A COMING RACE. THE YACHTS NORWOOD AND VAMOOSE LIKELY TO MEET.
In a very few days, arrangements will be completed for a test of speed between Norman L Munro’s steam yacht Norwood and Mr. Hearst’s Vamoose. Since the Vamoose crossed the bow of the Monmouth on Saturday last in a race down the upper bay with the Sandy Hook steamer, Mr. Munro has been anxious for a match between the two yachts, as the Norwood has outsteamed the Monmouth, too.

It is Mr. Munro’s desire to have both yachts start with the steamer Mary Powell from her dock at the foot of West Twenty-second Street and steam up the Hudson fifty miles from the starting point and return, making a hundred-mile trip. Mr. Hearst has given Mr. Heilbron, the chief engineer of the Vamoose, permission to make a satisfactory agreement with Mr. Munro, and Mr. Heilbron will meet Mr. Munro within a few days.

The Vamoose was alongside Tebo’s Wharf, foot of Twenty-third Street, Brooklyn, yesterday to receive a fresh coat of white paint and get her brass polished. Engineer Heilbron and Capt. Stanwood had gone on a picnic, but the assistant engineer was on the boat. He said that Mr. Hearst was anxious for the Vamoose to meet the Norwood in a fair race, but that he wouldn't consent to a race on the Hudson River, for the Vamoose could only race in very deep water. The assistant engineer said that the Vamoose had already made a trip on the Hudson as far up as West Point, and during moderately high speed had “felt the bottom” a number of times, necessitating a slowing down of the engine.

The only course, he said, that would suit Mr. Hearst would be in Long Island Sound, either over one of the American Yacht Club's courses or straight away from Execution Rock to New-London.

Thomas L. Scoville of the American Yacht Club wrote to Mr. Munro on Tuesday, extending the use of the club grounds and landing float of the club in case a race was arranged between the Norwood and the Vamoose. The assistant engineer of the Vamoose said yesterday: "The Norwood could gain a mile an hour over the Vamoose in a race on the Hudson by following the eddy of the tide, while the Vamoose would have to keep in deep water. It makes a great difference in a race whether a boat draws eighteen inches or ten feet. If the Norwood outraced the Vamoose, I believe that Mr. Hearst would give her away."
Mr. Munro was in Long Branch yesterday, but it was stated at his office, 26 Vandewater Street, that he would not rest until he had brought the race about.

The Norwood is at present at Branchport, N. J.

NORWOOD AND VAMOOSE. THE VAMOOSE HAS ALREADY RACED THE MARY POWELL ON THE SLY.
She gained half a mile in a run of fifty miles, but had to cut across lots to do it. - Mr. Munro's proposition for a record race between the Norwood and the [Mary] Powell discussed by the Powell's Captain. - Will Mr. Hearst respond?

Norman L. Munro's proposition to race his little wonder, the Norwood, against the Mary Powell fifty miles up the Hudson and back, is likely to bring about one or more river contests of more than common interest. As Mr. Munro's letter in yesterday's SUN sets forth, his object in proposing the race is to make a record for the Norwood, which he hopes W. R. Hearst will feel compelled to try and beat with his new fast Herreshoff boat, the Vamoose. Mr. Hearst does not think the Vamoose is ready for a contest with the Norwood just yet, because he has not yet found a screw exactly suited to her. The Norwood, however, is all ready for a brush, and, in her owner's language, is “becoming restless and uncontrollable.” Fearing that when the Vamoose is finally ready, a race may in some way fail to come off. Mr. Munro asked THE SUN to assist in arranging a race against time for the Norwood, to come off within two weeks. He has probably selected the Mary Powell to race against because she is beyond question the fastest boat in New York waters and makes regular daily trips up the river.

Mr. Munro says:
“Permit me to suggest, with all due respect to Mr. Hearst and the Herreshoffs, that if the Vamoose starts for the Pacific coast neglecting to make a trial run over the course above mentioned[,] she will have to go with a record of about 19 60-100 [sic, 60/100?] nautical miles per hour, and that for a short distance, too. There will be no excuse of rough weather on the Hudson, as was the case when Mr. Hearst had a brush with the Monmouth. After crossing the Monmouth’s bow opposite Fort Hamilton, she returned to the city on account of the rough weather. I desire to give the Vamoose a fair chance; hence the selection of the Hudson."

