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 October 15, 1972.

Of all the steam propelled vessels that have floated upon the waters of Rondout Creek, probably the one that was best known locally in her day was the ungainly little ferry boat that used to cross the creek from the foot of Hasbrouck Avenue to Sleightsburgh. Known throughout the area as the “Skillypot,” she made her last trip from Rondout to Sleightsburgh on Oct. 14, 1922 — exactly 50 years ago yesterday.

“Skillypot” - reportedly a corruption of the Dutch word for tortoise — wasn't even her right name. It was the “Riverside,” a name that many would-be patrons often changed to where she usually was found - the “Otherside.” She may not have been loved as was the “Mary Powell” or admired as were many other steamboats, but she certainly was well known, and almost universally as the “Skillypot.”

Her fame on both sides of Rondout Creek rested securely until the opening of the 9-W highway suspension bridge in 1921 - the only way in her latter years to get across the creek, unless of course one owned or rented a rowboat or wanted to walk to Eddyville. She played an important part in the daily lives of many area residents, especially when the Rondout section of Kingston was important to the business and social life of the community. 

Wherever there has been a natural barrier such as a river or a creek, people it seems have always wanted to get to the other side. 

A Scow Was First
At Rondout, the first recorded vessel to regularly cross the creek was a small scow that was sculled across by hand from Sleightsburgh and could carry one wagon and a team of horses. This means of transportation existed until the spring of 1855 when the small steam ferryboat “J. P. Sleight” made her appearance. 

Built by the sons of John P. Sleight and named for their father, the new ferryboat had two slide valve steam engines connected by cog wheels to two large steel drums. The drums were connected to a chain which was secured to both sides of the creek, a distance of about 440 feet. The drums would rotate and pull the ferry back and forth across the creek on the chain. The chain was of sufficient length to rest on the creek bottom except where it passed around the drums. 

In March 1870, a severe freshet caused by melting snow and rain caused the ice in the upper creek to let go. The ice coming down the creek carried the “J. P. Sleight” right along with it. At the mouth of the creek, the “Sleight” smashed into the lighthouse that then stood on the south dike. Mrs. Murdock, the keeper of the light, caught a line from the ferry, but it parted and away went the “J. P. Sleight," drifting with the ice floes down the river. 

In a few hours, the Cornell ice breaking towboat “Norwich” got underway and, breaking her way through the heavy ice fields off Esopus Meadows lighthouse, spotted the “J. P. Sleight” in another ice field down off Esopus Island. The “Norwich” brought the “Sleight” back to Port Ewen, where it was found her light hull had been damaged beyond repair. Her owners decided to build a new ferryboat which became the “Riverside.”

Contract to Washburn
Abraham and Isaac Sleight gave a contract for the new ferryboat to Hiram and John Washburn. When she was launched, the “Riverside” measured 55 feet long and 20 feet wide. Her engines came from the old “J. P Sleight" and were installed by John Dillon of Rondout. 

The new “Riverside” was a success from the start. Upon the death of Isaac Sleight, ownership of the ferry passed to Herbert A. Starkey, and then in 1903 to Albert Norris who operated her until 1906 when Josiah Hasbrouck became the owner. It is not known at what, point in time the “Riverside” became better known as the latter name by which she was known far and wide in Ulster County. 

As time went by and the automobile came along, new highways were being built along the banks of the Hudson. It soon became evident a bridge was badly needed across Rondout Creek. As a matter of fact, it was long overdue. After World War I on summer weekends, automobiles would be lined up on the Sleightsburgh side almost to the middle of Port Ewen and on the Kingston side to the top of Hasbrouck Avenue. Then, the “Riverside” really was a “Skillypot."

On summer weekends when automobiles were backed up on both sides of the creek, enterprising Sleightsburgh boys would earn money by showing unknowing motorists how to get across the creek by going across the bridge at Eddyville.

