Another Murder. -- Last evening between six and seven o'clock, a colored man supposed to be one of the waiters of the Steamboat Rochester, was knocked overboard by a man named Edward Morris, and drowned  It appears that the colored man had a trunk on his shoulder which he was about taking on board of the Rochester, and when he had got on to the gangway plank, he was partially shoved off by one of the runners named James Lawlor, which caused him to drop the trunk.  He was immediately struck by Morris, with so much violence as to cause him to fall from the plank into the water, and was drowned.  ***
           
These runners and the other hangers on around the steamboats, are perfect pests, both to the proprietors of the boats and to the travelling community. . . Evening Post, June 3, 1845, 
 
Manslaughter if not Murder. -- Yesterday between 6 and 7 o'clock, as a colored man named Best, a waiter on board the steamer Rochester, was getting on board with a trunk, he was roughly jostled by a runner named James Lawler, and putting the trunk down was struck a severe blow by another runner named Edward Morris, which knocked him off the string piece into the river and he was drowned.  Officers Huthwaite and Hallamacker arrested Morris and Lawler. -- Sun.  N-Y Commercial Advertiser, June 3, 1845.
 
Coroner's Inquests -- Tuesday. On the body of John West, the colored waiter on board the steamer Rochester, who was struck at by Lawler, and knocked into the dock from the wharf foot of Courtlandt street by Edward Morris, and drowned.  The body was recovered yesterday and taken to the dead house.  $5,50 were found in his pockets and given to his family.  N-Y Commercial Advertiser, June 4, 1845.
 
Recovery of the body of the Porter of the Rochester . -- ***  Yesterday afternoon his body was recovered.  His name was John West, and an inquest will be held on his body to-day.
Evening Post, June 4, 1845
 
In the General Sessions, yesterday, Edward Morris, indicted for manslaughter, in having, while engaged in a scuffle with John West on board one of the North River steamboats, thrown overboard the last named person on the 2d of June, 1845, on being placed at the bar, entered a plea of guilty, and was remanded for sentence. Evening Post, July 11, 1845,
 
Edward Morris, indicted for manslaughter, in having, on the 2d of June, 1845, in a scuffle, thrown John West overboard from a steamboat, by which was drowned, pleaded guilty to manslaughter in the first degree, and will be sentenced tomorrow. NY Morning Express, July 11, 1845,
 
Edward Morris, who yesterday plead guilty to an indictment for manslaughter in the 4th degree, was sentenced to be confined in the City Prison for the term of one month.NY Evening Express, July 11, 1845,
 
Editor's Note: "Runners" tried to persuade travellers to take their steamer, which was much the best.  They could be pretty aggressive, perhaps grabbing a trunk and carrying it on board. 

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: This booklet from the November 2, 1963 opening of the Newburgh-Beacon Bridge was recently donated to the Hudson River Maritime Museum.

"The Ferry:
The Newburgh-Beacon Ferry, which has been in operation on the Hudson River between the cities of Newburgh and Beacon, is the oldest in the United States, having been given its franchise from Queen Anne of England in 1743.

Alexander Colden, one of the first English trustees of the Palatine Parish of the Quassaick (the original name for Newburgh), petitioned the honorable George Clarke, Lieutenant-Governor of the Province, for letters patent enabling him to establish a ferry between Newburgh and Fishkill, the early name for the City of Beacon. This ferry was in operation until after the American Revolution when Queen Anne's Charger was considered null and void, and a new ferry was established between Newburgh and Fishkill.

At first sail and row boats were used for ferrying, and it is reported that, "The enterprise was conducted with considerable system." It is most interesting to scan the old records and note the following rates for humans and freight for passage on the boat:
A man – one shilling
Man and horse – two shillings
Calf or hogg – Six pence
Two-horse Wagon (empty) – Ten shillings
Two-horse Wagon (loaded) – Twelve shillings
Empty barrel – Four pence
Full barrel – One shilling
Four-horse Wagon (Empty) – Fourteen shillings
Four-horse Wagon (Loaded) – One Pound
Ton of Iron – Eight Shillings
Hogshead of Run – Five shillings

During the Revolutionary War, General George Washington had his headquarters in the Hasbrouck House in Newburgh and used the Continental Ferry for transporting men and supplies across the Hudson. Baron Friedrich von Steuben, the German aide to Washington who was quartered in the VerPlanck House in Fishkill, made regular trips across the Hudson on that ferry. After the defeat of the British at Saratoga in 1777, General Burgoyne led his army down the east bank of the Hudson, crossed the river on the ferry, marched through Newburgh, and headed for New Jersey.

