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 volunteers Carl and Joan 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.
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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!​

In the 1960s, historian, expert boat modeler, and former antiquities thief Forrest Van Loon Ryder published a column in the Greene County News called "Old Timers: Boats of the Hudson."

In this article, entitled "Steamer Redfield burns at Sandbar between Athens and Hudson on 1910-06-20," published on September 16, 1965, Van Loon Ryder recounts the history of the steam freighter William C. Redfield. 

Although not a sidewheeler, at the time of her appearance the WILLIAM C. REDFIELD was considered one of the most modern freight boats on the Hudson River. She carried one stack and had four large openings on each side of her housing for loading freight and also boasted a small saloon for passengers on the second deck. The vessel was named for a man who made historic contributions to steamboat navigation, William C. Redfield of Cromwell, Connecticut. At a time when frequent boiler explosions were creating a fear of steamboats, Mr. Redfield devised Safety Barges, built in the manner of steamboats, but without power and towed by a steam boat. These lavishly furnished barges were popular from 1825 to around 1830 when their favor diminished, due to lack speed, and to fewer boiler disasters which eventually restored the public's confidence in steamboats. Mr. Redfield, who was superintendent of the Swiftsure Towing Line, also suggested the system of towing lets of canal boats, rather than having one of two canal boats on either side of the towboat. Quite often he would have towboats towing as many as 40 or fifty canal boats and barges.

The REDFIELD was constructed for Commodore Alfred Van Santvoord for service between New York and Albany. After serving on this route five years she was sold to new owners who placed her in service between Stuyvesant, Coxsackie and New York as a freight and passenger carrier. Running in line with the THOMAS MCMANUS these two large propeller vessels were a familiar site on this route for many years. Eventually the Catskill Evening Line acquired title to the REDFIELD and MCMANUS, and the two steamers continued to run in line until August 27th, 1902, when the MCMANUS burned at her pier in New York.

Finally the REDFIELD was returned to the route for which she was originally built and in later years was used only as a freight carrier.  

The REDFIELD was destined for a fate similar to that of her old running mate, the MCMANUS. On June 20th, 1910, as the REDFIELD was being tied up at her Athens dock, a fire was discovered in her hold. In flames, she was towed to the Middleground, a sandbar between Athens and Hudson, where she burned to the waters edge and became a total loss.
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STATISTICS: Lewis Minnersley, builder, East Albany, NY. Wood hull, 370 tons. Length 182 feet; beam 33 feet; depth 10 feet. Fletcher & Harrison No. 49, single cylinder engine having a 36 inch cylinder with 34 inch stroke.

An article from the Boston Globe dated June 21, 1910 recounts the accident:

ANCIENT STEAMER BURNED. 
Sidewheeler W. C. Redfield, Built in 1864, Destroyed on the Hudson at Athens. 

HUDSON, N Y, June 20 - The freight steamer W. C. Redfield, owned by the Catskill & New York steamboat company, was destroyed by fire this afternoon, while lying at Athens, across the river from here. Her crew escaped unharmed. 

The vessel was at her dock when the flames were discovered and buildings along the water front were endangered. A ferryboat towed the steamer onto the flats, where she burned to the water’s edge. 

The Redfield was a sidewheeler of 700 tons, built in 1864, and was for many years of her early usefulness in passenger service on the Hudson.

​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 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.

                                                                  No. 32- Escort
The “Escort” was built at Mystic Bridge, Conn., in 1863, and was 185 feet long, carrying a gross tonnage of 675 and a net tonnage of 500. She was propelled by a vertical beam engine.

Built for service in the east, the “Escort” sailed the waters of the Connecticut river and Long Island Sound and was then chartered to the government in the Quartermaster’s Department during the Civil War. At the close of the war she was brought north again and used in eastern waters until 1873.

The “Escort” was then purchased by Catskill people and put in service on the Catskill and New York night line.

In 1883 the “Escort” was rebuilt and her name was changed to the “Catskill”. She ran in line with the “Kaaterskill” and “Walter Brett”.

On September 22, 1897, the “Catskill was rammed and sunk off West 57th street, New York, about seven o’clock in the evening by the steamer “St. Johns”, owned by the Central Railroad of New Jersey. There were 46 passengers aboard the “Catskill” and all escaped except a five-year-old boy, Bertie Timmerman of Leeds, who was drowned. At the time of the accident, the “Catskill” had an unusually heavy cargo of freight aboard for her north-bound trip. The usual signal whistles were blown but there was evidently a misunderstanding and the two vessels came together with a crash that could be heard for some distance along the waterfront. The excursion steamboat struck the “Catskill” on the starboard side about 30 feet aft of the bow and tore a great hole in her side, the whole depth of her guards and freeboard and way below the waterline. Captain Braisted of the “St. Johns”, seeing that the damage to the “Catskill” was serious and that the vessel would sink, blew his whistle for aid and a passing steamer and some tugs rushed to the assistance of the “Catskill” and took off the passengers.

​The “Catskill” was raised and rebuilt, being lengthened from 185 to 226 feet two inches, and her tonnage was increased from 675 gross tons to 816 gross tons. Her name was then changed to the “City of Hudson”, and when she made her appearance she gave the impression of an entirely new vessel. The “City of Hudson” continued running on the Catskill line until the fall of 1910, when she was laid up at Newburgh, having outlived her usefulness. She was purchased by Charles E. Bishop of Rondout and Abram W. Powell of Port Ewen in October, 1911, and taken to Port Ewen, where she was dismantled, her engine and boiler being junked and her woodwork used for fuel in burning brick on a brickyard.

