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Editor's note: The following excerpts are from the "Jamestown (NY) Journal" 1858-1859.. Thank you to Contributing Scholar George A. Thompson for finding, cataloging and transcribing this article. The language, spelling and grammar of the article reflects the time period when it was written. How we smile now at the bungling expedient for rapid traveling that prevailed twenty years ago. By canal boats from Troy through the nine locks at a cent and a half a mile, and board yourself. By packet from Schenectady west, drawn by three horses, on a slow trot, and three days to Buffalo. And up and down yonder hill crept the first railroad, with cars hung on thoroughbraces, and seats for nine inside, and some outside, which were dragged up an inclined place one hundred and eight feet to the half mile, by a stationary engine, and then over the sand plains to the head of State street in Albany. And this was then such a triumph of engineering. What a change! where our fathers crept we fly. The mountains they climb, we tunnel. The hills they toiled up, we level, or divide by a deep cut, thrown arches over ravines at them impassible. . . . Jamestown Journal (Jamestown, N. Y.), July 16, 1858, p. 2 Correspondence of the Journal. VACATION LETTERS, . . . NO. 4. To New York over the Erie Rail Road -- Sleeping Cars -- New York to New Haven . . . . *** On arriving at Dunkirk, we boarded the Night Express, and took our seats in the luxuriously furnished sleeping car, determining to try the virtue of this boasted institution. Lodgings were furnished at 50 cents a man. My little girl who accompanied me was stowed in without extra charge. There were 40 berths in the car, four in each tier, one double birth at the bottom and two above. The upper berths were cane seated frames, the ends of which were fixed into sockets, while the bottoms of the lower were of wood. All were covered with nice hair mattresses, and pillows enclosed by damask curtains, making a very handsome appearance. About nine o'clock the chambermaid who was a buxom, round faced laddie [sic], made up the berths and we turned in. There were about thirty sleepers in the car. *** Think of sleeping in a car, rushing at the rate of thirty miles an hour, along the brink of lofty precipices, leaping black ravines, threading deep cuts, mounting lofty viaducts, and careering through some of the most splendid scenery in the world. ** Jamestown Journal (Jamestown, N. Y.), September 2, 1859, p. 2 [Editor's Note: He remembers the Green Mountains of his childhood] Yet when I visit that place it is all changed. The old forest is gone, the speckled trout have forsaken the pools; the streams are dried up, or flow in straight spade-cut channels, the roaring branch is trained through sluices, or broken over water-wheels. *** Jamestown Journal (Jamestown, N. Y.), July 16, 1858, p. 2 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!
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1909 Canal tow upriver from "Canal Boatman: My Life on Upstate Waterways" by Richard Garrity"1/19/2024 Editor's Note: These are excerpts taken from pages 58-64 of "Canal Boatman: My Life on Upstate Waterways" by Richard Garrity, published by Syracuse University Press, 1977. "Toward evening a harbor tug towed us up the North River, where we were placed in the Cornell tow being made up opposite 52nd street. The tow was tied to what was called the 'stake boat,' anchored in the middle of the river. The anchored boats would swing around with the tide when it ran in or out. Tie-up lines stayed tight as the anchored boats rose and fell with the tide. The boatmen now had to stay aboard their boats until the two reached its destination. Early the next morning we started for Albany. Soon after we were underway we were passing by Riverside Park, where the well-known landmark, Grant's Tomb could be seen close to the shoreline. Next we passed Spuyten Duyvil Creek, which separates the northern end of Manhattan Island from the mainland. The creek was named 'Spitting Devil' by the early Dutch settlers because of the violent cross-currents and eddies which occurred when the tide was running in or out. Twelve miles or so from New York we came to the beginning of the Palisades, a series of rocky cliffs that extend for miles along the New Jersey shore on the west side of the river. Resembling tall columns or pillars, they are from 350 to 500 feet in height, an imposing and majestic sight to view while moving slowly up the Hudson. The Palisades ended in Rockland County, New York, but on the way we had passed Yonkers, Dobbs Ferry, Tarrytown, and the village of Rockland Lake. One of my earliest recollections of the Hudson River was the time we were put in a Hudson tow and dropped off at Rockland Lake, soon after we had unloaded lumber in Brooklyn. The village is on the west shore of the Hudson about twenty-eight miles from New York. Here we loaded crushed stone for an upstate road-building job. The crushed stone from Rockland Lake was highly valued as a base for good roads. Canal boats carried the stone to many places in the state. Some of it went as far west as Seneca Falls, where it was used for a road-building job between that won and Waterloo., While waiting to load on that earlier trip, I remember a warm evening we all went swimming in the Hudson. The bathing party included our family and a young woman named Clara, a guest and friend of my mother from Tonawanda, who had come along for a pleasure trip. While we were all swimming, it was mentioned how much easier it was to swim and float in salt water. What I remember best was my Dad paddling around with me on his back, as i had not yet learned to swim. When slowly passing up the Hudson in a river tow it was always a pleasing sight to see the large passenger boats that ran between New York and Albany. When they met or passed tows on the river, you could see the spray and foam rising from the side wheels and hear the noise of the paddles as they slapped the water. On the top deck, one could see the walking beam that connected the boat's engines to the paddle wheels, constantly rising up and down, driving