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.  This article was originally published ​ July 8, 1973.

Since railroad trains have been operating along the east shore of the Hudson River for virtually its entire length between New York and Albany since 1851 and along the west shore of the river from Haverstraw to a point below West Park since 1883, Hudson River boatmen have had plenty of opportunity to observe the changes that have taken place over the years in railroading. 

One big change, of course, was the disappearance of the steam locomotive and its replacement by perhaps the more efficient but much less colorful diesel engine.  I well remember the end of steam locomotives on the old West Shore Railroad. 

Late April 1953 marked the end of passenger trains on the West Shore pulled by the previously reliable iron horse.  The morning of the last stem [sic] runs, shortly after sun-up, I was on the tugboat “Callanan No. 1" bound north with a tow.  We were just south of Crum Elbow, in close along the west bank of the river to get out of the tide.  Along came what we used to call the "paper train," the passenger train out of Weehawken with the New York newspapers for the communities all along the river. 

It was a cool April morning with a north east wind and the sun shining very bright out of the east.  As the train was going up the West Park hill, black soft coal smoke was pouring out of the locomotive’s stack.  I knew it marked the end of an era:

As the train pulled abreast of us, I blew a one long, one short blast on the whistle which the locomotive engineer answered.  Then I blew the traditional three long whistles of farewell. 
I can still see in memory of the three white plumes of steam from the train’s whistle as the engineer answered. 

As the train charged up the incline and out of sight, the wheels of the locomotive pounding, and black smoke and steam belching from the short, stubby, stack, I was reminded of the words of an almost forgotten poem of old, “Pulling up along the track, with the choo choo of the stack, how I love to watch the local as it comes along the track; Pulling up along the track, with the choo choo of the stack, up, up along the lonely track.”

Another change in railroading caused by the passing years, was the disappearance of the track walkers.  For many, many years, the railroad used to employ men to make regular foot patrols of their trackage, especially in the vicinity of rock cuts along the river’s shore.  It was their job to watch for fallen rocks and to make regular inspections of the rights of way. 
For years, boatmen at night would see the track walkers on their lonely patrols carrying a lantern and later with a good flashlight.  This was especially true in the Hudson Highlands from Stony Point to Cornwall where there were extensive rock cuts. 

In the lonely morning hours around 2 or 3 a.m., when seeing a track walker, I would always turn our searchlight on and blink it or raise it up and down.  In return, they would waive their lanterns back to us.  It was a friendly greeting at that hour.  I used to think that it must have been very lonely for them walking along those tracks in the dark. 

A train would come roaring along if a passenger train or rumbling along if a freight, making a great deal of noise, and then it would be all peace and quiet again.  You would see the track walkers going into their little flag shanties along the tracks to get warm and then go out again in another hour for another patrol. 

During the middle 1950’s there was a big stock proxy contest for control of the New York Central Railroad.  A group, headed by Robert R. Young, won control and shortly after that the new management made a lot of changes in the operation of the company.  One of the changes was to do away with the jobs of the track walkers.  After that, no more did boatmen see their friendly lanterns moving back and forth as the track walkers walked their solitary way in the night looking for broken rails, loose spikes or rock slides. 

Before the days of radar on tugboats, when the boats were running in fog, the track walkers were a blessing to the boatmen.  Sometimes we would be running pretty close to shore and see dimly the friendly light of their lantern.  They probably over the years, unbeknown[st] to them, saved many a steamboat or tugboat from running on the shore or rocks. 

On other change is the demise of the hoboes or knights of the road.  Either our affluent society has done away with the hobo or, if there are any left, they must have all taken to the highways. 

Back during the Great Depression of the 1930’s, when on the tugboats we would be bucking the tide with a large tow, we would get close to shore so the tide wouldn’t have such an effect on our tows.  Then, when a freight train of 90 or 100 cars would come along we would try and see how many knights of the road we could count.  Sometimes there would be as many as several dozen.  Times change.  Today, when the freight trains go by one never sees anyone riding the rails. 
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Also, in those depression years, boatmen would see the fires of hoboes burning along the rails or in culverts under the tracks.  If a box car were standing along the tracks on some isolated siding and if we threw our searchlight beam on it, you would frequently see someone slip out the other side or come to the half closed door and peek out. 
Like the seasons and the tides of the river, things along the Hudson are continually changing.  Hopefully, the hoboes of yesteryear have all found the destination they were seeking and surroundings more hospitable than that formerly provided by the "water level route” of wooden ties and steel rails.

