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. 

Most of the steamboats built during the period before the Civil War were originally passenger vessels, and it was only in the later years of their service that they were rebuilt for towing purposes. Not so with the steamboat “Pittston”- she was one of the few sidewheel vessels built purposely for towing on the Hudson river, and she was in use for 57 years, hauling heavily laden barges on the river.

The wooden hull of the “Pittston” was built at New York in 1852. She was 108 feet long, breadth of beam 20 feet, depth of hold six feet, and her gross tonnage was rated at 74 with net tonnage at 58. The Allaire Iron Works of New York built her vertical beam engine which had a cylinder diameter of 32 inches with an eight foot stroke.

​The “Pittston” was constructed for the Pennsylvania Coal Company and was considered one of the finest vessels of her type to appear on the Hudson river. During this period the offices and yards of the Pennsylvania Coal Company were located at Port Ewen and the towboat “Pittston” was placed in service towing canal boats off the Delaware and Hudson Canal from Eddyville to Port Ewen. She was under the command of Captain Thomas Murry with James Mollin as chief engineer, and she continued on this route for a period of 13 years.

In 1865 the Pennsylvania Coal Company moved its headquarters to Newburgh and the towboat “Pittston” was purchased by Thomas Cornell of Rondout. For the following five years the “Pittston” towed out of Rondout along the river to various ports, and in 1871 she was placed in regular service between Rondout and the city of Hudson. A year later, 1872, found the “Pittston” in service on the route between Rondout and Newburgh, towing in line with the towboats “Frank Carter,” “Ceres” and later the “Isaac M. North” of the Cornell Line. The crew of the “Pittston” during the years of the Newburgh run are listed as captain, William Roberts; pilots, Wash Saulpaugh and Joel Rightmyer; chief engineer, James Purdy.

In the year 1875 the “Pittston” was withdrawn from the Newburgh route and placed in service between Rondout and Eddyville on the Rondout creek, taking the place of the steamboat “Maurice Wurtz” which had been towing on this route since 1857. The “Pittston” was used for towing the canal barges of the Delaware and Hudson Coal Company from tidewater at Eddyville to Rondout and she was under the command of Captain George E. Dubois, with Alonzo Woolsey as chief engineer.

​The “grand old days of the Delaware and Hudson Canal” came to a close in 1898 when the canal was abandoned, and the towboat Pittston” was then used around the Rondout harbor and as a helper for tows on the river. In September 1909 the “Pittston” was found to be in an advanced state of wear, and she was sold and broken up after 57 years of continuous service as a towboat.

The Pittston is one of many wrecked and abandoned boats in and around the Rondout Creek. To learn more about shipwrecks and other vessels, take one of our new Shipwreck Tours aboard our 100% solar-powered tour boat Solaris! 

​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!​

On Saturday our Featured Artifact was the bell of the Mary Powell, and you may have noticed that Captain Benson mentioned it was located at Indian Point Park for many years after the Mary Powell was scrapped. And maybe you thought to yourself. Indian Point PARK? Isn't Indian Point a nuclear power plant? 

Well, it wasn't always. To find out more about the history of Indian Point, check out the video below.

Indian Point Energy Center was officially closed on April 30, 2021 after 59 years of operation. Constructed in 1962, it was embroiled in controversy with the burgeoning environmental movement, which was focused on the Hudson River. To learn more about the history of the Indian Point Energy Center in relation to environmental activism in the Hudson Valley, check out our online exhibit, Rescuing the River, or visit the physical exhibit in-person at the Hudson River Maritime Museum. 

This week we've got something a little different! Here's a fun story about the bell of the Mary Powell, as told by Captain William O. Benson. 

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 on June 4, 1972.

When the "Mary Powell” was of being broken up at Connelly in the early 1920's, there was great interest among Hudson Valley residents in mementos from the old steamboat.  It seemed that almost anything that came from the steamer, whether it was a section of joiner work, a flag pole, a deck chair, or even a baggage check or spike, found a ready buyer.

Many items acquired by people interested in souvenirs from the old “Queen of the Hudson” were genuine.  Others, however, were not.  One of the latter that even today occasionally appears are bells reputed to be the bell of the “Mary Powell." I have seen locomotive bells, farm bells, big bells and small bells, all supposed to be the bell that graced the forward spar of the steamer during her career on the Hudson River.  All are fakes, for the real one was removed before the steamer was sold for breaking up, for awhile was installed at Bear Mountain, later at Indian Point, and is now at the New York Historical Society Museum in New York City.