Since the original Queen Anne Charter did not provide exclusive rights, it was not long before competition began to appear. Martin Wiltsie and Daniel Carpenter formed a new company which continued in operation until 1781 or 1782 when Peter Bogardus, John Anderson, and James Denton established a new ferry line. It is believed that the new company acquired the ferry rights of Colden. Sometime after the war, the charter privileges existing prior to that time were confirmed.

In 1802 the original Colden Charter was sold by his heirs to one Leonard Carpenter for the sum of $2500.00. Three years later the two ferry systems were combined. Sail and row boats were used until 1816, when a horse-driven boat, the Moses Rogers was launched. It was capable of carrying a load of "one coach and horses, a wagon and horse, seventeen chaises and horses, one additional horse, and fifty passengers." The Caravan was the first boat to be propelled by a when in the center. It was run in connection with the sail boat Mentor, and the horse-powered boat, The Dutchess. This last named boat was later converted to steam and renamed The Jack Downing.

In 1828 the Post Boy, later called the Phoenix, was put into service. After that came the Gold Hunter, Fulton, Williamsburg, and the Union. As the 20th Century approached, the City of Newburgh and the Fishkill-on-Hudson were plying between the two cities. In 1912 the Dutchess appeared, and in 1914 the Orange was added to the fleet. These two boats were, of course, named for the two counties opposite each other on the Hudson River. A few years later found the Thomas Powell and the Beacon as new arrivals.

From 1804 until 1835, the Newburgh Ferry changed hands many times. In May, 1835, Thomas Powell bought the system for $80,000 and remained the sole owner until 1850. At that time he deeded the property to his daughter, Mrs Frances E.L. Ramsdell. It remained in the Ramsdell family for 100 years. In 1956 the State of New York purchased the Newburgh-Beacon Ferry from Homer Ramsdell and his sister, Mrs. Herbert R. Odell, and the New York Bridge Authority has been operating it until the completion of the bridge which now spans the river.

In its 220-year history, the Newburgh-Beacon Ferry has seen many notable events. The Hudson-Fulton Celebration in 1909 was one of the most memorable. It paid tribute to the English navigator for whom the river was named and the inventor of the steamboat which was first used on the Hudson. Boats of all sizes and shapes were seen on the river, bedecked with flags, pennants, and lovely ladies in colorful gowns and hats. Then later, from the decks of the ferry, spectators watched the world-famous rowers, the Ward Brothers of Cornwall, and the sculls of many colleges en route to the Intercollegiate Boat Races at Poughkeepsie.

The river and the ferry have seen many changes. First ox-carts came to the dock; then horses and wagons. Later came the steam-driven boats and yachts, to be followed by the railroad. Finally, we entered the Twentieth Century with its horseless motor cars. Ferry boats are much too slow now. Our people must speed over modern roads and incomparable steel structures.

The Newburgh-Beacon Ferry has been an institution on the Hudson River. It is indeed a truism that old boats do not die – nor do they fade away. They live on in the hearts and memories of those of use who have "roots". – Irene E. Wegle, Corresponding Secretary, The Historical Society of Newburgh Bay and the Highlands."

Editor's Note: The following is from Historic Bridges of the Hudson Valley:  https://www.hbhv.org/slideshow-c7hc

Fast Facts
Opened to the Public: North Span: November 2, 1963, South Span: November 1, 1980
Connecting Counties: Orange and Dutchess
Overall Length: North Span: 7,855 feet, South Span: 7,789 feet
Bridge Type: Articulated Deck Truss
Initial Cost: North Span: $19,500,000, South Span: $93,600,000

History
The most traveled of the New York State Bridge Authority’s bridges, the  Newburgh-Beacon Bridge carries more than 25 million crossings a year on Interstate 84.

In February 1951, NYS Assembly Majority Leader Lee B. Mailler of Cornwall introduced a bill calling for test borings to be conducted for a bridge between Beacon and Newburgh. The local Chambers of Commerce as well as civic groups helped mobilize public support for the bill, which was passed and signed by Governor Thomas E. Dewey. Test borings and site surveys were completed and by February 1952, the cost of the bridge was estimated at approximately $18 million, not including legal expenses and the cost of rights of way. 
          