the boat forward and creating a huge swell as it neared the tow. These swells always brought forth a few cuss words from the canal and bargemen, because they made the tow heave and surge, sometimes breaking the towlines. When passing a tow, the passenger boats always slowed down some, but never enough to suit the men in charge of the tow. When we reached Kingston, we were no longer in salt water. The natural current in the Hudson River kept the tide from carrying the salt water any farther upstream. From Kingston almost to Albany, the shores of the river were dotted with wooden ice houses, which were filled each winter when the river had frozen over. During the season of navigation the ice was shipped by special barges to New York City. Electric refrigeration was a long way off when these ice houses were built. The ice barges were picked up and dropped off at the various ice houses by the same large tows that handled the canal boats on the river. The ice houses and barges belonged to the Knickerbocker Ice. Co. The deck house and cabin of the barges were painted bright yellow, and the hull of the lower part was light gray color. Each barge had a windmill mounted on top of the cabin, which powered a bilge pump that kept the barge free of melting ice and bilge water. Not many barge captains would stay on a boat where they had to strain their backs, working a hand pump every spare moment. The company's name and the windmill mounted on a ten-foot-high tower atop the covered ice barge's after cabin always made me think of Holland. After passing the city of Hudson on the north shore of the river, the valley widened and the river narrowed, becoming low marshland as we approached Albany and Rensselaer, which were on opposite sides of the Hudson. This was the destination of the large tow which had consisted of many types of barges and canal boats when it had left New York City forty-eight hours earlier. By the time we arrived at Albany, the tow consisted mostly of canal boats. Along the river we had dropped off ice and sand barges, brick, stone, and cement barges, and some barges to be repaired at the Rondout and Kingston boatyards. At that time many of the industries along the river used different types of barges to ship their products to New York City." 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Editor's Note: These are excerpts taken from pages 55-58 of "Canal Boatman: My Life on Upstate Waterways" by Richard Garrity, published by Syracuse University Press, 1977. "Departing from Tonawanda in midsummer, with two boat loads of lumber consigned to the Steinway piano factory in Brooklyn, we made a trip over the Erie Canal and down the Hudson River to New York City that I recall with much pleasure. It was 1909. I was six in August and was then old enough to be a wide-eyed and interested observer of everything, from the time we were put in the Hudson River tow at Albany, until we returned there eight days later. The steersman had been laid off when we arrived at Albany. My Uncle Charles, mother's younger brother who was driving our mules that summer, was put in charge of the head boat. My father and mother, and my older brother Jim, myself, a younger sister, and a baby brother were on the second boat, the "Sol Goldsmith". Before the start of a tow down the Hudson it was necessary to assemble and make up the tow as the canal boats arrived at Albany. I was told by older boatmen that in the early days when canal shipping was very busy, the tows were made up on the Albany and Rensselaer side of the river, but in my day they were made up only on the Rensselaer side of the river below the bridges. This eliminated the risk of the large two striking the Albany-Rensselaer bridge piers when starting down the river. Nor did it interfere with the Albany harbor traffic while being assembled. Once the tow was underway it was a period of relaxation for the boatmen. No steersmen were needed, since the tugs guided the boats. There would be no locks to pass through or time spent caring for animals as the teams were let out to pasture in the Albany vicinity until the boats returned from New York. Only the lines holding the boats together were to be inspected and kept tight. The boats would be kept pumped out, and that was it until the tow reached New York. This would take about 48 hours. Many of the boatmen did odd jobs, such as splicing lines, caulking, painting decks and cabin tops, and handling other small repair jobs. They also visited back and forth. I enjoyed going with Father when he visited other boatmen in tow, because I liked to hear them talk of other canal men they knew, and to hear them tell of things that had happened to them while going up and down the canal. My first visit with him aboard a "Bum Boat" that came out to the two opposite Kingston was a very satisfying event, for I never expected to be eating fresh ice cream, purchased going down the middle of the Hudson River. The Bum Boats sold – at regular retail prices to the boatmen – fresh meats, baked goods, eggs, soft drinks, candy, ice cream, and other such commodities. Coming alongside, it hooked onto our tow while the boatmen when aboard and bought what they wanted, including cold bottled beer. The small canopied Bum Boats were steam powered. They stayed alongside until we met another river tow going in the opposite direction. Leaving us, they tied onto the other two and returned to their starting point. They "bummed" a tow from a fleet going down the river and up the river; hence the name Bum Boat. When our tow arrived at New York I was amazed at the never-ending flow of harbor traffic. … After unloading the lumber for the Steinway piano factory in Brooklyn, we were towed to the canal piers on South Street at the foot of Manhattan Island. Here we waited a few days for orders from an agent who was to secure loads for our boats for the return trip to Tonawanda. My brother Jim, who was almost two years older than I, was entrusted to take me sightseeing along the busy streets bordering the waterfront. We visited the nearby Fulton Street fish market, a very busy place, and strolled by the stalls amazing by all the different kinds of