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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 volunteer Carl Mayer. See more of Captain Benson’s articles here. This article was originally published March 25, 1973. As the 19th century gave way to the 20th century, the Cornell Steamboat Company of Rondout was the largest and most progressive marine towing organization in the country. In 1902 they had built what was to be their largest and most powerful tugboat. When completed, it appropriately bore the name “Cornell.” By whatever standard of measurement, the “Cornell” was a most impressive tugboat. At a few inches less than 150 feet in length, she was 25 feet longer than any of Cornell’s other big tugboats. Her 1,400 h.p. engine exceeded by over 500 the horsepower of other units of the fleet. Boatmen used to refer to her as the "Big Cornell" and her two big boilers had a ravenous appetite for coal to make enough steam for her powerful engine. As a result, she had the reputation of being a very hard boat to fire. Many boatmen from Hudson River towns one would talk to in the early 1920’s would almost always say how at one time or another they had fired on the “Big Cornell.” Some would stay only a few hours, some a few days and rarely would she end the season with a fireman who had started out on her in the spring. On Lower River Because of her size and deep draft, she was used almost exclusively on the lower river. During her service on the Hudson, the channel north of Athens had not been dredged for deep draft vessels like it is today. During her career, the “Cornell” made only one trip to Albany and this trip was her most notable exploit while carrying the colors of the Cornell Steamboat Company. It took place in early March, 1910. The winter of 1910 had been an old fashioned winter with plenty of ice in the river. During late February and early March the weather turned unseasonably warm, causing high water at Albany as the result of the melting of the winter’s snow and ice in the Mohawk River. A huge ice jam formed in the river below Albany which caused the water to back up and flood the waterfront areas of Albany and Rensselaer. Fears were also expressed that the ice crowding the Albany railroad bridges might move them off their abutments. In order to relieve the ice and flood crisis at Albany, the federal government was asked to take action. The government's plan was to use dynamite on the ice jam to break it up and to charter the most powerful vessel they could find to go up river to break up the river ice so the broken ice could move down river. The “Big Cornell” was chosen for the job. The “Cornell" left Rondout Creek on March 3, 1910 with the tug “Rob" to follow and assist in any way possible. I have been told the whole operation was in charge of Captain Ulster Davis, Cornell’s agent at Rensselaer, and the regular crew of the “Cornell” whose captain was Tim Donovan and pilot Irving Hayes. Although the upper Hudson was at flood stage, the “Cornell” carried minimum amounts of coal and water in order to keep her draft at a minimum so she would have clearance over the shallow spots north of Athens. Very Heavy Ice The “Cornell” encountered very heavy ice from Kingston to Athens, sometimes as much as two feet in thickness. The ice was so heavy, the “Cornell’s” steel hull plating was scalloped inward between her frames at the water line forward caused by her smash into the rock-like ice. At Athens, the "Cornell” went up the wider Athens channel rather than the deeper Hudson channel along the east shore, since men going ahead on foot had determined the ice in the west channel wasn’t quite as thick. She passed Athens through 15 inches of ice on March 5. All along the river, men and boys would come out on the ice to watch the “Cornell” go by. The “Cornell” arrived at Rensselaer on March 6, the river opened and the ice jam broken. Once the ice jam was broken, I have been told one could literally see the water begin to drop at Albany. Although the crisis to Albany was over, a new problem arose for the “Cornell.” The Company was afraid the water might drop so fast, they would not be able to get their big tug back down river in time to clear the up river sand bars and ledges. An Early Start The “Cornell” took on coal, fresh water and grub at Rensselaer as fast as she could. Due to the strong current in the river, when they started to turn the "Cornell” around for her return trip, the tug “Rob” had to push wide open against her stern in order to get the “Cornell” headed down stream. At first, they were going to wait for daylight all the way, but because of the falling water decided to start down as soon as possible. When they started back for Rondout, I have been told it was a clear, cold March