In the fall of 1919, when the “Mary Powell” was sold to be broken up, she lay aft of the steamer “Albany” at the Sunflower Dock at Sleightsburgh on the south side of Rondout Creek.  Just before she was sold, orders came from the New York office of the Hudson River Day Line to Michael Rafferty, the mate of the "Albany”, to remove the bell from the "Powell” and put it aboard the "Albany.”

Transferred to “Albany”
That winter my father was doing carpenter work on the “Albany” and on Saturdays, and other days when I was not in school; I used to take his lunch over to him.  After the bell of the "Powell" was taken down from the mast in back of her pilot house, it was put on a large hand truck and placed on the deck in the after port gangway of the "Albany.”

One day when I was on, the “Albany,” I stood alongside the bell thinking how big it looked sitting there on the hand truck.  Alongside the bell on the deck was a chipping hammer, one end round and the other end like a blade.  Being a young boy of nine and not thinking, I picked up the chipping hammer and started to hit the bell to hear it ring. 

I must have pounded the bell 15 or 20 times when Mr. Rafferty came along and said in a very nice way, “Here, here, William, you are putting marks in that soft metal.  Use this.” And he handed me a wooden fid [sic].  When I hit the bell with the fid, though, it only made a dull sound, so I didn’t bother anymore.
 
That spring of 1920, when the “Albany” went into commission, the “Mary Powell’s” bell went down the river with her and was put ashore at Bear Mountain.  There, it was installed high on the hill above the boat landings.  Today, in that same location, there is a very large cast bronze deer’s head in its place.  

When the Hudson River Day Line built its own recreation park at Indian Point, just below Peekskill, the "Powell’s” bell was moved from Bear Mountain and installed on a wooden frame adjacent to the line’s steamboat landings. 

This was in 1923 or 1924.  When one of the line’s steamers would come around Jones Point, the bell would be rung to let people at the park know one of the Day Liners would be landing in about five minutes.

When I was a deckhand on the "Albany" during the seasons of 1928 and 1929, we lay at the Indian Point pier one day with a charter.  I went over and looked at the bell from the “Mary Powell” and sure enough there were the dents I had put there many years before with the chipping hammer. 

Mike Rafferty, the man who removed the bell from the “Mary Powell,” was a fine man to have as a mate.  He was very aristocratic looking, very strict, but fair with everyone with whom he came in contact — whether you were an old hand or a green deckhand in your first season.  He had once been a chief in the Kingston Fire Department, before it became a paid department in 1907. 

On to New York
After the Day Line sold the Indian Point Park in the mid 1950s, Alfred V. S. Olcott, the old Day Line’s president, had the "Mary Powell" bell taken to New York.  There, he presented the bell as a gift to the New York Historical Society on Central Park West, New York City.  When he made the presentation, there was a photograph of him and the bell in the New York newspapers.  The old Indian Point Park is now the site of Consolidated Edison’s nuclear electric generating station. 

So, the bell that was heard and carried on the “Mary Powell” for all those years — from the time she was built until she turned her last wheel — and then placed at Bear Mountain and Indian Point, now has reached her final port. 
​
Also at the same museum is the "Powell’s" soft, sweet-sounding whistle.  The “Powell’s” whistle, after the “Queen” was withdrawn from service, was installed on the Day Liner "Robert Fulton.”  When the “Fulton" left New York for the last time, the whistle was acquired by William H. Ewen, Sr. of Hastings-on-Hudson, a former president of the Steamship Historical Society of America, and he, in turn, donated it to the same New York Historical Society.

Of course, that wasn't the end of the bell of the Mary Powell! After the Hudson River Maritime Museum moved to its present location in 1983, the bell of the Mary Powell was brought to the museum on long-term loan from the New York Historical Society.

If you'd like to visit the bell in-person, and even ring it (it's very loud!), you can visit the Hudson River Maritime Museum. And if you'd like to learn more about the Mary Powell, check out our new exhibit, "Mary Powell: Queen of the Hudson," available in-person and online. 

​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!​

Sailing down the Tappan Zee.
 
The morning was overcast and cool. I got up early and shaped and installed a new tiller for the sailboat with the help of our host and his well-equipped shop. The older boys arrived in time for a breakfast of cold cereal and hot cocoa. We made lunches on a picnic table assembly line and provisioned each boat with sandwiches and three gallons of Tang.
 