Editor's Note: This article was originally published in Ships and the Sea magazine, Fall 1957.  The language, spelling and grammar of the article reflects the time period when it was written.  Learn more about Liberty Ships here.

What could be done with the outmoded Liberty ships in the event of an emergency? The Maritime Administration is proving they can be turned into assets.

During World War II, pressed by the dire need of the national emergency, U.S. shipyards produced thousands of merchant ships. During this era, even the most lubberly of land-lubbers came to hear of that famous-type ship, the Liberty. Shipyards on all coasts of this nation made headlines with the fantastic speed with which these large oceangoing vessels were constructed. The average time for the completion of a Liberty was an amazing 62 days!

By the time the building program had been completed, some 2600 standard Liberty ships had splashed into the water and taken up their vital task of delivering war material overseas. This tremendous fleet had a carrying capacity of almost 30 million tons.

But what has happened to this vast fleet of Libertys in the postwar era? Have their bluff-bowed and full-bellied forms, and their 2500-horsepower reciprocating engines which produced speeds of only 11 knots, managed to survive the competition of cargo vessels with speeds up to 20 knots? The best answer to that may be a blunt statistic – some 1400 Liberty ships are tied up in the U.S. Maritime Administration's reserve fleet sites in rivers and bays around our coastline.

This figure, taken in conjunction with the fact that several hundred Libertys were lost due to enemy action and other causes, and that several hundred others have been converted to such speck-purpose vessels as colliers, oil tankers, troop transports, hospital ships, ammunition ships and training vessels, leaves us with but one conclusion – the Liberty is too slow and inefficient for modern shipping needs. Some Libertys, of course, are in operation, but these are mostly doing tramping duty under foreign flags or carrying bulk cargoes like grain, ore and coal.
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However, it is not the economic aspect of the outmoded Liberty which concerns the Defense Department and the Maritime Administration. Those 1400 Liberty ships in the reserve fleet are supposed to represent security in any future national emergency. In the last few years the conviction has been growing among these military experts that the Liberty ship in its present design does not really represent insurance in case of need.

Can the Liberty, for example, keep up with the speeds of future convoys? Can the Liberty hope to elude atomic-powered, snorkel-type submarines with speeds under the water of, say, 20 knots? The answer is clearly "No." Even in the limited Korean emergency, very few Liberty ships were taken out of the reserve fleet in spite of the need. The faster (16-knot) Victory and C-type ships were taken out first. Then the Defense Department had to charter privately owned vessels.

With these dismal facts confronting it, the Maritime Administration has now embarked upon and completed an experimental Liberty conversion program which proves that those 1400 ships still represent an enormous national asset. The program, using four ships, had as its objective the upgrading of the ships with regard not only to speed but also to over-all efficiency.

Increasing the speed of the Liberty may sound, on paper, like an easy matter. Why not increase the horsepower and efficiency of the engines and build new streamlined bows to replace the bluff "ugly-duckling" bows? To be sure, this can be and has been done. The problems confronting the Maritime Administration, however, were not simple in deciding upon the extent of the alterations which should be made. It must be remembered, first, that to upgrade hundreds of Liberty ships quickly in case of emergency would require vast dry-docking facilities, a call for quantities of scarce steel, and a need for new and more efficient engineering equipment.

There were other equally pressing problems of design. Could the war-built ships stand the pounding in heavy weather which the higher speeds would cause? The Liberty ships, as a matter of fact, have been quite prone to cracking, even at the lower speeds. It was apparent that the altered ships would have to be heavily strapped. Also, there were the problems of propeller vibration at higher revolutions per minute, greater stresses on the rudder, and the like.