night. The water in the river was running down stream so fast, they ran the “Cornell's” engine dead slow — just enough to keep steerage way. They were reluctant to run her any faster as they did not want to scrape or hit bottom and possibly smash her rudder shoe or break her propeller. They had had such good luck so far, they didn't want to tempt fate any more than necessary. Everything went fine until the two tugs came to Dover Platte Island off Coxsackie. Captain Donovan of the ‘'Cornell’’ knew there had always been a sand bar there and figured the freshet in all probability might have built up the bar higher than usual. When they reached that point, they stopped the “Cornell's” engine and just let her drift. Sure enough she fetched up on the bar, stopped and rolled over very slightly to port. To be sure there was only sand, they sounded all around with pike poles. Over the Bar Once they were certain there were no rocks on the bottom, they decided to have the “Rob” go up ahead and put a hawser on the “Cornell's” bow — and then to open up both tugs full throttle and to try and “bull” the ‘‘Cornell’’ over the bar. When all was in readiness, the “Cornell” gave the signal for full speed ahead and for the “Rob” to start pulling. I can readily imagine on that cold March night the load “chow chow” of the “Rob's” high pressure engine. They tell me when the “Cornell’’ hooked up, she lay down on her port side, her propeller part out of the water for a few moments. Some of her crew thought her towering smoke stacks would topple over, the starboard guy lines being incredibly taut and the port ones having about two feet of slack. However, in but a few minutes the ‘‘Cornell’’ had inched her way over the bar. Once she cleared the sand bar, though, the ‘‘Cornell’’ leaped ahead so fast before they could stop her engine she almost ran over the “Rob’’ pulling on her bow. Quick action by a deckhand on the “Rob” saved the day. By wielding a fast, sharp axe he cut the connecting hawser. From that point back to Rondout Creek they encountered no more difficulties. From Athens south, the river ice still held, but by following the channel they had previously made going northward the going was relatively easy. Renamed Her The difficulty in keeping firemen on the “Cornell” continued to plague her and led to the end of her career on the Hudson River. Shortly before World War I she was sold to the Standard Oil Company of Louisiana. Her new owners renamed her “Istrouma,” converted her to an oil burner, and operated her on the Mississippi River out of Baton Rouge where she remained in service until the late 1940's. I have been told the Cornell Steamboat Company always maintained it was not feasible to convert the “Cornell” to an oil burner, since it wouldn't be possible to install sufficient oil storage capacity aboard her. It is my understanding before purchasing her, the Standard Oil people, unknown to Cornell, sent some men to Cornell who hired out on her as firemen. The masquerading firemen thoroughly examined the “Cornell” and apparently concluded she could successfully be converted to oil firing. In any event, she was — and remained in service for another 30 years. Many years later, during World War II, my friend Roger Mabie was the commanding officer of a submarine chaser in the U.S. Navy. One day his ship was in a shipyard at Algiers, Louisiana, across the river from New Orleans. There, in an adjacent dry dock was the “Istrouma,” the old “Cornell.” He went aboard. Her shell plating forward was still scalloped between frames from her bout with Hudson River ice in 1910. Her brass capstan caps were still inscribed “Cornell.” In her engine room, her steam and vacuum gauge faces still were etched ‘‘Cornell,” Cornell Steamboat Company, Rondout, N.Y. A few days later, Roger told me his ship was leaving New Orleans to go back to sea. Out in the river, the old ‘‘Cornell” was going upstream. He blew her a whistle salute, which the former “Cornell” answered with her old deep steam whistle. I thought it was a nice gesture, both a greeting to an old work horse from the Hudson River and a sort of salute to the maritime greatness that was once Rondout’s. 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. The tug/fireboat "Istrouma" was scrapped in 1949. If you've seen a large red tugboat named "Cornell" on the Hudson River or New York Harbor, it's not the same as this "Cornell," but nearly as big! She was built the same year the "Istrouma" was scrapped. Learn more.