saltwater fish brought in by the fishing fleet. We walked back along bustling South Street, which was always a beehive of activity due to the arrival and departure of the many tugs, barges, and other kinds of vessel traffic. Most of the business places along here catered to waterfront customers. In this area there were many push-carts selling all kinds of merchandise and food. We bought fresh oysters and clams on the half shell for a penny apiece. Hot dogs were a nickel (they were called Coney Island red hots), and many other items of ready-to-eat food and candy could be found at prices only to be had along the waterfront. That evening we were told that two loads of fine white sea gravel consigned to the Ayrault Roofing Company in Tonawanda had been secured for the return trip west. Early the next morning, a small steam tug hooked on to our two empty boats and towed us up the East River, though through the Hell Gate. After a few hours' tow on Long Island Sound we arrived at Oyster Bay and were moored at the gravel dock, ready to load. Two days later we were back at the South Street piers waiting to be placed in the next westbound Hudson River tow." 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 from the "Brooklyn Standard-Union" newspaper August 21, 1891. Thank you to Contributing Scholar George A. Thompson for finding and cataloging this article. The language, spelling and grammar of the article reflects the time period when it was written. On a Canal Boat. How Men, Women and Children Live Down in the Cabin – Babies Born and Die on Board – In Season and Out of Season the Cabin in the Family Home – The Hard Lot of the Women. She was a small-featured woman, with very light blue eyes and her fair skin bronzed by the water. We were sitting on the roof of the cabin of her husband's canal boat, at the foot of Coenties Slip. "Yes, miss," she replied to my question, "I live and my husband and children live down stairs in that cabin, year in and year out. Two of my children, one boy and one girl, were born downstairs. One of them, the girl, died there two years ago, while the boat laid up for the winter at the foot of Canal Street." Here the poor woman's voice faltered, as she took an end of her gingham apron to wipe the tears. "We thought the world of that little girl, Miss. She was as pretty as a picture, and gentle as a little lamb. I blame the doctor to this day for her death, that I do. The minute she was took sick my husband went for to bring him, and sez he, 'Oh, it's nothing, only the measles, so don't cher be alarmed." "I believe in me heart that the poor little thing was a-dying then. She died the next mornin', an' – an –' we buried her in the cemetery along with his father (her husband's) and mother. There was a hammock swinging between two poles on top of the cabin, near where we sat. In it lay a beautiful little golden-haired boy, fast asleep. It was the woman's baby, and whenever it was asleep up there she sat by his side, sewing or knitting, and keeping a close watch. It was a dangerous place for baby, for should he tumble out he would roll into the water. "Jimmie, Jimmie," suddenly called the woman, "come up here and watch your little brother, as I wants to go downstairs." Jimmie, who was evidently an obedient boy, … rushed upstairs from the cabin, banging the mosquito net doors after him as he came out. "This is my big boy," said the woman, looking up fondly at Jimmie. Boy-like, Jimmie barely glanced at me, contracted his brow and pulled the old straw hat down over his eyes as he took the seat his mother had vacated. "Come now, miss," said the woman, "I will show you how we live downstairs." We went down six steps covered with bright oilcloth and brass tips, all as clean and shiny as could be. The cabin was divided into three apartments – bedroom, kitchen and sitting room, in which there was an extra bunk for the grown-up daughter, who was away at the time. The kitchen was a mere hole, a stove and a few cooking utensils occupying the entire space. The bedroom was a little larger. It contained a three-quarter bed covered with linen of snowy whiteness, and one chair on which lay folded a number of quits and one pillow, doubtless to be spread on the floor for the big boy that night. The sitting or living room was about ten feet long and eight feet wide. The floor was covered with the same kind of oilcloth as that on the stairs; the furniture consisted of a bureau, two chairs, one rocking chair, of a green painted cottage bedroom suit, a round walnut table, a machine, and one extra brown chair. The woodwork was grained, and the ceiling and walls painted white. Two long closets, one for dishes and one for clothes, were built in one side of the wall; also a half dozen drawers. The walls were plentifully decorated with highly colored chromos, and these two texts: "Give us this day our daily bread." "Thou shalt not kill." In that crowded abode, a man, a woman, a girl of fourteen, a boy of twelve and a baby two years old lived, as the woman said, "year in and year out." I took the extra brown chair the woman offered me, which I presume they reserve for company. "Yes, mam, sometimes we do feel a bit crowded, but I reckon it's no worse than many of the folks who live in them awful tenement houses." "Do you know, mam, I could never feel contented in one of them places? We lives by ourselves here with no neighbors to pry into our business." "Oh, yes, some of us go to church whenever we are ashore on Sunday." "There is a Mr. McGuire that comes down here every Lord's day and preaches on the dock. He is 'Piscopal, I think, but he is a fine man all the same." "We are Catholic, but we believe in letting everybody enjoy their own religion. My husband and me ain't no ways bigoted." "Oh, certainly, my children goes to school in winter. We always spend the winter in New York, and it is there that we send them to the public school." "The children in New York are very rude. They have a way of teasing mine for living on a boat. 