In 1953, Assemblyman Mailler introduced further legislation to authorize actual bridge construction. It was approved but contained no appropriation, leaving the Bridge Authority no way to build it. Work was also prohibited by law until after completion of the Kingston-Rhinecliff Bridge. In 1954, the Mailler-Hatfield Bill was passed by the Legislature, removing the constraints which prevented construction of the Newburgh-Beacon Bridge until after completion of the Kingston-Rhinecliff project. 
          
The Bridge Authority lacked the bonding ability to build both spans at once but the 1955 bond issue which covered the costs of the Kingston-Rhinecliff Bridge also included a $1.2 million development fund to pay design costs and help speed construction of the Newburgh-Beacon Bridge. 
          
During the Harriman Administration (1954-1958) it was decided by the Bureau of Public Roads that the bridge would need to be at least 4 lanes wide to carry an Interstate Highway. Federal aid for the bridge was then approved because it would be part of what would eventually become the Eisenhower Interstate Highway System. The project was delayed however, when 1959 federal funds were redistributed and less money was available. Finally in 1960, at the urging of Governor Rockefeller, the State opted to build a less expensive, two-lane bridge without federal assistance. 
          
In the meantime, other ferries had also begun to operate in the area, carrying passengers between Garrison and West Point, Poughkeepsie and Highland, Kingston and Rhinecliff, Catskill and Greendale, and Hudson and Athens. However, one by one, they all ceased to exist. When NYSBA took over the Beacon ferry in 1956, it had been in poor shape for years and soon became the last ferry route north of New York City. 

The last ferries, the Dutchess, the Orange, (both built by Newburgh shipyards) and the Beacon maintained ferry service until Sunday, November 3, 1963, one day after the opening of the original Newburgh-Beacon Bridge.  Shortly after 5 P.M. that day, the Dutchess and the Orange met at mid-river, signaled a final salute and formally retired the Newburgh-Beacon ferry into history after 220 years.  For $2 drivers crossed the Hudson on the ferry for the last time and returned via the new bridge. 
          
In 2005, the Newburgh-Beacon ferry was revived and now carries commuters from the west side of the river to the train station on the east side where they can catch the Metro-North Hudson Line to Grand Central Station. 
          
In 1997, the Newburgh-Beacon Bridge was ceremonially renamed the “Hamilton Fish Newburgh-Beacon Bridge” in honor of Hamilton Fish, who served as New York Governor, US Senator and United States Secretary of State, and for the five generations of the Fish family who represented the Hudson Valley in Congress, the State Legislature and the Presidential Cabinet from the Lincoln administration through the 1990’s.

Engineering 
​Actual bridge construction began in March of 1961. The span was built using riveting to hold the massive steel beams and plates together.  Each rivet came from the factory with a cap on one end of the shaft.  The red hot rivets would be slid through two pieces of steel by one man.  On the other side, another worker with a riveting hammer would pound the scorching metal into a mushroom shape while the rivet was held in place, so there were now two caps on the rivet, with the steel between.  As the rivets cooled, they would contract and bring the steel tightly together. 
          
The piers for the bridge were constructed using caissons. They were set into the riverbed and driven down to bedrock using the weight of the caisson while the machines dug out the silt below.  The deepest caisson on the Newburgh-Beacon Bridge was set 163 feet below sea level. On November 2, 1963, Governor Nelson Rockefeller cut the gold ribbon on the bridge, opening it to traffic. 
          
Before its construction, it was estimated that the Newburgh-Beacon Bridge would carry 25,000 cars each day, requiring a four-lane design.  When funding became difficult, Gov. Rockefeller had decided that the bridge would never carry that many vehicles, and a two-lane structure would be sufficient.  Unfortunately by 1964, 25,000 vehicles were using the bridge on a daily basis, and traffic jams were becoming a major problem.  The need for greater carrying capacity was critical. 
          
By 1972, the State was considering ways to expand bridge capacity. Completion of new portions of Interstate 84 in Connecticut further increased traffic flow, leading to more problems on the bridge. It was finally decided that a second span would be built on land already owned by the Bridge Authority, south of the first span and that the original bridge would be widened.
          