Another reason for selecting the Hudson is that Mr. Hearst objected to a race of ten or twenty miles, saying that 100 miles was necessary properly to compare the speed of the two boats. Mr. Munro proposes to accompany the Mary Powell fifty miles up the river, and then return, the record to be made on the trip.

Additional interest will be lent to the contest with the Mary Powell by the fact that it was in a race with her that the famous Stiletto won her spurs on June 11, 1885. She was the first of the Herreshoff fast boats. The model was a novelty then, and the contest aroused widespread interest on account of the diminutive size of the new contestant for the big Powell’s laurels. The little Stiletto made the twenty-eight miles to Sing Sing in an hour and seventeen minutes, beating the steamboat seven minutes. There have been vast improvements since then in boats of the cigar model, however, and the Stiletto, which is now a torpedo boat in Uncle Sam's service, would probably not be in a race with some of the newest wonders. It has long been Mr. Munro’s hope to own the fastest steamboat in the world, and the Norwood is only the last of a series of astonishingly fast boats which he has had built. He believes her to be the fastest in the world, and hence his desire not to allow the much-heralded Vamoose to leave these waters without a contest which will definitely settle the issue between them.

Mr. Munro is probably not aware that the Vamoose has already had a brush with the Mary Powell, and that, too, over the same course which he now proposes. The contest was unannounced. Even the steamboat people received no warning until they perceived that the race was actually on. If the Vamoose had beaten her big rival, the story doubtless would have been told before this. But she only succeeded in holding her own by making cross cuts over shallows which the Powell had to avoid, thus covering less distance than the Powell.

It happened a week ago, last Monday. The Powell left West Twenty-second street a little after 3 1/2 o'clock on her regular trip. She carried 450 passengers and a great deal of baggage. Above Forty-second street she met the Vamoose steaming slowly down stream. Immediately after, the Vamoose turned sharply and followed hot in the Powell's wake. She was then about half a mile astern. From Forty-second street to Cranston’s, which is the Powell's first stop, is counted fifty miles by steam-boat men.

The Powell's passengers did not need to be told that a race was on. There were those aboard who knew the Vamoose by sight and who pointed her out to the others when the two boats met. Hundreds of curious eyes were still upon her when she turned sharply into the steamboat’s wake, and when she at once began to part the water into foamy jets on either side of her sharp nose and to shoot black clouds from her smokestack, there was excitement aboard the steam boat. The passengers crowded eagerly aft to watch the daring little craft's attempt to beat the fastest steamer on the Hudson. The Vamoose kept dead astern, a policy which was favorable to her big rival, for it kept the passengers aft and the steamboat trim. Had the Vamoose followed a course much to either side of that of the Powell, the Powell's passengers would have crowded to that side and given their boat a list which would have hindered her.

The race soon become uninteresting, however, for there was no readily apparent change in the relative position of the boats until Sing Sing was insight. The Vamoose was getting smaller and smaller, and it was evident that the big steamboat was running away from her. Opposite Nyack it was estimated that she was a mile astern.

At Sing Sing the river broadens and swerves to the west. Croton Point juts far out from the east bank, having Haverstraw Bay to the north and Croton Bay to the south. There is shoal water on the ebb tide along the west shore of the river here, and the direction of the ship channel made it necessary for the Powell to hug the eastern shore until nearly into Croton Bay, and then round Croton Point in a long, sweeping curve. Instead of following the Powell over this course, the Vamoose took advantage of her lighter draught and hugged the west shore. Thus she steered a nearly straight course into Haverstraw Bay and lined up behind the Steamer again only half a mile astern. This was a clear gain of half a mile.

The Vamoose made another gain in the same way opposite Peekskill. There is a sharp westward bend of the river here around Jones's Point. Directly off the point a schooner was met. To get around her, the Powell had describe a sweeping curve to the east. The Vamoose, however, took a crosscut through the shoal water between the schooner and the west shore. A short distance north of that the Vamoose made another gain by hugging the shore off Anthony's Nose, while the Powell was compelled to describe a wide curve in rounding the point. It was a nearly straight away course from there to the Powell's first landing at Cranston's. As she put about to go into dock, the Vamoose abandoned the chase, and returned home. She was then close astern of the Powell. She had nearly destroyed the Powell's lead of half a mile at the start, but, as against this, it was estimated that she had stolen over a mile by cutting across shoals. In other words, she had gained a half mile on the Powell, but the Powell had covered over a mile more.