 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 at right.

                                                No. 59 - “Saugerties”
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She came from “foreign waters” under the name of the Shenandoah, she served on the Hudson River under the name of the Saugerties, and she went to a watery grave as the result of the ravages of flames; thus reads a brief history of the Saugerties.
 
Her wooden hull, built at Brooklyn in 1882, was 200 feet long with a 33 foot breadth of beam, and she was rated at 424 net tons. A vertical beam engine with a 36-inch diameter cylinder and a 10 foot stroke furnished the power for the Saugerties.
 
The steamboat was originally named the Shenandoah and was built for the old Dominion Steamship Company in whose service she plied the James river and Chesapeake Bay, carrying freight and passengers to and from the company’s steamships in Norfolk, Va.
 
In 1888 the Shenandoah was purchased by the Saugerties Company to run between Saugerties and New York on the night line in line with the steamer Ulster. She was completely overhauled and her name changed to the Saugerties, and she was advertised as “the largest little steamboat on the Hudson river.”
 
On Sunday, November 23, 1906, the Saugerties, under Captain Charles Tiffany, made her last run and ended her career as another steamboat that fell before the flames which wrote finis to the term of service of many of the river steamboats. The fire occurred at the dock at Saugerties village and caused the death of Charles Rosch, a member of the crew from New York city.
 
The Saugerties arrived at her dock at the up-river village on Sunday morning with a cargo of freight and passengers. It being Sunday, no freight was removed from the steamboat which was scheduled to make her return trip to New York on Monday evening. About 5 o’clock on that Sunday afternoon in November, flames were discovered coming from the oil room of the vessel, and a few moments later the entire lower section of the boat was ablaze.
 
The men who were aboard the steamer were compelled to flee for their lives and were unable to take the time to gather any of their possessions other than the clothes they were wearing. The ill-fated Rosch, a member of the crew, made his way back to the burning steamer after he had safely reached the wharf, in order to rescue a suit of clothing in which he had four dollars. Others on the wharf shouted to him that his efforts were foolhardy but he dashed into the smoke and flame and was suffocated.
 
The flames spread to all parts of the stricken vessel with amazing rapidity, eating their way along the upper deck and completely enveloping the steamer within 15 minutes. The roar of the fire could be heard for some distance and the heat from the flames was terrific.
 
The burned hulk sank at the dock at 2 o’clock Monday morning; the water of the Saugerties inlet squelching the last flames too late to save the fine steamboat. The Saugerties had been practically rebuilt during the years when she was the property of the Saugerties Steamboat Company, and her loss was estimated at $100,000. Of that sum, $80,000 was the estimate placed on the vessel itself and the other $20,000 was the value of the cargo.

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 at right

                                                   No. 52- New World
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The “New World” was constructed in 1847 by William H. Brown of New York. When she first appeared she was 371 feet long with a tonnage rating of 1,418. In 1855 she was widened from 37 feet to 43 feet by John Englis of Greenpoint and her rating increased to 1,676 tons. She had a vertical beam engine, constructed by T.F. Secor & Company of New York, with a cylinder diameter of 76 inches and a 15 foot stroke, cutting off at eight feet and averaging 17 revolutions per minute.
               
The “New World” was one of the most celebrated of the American river steamboats and was literally a wonder of her day because of her great size. She was originally built for service as a dayboat between Albany and New York and on this route she gained a reputation for speed. On several occasions her speed approximated 20 miles per hour. In 1854 the “New World” made the run from Albany to New York in six hours and 21 minutes. In the year 1855 she was rebuilt for service as a night boat, becoming the first of the great inland steamers to have a double tier of staterooms above the main deck.

The “New World” was always considered an unlucky vessel. From the day of her launching- August 4, 1848, when she moved 30 feet down the ways and stuck, requiring the services of several tugboats to get her into the water, the “New World” began a career which was continually marred by accidents.

 On June 20, 1853, while off Chambers street, New York, one of the “New World’s” boilers exploded, killing 11 persons. At another time she was almost destroyed by fire off the City of Hudson.

One of the most unfortunate accidents which marred the record of the “New World” occurred on October 26, 1859 of Fort Washington while enroute to Albany. In this accident the “New World” went to the bottom of the river, but the circumstances which caused her distress were rather peculiar.

A schooner was crossing the bow of the “New World” and the pilot rang the bell to stop the engine. The engineer happened to be in one of the firerooms across the gangway when the signal was given and he hurried to comply with the request. In his haste, he stopped the engine too suddenly, with the result that the strain put on the gallows frame holding up the walking beam, caused it to snap off about five feet from the top, allowing the beam to drop. This broke the connecting rod about two feet from the upper end. The connecting rod continued to work with every revolution of the paddle wheel crank as the boat continued to move at a good rate of speed. The flying end of the severed connecting rod generally wrecked the bulkheads and decks forward and finally worked its way into the hold and knocked a hole in the bottom of the vessel. In half an hour the “New World” was at the bottom of the river. Her passengers were rescued by the sloop and the steamboat “Ohio.”

The “New World” was raised and repaired and returned to service on the night line. After a career of 16 years she was laid aside, her engine was placed in the new steamboat “St. John,” and her hull with all of her upper works intact, was taken to Fortress Monroe for use as a hospital during the Civil War.
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