The new span and the reconstruction of the first were financed primarily by the federal government as part of the Interstate Highway Fund.  Ninety percent of the cost of the $94 million bridge was funded through federal money, leaving just ten percent for the Bridge Authority to finance.  
          
The foundations for the piers were built using caissons and cofferdams. On Pier 7, digging on one side of the caisson went faster than the other, resulting in the whole block being tipped to one side. It took months to set correctly and was a “breath-taker” in the words of one construction company foreman. The bridge’s superstructure was built using new weathering steel, which forms a protective coating and eliminates the need to paint the metal. When it was completed, the Newburgh-Beacon Bridge was the longest bridge in the world constructed from the new weathering steel. 
          
On August 21, 1980 boaters and hundreds of on-land spectators joined to watch the placement of the final section of the bridge. The 2,000 ton span was hoisted by 4 engines and secured in place by 2.5 ton bolts. 
          
Bridge dedication ceremonies took place on November 1, 1980, almost 17 years to the date the original span was dedicated. To commemorate the occasion, a 5-mile race was held through Newburgh and across the bridge. The bridge was officially opened with a motorcade of local officials and dignitaries riding over the bridge (in the wrong direction) from the Beacon toll plaza to Newburgh and back. In 1981, the bicycle and pedestrian crossing opened, only the second to cross a federal interstate. 
          
The original span of the bridge was closed in December 1980 for widening and strengthening. It was repainted to match the protective rust color of the weathering steel on the new span. 
          
​In 2006, the west approach was repaved and a new truck inspection area was built to allow the State Police to conduct inspections in a safe area that would not interfere with regular traffic flow." 

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 the 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 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 Washburns

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 the 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, October 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 dies, so did the "Riverside."

No More Chains

On Monday, Oct. 16, the two engineers, Charles Van Leuven and Charles Becker, and Peter Shoemaker, the deckhand, started to lay her up. They drained the water out of her boiler, disconnected the chains that connected her to each shore for so many years and stowed ashore other equipment like lanterns and life preservers.

Then on Oct. 18, 1922, at 4 p.m. when the tide was high, they pulled the "Riverside" by hand to the east of the Sleightsburgh slip and beached her high on the shore. Just as they were about to pull her out of the sip. Richard Sleight, one of the brothers who operated J. Sleight's Sons general store next to the ferry slip, ran out and jumped aboard, saying he wanted to have one last trip on the "Skillypot." She stayed on the beach at Sleightsburgh until Oct. 20, 1923 when she was towed to South Rondout after being purchased by former Alderman John Fischer. There, by a quirk of fate, she was put inshore alongside the remains of the famous "Mary Powell," then being dismantled. To this day, at low tide parts of her old bones may be seen on the shore east of the railroad bridge.
​
Many an old riverman and Town of Esopus resident saw duty on the "Skillypot." In addition to her final crew of Charles Van Leuven, Charles Becker and Peter Shoemaker, the roster included Elmer Marsh, David Relyea, William Sleight, James Devoe, Theodore Relyea, Andrew Taylor, James Rodman and Isaac C. Sleight.
 
 

Tomorrow is the 139th birthday of the iconic Brooklyn Bridge, which was opened to the public on May 24, 1889. At the time, it was the longest suspension bridge in the world, the first permanent crossing between Brooklyn and Manhattan, and today is the oldest bridge to Manhattan still standing. 

The engineering marvel was the work of John Roebling, his son Washington Roebling, and eventually was completed by Washington's wife Emily Roebling, after Washington grew too ill to continue. For the compelling story of the long, complicated, and dangerous work to complete the bridge, check out this short documentary film below:

Did you know? John Roebling's pioneering work in cabled suspension bridges was honed through his work on the Delaware & Hudson Canal! 

To learn more about the Roebling family and their contributions to American industrial history, visit the Roebling Museum in Roebling, NJ. 

For more about Roebling's work on the D&H Canal, check out this talk D&H Canal Historian Bill Merchant gave for the Roebling Museum on John Roebling and the Delaware aqueducts. 