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For Women's History Month, we're revisiting all the ways in which women have had an impact on the Hudson River. Today, we're highlighting a lecture we hosted in 2020 - only our second virtual lecture ever! - with conservation expert Cara Lee. In "Women and the Revival of the Hudson River," Cara discusses how the Hudson River has had a revival in the last sixty years and the roles that many women have played in this epic story, including the ways they created important narratives about the river against the backdrop of societal change. Cara is accompanied by special guest Aidan Mabey. To learn more about the environmental history of the Hudson River more generally, check out our online exhibit, "Rescuing the River: 50 Years of Environmental Activism on the Hudson." You can also read about the women of the Palisades Interstate Parks Commission in Jeanne Haffner's "Women in the Forest: Tree Ladies and the Creation of the Palisades Interstate Park." For more about other remarkable women in the Hudson Valley, check out this article by Scenic Hudson. For more lectures, check out our Follow the River Lecture Series, sponsored in part by Rondout Savings Bank. 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 volunteer Carl Mayer. See more of Captain Benson’s articles here. This article was originally published February 27, 1972. During the winter of 1920, both the “Mary Powell” and the “Albany” lay at the Sunflower Dock on Rondout at Sleightsburgh. The “Mary Powell” had been there since her last trip under her own power on Sept. 5, 1917. On Saturday, shortly before the ice went out of the creek, my brother Algot and I took my father’s lunch over to him on the “Albany” where he was working as a ship’s carpenter. Rumor was that just as soon as the ice broke up, the “Powell” would be towed to South Rondout to be broken up. Knowing this, my brother said, “Come on Bill, let’s take a walk over on the ‘Powell.’ It will probably be the last we ever be on her.” Cold and Dark We went aboard the gangway right aft of the engine room. All her fine machinery was black from the grease that had been put on the engine when she layed up so it would not rust. All steamboat engineers always coated the bright work with grease in this manner when their boat was laid up at the end of the season. Everything was cold and dark and still. When we went back to the dining room at the rear of the main deck. Most of the tables and chairs had already been removed. Everything was very dusty. Up on the saloon deck, most of the carpeting had been taken up, with a few pieces remaining here and there. A few of the big easy chairs in the saloon where still there but most were gone. Some of the plate glass windows were cracked, and others broken - with canvas tacked over the openings. When we went up on the hurricane deck, my brother had to use a screwdriver to pry open the door to the pilot house. It was jammed, probably due to the fact that the “Powell's” stern rested on the bottom at low tide. The east end of the dock had been filling in and hadn’t been dredged since the “Powell” stopped running. An Old Time Table In the pilot house, there was a long, low locker across the back. The top of the locker could be raised so that things like flags, pennants and pilot house supplies could be put inside. I found an old Catskill Evening Line time table, with a picture of the steamer “Clermont” on the cover, which I took with me. There were no chairs, since these had already been removed. The old side curtains on the pilot house windows were still in place. They would be pulled down on the side the sun would leaving Rondout on her flying trip to the metropolis to the south, or when the sun was going down behind the western hills on the up trip. The canvas that had covered her pilot house windows from the strong icy winds and snows, had been removed. The interior of the “Powell’s” pilot house was all varnished and it has turned very dark from the passing years and added coats of varnish. The big, hand steering wheel was only about half showing, most of the bottom half being concealed in a well in the deck. The top reached almost to the overhead of the pilot house. I noticed how the round turned spokes of the steering wheel were flattened out on both sides near the rim. I asked my brother what caused this. He said it came from the wear on the spokes caused by the pilot climbing the wheel like a ladder in order to turn the boat in a hurry. The old “Powell” never had a steam steering gear like the more modern steamboats. He Walked the Wheel “The pilot of the ‘Powell’ would have to climb the wheel coming into the Rondout Creek from the river on a flood tide,” Algot said. “When it is flood tide, there’s a very strong eddy at the mouth of the creek. The tide sets up strong and when it hits the south dike, it forms a half moon about 75 feet out from the south dike and then starts to set down. To keep steerage way on the ‘Powell’ the had to keep her hooked up until she