​Pilots for a Fee
For a fee, they would get in a waiting car and “pilot” the motorist through New Salem and Eddyville to Rondout. There, they would reverse the process by taking a motorist from Hasbrouck Avenue through Eddyville to Port Ewen. 

At times in some winters the “Skillypot” would be the only steamboat in operation on the upper Hudson. To keep her operating, men would cut a channel through the ice using ice saws and pike poles to shove the cakes of ice under the solid ice or, if it seemed easier, pull them up on top of the ice. During the summer, when the ferry “Transport” would come over from Rhinecliff, the swells from her paddle wheels would carry up the creek. Then how the “Skillypot“ would rock back and forth sideways and cause concern to some of the passengers. 

The “Skillypot” always made her last trip of the day at 10:30 p.m. She would land at her Sleightsburgh slip and blow one blast on her small, clear, shrill whistle, signifying her toils were over for that day. Then if people still wanted to get across the creek, they would have to take a small scow, sculled by a single oar by Lyman Perrine.

Finally, the long awaited day came when the new bridge was open to traffic. The “Skillypot” still continued to operate for a period, but foot passengers even took to walking over the new bridge to save the two cents fare. So on Saturday night, Oct. 14, 1922, a Saturday then as it was this year — the “Skillypot” at 10:30 p.m. blew her final one long shrill whistle. As the echo died, so did she “Riverside.”

Giving Tuesday is coming up next week, so for today's Media Monday post, we thought we would share our newly released trailer for the forthcoming film, "Seven Sentinels: Lighthouses of the Hudson River!" 

After a summer of recording footage and interviews for all of the seven remaining Hudson River lighthouses, we're going to spend the winter reviewing footage, editing, and starting to put together the film, with a planned release date of July, 2022. 

We are so excited for this project, but we can't do it without your help. For that reason, we've launched a crowdfunding campaign in hopes that those of you who love lighthouses as much as we do will help us tell their stories. Watch the trailer below for a taste of what's to come!

Our crowdfunding campaign runs for the next two months. In that time, you'll be seeing more lighthouse content here on the blog as we share some of our coolest finds. Keep your eyes peeled for another sneak peak trailer, too! 

If you'd like to donate, we have some great perks. Click the button below and help us reach our goal of making it to the $5,000 mark by Thanksgiving!

If you or your business would like to become a sponsor of the films or other film projects, please contact Sarah Wassberg Johnson at swassberg@hrmm.org. 

We're also doing a daily countdown to Giving Tuesday starting tomorrow on our Facebook page and Instagram account. Click the links and follow us to make sure you don't miss the updates.​

We'll leave you with a few behind-the-scenes photos from some of our trips this past summer. Thanks for your support!

On the afternoon of Tuesday, November 29, 1921, over a thousand people gathered at the Kingston, NY Armory for a celebratory dinner. The dinner was part of a whole day of celebrations around the opening of the Rondout Creek Suspension Bridge, which connected the town of Port Ewen and the City of Kingston. One of the oldest suspension bridges in New York State (it predates the Bear Mountain Bridge by 3 years), and according to an article in the Daily Freeman ("Ten Thousand Hear Governor at Rondout Creek Bridgehead," November 30, 1921), the largest suspension bridge built in the county since 1909 (no word on which other bridge was built then). 

The festivities included an enormous parade, speeches by  New York State Governor Nathan L. Miller and other officials, and a ceremonial walk across the bridge, including a ceremonial meeting of the two towns in the middle of the bridge, represented by young women shaking hands. When the official festivities were closed, the general public was allowed to cross the bridge. So many people were crowded on either side that the Freeman reported, "So tightly was the crowd packed into a compact mass that if it had rained, few drops would have sifted through to the pavement. It is estimated there were 10,000 persons in the crowd." As nearly all the people walked across the bridge, the Freeman again commented, "It is hardly likely that the bridge will ever receive a more severe test or a heavier load." 