On December 15, 1955, the newly constructed Tappan Zee Bridge opened to the public. Construction began in 1952 and the bridge took 45 months to complete. It connected Nyack, NY in Rockland County on the west side of the Hudson River, and Tarrytown, NY in Westchester County on the east side of the river. It was part of a larger project constructing the Governor Thomas E. Dewey Thruway - one of the oldest interstate highway systems in the country and the longest toll road in the nation.

​Watch the film below, created in the 1950s and held by the New York State Archives, about the construction and opening of the bridge. The film features lots of historic footage of how construction battled and depended on water.

The bridge opening was typical of many mid-20th century construction projects, featuring honored dignitaries giving speeches and throngs of people crowding to see and experience the new bridge first-hand.

The construction of the bridge dramatically changed the two communities it connected, both physically and demographically. Over 100 homes were removed or relocated via eminent domain in Nyack to make room for the Thruway and bridge, despite stiff opposition to the plan. Once the highway and the bridge were completed, both Nyack and Tarrytown, as well as neighboring communities, boomed with commuters and others seeking less expensive housing still within driving distance of New York City.

To learn more about the controversies leading up to the construction of the bridge, a historical timeline, the architecture of the bridge, first-person accounts, and more, check out this online exhibit. 

The old Tappan Zee bridge was replaced with a new bridge and gradually demolished. Demolition was completed and the new bridge fully opened in 2018. 

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!

This year is the 100th anniversary of the opening of the Rondout Suspension Bridge (or the Wurts Street Bridge, the Port Ewen Bridge, or the Rondout-Port Ewen Bridge, etc!), which opened to vehicle traffic on November 29, 1921. 

The bridge was constructed to replace the Rondout-Port Ewen ferry Riverside, which was affectionately (or not so affectionately) known as "Skillypot," from the Dutch "skillput," meaning "tortise." Spanning such a short distance, the ferry was small, and with the advent of automobiles, only able to carry one vehicle across Rondout Creek at a time, causing long delays. Motorists advocated for the construction of a bridge, which was set to begin in 1917. But when the United States joined the First World War that spring, construction was delayed until 1921.

Staff at the museum had long known that there was a woman welder on the construction crew, but we knew nothing beyond that. Had she learned to weld at a shipbuilding yard during the First World War? Was she a local resident, or someone from far away? There were more questions than answers, until a few weeks ago when HRMM volunteer researcher and contributing scholar George Thompson ran across a newspaper article that he said went "viral" in 1921. Entitled, "Woman Spider," and featured in the Morning Oregonian from Portland, Oregon, the article indicated that "Catherine Nelson, of Jersey City" was our famous woman welder.

Having a name sparked off a flurry of research and the collection of 37 separate newspaper articles, all variations on the same theme. Fourteen articles were all published on the same day, September 3, 1921. But only one had more information than the rest - "Never Dizzy, Says Woman Fly, Though Welding 300 Feet in Air. Mrs. Catherine Nelson Has No Nerves, She Loves Her work and Is Paid $30 a Day," published in the Boston Globe. Which, wonderfully, included a photo of Mrs. Catherine Nelson!

Here is the full article from the Boston Globe:

KINGSTON, NY, Sept 3 – Three hundred feet above the surface of Rondout Creek, a worker in overalls and cap has been moving about surefootedly for several days on the preliminary structure that is to support a suspension bridge across that stream.

Thousands of glances, awed and admiring, have been cast upward at the worker, stepping backward and forward and wielding an instrument that blazed blue and gold flames and welded together the cables from which the bridge will swing.

“Some nerve that fellow’s got!” was a favorite remark, to which would come the reply: “You said it!”

But there’s more than awe and admiration now directed aloft, for it turns out that “that fellow” is a woman – Mrs. Catherine Nelson of Jersey City, the only woman outdoor welder in the world.

Isn’t Afraid of Work

She isn’t afraid of her work; she loves it; and – of course this is a big inducement – she gets $30 a day for it. She has never had an accident in her seven years’ experience at the trade. She’s as strong as a man, weighing 180 pounds to her 5 ft 6 in of height, and is a good looking, altogether feminine, Scandinavian blonde. She’s 31.
​
"I was born in Denmark and was married there," Mrs Nelson told the reporter. "But my husband died and left me with two small children, so I had to shift for myself.

"For two years I worked as a stewardess on an ocean liner, but I could not have my children with me and my pay wasn’t much, so I cast about for harder and better-paid work, so I could have my own little home.