Defense authorities had indicated a desire for 18 knots for the upgraded Libertys, but were willing to settle for 15 knots as a minimum. The latter speed was finally selected in view of the numerous problems involved, although technically it is possible to obtain an 18-knot speed with an appropriately lengthened, strengthened, finer and more powerful ship.

It was decided that one of the four ships, the Benjamin Chew, would have its speed increased to 15 knots merely by the expedient of installing 6000-horsepower steam turbines with no change in hull form. This was undertaken with some misgiving as to the seakeeping qualities of such a blunt form driven at a 15-knot speed. But the savings in steel and dry-docking capacity in an emergency dictated that the attempt be made.

Early experience with the ship has, in fact, confirmed these misgivings to some extent since the ship has had difficulty in maintaining 15 knots in heavy weather. The rate of fuel oil consumption has also been relatively high. However, it has been proved that, if necessary, the Liberty in its original form can be driven at significantly higher speeds with a minimum of alterations.

The second of the ships, the Thomas Nelson, has been given geared diesel engines with 6000 horsepower as well as a lengthened and finer bow. As expected, 15-knot speeds have been easily maintained with a very low rate of fuel consumption. It would appear that if time and facilities permit, this type of alteration is to be preferred over that of the Benjamin Chew.
​
The third and fourth ships, in addition to having lengthened and finer bows, are also being used to pioneer a new type of prime mover for ships – the gas turbine. The John Sergeant is the first all-gas-turbine merchant ship in the world, although a few vessels have been fitted with gas-turbine engines combined with other types of power plants. A controllable pitch propeller, another innovation for large U.S. ships, is used in conjunction with the gas turbine. This enables the pitch of the propeller blades to be controlled from the navigating bridge.

For those of our readers who are not acquainted with the principles by which a gas turbine operates, a brief description might be helpful. A gas turbine operates by first compressing air, then heating it before sending it to a combustion chamber where fuel is mixed with the air and burned. The resulting gas is expanded through turbine nozzles, thus providing the power to turn the propeller shaft. The gas turbine is claimed to produce high thermal efficiency with reduced size and weight of machinery. Low-cost bunker "C" fuel oil may be burned. The gas turbine will probably be most efficient in the 7500- to 15,000-horse-power range.

The William Patterson, the last of the four conversions, went into service in mid-1957. She is equipped with a gas turbine, too, but it is of a somewhat different type from the Sergeant's. The latter has what is known as an "open-cycle" gas turbine, while the Patterson has a "free-piston" type. (in the free-piston machinery, the pistons are not connected to crank-shafts as is customary in other internal combustion engines. Instead, the air-fuel mixture is burned between opposed pistons which then spring apart, compressing air at both ends of a cylinder. The compressed air causes the pistons to bounce back, thus forcing the gas into the turbine.)

The marine industry is watching with great interest to find, first, whether the gas turbine will produce a more efficient prime mover than the steam turbine or diesel drive and, second, to find which type of gas turbine is better from an over-all point of view.

Another aspect of the Liberty ship conversion program deserves comment. The Maritime Administration is using the program to experiment with different types of cargo-handling equipment, the theory being that increased speed at sea is only part of the picture of more efficient utilization of ships, the time spent in port loading and discharging cargo being of equal importance. So we find that the Thomas Nelson, for example, is equipped with radically new cargo cranes of two different types. The Benjamin Chew has a conventional set of cargo booms but of an improved type. She also has a removable 'tween deck in No. 2 compartment.

All in all, these four Liberty ships are vastly improved vessels from their 1400 sisters still resting in the reserve fleet. They are being operated on the North Atlantic run by the same operator, the United States Lines. This will ensure, as nearly as possible, the same weather and port conditions, so that the many differences among the ships can be evaluated to arrive at valid conclusions as to what the ultimate form of the converted Liberty prototype should be. Although the program has primarily been aimed at the objective of upgrading the reserve fleet of Liberty ships in time of national emergency, it is also proving of great value to U.S. ship operator.
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The new look in Liberty ships appears to be not only new but also very pleasing.