'And do yez eat off the floor?' they say to Mamie sometimes. Yes, them children behave very badly." While the woman was talking the screen door opened with a jerk, and a girl dressed in a deep green woolen frock and a black straw sailor hat came down the cabin stairs. "This is my daughter," said the woman. "She has been visiting in Brooklyn." The girl, who had a rather pleasant face, smiled at me without bowing, and then sat down and stared. The woman, addressing the girl, said: "This lady wanted to see how people lived on a canal boat, so I brought her down. We like to have company once in a while," she went on, "for it's lonely enough at times, the dear knows." The girl continued to stare, as she kept playing with the elastic on her hat. The boat we were on ran between New York and Canada, [editor's note: via the Champlain Canal] and the woman, who was of a descriptive turn of mind, told me just how the trips were made. It took forty-eight hours for a tug to tow them to Albany; from Albany they went to Troy, and then for sixty-eight miles the horses pulled the boat up the canal. On the other end of the canal a Canadian tug brought them to their destination. After telling me all this we went up on deck again, and there the woman explained how she managed her washing. I saw a wash-board lying on the floor of a small rowboat that stood alongside of the hammock in which the clothes were washed. The "men folks," the woman said, usually carried the water, and she did the rest. Then clothes were dried underneath the canvas. I next asked the woman what her husband carried on his boat. "He carries different things," said she. "This time he carries what they calls 'merchandise.'" Just then a wagonload of rosin came to be packed on board. I left the family standing by the side of the baby, as I went farther up the deck, where I engaged in conversation with the captain of another canal boat. I found him just as accommodating and as obliging as the woman I had talked with. "Certainly, mam, you can go down in the cabin. You will find my wife there, and she'll talk to you." This man and wife were not so cramped as some of their neighbors, for they had no children. I found the man's wife a clever woman, but not nearly so philosophical about living on a canal boat as her neighbor. She told me that this was her third summer on the water, and that it was going to be her last. She spent most of her time making fancy work for her friends. Her apartments were clean as wax, and judging from the arrangement of the furniture, curtains and pictures, she was a woman of some refinement. She was a great sight-seer, too. She always made it a point to visit the places of interest in all cities where they stopped. She had been to a great many downs between Albany and Philadelphia. She had been married to the captain fifteen years, but she could never accustom herself to life on a canal boat. She would be happier on land. On either side of the two boats were a dozen other boats, some loading and some unloading their freight, and on all of them were women and on most of them children. But the thought of human beings spending most of their time penned up as the women and children on these boats are obliged to be, recalls once more that timely question: "Does one-half of the world know or care how the other half lives?" That more of these canal boat children are not drowned is a wonder, and that more of the women do not lose their times is equally surprising. It is sad to reflect on the emptiness and monotony of their lives. – [original article written by Emma Trapper, in Brooklyn Standard-Union.] (Editor's note: Canalboat families worked hard but some found life aboard these boats wholesome and at times pleasurable. While difficult to measure and compare, the standard of living among boat families on the canals was likely higher than that of many urban laborers.) 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 from the "Register of Pennsylvania", August 14, 1830. Thank you to Contributing Scholar George A. Thompson for finding, cataloging and transcribing this article. The language, spelling and grammar of the article reflects the time period when it was written. A Trip On The Delaware & Hudson Canal To Carbondale. New York, August 2d, 1830. Mr. Croswell -- I perceive by the paper, that a packet boat commences this day, to run regularly for the remainder of the season, on the Delaware and Hudson canal. Among the pleasant and healthy tours that are now sought after, I would strongly recommend a trip on that canal. It leads from Bolton, on the waters of the Hudson and Kingston Landing; to Carbondale on the Lackawanna, which falls into the Susquehanna. I had the satisfaction not long since to visit that country, and I was delighted with the beauty and grandeur of the scenery, and the noble exhibition of skill, enterprize and rising prosperity, which were displayed throughout the course of that excursion. This great canal, though seated in the heart of the state, seems to be almost unknown to the mass of our tourists. Its character, execution and utility, richly merit a better acquaintance. It commences at Eddyville, two miles above Kingston, and we ascend a south-west course along the romantic valley of the Rondout, and through a rich agricultural country in Ulster county, which has been settled and cultivated for above a century. the Shawangunk range of mountains hangs on our left; and as we attain a summit level at Phillips or Lock Port, 35 miles from the commencement of the canal, after having passed through 54 lift-locks, extremely well made of hammered stone laid in hydraulic cement. The elevation here is 535 feet above tide water at Bolton, and the canal on this summit level of 16 miles, is fed principally by the abundant waters of the Neversink, over which river the canal passes in a stone aqueduct of 324 feet in length; and descends through 6 locks to Port Jervis, at the junction of the Neversink and Delaware rivers, and 59 miles from the landing. The canal here changes its course to the north-west, and ascends the left bank of the majestic Delaware, through a mountainous and wild region, to the mouth of the Laxawaxen [sic], at the distance of 22 miles from Port Jervis. In this short course the canal is mostly fed by the large stream of the Mongauss, which it crosses, and in