"My husband was a garage keeper in Denmark, and I had worked with him, so I knew something of machinery. I got a job in a machine shop in this country. They had an electrical welding department there and I soon got a place there. I grew to love the work and I’ve been at it for seven years.

Does Not Get Dizzy

"This is the highest job I’ve been on, but one of my first was on a water tower at Bayonne, 225 feet tall. I’ve been on smokestacks and tanks plenty. No, I don’t get dizzy. I wear overalls and softsoled shoes, and I’m always sure of myself, for I haven’t any nerves.

"I like to pride myself on the fact that I’ve never turned down a single welding job because it might be dangerous.'

Showing Mrs. Nelson’s standing in her trade, it was she who was sent up from Jersey City when Terry & Tench, the bridge contractors, asked the Weehawken Welding Company for their best operator. 

"My children and I are happy and comfortable now,' she said; 'and I hope to afford to take them home to Denmark for Christmas. But I will come back and tackle some more welding jobs."

The last published article we could find, "Says She Has No Nerves," published in the Chickasha Star, in Chickasha, Oklahoma on September 16, 1921, is almost a verbatim reprint of the Boston Globe article.

As a cable welder, Catherine Nelson was responsible for welding together the cable splices that made up the longest length of the cable span. Wire cable is produced in limited sections, and often the cable was spliced together with welding, which is among the strongest of the splices, replacing the earlier versions of wire wrapping, and later screw splicing. Welded splices are stronger and more durable than both. 

Most welding was typically done in a shop setting, but some, as with Catherine Nelson, were done on site. She may have done additional welding while walking the cables, as most of the newspaper stories focus on her working 300 feet up in the air. 

Once the initial suspension cables were in place, supporting cables for the deck of the bridge could be constructed, which were designed to provide additional support, rigidity, and to spread the weight load across the entire bridge. 

This particular bridge is said to be unique for its "stiffening truss," located under the deck of the bridge. 

The bridge was opened on November 29, 1921 to great fanfare. It remains the oldest suspension bridge in the Hudson Valley, predating the longer Bear Mountain Bridge by several years.

As for Catherine Nelson? We've yet to find any additional information about her, but if you have any leads, or are a relative with family stories, please let us know in the comments!​

​​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!​

​Last week, we discussed the impacts of cholera and yellow fever on Rondout in the 1830s and ‘40s, but New York City underwent similar epidemics throughout the early 19th century. At the same time, rising population in New York City, as well as efforts to fill in its brackish wetlands and shorelines, was creating a problem with the water table and pollution. Fresh drinking water was becoming more and more scarce in the growing city and natural water sources were increasingly contaminated by sewage and industrial wastes. 

Enter a pie-in-the-sky idea for yet another enormous engineering marvel (New York’s canals being the previous pipedreams turned reality) – the Croton Aqueduct. The idea was simple – pipe clean water from the relatively unspoiled Croton River through gravity-fed aqueducts to New York City. Aqueducts were certainly not a new idea – the Romans had invented them, after all – but to construct something on this scale was a rather startling idea.

Following the cholera epidemic of 1832, Major David Bates Douglass, an engineering professor at West Point and one of a new school of civil engineers, surveyed the proposed route in 1833. Bates was an excellent surveyor, but had proposed no practical plans for physical structures, and so was fired in 1835.
​
As early as 1835, before construction even began, the project was gaining national attention. An article from the Alexandria Gazette (Richmond, VA) from December 25, 1835 discussed the plan, writing, “In carrying into effect the contemplated plan of supplying the City of New York with water from the Croton River, an aqueduct, we believe, is necessary across one of the rivers. If this is so, the experience gained to that city and the county in submarine architecture, by the works now going on at the Potomac Aqueduct in connexion with the Alexandria Canal, will be invaluable.” 

​December, 1835 gave New York City another reason to want abundant supplies of water – the Great Fire of New York of 1835 wiped out most of New York City and bankrupted all but three of its fire insurance companies. The fire would spur a number of reforms, including an end to wooden buildings (a boon for the Hudson Valley’s brick, cement, and bluestone industries). But many wondered, had the aqueduct already been in place, if more of the city would have been saved.