TERRIBLE EXPLOSION.
(From the Special Correspondent of the "New York Tribune.")
Newburgh, June 3, 1868.

Dwellers along the Hudson River for a distance of 30 miles north and south of
this city were startled at six o'clock this morning by the shaking of their houses, the
rattling of windows, and two distinct, heavy, rumbling reports. Many supposed that two
shocks of an earthquake had taken place, and rushed from their houses in excitement.
The cause of the excitement was the explosion of 10,000 pounds of powder, and the
blowing up of two powder mills, owned by Messrs. Smith and Rand, about four miles
west of this city, on the South Plank Road, leading to Walden, Orange County. A visit to
the spot revealed the following facts: The graining mill, where the first explosion
occurred, was a sort of double building, 20 by 16 feet, built of stone, with wooden sides
and one story high. It stood about one hundred feet from the main road, separated from
the latter by a clump of trees. In it at the time of the explosion was five tons of powder,
the most of it being in the grain. The glazing mill was situated across a dam, about one
hundred feet from the graining mill, and was about fifteen feet in diameter, octagonal in
form, and was in no way connected with the graining mill. In it at the time of the
explosion was about a ton of powder.

At exactly six o'clock this morning the graining mill blew up, the fire shooting with
great violence across the dam to the glazing mill, and in five seconds thereafter that
was also blown to fragments. The scene is described as being fearfully grand. The
foundation of the graining mill was scooped out as though with a shovel. Huge sticks of
timber were thrown through the air for a quarter of a mile, small trees were uprooted,
and hurled a long distance; while larger and older trees were entirely stripped of leaves
and branches; and their trunks blackened and charred. At the foot of trees numbers of
dead birds were found, having been instantly killed by the powerful shock. A large iron
shaft four inches in diameter, led from the graining mill to another building on the south
side of the road. It was seventy-five feet long. The end nearest to the building which
exploded was bent almost double; while a portion of the shaft fifteen feet long was
broken off and hurled over 400 yards from the scene. For more than a quarter of mile
the ground is strewn with the debris. Huge timbers, blackened and splintered with
powder, heavy and long limbs of trees, and in many instances whole trees, ragged and
torn, block the paths and roads leading to spot. A storage building on the south side of
the road, distant all of 150 yards from the graining mill, was badly shattered. It
contained three tons of powder in kegs. The large door at the main entrance was blown
off, the sides of the building crushed in, and the roof greatly damaged. Fortunately, the
powder in the building did not ignite.

Of course, as soon as the danger consequent upon the terrific explosion had
passed away, there was a rush to ascertain if anyone was killed. At the time of the
occurrence there, there was only one man in the graining-mill and none in the others.
His name was Adam Schosser [?], a German. He was employed as Messrs. Smith and 
Rand's service for several years, and was considered perfectly trust-worthy. He had
often asserted that he knew his business too well to be blown up. He was undoubtedly
blown high in air, some suppose 1000 feet. His head and shoulders were found at a
distance of 500-yards from the spot where the explosion occurred, mangled and torn
beyond recognition. An arm was found, lodged in the crutch of a tree, while for a
distance of a quarter of a mile pieces of flesh and parts of his limbs were found strewn
along the ground and hanging to limbs of trees. All the parts found were collected and
placed in a barrel. Coroner Thomas Bingham of Newburgh, who arrived soon after the
occurrence, empannelled a jury, and an inquest was held over about two-thirds of the
body, the jury returning a verdict in accordance with the facts.

