, a few factory buildings and brick chimneys remain.
 
We spent the afternoon here getting lunch food, exploring the shops, and taking luxurious showers at the boater welcome center. Shauna and Lora made dinner reservations, Brent took a ten-mile bike ride along the towpath, and I met Paul, an 81-year old artist who was painting a local tour boat and its reflection on the canal. I walked up to Fairport Road, the main east-west highway here and sketched an interesting Victorian Gothic church with a very spiky steeple while sitting on a bus stop bench. An elderly woman joined me on the bench while waiting for the Rochester bus. Clearly annoyed that she had to share the bench with me she asked, “why don’t you just take a picture with your cell phone and go?”

Later in the afternoon, we welcomed a couple aboard from a large, Michigan-bound sailing cruiser. We had an early dinner at a Mexican restaurant with a terrace overlooking the canal and a large population of yellow jackets! Fairport is a noisy place with long freight trains running hourly, loud music at bar terraces and contractors banging away at the Main Street bridge non-stop. Shauna asked the contractors how late they planned to work. When she was told “3:00 AM,” we decided to cruise to Bushnell’s Basin in hopes of more peace and quiet.

Several cruisers were already tied up at the long floating dock at Bushnell’s Basin and docking was tricky but the other boaters helped with lines. The Town of Perinton built this dock in 2011 and operates it through the adjacent Marathon gas station. The dockmaster’s office is adjacent to one of the finest selections of beer on the canal. After connecting to shore power, we picked up ice and paid the nominal docking fee. Brent treated us to ice cream cones at a shop next to the canal. We played a few trivia games and turned in around 10:00 PM.   

​Muddy Paddle's Erie Canal adventure will return next Friday! To read other adventures by Muddy Paddle, see: Muddy Paddle: Able Seaman, about Muddy Paddle's adventures on the replica Half Moon, and Muddy Paddle's Excellent Adventure on the Hudson, about his canoe trip down the Hudson River.
 
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Editor's Note: This article originally appeared in the Commercial Advertiser, a New York City newspaper, on March 17, 1831 - exactly 190 years ago today! Many thanks to HRMM volunteer researcher George Thompson for finding and transcribing this article. The following is a verbatim transcription (early 19th century spelling and all). 

The first passage of the season to Albany.  —  A gentleman who left this city on Monday evening, in the steam boat Constitution, writes from Albany on yesterday morning, as follows: — We arrived here at half-past 7 o'clock, last evening, in the steamboat Commerce, Captain Murray.  The Constitution began to encounter floating ice immediately above the Highlands, and pretty large fields of it were met before reaching Poughkeepsie — at which place we came to, until morning.  In the course of the night, the Commerce come up, and likewise anchored at our stern.  On leaving our berths yesterday morning, the ice appeared completely to block up the river two miles above.  Capt. Hoyt thereupon determined to proceed no further with the Constitution; the mails were sent ashore, and despatched by land; and the passengers went ashore likewise.  It was soon ascertained that Capt. Murray of the Commerce, was determined to push on, and plough his way through the ice as far as possible. — We accordingly took that boat, and started at half-past seven o'clock — encountering fields of drift ice, frequently stretching across the whole river, and covering its surface as far as the eye could reach; but the boat dashed on impetuously, without being absolutely stopped, until we passed Hudson.  Here, the ice having lodged upon the flats, the whole river was blocked completely across.  The Swiftsure having penetrated to Coxsackie, during the night, was no perceived above, on her return, attempting to beat her way down — this immense floe of ice having been brought into this cross-position by the tide, after the Swiftsure went up.  Both boats were now set to work, like two large battering rams, and in about two hours, succeeded in beating through.  At Coxsackie, we found that the ice for the whole distance above, reposed unmoved, as it had been left by the late vigorous winter.  Nothing doubting, however, the captain of the Commerce dashed on, and, strange to tell, the power of her engine, and the strength of the timbers of this powerful boat, enabled her to knock her way through a field of unbroken ice, varying in thickness from four to fourteen inches, for a distance of sixteen miles, i. e. to Castletown!  From this place to Albany, the ice was broken, and our speed was of course much accelerated.  It must have been a novel sight to the villagers along the shore, to find this vessel thus cutting her way through such a continuous field of ice, as yet unbroken, though in may places it had become very porous; and their pleasure was often announced by cheers and the firing of the "big guns."  Not the slightest accident occurred during the whole passage.  The arrival of a boat at Albany, was as yet altogether unexpected.

On Saturday we featured a historic wooden sign from the Newburgh Ferry Terminal. Today, for Media Monday, we're sharing some stories from the ferry.

This first story, from the Sound & Story Project, tells of what happened when the ferry encountered some ice.

To hear what the ferry might have sounded like traveling through the ice, check out this historic recording from Conrad Milster, who recorded the ferry Dutchess​ traveling through the ice. 

The Newburgh-Beacon ferry ceased operation in 1963 with the opening of the Newburgh-Beacon Bridge, but was revived in 2006 as a commuter ferry for residents traveling to the Beacon train station. 

Have you ever traveled on the Newburgh-Beacon ferry, either the original or the new one? Tell us about your experiences in the comments!

The History Blog is supported by museum members and readers like you! Help keep these articles free and available to everyone. Donate or join today!

Today's Featured Artifact is this sign from the Newburgh Ferry terminal. Reading "Ferry Entrance - Pay Toll Here" with a red arrow in a red frame, this striking sign was designed to show the way for vehicles to drive onto the ferry. 

Although it is unclear when exactly the sign was created, you can see it in this photo of the Newburgh Ferry Terminal, c. 1957. The sign is on the toll booth in the lower right-hand corner. The Newburgh-Beacon Ferry departs in the background. If you look closely, you can see the words "New York State Bridge Authority" on the side of the ferry, and the name of the ferry on the pilot house - the Beacon. The Bridge Authority had purchased the ferry service in preparation for the construction of the Newburgh-Beacon Bridge and operated three car ferries - the Beacon, the Orange, and the Dutchess.​

Here is a zoomed in shot of the same photo, where you can see the sign more clearly. 

The Newburgh-Beacon ferry continued to operate until November 3, 1963, when the ferry service was ceased following the opening of the Newburgh-Beacon Bridge. The ferries themselves were scrapped over a series of years, and the Newburgh Ferry Terminal, which dated back to 1899, was demolished with Urban Renewal in the 1970s.

If you'd like to see the "Ferry Entrance" sign in person, come and visit it at the museum! It is on display in the East Gallery.

​The History Blog is supported by museum members and readers like you! Help keep these articles free and available to everyone. Donate or join today!