several places and for considerable distances, it is raised from the edge of the bed of the Delaware, upon walls of neat and excellent masonry, and winds along in the most bold and picturesque style, under the lofty and perpendicular sides of the mountains. the Neversink, the Mongauss, the Lackawaxen [sic] and the Delaware were all swollen by the heavy rains when I visited the canal, and they served not only to test the solidity of the work, and the judgment with which it was planted, but to add greatly to the magnificence of the scenery. At the mouth of the Lackawaxen we crossed the Delaware upon the waters of a dam thrown across it, and entered the state of Pennsylvania, and ascended the Lackawaxen, through a mountainous region the farther distance of 25 miles to Honesdale, where the canal terminates. This new, rising and beautiful village, is situated at the junction of the Lackawaxen and Dyberry streams, and is so named out of respect to Philip Hone, Esq. of New York, who has richly merited the honor by his early, constant and most efficient patronage of the great enterprize of the canal. The village is upwards of 1000 feet above tide water at Bolton, and at the distance of 103 miles according to the course of the canal. There are 103 lift and two guard locks in that distance, and the supervision of the locks and canal, by means of agents or overseers in the service of the company, and who have short sections of the canal allotted to each, appeared to me to be vigilant, judicious and economical. The canal and locks, by means of incessant attention, are sure to be kept in a sound state and in the utmost order. The plan and execution of the canal are equally calculated to strike the observer with surprise and admiration. He cannot but be deeply impressed, when he considers the enterprising and gigantic nature of the undertaking, the difficulties which the company had to encounter, and the complete success with which those difficulties have been surmounted. This is the effort of a private company; and when we reflect on the nature of the ground, and the character and style of the work, we can hardly fail to pronounce it a more enterprising achievement than that of the Erie Canal. I hope and trust it may be equally successful. We found the most busy activity on the canal, and it was enlivened throughout its course by canal boats, (of which there were upwards of 150) employed in transporting coal down to the Hudson. At Honesdale a new and curious scene opens. Here the rail-way commences, and it ascends to a summit level of perhaps 850 feet on its way to Carbondale, a distance of 16 miles and upwards. It terminates in the coal beds on the waters of the Lackawanna, at the thriving village of Carbondale. The rail-way, is built of timber, with iron slates fastened to the timber rails with screws, and in ascending the elevations and levels, the coat cars are drawn up and let down by means of stationary steam-engines, and three self-acting or gravitating engines moving without steam. Nothing will more astonish and delight a person not familiar with such things, than a ride on this rail-way in one of the cars. A single horse will draw 16 loaded cars in most places, and in one part of the distance for five miles the descent is sufficient to move the loaded cars by their own weight. A line of ten or a dozen loaded cars, moving with any degree of velocity that may be required, and with their speed perfectly under the command of the guide or pilot, is a very interesting spectacle. I don't pretend to skill or science on the subject to canals, rail-ways and anthracite coal. I speak only of what I saw and of the impressions which were made upon my mind. It appears to me that all persons of taste and patrons of merits, whose feelings are capable of elevation in the presence of grand natural scenery, and whose patriotism can be kindled by the accumulated displays of their country's prosperity, would be glad of an opportunity to see these beauties of nature and triumphs of art to which I have alluded. "A Trip On The Delaware & Hudson Canal To Carbondale." Register of Pennsylvania. August 14, 1830. 111—112. 1830-08-02 -- A Trip on the Delaware & Hudson Canal to Carbondale 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!
Welcome to Sail Freighter Fridays! This article is part of a series linked to our new exhibit: "A New Age Of Sail: The History And Future Of Sail Freight In The Hudson Valley," and tells the stories of sailing cargo ships both modern and historical, on the Hudson River and around the world. Anyone interested in how to support Sail Freight should also check out the Conference in November, and the International Windship Association's Decade of Wind Propulsion. The Vermont Sail Freight Project was first conceived of in 2012, and resulted in the launch of the Ceres in mid 2013. Just short of 40 feet long, made of plywood, she had a Yawl rig and leeboards. Leeboards, which are separate drop keels that mount to the sides rather than center of the boat, have been out of use in the US for almost 250 years. Their use aboard Ceres made her very unique looking, and unique to sail as well. With a cargo capacity of only about 10-12 tons, she was not luxurious or large, but she was a capable sailor whose rig could be folded down for passing under the low bridges of the Champlain Canal. She was loosely based on similar sailing canal barges that operated on Lake Champlain and traveled the canal throughout the 19th century. The replica Lake Champlain canal schooner Lois McClure is one example of these historic vessels. Ceres' sailing rig was more inspired by the British sailing barges that operated on the Thames River from the 17th to 20th centuries in England. She was built in the farmyard of the project's founder, Erik Andrus, and launched in Vergennes, VT. After some initial tests, she was used to carry farm produce cargos in 2013 and 2014 from the Champlain Valley to New York City. In 2013, she visited the Hudson River Maritime Museum, hosted a farmer's market with produce from the Champlain Valley, and provided education programs for local school kids. The endeavor gained a lot of press, and was