​The event was followed with a fireworks display. 

So what's all this got to do with a shoe brush? This curious little souvenir from the Hudson River Maritime Museum archives was donated by John Wagman in 1994. A leather-backed brush meant to clean shoes or clothes, it features an image of the bridge on the back in gold and reads "Souvenir. Kingston, N.Y. Nov. 29, 1921" and below "Rondout Creek Bridge. State Highway Link to Kingston, N.Y. Catskill Mts. Ashokan Reservoir and the West." 

The brush was a souvenir of all who attended the celebratory dinner at the armory. The same Freeman article had this to say about the brush:

"Wang Designed Brush Back.
"Many who received the souvenir brush at the bridge banquet at the armory were struck with the fine design of the bridge on the back of the brush. The design was the work of C. Y. Wang, a Chinese student who is with the state highway department, who furnished the art drawing of the bridge for the brass die used to stamp in gold the bridge picture on the backs of the brushes. Mr. Wang deserves great credit for his fine work of art."

Why a shoe brush was chosen as the souvenir for the event is unclear, but it may have become immediately useful to many attendees, as the Freeman also reported the prodigious amount of mud at the construction site, writing:

"Plenty of Mud.
"The rock cut was filled with water from the recent heavy storms and on either side of the cut the mod was deep. It was a clayey mud that made walking slippery, but thousands braved the mud to clamber up the hill and to look down upon the open space where the fireworks were set off. 

"Those who had not the foresight to wear rubbers were kept busy when they got home in cleaning the mud from their shoes, but what was a little mud to a good view of the really excellent display of fireworks set off by the Pain Company of New York?"

Due to the weather, the bridge did not officially open to motorists until the spring. According to a Yonkers Herald article entitled "Rondout Bridge is Dedicated At Last" published December 1, 1921, "It will be a boon to motorists who have suffered long delays in crossing the slow-moving, antiquated chain ferry at Rondout." 

The Wurts Street Suspension Bridge, as it is often known today, turns 100 years old this year, as does this shoe brush. Happy Birthday to them both!

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. For more of Murdock's articles, see the "Steamboat Biographies" category

The steamboat known as the “Crystal Stream” is another of the vessels familiar to folks of the Hudson valley as an excursion boat; but unlike many of her running mates in the same business, the “Crystal Stream” traveled north from the Hudson river to New Brunswick- where she met her end.

The 132 foot six inch wooden hull of the “Crystal Stream” was constructed at Bulls Ferry, New Jersey, in 1875. With a breadth of beam measuring 25 feet six inches, the “Crystal Stream” had a gross tonnage rating of 268 with a net tonnage of 167. She was powered with a vertical beam engine constructed by Fletcher, Harrison & Company of New York, which had a cylinder diameter of 36 inches with an eight foot stroke.

When the vessel was launched she was christened the “Nelson K. Hopkins.” Being a medium-size steamboat, she was placed in the excursion business in and about New York harbor. The “Nelson K. Hopkins” was in service for only a very short time when she was partially destroyed by fire. Records do not disclose the details of this fire, but the steamboat was rebuilt and, when she again made her appearance, she carried the name of “Crystal Stream.”

The initial service of the “Crystal Stream” was on a regular route between New York city and Nyack on the Hudson river. Just how long she remained on this run is not known, but she was later found to be in the excursion business, and was finally purchased by William Myers who used her for towing the excursion barges on the Hudson river during the summer months.

The “Crystal Stream” became a familiar sight along the lower section of the Hudson valley and along the shores of the picnic groves on Long Island Sound. At this particular time in the nation’s history, excursions were a popular sport, and many such outings were a regular part of the program of Sunday Schools and organizations. The “Crystal Stream” hauled many heavily-laden barges of merry-makers to various picnic grounds, and her record does not show any black mark of misfortune in this service.