So, if Mr. Munro succeeds in inducing Mr. Hearst to engage the Vamoose in no more satisfactory contest, he can get some satisfaction by racing the Norwood against the Powell from Forty-second street to Cranston’s. He can imitate the cross cuts of the Vamoose, if he chooses, and thus follow a practically identical course, or, if he feels sufficient confidence in his boat, he can take the longer course of the Powell, and, if he beats her, win still greater glory.

But will a Hudson River course afford a fair test of speed between two boats which steam over it at different times? Capt. A. E. Anderson of the Mary Powell says not. This is the way he talked yesterday just before he started on his afternoon trip:

“Unless the Norwood and the Vamoose go up the Hudson together, no fair test can possibly be made. For instance, suppose the Norwood goes up alongside the Powell on an ebb tide, and the Vamoose chooses a day when we start on a flood tide. The Vamoose would have a tremendous advantage. The ebb currents in the Hudson are often particularly swift. But the matter of steaming against a current or with one is not the only difference which differing tide conditions would make. It is well known that a steamer makes better headway with plenty of water under her than with little. The tide falls from the bottom first, and when you travel over shallow, being nearer the bottom, your boat is sucked considerably deeper in the water than when making over water of some depth. Of course, this makes a vast difference in the speed you get from a given steam pressure. There are many shallows in the Hudson after you get up a few miles ~ the bays, for instance. In Haverstraw Bay the Powell requires about 35 pounds pressure to make the same speed at low water that at high water she could get out of 25 pounds. You can thus get some idea of how unfair a test it would be if the two boats were to race the Powell with different tide conditions.

"But," said the reporter, “the Norwood could choose a day to go up with you when the tide conditions were the same as existed on the day when the Vamoose made the race."

"That is true enough,” said Capt. Anderson, but you don’t make allowance for the wind. If the two boats, both of which present very little surface to the wind, were to race strictly against time, without reference to the Powell, the actual wind trust would not make so much difference. But suppose when the Norwood made her race there was a good south wind to help the Powell along, and when tie Vamoose made her race a north wind held the Powell back. It makes good deal of difference, I assure you.

“But the greatest effect of the wind in such a test as this lies in its effect upon the tides. The wind retards or helps the force of the tide in the Hudson River amazingly. A west wind will practically kill a flood tide so far as its effect upon a steamboat is concerned. I have no doubt that, given two days when the start is made on identical tides, a difference in the wind effect on the tides might make a difference of fifteen minutes in time between Forty-second street and Cranstons.

“So there you have it. The Norwood may wait two weeks and start with us on a tide identical with that of the day of the Vamoose race, but how are you going to unite such conditions with identical wind conditions also? I think myself that the only way to have a fair contest between the two boats on the Hudson is to bring them out together.

The Norwood race with the Mary Powell will, however, be exceedingly interesting, in view of the Powell's previous races with the Stiletto and the Vamoose. Capt. Anderson handled the Powell on both occasions. He will be able to recall the tide and wind conditions of each race, and calculations can made of sufficient closeness to make an interesting and more or less instructive comparison possible.

The Mary Powell has a record of twenty-five miles in 1 hour and 1 minute, made in 1882, soon after she was rebuilt. She was built in 1862 for A. L. Anderson, the father of her present Captain, and in 1867 carried 450 passengers to Rondout, a distance of 100 miles, in 4 hours and 23 minutes. When she was rebuilt, the greatest care was taken to retain her lines exactly. Capt. Anderson said yesterday:

"It is, of course, flattering for the Powell to be singled out for these tests, but I would much rather not have them. The Powell is a business and family boat. We have never run her up to her limit of pressure which is 45. We never exceed 35 or 38. Consequently we can never be charged with racing her. A race is always sure to demoralize the passengers, and besides it is never a fair test of speed, because the passengers always crowd to the side on which the other boat lies and make us list in a fashion which interferes with our speed. In the race with the Stiletto there was a very large crowd aboard, and when the little boat got abreast of us, we listed, so that I ordered the engineer to slow up until she got well ahead. Then the passengers crowded forward, the boat righted, and we went ahead again. In other words, it is a contest between a fine racing machine in racing trim and a passenger boat with a business equipment. You might as well match a horse in a silky against another hitched to a light express wagon."