John B. Jervis, who cut his teeth on the construction of the Erie, D&H, and Chenango canals as well as early railroads, became Chief Engineer on the Croton Aqueduct project in 1836, and construction began the following year.
​
The Croton River was dammed and thousands of laborers, many of them Irish, commenced digging tunnels by hand and lining them with brick. On August 22, 1838, the Vermont Telegraph published a good description of the work: “The Aqueduct which is to bring Croton river water into the city of New York, will be 40 miles long. It will have an unvarying ascent from the starting point, eight miles above Sing Sing to Harlem Heights, where it comes out at 114 feet above high water mark. A great army of men are now at work along the line, and at many points the aqueduct is completed. The bottom is an inverted arch of brick; the sides are laid with hewn stone in cement, then plastered on the inside, and then within the plaster a four inch brick wall is carried up to the stone wall, and thence the top is formed with an arch of double brick work. It will stand for ages a monument of the enterprise of the present generation.” 

On November 11, 1838, a newspaper in Liberty, Mississippi reported on a bricklaying contest – “In a match at brick-laying in a part of the arch of the Croton Aqueduct, between Nicholson, a young man of Connecticut, and Neagle, of Philadelphia, the latter was a head when his strength gave way, having laid 3,700 bricks in 5 ½ hours. Nicholson continued a half hour longer, when he had laid 5,350. The work was capitally done.”

On September 12 of that same year, the Alexandria Gazette chimed in again, noting, “There are full four thousand men employed on the line of the Croton Aqueduct, which is to supply the city of New York with pure and wholesome water. About six of the sections will be completed this fall. The commissioners will now proceed to contract for the ‘Low Bridge’ across the Harlem river, according to the original plan. The whole, when finished, will be the most magnificent work in the United States.” 

The Low Bridge the Gazette referred to was originally planned to go under the Harlem River, but this was quickly abandoned. Instead, what is now known as the High Bridge was constructed in stone – its arched support pillars strongly reminiscent of Roman aqueducts. High Bridge was designed by Chief Engineer John B. Jervis and completed in 1848. It remains the oldest bridge in New York City.

Indeed, the High Bridge and the whole aqueduct warranted a lengthy newspaper article – almost the whole page – August 27, 1839 edition of the New York Morning Herald. Cataloging the extant Roman aqueducts around the world, defining the difference between an aqueduct and a viaduct (aqueducts carry water across water – viaducts carry water across roads), and in all comparing the Croton Aqueduct, and especially the High Bridge, quite favorably to all its predecessors.

But not all was well in construction. The Morning Herald wrote extensively of the aqueduct again on September 4, 1839 claiming, “owing to the gross mismanagement that has prevailed in the office of the water commissioners, the expense of the work has been twice as much as it ought to have been, and after all it will be very defective in many of its most important points; and independent of the immense trouble and the large sums of money that will perpetually be required to keep the whole of it in repair, we have not the least doubt that, when the work comes to be proved by passing a large body of water through it, at least one-sixth part of it will have to be pulled down and rebuilt.”

The article continues on in that vein for quite some time – the principal complaint besides cost being that, unlike the Romans (who also used better quality brick and cement), the Croton Aqueduct would be largely hidden from sight, and the iron pipes would “burst upon the first pressure,” claiming that the commissioners “wanted to oblige some friend who was an iron founder, and to give him a fat contract, by which he could get rid of a quantity of old metal.”

Of course, the editor of the Morning Herald seemed to have ulterior motives, as he negatively connected the Croton Aqueduct with President Martin Van Buren’s campaign for reelection in July of that year, and blamed politicking for the delays and purported graft. He also seemed to hold a grudge – the Morning Herald reported endlessly about the aqueduct, but also about purported mismanagement. No other newspaper from the era reported similar claims. However, an article in the Richmond Gazette (Richmond, VA) from July 28, 1842, does hint at the enormous cost of the project, but brings up the 1835 fire and its enormous cost as a justification for the price.

At 5 A.M. on June 22, 1842, water began flowing through the Croton Aqueduct. The water commissioners, aboard the small vessel the Croton Maid of Croton Lake, went with it. The 16 foot long, four-person barge was especially built to traverse the tunnels and continued until High Bridge, which was not yet completed. On June 27, the Croton Maid was carried across the river and the commissioners continued back into the aqueduct, arriving at the York Hill Reservoir to a 38 artillery gun salute.