In the summer of 1902 the “Crystal Stream” was sold to parties in St. Johns, New Brunswick. Thus, instead of traveling south as many of the Hudson river excursion vessels did, the “Crystal Stream” headed north for more service- and her destruction.

​The “Crystal Stream” was in service on the St. Johns river until the night of June 21, 1907 - when the flames brought her career to a close. Most of the people aboard the vessel were asleep when fire turned the “Crystal Stream” into a seething furnace. Those who were sleeping aft, when awakened by the choking smoke and roaring flames, escaped in a small boat. Others on the vessel found themselves shut in by walls of fire and were forced to dash through the flames in an effort to escape. Many were fortunate to make the wharf at River Point, where the vessel was tied up, but several women were badly burned, and three of the crew lost their lives. The steamboat was a total loss- thus ending a career of 34 years. 

This week, we're going a bit afield of the Hudson River for Media Monday.

Our November 3rd lecture, "The Orca-Human Bond: The True Story behind The Whaler’s Daughter" with author Jerry Mikorenda, covered the amazing history of cooperation between killer whales (orcas) and Indigenous people (and later European whalers) in Australia. 

We'll have the lecture video up on our YouTube channel soon (some of our fall lectures are already up!), but in the meantime, you can enjoy this excerpt from the 2004 Australian documentary film, "Killers in Eden." Author Jerry Mikorenda said this documentary film was one of the inspirations for his YA novel, Whaler's Daughter.

We've previously discussed whaling in Australia with the song "The Wellerman." Whaling in Two-fold Bay Australia was particularly special because of a unique pod of orcas that assisted human whalers with capturing migrating baleen whales. The "Law of the Tongue" was that the orcas would get first dibs on the baleen whale carcasses, preferring to eat only the lips and the tongue. The human whalers could then haul the rest of the carcass ashore to harvest the blubber for whale oil and other products.  

Sadly, as whaling continued, other more commercial whaling companies were less open to the idea of cooperating with the whales, and by the 20th century the pod had disappeared.

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 January 9, 1972.

​Fog, snow and ice were always tremendous hazards to the steamboatmen who plied the Hudson shortly after the turn of the century. Before the days of radar and other electronic aids to navigation, boatmen had little to rely on but their own acquired knowledge of the river – and the tricks played by wind and tide.
 
With the always heavy river traffic and narrow channels, accidents were bound to occur, especially in fogs and snow storms. One of the more spectacular groundings took place in 1903, when the big tugboat “Osceola” of the Cornell Steamboat Company ran up on the old dock at Piermont.
In the winter of 1903, the Cornell tugboats “Osceola” and “John H. Cordts” were both bound up river with separate tows, both of them very large. The “Cordts” was about a mile ahead of the “Osceola.” Off Yonkers, a heavy snow storm set in with a raging northeast gale.
 
Was It Irvington?
When the “Osceola” was off what the crew believed to be Irvington, the captain said to the pilot, “I think we had better round up and head into the tide.”
 
The pilot suggested, “Let’s go on, the ‘Cordts’ did.” But the captain still thought differently and rounded up. However, by going around to the west, they lost the echo of the whistle on the east shore and could not pick it up again.
 
Feeling their way along, they felt a slight jolt and a slight list to port.
 
But it was snowing so hard they couldn’t see anything, or could they pick up any echoes at all of the whistle. And, attempt after attempt to back off from whatever they had hit proved fruitless.

​By Morning’s Light
When morning came, they understood why. The “Osceola” was perched right on top of the old dock at Piermont!
 
The Piermont dock had originally been built by the Erie Railroad back in the 19th century when the State of New Jersey refused the Erie permission to run trains in that state. As an alternative, the railroad proceeded to build a long pier out into the river at the southern most point in New York State on the west shore. The trains would be run out on the pier and passengers were taken from there to New York City by steamboat.