mostly successful, but in the end, the demands of time and attention were too much for a group of volunteers to handle. The project ended in 2014, and Ceres was sold for use as a tiny house in 2018. The rig is still in a barn outside Vergennes, waiting for another boat to be built and launched. Though the project wasn't long-lasting, it was ambitious and brought much-needed attention to the possibilities of sail freight in the US. The Schooner Apollonia was directly inspired by the VSFP, and Maine Sail Freight's single 2015 voyage was in response to the Ceres' precedent as well. Aside from a lot of press coverage and a few sail freight ventures, the VSFP also inspired my Master's Thesis on the revival of Sail Freight and what it would take to make it a reality in the US. Erik Andrus graciously served on the thesis committee for this work, and contributed invaluable insights and materials which will benefit the other efforts which are rebuilding the sail freight economy. You can read more about the Vermont Sail Freight Project here. If you'd like to see some artifacts from the Ceres, there will be a few on display in the exhibit. AuthorSteven Woods is the Solaris and Education coordinator at HRMM. He earned his Master's degree in Resilient and Sustainable Communities at Prescott College, and wrote his thesis on the revival of Sail Freight for supplying the New York Metro Area's food needs. Steven has worked in Museums for over 20 years. 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 engraving and text were originally published in Gleason's Pictorial Drawing Room Companion, December 25, 1852. Thanks to volunteer researcher George A. Thompson for finding and cataloging this article. The article was transcribed by Sarah Wassberg Johnson, and includes paragraph breaks and bullets not present in the original, to make it easier to read for modern audiences. "Canal Boats on the North River, New York" by Wade, "Gleason's Pictorial Drawing-Room Companion," December 25, 1852. Note the sail-like signs for various towing lines and destinations, as well as the jumble of lumber and cargo boxes on the pier at left, waiting to be loaded onto the canal boats (or vice versa). Next to the immense foreign export and import trade, comes the inland trade. The whole of the western country from Lake Superior finds a depot at New York. The larger quantity of produce finds its way to the Erie Canal, from thence to the Hudson River to New York. The canal boats run from New York to Buffalo, and vice versa. These boats are made very strong, being bound round by extra guards, to protect them from the many thumps they are subject to. They are towed from Albany to New York - from ten to twenty - by a steamboat, loaded with all the luxuries of the West. The view represented above is taken from Pier No. 1, East River, giving a slight idea of the immense trade which, next to foreign trade, sets New York alive with action. We subjoin from a late census a schedule of the trade; the depot of which, and the modus operandi, Mr. Wade, our artist, has represented in the engraving above, is so truthful and lifelike a manner. In 1840, there were
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Editor's note: "Passages From The Diary Of A Transatlantic Traveller" was originally published as part of a series in The Leicester Chronicle (Leicester, England) on February 9, 1839. In this installment, our visiting Englishman is not particularly happy to be traveling aboard a packet boat on the Erie Canal. Read on for the full account. Many thanks to volunteer researcher George M. Thompson for finding and transcribing this historic newspaper article. April 24th. -- Sailed up the North River to Albany, passed West Point and the Highlands -- the day was raw and wet, and the mountain heights were wrapt in clouds, so that I viewed the scenery to a very great disadvantage. Took the railroad to Utica, and the canal-boat from thence to Buffalo; this was a long and tedious sail, but though I feared it would be disagreeable, I preferred it to riding in coaches, over bad roads, to the grievous prejudice of my bones. These packet boats go five miles and hour, and carry thirty, forty, or fifty passengers at a time. The ladies have a part of the cabin appropriated to themselves, which they can separate by merely drawing a curtain across if they choose. They have a further forward cabin for the night. I was struck with the singularity and ingenuity of our arrangements. About nine o'clock the steward rings a bell, when all the men turn out on deck; the sailors then sling up thirty or forty berths, to small hooks in the sides and roofs, and in an incredibly short time the whole cabin is converted into a sleeping apartment, and you are at liberty to turn in. Your berths are numbered, and you take one which corresponds to the number on your ticket. I was almost afraid to trust myself in one of them, but there being no alternative I laid myself on the shelf, with a Yankee lying in a berth above, and another in a berth below me. If the slight ropes which held up the Yankee above me had given way, I must infallibly have been crushed, and perhaps our accumulated weight would have crushed the poor fellow below, and subsequently some poor wight on the floor. I had sundry misgivings on this scene, which rather disinclined me to sleep, and the hot, nauseating, suffocating, stifling air, caused by the breathing of fifty human beings (for there were a dozen lying on the floor) in the small compass of a canal-boat, made me quite ready to turn out at an early hour, to go on deck and breathe. At five o'clock we were called up by sound of bell, "to scent the morning air." -- It, however, was miserably cold; so that between the close cabin, and the cold damp air of the deck, it was utterly impossible for any Christian man to avoid "cold and rheum, pthisic and catarrh." We were summoned at eight o'clock to breakfast, dined at one, supped at six, and were slung up in our hammock again at nine. This I endured for three days: it was not very pleasant, but I doubt whether it is possible to make canal-boats agreeable under any circumstances; travelling in this way must necessarily be tedious at the best. The last morning on coming on deck, the opposite shore of a rapid river along which we were sailing was pointed out, with a remark, that that was a part of her Majesty's dominions. As it was the first time I had ever seen her transatlantic colonies, I necessarily regarded them with considerable interest: there was nothing, however, different in point of appearance from the general features of the country I had seen for the last few days: I intend to see Canada more in detail in the course of another week. Poor Englishman! That Canada looked just like New York! How disappointing. He just doesn't seem to have the right attitude for travel, does he?