The shock in this city was terrific. Houses were shaken to their foundation and in
many places windows were shattered. Standing in one of the streets and looking
toward the spot where the explosion occurred a huge column of smoke and dust was
seen to shoot upward fully 1000 feet into the heavens, presenting a scene grand
beyond description. A vast ring of smoke whirled far up and gradually widening in area,
was a sight never witnessed before in this vicinity. The concussion started persons who
were thus slumbering, in many cases arose trembling and anxious to know the cause.
For a distance of ten miles back, on the opposite side of the river, the explosion was
distinctly heard, while West Point, Peekskill, Sing Sing and Poughkeepsie the report
was also noticed. Three years ago a similar explosion took place at the same spot;
when one man was killed. Had the explosion of this morning occurred one hour later,
the loss of life would have been fearful, as at 7 a.m. the twenty men employed at the
works commence labor, when, in all probability, every one of them would have been
blown to pieces.-"Maryborough Chronicle, Wide Bay and Burnett Advertiser" (Queensland, Australia.), September 22, 1868

The steamboat “Mary Powell”, built in 1861, sailed on the waters of the Hudson River over a period of 55 years. She was one of the fastest steamboats of her time, was pleasing in appearance, and reliable. She became known as the “Queen of the Hudson.”
           
By the middle of the 19th century, commerce on the Hudson River was particularly vigorous. The Hudson River - Erie Canal corridor was one of the principal gateways to the west. The Delaware and Hudson Canal, opened in 1828, brought coal destined for use in the northeast from Pennsylvania to the Hudson River at Kingston. The railroads were just beginning to appear on the scene, all of which made the steamboat the principal method for the movement of people and freight.
           
By the 1860s, the section of Kingston bordering the Rondout Creek had become the leading port between Albany and New York. Between 1861 and 1863, three large steamboats were built to take advantage of the booming economy and home ported at the village of Rondout (in 1872 becoming part of the city of Kingston). Two of the steamboats were night boats for the carrying of freight and overnight passengers. The third was the “Mary Powell,” designed as a day steamer solely for the carrying of passengers.
           
For virtually her entire career, her schedule was to leave Kingston early in the morning and make landings at Poughkeepsie, Milton, Newburgh and Cornwall, arriving at her pier in lower Manhattan in the late morning. On her return she would leave New York at 3:30 p.m. and arrive back at Kingston in the early evening. Over the years, other landings were made or discontinued as traffic warranted, as did minor time changes in her schedule. The period of operation normally was from mid-May to late September or early October.

The “Mary Powell” was built at a shipyard in Jersey City, N.J. to the order of Captain Absalom Anderson at a reported cost of $80,000. Captain Anderson was to be both her operator and captain. As it turned out, over a period of 40 years, the “Mary Powell” had but two captains- Captain Absalom Anderson and later his son, Captain A. Eltinge Anderson. Other captains commanded the vessel for relatively short periods of time. During her last two years of service, her captain was Arthur Warrington of Kingston.
           
Initially, Captain Anderson was somewhat disappointed in his new vessel’s speed. After the close of her first full season in 1862, the “Mary Powell” was sent back to the shipyard, cut in two, and 21 feet added to her length. The added length achieved the desired result, and thereafter the “Mary Powell” was known as one of the fastest boats on the Hudson. Her reputation for speed was such that during the latter part of the 19th century, a number of newly built yachts were brought to the Hudson and run along with the “Mary Powell” to test the desired speed of the yacht.
           
The “Mary Powell” was always superbly maintained and had almost a yacht-like appearance. Known as a “family boat,” Captain Anderson saw to it that all passengers conducted themselves properly. If they did not, it was said they ran the risk of being put ashore at the next landing.
           
After the close of the 1902 season, the “Mary Powell” was acquired by the Hudson River Day Line, the largest operator of day steamboats on the river. Although the Day Line continued to operate her, as before, on the Kingston to New York and return run, a number of relatively minor physical changes were made to the steamboat, including new boilers and an enlargement of the second deck forward.
           
​In 1913, the Day Line placed in operation a new steamboat, the “Washington Irving,” the largest day boat to be built for service on the Hudson. Her appearance caused a realignment in service of their other vessels, including the “Mary Powell.” During the seasons of 1914 to 1917, the “Mary Powell” would start and end the seasons on her old Kingston to New York run. However, during the peak of the seasons, she would be used for charter trips, an excursion type operation from New York to Bear Mountain, and occasionally special trips to Albany. Finally, on September 5, 1917, she sailed on her old route. It was to be her last trip with passengers. She was subsequently played up at her old “winter dock” at Rondout Creek and in January 1920 was sold for scrapping,