​By 1903 the pier was no longer used and the end of the dock had fallen into ruin. At the time of the grounding, the tide was much higher than usual because of the winter storm, and the "Osceola" went right up on top of the old dock.
 
And there she remained, with her bow all the way out of the water, for some two weeks before workmen were successful in getting her off. Still, she came through her misadventure surprisingly well and continued towing on the Hudson River until October 1929.

November is Native American Heritage Month, and although we've been interpreting Indigenous history through guest speakers Harv Hilowitz and Justin Wexler aboard Solaris this summer, we thought we would take this Media Monday to highlight some of the Lenape history in New York City and the Hudson Valley. 

The Bowery Boys have been interpreting New York City history for the general public via podcast since 2007. In this episode, "Land of the Lenape: A Violent Tale of Conquest and Betrayal," they examine the history of the Lenape in New York City and environs.

The Hudson River Valley is part of Lenapehoking - or the Lenape homeland. As residents of the southern Hudson Valley and the New Jersey coastline, they were some of the first Indigenous people in the Northeast to make contact with Europeans, and therefore among the first to bear the brunt of disease, violence, and forced removal. In the Hudson Valley, Manhattan, Tappan, Ramapo, Neversink, Wappingers, and Esopus are all place names derived from Lenape tribal names or words. 

Although some Lenape people still live in the Northeast, most were forcibly removed multiple times to several different locations, including Wisconsin, Ontario, and Oklahoma. You can learn more about the Lenape through the work of the Lenape Center, located in Manhattan. 

Learn More:

• ​If you missed this summer's video with historian Harv Hilowitz on Lenapehoking, you can check it out here. 
• "The True Native New Yorkers Can Never Truly Reclaim Their Homeland" Smithsonian Magazine
• A Tour of Native New York from Barnard College
• "How New York Was Named" the New Yorker​
• Visit the "Native New York" exhibition at the Smithsonian Museum of the American Indian in New York City.

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!​

Today's Featured Artifact is one of our favorite model boats - this beautiful model of a brick schooner. Over 100 years old, the model was originally owned by Captain Charles A. Hunt, an active yachtsman on the Hudson River, who owned an 80’ sloop named The Fearless. This model was donated to HRMM by Charles Hunt's’ granddaughter Elizabeth Brockway McCormack in 1985. The model is plank-on-frame and fully rigged. It's also larger than it looks, measuring 5'11" long, 16" wide, and nearly 5 feet (59") high.

The Brockway family had an extensive brickyard just north of Beacon (learn more about what's left of the Brockway Brickyards). The Brockway Brickyard was started in 1886 when Edwin Brockway purchased 70 acres just north of Beacon, NY. The village was named after the brickyard, which continued in operation as one of the largest in the Hudson Valley until it closed 1931.

This model is an example of a brick schooner. Used on the Hudson from 1830s-1920s, these types of schooners were a cost effective way to ship the heavy bricks from Hudson Valley brickyards to New York City and up and down the Eastern seaboard. Schooners and sloops specialized in heavy or bulky cargoes. Early in the century they transported grain, coal, ice, bluestone, bricks, cement, and even hay. Later in the 19th and early 20th centuries, the very heavy cargoes such as bricks, bluestone, and cement were the primary sail cargoes on the Hudson River. Requiring no fuel and carrying a non-perishable cargo, the only expense to operate them was the crew, which made them much cheaper than steamboats and tugboats. And unlike barges which needed to be towed and were not necessarily ocean-worthy, schooners could and did easily sail right out of New York Harbor and up and down the coast for deliveries farther afield. 

If you'd like to visit this beautiful model, it is currently on display as part of our mini exhibit on the Hudson River brick industry in the East Gallery of the museum.

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. For more of Murdock's articles, see the "Steamboat Biographies" category

By some manner of coincidence steamboats whose names began with the letter “S” were known to rivermen as “hard luck boats,” and to this group belonged the steamboat “State of New York.”