We sailed south with the wind and tide at 9:00 AM. The canoe took an early lead into Haverstraw Bay, the crew supplementing the sail with vigorous paddling. As we entered the broad Tappan Zee with even better wind, the bateau made up most of that ground due to her larger sail. The boats were close together when sailing beneath the Tappan Zee bridge. We stopped at the end of the Erie Pier in Piermont for lunch. After this rest, we continued south and drifted over to the east shore to find our overnight destination in an old canoe club on the Yonkers waterfront. The clubhouse was built in 1938 and still had large barn doors for taking war canoes out for races and excursions. By itself, the clubhouse would be difficult to identify against the backdrop of Yonkers’ urban waterfront. However, there was a very distinctive chimney or tower with an encircling gallery near its top that rises high above the cityscape nearby that served as a convenient landmark.
 
After resting, we made plans to conclude our trip. Some of the boys wanted to see a Yankees game the next day. Others, including Garth’s sister Gretchen, wanted to paddle to the Statue of Liberty. We sorted all of this out and decided that the war canoe and the sailboat would go on to take the victory lap at the Statue, concluding the final leg of the trip at Liberty State Park in Jersey City. The bateau was no longer needed, so we hauled her out that afternoon in Yonkers and sent her home on a snowmobile trailer with old red shirts nailed to her overhanging stern. We ordered pizza and went out to see a movie.

Saluting the Statue of Liberty
 
In the morning, we bought groceries for breakfast and lunch and got the two boats ready for the final leg. It was warm and steamy. All extra gear was removed to lighten the boats. The sprint crews left with the tide at 9:00 AM. The boats passed beneath the George Washington Bridge a few hours later and reached the Statue of Liberty a little before 2:00 PM. The crew of the canoe unfurled a large American flag and raised it on the mast as they sailed by. The two boats braved a rough chop to reach the ramp at the south end of the park a few minutes later.

​The final installment of Muddy Paddle's Bateau will return next Friday! To read other adventures by Muddy Paddle, see: Muddle Paddle on the Erie Canal,  Muddy Paddle: Able Seaman, about Muddy Paddle's adventures on the replica Half Moon, Muddy Paddle's Excellent Adventure on the Hudson, about his first canoe trip down 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!​

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 June 23, 1974.

Of all the steamboats operated by the Hudson River Day Line during its long history, only one was lost by accident while in scheduled service. The accident unfortunately involved the largest and grandest Day Liner of them all — the “Washington Irving."

The accident occurred In New York harbor on June 1, 1926 just as the “Washington Irving” was leaving her New York pier on a routine trip to Albany. She was in collision with an oil barge which tore a gash in her hull and led to her sinking a short time later off the end of a pier at Jersey City. 

The accident took place at a time when the Day Line was at the peak of its operational history. Only the year before, during the season of 1925, the Day Line had carried 1,968,744 passengers, the most ever. The company had seven steamers in operation and had embarked upon the 1926 season with high hopes and considerable promotion for what it called its “Centennial Season."As a result, the loss of the “Washington Irving,” virtually at the season’s start, was a severe blow. 

The “Washington Irving," which the Day Line used to call “the flagship of its fleet,” had opened the season of 1926 on May 12 with a special trip on the river with invited guests of the company. On May 14 she opened the regular season to Albany. On Saturday, May 29, Sunday, May 30 and Monday, May 31 — the Memorial Day weekend — the “Irving” had made three special round trips from New York to Kingston Point. 

In those days of long ago, the Day Line had three New York landings, one at the foot of Desbrosses Street in downtown New York, one at West 42nd Street, and an uptown landing at West 129th Street. While their steamers were underway in the crowded waters of New York harbor, it was also the customary practice of the Day Line to have the captain and second pilot at the main deck gangway to make the appropriate bell pull signals while making or leaving a landing. 

On that fateful hazy morning of June 1, 1926, as the “Washington Irving" lay at her Desbrosses Street pier she was the picture of everything that characterized the Hudson River Day Line in its heyday.  Gleaming white on the exterior, spotless interior, and with her orchestra playing and flags flying, there was scant evidence of the fate that would soon befall the huge steamboat. Promptly at her departure hour of 9 a.m., the “Irving’s” first pilot, Harry Kellerman of Kingston pulled the main deck gangway bell pull three times to signify to the pilot house that the gang plank was ashore, all mooring lines except the bow line and a stem line were cast off and the steamer was ready to get underway. 