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 Most of the steamboats built during the period before the Civil War were originally passenger vessels, and it was only in the later years of their service that they were rebuilt for towing purposes. Not so with the steamboat “Pittston”- she was one of the few sidewheel vessels built purposely for towing on the Hudson river, and she was in use for 57 years, hauling heavily laden barges on the river. The wooden hull of the “Pittston” was built at New York in 1852. She was 108 feet long, breadth of beam 20 feet, depth of hold six feet, and her gross tonnage was rated at 74 with net tonnage at 58. The Allaire Iron Works of New York built her vertical beam engine which had a cylinder diameter of 32 inches with an eight foot stroke. The “Pittston” was constructed for the Pennsylvania Coal Company and was considered one of the finest vessels of her type to appear on the Hudson river. During this period the offices and yards of the Pennsylvania Coal Company were located at Port Ewen and the towboat “Pittston” was placed in service towing canal boats off the Delaware and Hudson Canal from Eddyville to Port Ewen. She was under the command of Captain Thomas Murry with James Mollin as chief engineer, and she continued on this route for a period of 13 years. In 1865 the Pennsylvania Coal Company moved its headquarters to Newburgh and the towboat “Pittston” was purchased by Thomas Cornell of Rondout. For the following five years the “Pittston” towed out of Rondout along the river to various ports, and in 1871 she was placed in regular service between Rondout and the city of Hudson. A year later, 1872, found the “Pittston” in service on the route between Rondout and Newburgh, towing in line with the towboats “Frank Carter,” “Ceres” and later the “Isaac M. North” of the Cornell Line. The crew of the “Pittston” during the years of the Newburgh run are listed as captain, William Roberts; pilots, Wash Saulpaugh and Joel Rightmyer; chief engineer, James Purdy. In the year 1875 the “Pittston” was withdrawn from the Newburgh route and placed in service between Rondout and Eddyville on the Rondout creek, taking the place of the steamboat “Maurice Wurtz” which had been towing on this route since 1857. The “Pittston” was used for towing the canal barges of the Delaware and Hudson Coal Company from tidewater at Eddyville to Rondout and she was under the command of Captain George E. Dubois, with Alonzo Woolsey as chief engineer. The “grand old days of the Delaware and Hudson Canal” came to a close in 1898 when the canal was abandoned, and the towboat Pittston” was then used around the Rondout harbor and as a helper for tows on the river. In September 1909 the “Pittston” was found to be in an advanced state of wear, and she was sold and broken up after 57 years of continuous service as a towboat. AuthorGeorge W. Murdock, (b. 1853-d. 1940) was a veteran marine engineer who served on the steamboats "Utica", "Sunnyside", "City of Troy", and "Mary Powell". He also helped dismantle engines in scrapped steamboats in the winter months and later in his career worked as an engineer at the brickyards in Port Ewen. In 1883 he moved to Brooklyn, NY and operated several private yachts. He ended his career working in power houses in the outer boroughs of New York City. His mother Catherine Murdock was the keeper of the Rondout Lighthouse for 50 years. The Pittston is one of many wrecked and abandoned boats in and around the Rondout Creek. To learn more about shipwrecks and other vessels, take one of our new Shipwreck Tours aboard our 100% solar-powered tour boat Solaris! 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: Welcome to the final episode in our 11-part account of Muddy Paddle's narrowboat trip through the Erie Canal and the Cayuga & Seneca Canal in western New York. The New York State Barge Canal system is in many ways a tributary of the Hudson River. It still connects the Great Lakes, the Finger Lakes, and Lake Champlain with the Atlantic Ocean by way of the Hudson River. Our contributing writer, Muddy Paddle, shares his experiences aboard the "Belle Mule." All the included illustrations are from his trip journal and sketchbooks. This is the final day of Muddy Paddle's adventure on the Erie Canal. We hope you've enjoyed traveling along with him. Day 11 - Tuesday, Final DayThe exercise troop was on the dock early this morning shouldering straps. Their drill sergeant ordered them to the retaining wall near our boat, instructed them to attach to the ball and pipe railing above it and then lean in and out on command, in step with a techno tape from her boom box. It was a rude way to be awoken. Shauna climbed out of her bunk and went up to the quarterdeck to glare at them, but they were clearly more afraid of the drill sergeant. They then performed a routine on mats. The leering gent from last evening got to his park bench perch in time for this and remained to keep an eye on us even after the exercise troop dispersed. We didn’t linger. Canal bridges open for boats at 7:00 AM. After mugs of strong coffee and slices of coffee cake, we called ahead to the Prospect Avenue lift bridge, and pushed off. The operator was ready about ten minutes later and when our light turned green, only a few cars were delayed. It was a cloudy but mild morning and the canal waters were mirror-like. As we returned to a rural stretch of the canal we saw birds and a fox trotting along the towpath. Lora and