Built at Brooklyn in 1866 by C. & R. Poillon, the “State of New York” had a wooden hull measuring 268 feet long, a breadth of beam of 36 feet, and depth of hold of nine feet six inches. Her gross tonnage was rated at 1,417 and net tonnage at 1,047. Her vertical beam engine was built by Cobanks & Theall of New York, and the cylinder diameter was 65 inches with a 12-foot stroke.

The “State of New York” was constructed for the Hartford and New York Steamboat Company and her name was scheduled to be “Vermont,” but when she was launched she was christened the “State of New York,” under the command of Captain D.A. Mills. Costing $200,000 the “State of New York” was the largest steamboat built up to that time for use of the Connecticut river, and her passenger rating was listed at 800 people.

For many years the “State of New York” ran in line with the “City of Hartford” and the “Granite State,” and in 1880 she was in service on a route from Stonington to New York. During her entire career the steamboat was dogged by accidents, although no lives were lost as a result of these mishaps.

When the Saybrook breakwaters were built in 1872 a huge boulder rolled into the ship channel - and the “State of New York” hit it and was forced to lay over a day in New York City for repairs. Later, in avoiding a tow in Hell Gate, the steamboat struck another rock and had to be beached at Hallets Point. Her stern was submerged on this occasion but the 90 passengers aboard were saved and most of the freight was salvaged. Captain Peter Cahill, a former wheelsman on the “State of New York” under Captain Peter Dibble, was at that time owner of a salvage tugboat and was called to haul the freight of the wrecked “State of New York” to Hartford. The owners of the “State of New York” refused to pay Captain Cahill’s claim of $300 for this job, and a suit followed in which the tugboat captain received his claim.

On August 28, 1881 the “State of New York” struck a snag on the Salmon river above East Haddam, Connecticut, tore out two planks, and was beached again to save her from sinking. Her bow rode up on the bank and her stern sank in deep water, and this episode cost her owners $40,000 before she could again be placed in service.

​Under Captain R.K. Miner the ill-fated steamboat met with another serious accident while coming out of Peck Slip in a strong ebb tide. Before she could straighten out in the river she was hurled into the Brooklyn docks, carrying away one side of her deck house and damaging wharves and dock houses to the amount of $80,000.

Following these latest mishaps, the name “State of New York” disappeared from the steamboat and in its place came the name “City of Springfield”. This change was not long in force before the steamboat broke her walking beam and was laid up for some time at Middle Haddam awaiting repairs.

The spring of 1883 was the occasion for the “City of Springfield” to appear on the Hudson river- and became known to local rivermen. In that year she was chartered to the Cornell Steamboat Company of Rondout, because of two events which had happened previous to the spring of 1883. On March 27, 1882 the steamboat “Thomas Cornell” had been wrecked on Danskammer Point, and the steamboat “City of Catskill” had been chartered to replace the “Thomas Cornell.” After running one season on the “Thomas Cornell’s” route, the “City of Catskill” was destroyed by fire at Rondout on February 11, 1883, and then the “City of Springfield” (“State of New York”) was chartered to run on the route of the “Thomas Cornell.”

The “City of Springfield” plied the route of the “Thomas Cornell” for one season, under the command of Captain William Van Keuren. Henry Briggs served as pilot and Nicholas M. McLean was chief engineer. The following year marked the appearance of the steamboat “City of Kingston,” and brought to a close the term of service of the “City of Springfield” on the Rondout route.

The next account of the former “State of New York” concerns a collision with the “City of Boston” off Cornfield Point Light. In this encounter one of the “City of Boston’s” boilers was rolled off her guard and her smokestack tumbled onto the deck of the “City of Springfield.”

​The “City of Springfield” remained in commission until 1895 when she was tied up and later sold and converted into a coal barge named the “Jimmy Hughes”. Fate still watched over the former “State of New York”- for the converted coal barge finally foundered in a storm off the Jersey coast, ending her career.