As the “Washington Irving” began to move ahead out of the slip. Captain David H. Deming blew the customary long blast on the whistle to warn river traffic she was underway. Out in the river, the tide was ebbing strongly and the tugboat “Thomas E. Moran” was coming up stream with an oil barge lashed to each side to refuel a trans-Atlantic liner. ​

​Because of the ebb tide, the tugboat was in close to the ends of the piers to escape the full brunt of the tide, effectively hiding her from view while the “Irving” was still at her pier. 

On leaving the slip, the paths, of the “Washington Irving” and the “Thomas E. Moran” with her two oil barges rapidly converged. If it were not for the strong ebb tide, probably all would have been well. The “Irving” — just getting up to speed — was caught broadside by the tide and was borne down towards the tow. Captain Deming threw his wheel hard over in an effort to throw the “Irving’s” stern away from the oil barges. The maneuver, however, failed and the corner of the starboard oil barge cut a hole in the hull of the “Washington Irving’s” after boiler room. The “Irving” moving ahead caused a gash about 20 feet long which also ripped through a water tight bulkhead into the steamer’s galley. It was a mortal blow. 

The “Washington Irving” was equipped with six transverse water tight bulkheads. If the hole had been in but one compartment, she probably would have survived. However, with two water tight compartments ruptured, the blow was too much. 

Captain Deming made a quick survey of his predicament and headed his wounded steamboat towards the New Jersey shore. In that crowded part of New York harbor there was no place to beach her. Crossing the river, with her whistle blowing the distress signal, harbor craft sped to her aid. The “Irving’s” passage was accompanied by a thunderous roar as her engineers opened her steam escape valves to “blow her off” and reduce the pressure on the steamer’s boilers. 

The “Irving” was expertly maneuver by her captain to the end of Pier 9, Jersey City. He neatly placed her forward guard over some piles to help keep her on an even keel so the passengers could get ashore. There she sank to the bottom in a matter of minutes with the water reaching the third deck. 

The “Washington Irving" sank right on top of the Holland Tunnel which was then under construction. The tunnel, however, was far enough beneath the surface so that no damage resulted.
 
When the “Washington Irving” was sunk, she was only 13 years old — the prime of life as far as steamboats go. She bad been built in 1913 by the New York shipbuilding Company, Camden, N.J. and was a steamboat of superlatives. She was the largest of the Day Liners, the most luxuriously furnished and reportedly the fastest. She was licensed by the federal government to carry 6,000 passengers, at the time the most for any inland steamer. 

Steamboats, like people, have their faults. Yet, possibly because absence makes the heart grow fonder, I have never heard a boatman who was associated with her ever say a bad word about the “Washington Irving." Despite her size, former pilots used to sing her praises as to her ease of handling and maneuverability, particularly at landings. 

Fortunately, at the time of her sinking, the “Washington Irving” had aboard only about 200 passengers and her crew of 110. All but two passengers and one crew member were saved. The crew member, a mess-boy, at the time of the accident was asleep in a berthing compartment in the after part of the hull.

The two passengers — reportedly the only passengers lost by accident in the Day line’s history — were a young mother and her three year old daughter who allegedly refused to leave the second deck until she had found her other two children, aged 5 and 7, who already had safely been taken off by a tugboat.

A fourth indirect victim of the sinking was said to have been the “Washington Irving's" captain, David H. Deming, the only master the steamer ever had. Although he survived the actual sinking and the following season commanded the Day liner “Hendrick Hudson," the accident was said to have preyed heavily upon him and he died at his home in Albany in 1927. 

The salvage of the sunken steamer proved to be extremely difficult and almost another year had passed before the “Irving’s” hull was again afloat and the hole in her hull patched. Before being raised almost her entire superstructure had to be removed. What was left of the once proud steamboat remained tied up to a New York pier for years. Finally, in 1933 she was towed away for scrapping. Ironically, the tugboat that towed the “Washington Irving” away on her final voyage was reported to be the “Thomas E. Moran" — the same tugboat that was towing the oil barge that holed her seven years before.
​
Today, nearly 50 years have passed since the “Washington Irving" was lost. Few remain of those who played leading roles in the events that took place on that June morning of long ago. As far as I know, two are Thomas Kraljic, the “Irving’s” second mate now living in New York, and Perry H. Banks, who was the Chief Engineer of the “Washington Irving," and now nearly 90, lives at Catskill.  ​

​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!​