The following day, the Board of Water Commissioners submitted a report to Robert H. Morris, the Mayor of New York City. It was printed in the New York Herald on June 25, 1842.

“SIR – The Board of Water Commissioners have the honor to Report, that on Wednesday, the twenty second instant, they opened the gates of the Croton Aqueduct at its mouth, on the Croton Lake, at 5 o’clock in the morning, giving it a volume of water of 18 inches in depth.

“The Commissioners, with their Chief and Principal Assistant Engineers, accompanied the water down, sometimes in their barge, ‘the Croton Maid of Croton Lake,’ and sometimes on the surface of the Aqueduct above.
“We found that the water arrived at the waste gates at Sing Sing, a distance of 8 miles in 5 hours and 48 minutes: here we suffered the water to flow out at the waste gates until 12 o’clock, M., when the gates were closed on a volume of about 2 feet in depth. The water then flowed on and arrived at Mill River waste gates at a quarter past 3 o’clock, a distance of 5 miles.

“It was there drawn off through the waste gates for half an hour, and was, at a quarter before 4 o’clock, allowed to flow on. We continued to precede it on land, and to accompany it in our boat, in the aqueduct, to Yonkers, a distance of 10 miles, where it arrived at half past 10 o’clock at night. Here we permitted it to flow at this waste gate until a quarter past 5 o’clock in the morning, when the waste gates were closed, and it flowed on and arrived at the waste gate on the Van Courtlandt farm, a distance of five miles and a half, in three hours and a quarter. Here we permitted it to flow out of the waste gates for two hours when the gates were closed, and it flowed, in two hours and twenty minutes, a distance of about four miles and three quarters, down to the Harlem river, where the Commissioners and their Chief Engineer emerged to the surface of the earth in their subterranean barge at 1 o’clock, June 23d.

“The average current or flow of the water has been thus proved to be forty-five minutes to the mile, a velocity greater, we are happy to say, than the calculations gave reason to expect.

“It is with great satisfaction we have to report, that the work at the dam, on the line of aqueduct proper, the waste gates and all the appendages of this great work, so far as tried by this performance, have been found to answer most perfectly the objects of their construction.

“In conclusion, we congratulate the Common Council of the city, and our fellow citizens, at the apparent success of this magnificent undertaking, designed not for show, nor for luxury, nor for glory; but for health, security against fire, comfort, temperance [note: a reference to the habit of mixing New York water with alcohol to make it safe and palatable to drink] and enjoyment of our whole population – objects worth of a community of virtuous freemen.

“With great respect, we remain, your obedient servants, Samuel Stevens, John D. Ward, Z. Ring, B. Birdsall.
​
“P.S. – We expect the water will be admitted into the Northern Division of the Receiving Reservoir on Monday next, at half-past 4 o’clock, P.M. at which time and place we shall be happy to see yourself and the other members of the Common Council.”

In fact, the water did not begin to fill the Manhattan reservoirs until July 4, 1842. The official celebration was reserved for October 14, 1842. The New York Herald reported the following day, “The celebration commenced at daylight with the roar of one hundred cannon, and all the fountains in the city immediate began to send forth the limpid stream of the Croton. Soon after this, the joyous bells from a hundred steeples pealed forth their merry notes to usher in the subsequent scenes. At and before this moment, over half a million of souls leaped simultaneously from their slumbers and their beds, and dressed themselves as for a gladsome gala day – a general jubilee.”

Workers were given the day off and an enormous parade, with representatives from every official organization in the city followed, ending at City Hall Park, where an enormous fountain was flowing. Again, the New York Herald, “For several days previous, thousands of strangers had been pouring into the city from all parts of the country, to see and join in the procession, until there must have been at least 200,000 strangers in the city, making an aggregate with the resident inhabitants of half a million of souls congregated in our streets.”

The opening of the Croton Aqueduct marked a period of transformation for New York City. Already one of the most important port cities in the nation, the abundance of clean water meant that urban and industrial growth could continue apace. The aqueduct was expanded several times, but in 1885 the “New Croton Aqueduct” was constructed. The Old Croton Aqueduct continued to be used until the 1950s, and is today a park – many of its old aqueduct bridges are now pedestrian bridges, as had been suggested during their original construction. The New Croton Aqueduct is still in use, still bringing Croton River water to 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!​