Part 7. The Exodus to Grand River (1783)

In 1783, the Treaty of Paris was signed, effectively ending the American Revolution. Many Esopus Indian families were still living in what was now called the Loyal Village outside of Fort Niagara, with an equal number of families living along Buffalo Creek to the south. The news of Britain’s defeat was devastating for the loyal Native allies of Great Britain, who had been burned out out of their ancestral homelands and who had made huge sacrifices in allying with the British Crown in their attempt to prevent the loss of their land. Rumors soon spread that a huge American army was assembling to invade Indian Country and commit total genocide on the Native allies of the British. Although the rumors were mostly unfounded, the Esopus Indians and their leadership took them seriously. They were the first to leave after hearing the “horrid report.”[1] They paddled across a short stretch of Lake Erie and made their way up the Grand River into what is now Ontario. They had found their new home.

The Grand River, a tributary of Lake Erie, runs through a fertile country that was once a patchwork of lush deciduous forests and wide prairies rich in game animals. The same limestone ridge that crosses through their Ulster County homeland also passes through the Grand River country, supporting many of the same plant medicines. Every spring, huge numbers of fish – especially walleye – ascended the Grand River from Lake Erie, allowing for the reestablishment of traditional spring fishing camps. The Esopus Indians had found a new country for their people. It was a country that, in many respects, was similar to their ancestral Ulster County home, only lacking in dramatic topography. Censuses taken over the 1780s and 1790s reveal a population of close to two hundred individuals, a number which also included a number of related Munsees and Unamis who had intermarried with them. They were soon joined along the Grand River by most of the other loyal contingents of the Six Nations Confederacy. Towns were established for each ethnic group, sometimes several miles apart; the village of loyal Mohicans from Onaquaga/Unadilla, also displaced from the Hudson Valley, would locate about ten miles upstream on the Grand River.

The settlements on Grand River would have government support. As compensation for wartime losses, the British government secured 550,000 acres of land along the river for their loyal Native allies through the Haldimand Proclamation of 1784. The Grand River Reserve, though much diminished, is still the largest reserve in Canada today. From their new home base, and with the war over, small groups of Esopus Indians would attempt to return to the Catskills Region and Ulster County for visits over the following decades. Records reveal that at least one Esopus family that had formerly lived in Otsiningo on the Susquehanna River temporarily moved back for two or three years. Other individuals trickled into the Catskill Mountains region to visit old settler friends and places of importance. Among them was notorious Esopus Indian war captain Benjamin Shanks, whose visits are remembered in a number of local histories.[2] Tragically, sometimes these visits resulted in murders committed by vengeful settlers against any Indians that reappeared in the region. In one account, Benjamin Shanks was almost killed in an ambush. His friend or relative, Canope, was not so lucky, and was shot and killed right next to him while fishing in the Delaware River in 1784. Ben Shanks was then purportedly killed by white settlers while picking apples in an old Indian orchard at Chenango (Otsiningo) Point three years later.[3]

As the war began to fade into a distant memory, it became safer for Esopus Indian families to visit their homeland from the Grand River in Canada. A number of records reveal their summertime visits over the course of the early 19th century. While living at Grand River, they were joined by many families of closely-related refugee peoples, including Munsees and Unamis who had formerly lived in the Delaware Valley and Mohicans from the upper Hudson Valley. Along with the Nanticokes (originally from Chesapeake Bay), these five groups became collectively known as the Delawares of Grand River. The Delawares of the Grand River – including at least one definitively Esopus chief – were instrumental in defending Canada from the American Invasion in the War of 1812. As late as 1820, an eyewitness noted that the Esopus Indians’ government continued to function on the Grand River. There, they would continue to practice their traditional religion through the mid 19th century. Amazingly, the Esopus Indians’ system of hereditary chieftainship – which can be traced back to their first encounters with the Dutch in the 17th century – persisted until the 1930s. Today, the Delawares of the Grand River Reserve number several hundred enrolled individuals.
 
Citations:
[1] Historical Collections, Michigan Pioneer and Historical Society, Volume 20. 117-121
[2] Benjamin Shanks (aka Ben, son of Shanks), whose Esopus name was remembered as Huycon (possibly meaning ‘Big Knife’) was the son of a namesake who was also known in the records as Wesomainso (meaning ‘Black Oak’). Father Wesomainso/Jacob Shanks was involved in the sale of various parts of the Catskills in the Hardenbergh Patent. In the years immediately after the American Revolution, son Ben Shanks may have temporarily joined the Munsee community living with the Senecas at Cattaraugus and fathered one or more children; in the early 19th century, Seneca individuals at Cattaraugus appear with the surname Shanks.
[3] Munsell, W.W. The History of Delaware County, Town of Hancock.

​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! Your support helps us live our mission of Connecting People to the Hudson River!