entered the creek, because a side wheeler running slow or just drifting would have no rudder power. So the pilot in order to get the rudder hard over to port or starboard in a hurry would have to walk right up the steering wheel.” Algot, who had been quartermaster on the “Mary Powell” in her last years, pointed out that when the pilot got the steering wheel hard over he would then put the becket on the wheel to hold it. When the becket was taken off, the wheel would spin right back to midships. He added with a smile, “At times like that, the fatter and heavier the pilot, the easier the job.” Algot went on to point out to me the same act of walking up the steering wheel would take place on going around West Point and Anthony’s Nose and rounding up in New York harbor. In those long ago days when going down through the harbor on an ebb tide, a pilot had to get around very quick and find a hole in the heavy steamboat, tugboat, ferryboat and steamship traffic. On a steamboat like the “Mary Powell” with a hand steering gear, when going up or down through New York harbor, the pilot house was always fully manned. The captain or first pilot would be at the steering wheel, the second pilot standing with his hands on the bell pulls to the engine room or ready to grab the whistle cord, and the quartermaster as lookout on the forepeak. The mostly dismantled "Mary Powell" at Connelly, c. 1925. Her walking beam engine and the forward hogging trusses are still visible, but the pilot house and upper decks have been removed, and nearly the entire back half of the vessel is gone to the waterline. Donald C. Ringwald Collection, Hudson River Maritime Museum. Leaving Their Marks Later in life when I saw the hand steering wheels of the “Jacob H. Tremper” and the steamer “Newburgh” of the Central Hudson Line, the spokes were all worn down and loose the same way. It showed how former pilots and captains left their marks on their steamboats long after they were gone. We left the old Queen of the Hudson after out farewell visit in the bright sunshine of the late winter afternoon. On April 20, she was towed by the tug “Rob” on her final trip to South Rondout where she was dismantled. 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!
In the long history of the Hudson River, there have been some truly extraordinary women. From lighthouse keepers and steamboat crews to political movers and shakers, we've put together a list of our favorite blog posts highlighting some of the Hudson River Valley's most fascinating ladies. To read each post, just click on the photo or title. Enjoy, and Happy Women's History Month! Fannie M. Anthony - Stewardess of the Mary Powell Fannie M. Anthony was Stewardess aboard the steamboat Mary Powell for more than 40 years, from approximately 1870-1912. Of mixed Indigenous and Black heritage, Fannie fought stereotypes to become a beloved figure on the Hudson River. Dorcas Schoonmaker vs. the President When her husband Abram died, Dorcas took his place as keeper of the Saugerties Lighthouse in the 1840s. But at a time when all lighthouse keepers were political appointees, a change in the Presidency put her career at risk. Media Monday: Kate Walker and Robbins Reef Lighthouse From 1890 to 1919 Kate Walker kept the Robbins Reef Lighthouse. Located in the middle of New York Harbor, south of the Statue of Liberty, Kate kept the light burning. Kate and Ellen Crowley - Heroic Guardians of the Saugerties Light When their father lost his sight, Kate Crowley took his place as keeper of the Saugerties Lighthouse in the 1870s. With her sister Ellen, they kept the light, cared for their parents, and even affected daring rescues. Woman Welder on the Rondout Danish widow and welder Mrs. Catherine Nelson is the only woman known to have worked on the construction of the Rondout Creek Suspension Bridge, in 1921. Women in the Forest: Tree Ladies and the Creation of the Palisades Interstate Park Guest author Jeanne Haffner, PhD recounts how women helped save the Palisades and build the Palisades Interstate Park. The Women of Schuyler Mansion Guest author Danielle Funicello traces the lives of the Schuyler women and their impact on New York State and national history. The Indomitable Catherine Murdock The local favorite! Catherine Murdock served as keeper of the Rondout Lighthouse for over 50 years, from 1856 to 1907. For more Women's history, join us for the virtual lecture "Espionage and Enslavement in the Revolution: The True Story of Robert Townsend and Elizabeth" by Claire Bellerjeau on Wednesday, April 13, 2022 at 7:00 PM on Zoom! You can check out more events and offerings at Women's History Month Kingston. 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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