Shauna made some breakfast burritos which we enjoyed on deck. Brent took the helm as we approached Middleport. We decided to stop here, see the town and replenish our ice chest. The bridge here was ready for us after a short wait, and Brent proceeded to dock us on the concrete wall next to the bridge. We hit the wall at an oblique angle with a full head of steam, knocking condiments off the galley shelves and ringing the ship’s bell! I jumped off the boat with a line before “Captain Crunch” could try it again and managed to pull the stern of the boat back to the wall and tie everything up parallel to the wall. Shauna had called ahead to find out where the nearest convenience store with ice was located. The gas station attendant told us it was only a few blocks from the canal. Maybe it seemed that way if you were used to driving around here, but the gas station turned out to be almost a mile away. Nevertheless, the exercise was good for us and we found some interesting architecture along the way including a cobblestone church. A breeze picked up later in the morning as we continued west. Brent brewed some fresh coffee just before we arrived at the Gasport lift bridge. The cabin top was cambered so I set my mug down on the deck as we throttled back to approach the bridge gently. Brent did the same. We were unable to raise the operator at first and a breeze was blowing us into the bridge. I tried backing us up while steering with the bow thruster but the wind kept trying to push the boat sideways. While stepping back and forth to see how much leeway I had on each side, I kicked both mugs over, making the steel deck both slippery and hot! After a few minutes of awkwardly trying to keep our boat in position, I gave up and headed the boat into an old wall. Brent tied us up and ran ahead to the lift bridge to ask some local fishermen there how we could get a hold of the operator. Just then, the bridge operator arrived by car and after picking Brent up, we went through the bridge. We arrived in Lockport sooner than expected. Lockport is a small city situated right on the edge of the Niagara Escarpment, the same landform that underlies Niagara Falls. This geological barrier thrown across the route to Buffalo and Lake Erie represented a critical engineering challenge for the original canal builders. It was met by devising a flight of stair-step locks up the slope, cut right into bedrock. The “Flight of Five” as it is now known, was one of the great engineering achievements of the original Erie. The original locks were enlarged in 1842 and one side of these (the five ascending locks) remain. The other side was replaced by two massive concrete locks completed in 1914 during the construction of the twentieth century Barge Canal. They have a combined lift of 49 feet. The approach to Locks E-34 and 35 passes through a valley of sorts with increasingly high terrain on each side. We saw a series of big nineteenth century houses with generous lawns along Market Street to the south. The Adams Street lift bridge has been closed to traffic for some time and locked in the raised position for boats. The Exchange Street lift bridge remains operational and when we spoke with the operator, he alerted the locks a short distance further west. The canal takes a slight jog to the left and the gates of the big locks loom ahead with turbulent water in the pool below. Dave, one of two extremely friendly operators here asked us to wait as he locked down an eastbound tour boat. He then gave us the green light, guided us into the first lock chamber and took us up. The gates at the west end of the chamber opened and admitted us to the second chamber. Again, the gates closed behind us and we rose to the top of the escarpment. Once in position, he walked over to introduce himself and invited us to tie up on a wall that leads to the historic locks where excess water is discharged. It was a very kind offer that put us right in the center of Lockport’s most interesting attractions and spared us from having to resort to the upper terminal wall at least half a mile further west. After securing the Belle we walked a short distance into town to visit the Erie Canal Discovery Center, situated in a nineteenth century stone church building. The Center offers a 15-minute documentary describing the construction of the first locks as well as interesting artifacts. We explored the “Flight of Five” locks which were recently restored to operation for small boats. The current locks were completed in 1842 and were in use for more than 70 years. The limestone walls and wrought iron railings have grooves worn in them from the repetitive use of taut tow lines hauled by straining teams of horses and mules. We picked up lunch at a nearby burger joint and ate at a terrace overlooking the locks. We went to the famous Lake Effect ice cream shop for sundaes and enjoyed them under a gazebo on Canal Street. We were less than a day from Buffalo and the western terminus of the canal, but we did not have enough time remaining with the “Belle” to cruise there, find an overnight berth in one of the Tonawandas and still make it east to Seneca Falls. We needed to turn back now. We said goodbye to Dave, the lock operator and he prepared lock E-35 for our entry without any wait. I made a complete hash out of getting into the lock with the creeping transmission, banging the wall and lining up crooked. Up in the bow, Brent had almost no line to grab. In the stern, my boat hook inadvertently extended and I nearly lost my purchase on the line at my end. Fortunately, we went down quickly, entered E-34 and went down there just as quickly. The huge gates boomed open. A tour boat was waiting just outside to lock up. We waved to the passengers, thanked Dave on the radio, and slowly got underway. “Captain Crunch” took the helm and we began the three-day return to Seneca Falls. AfterwordTransiting the historic Barge Canal system and discovering the communities that grew up along its path is a perfect way to reconnect with people, experience our state in a more intimate way and to better appreciate the history and natural beauty of New York State. The slow pace of travel along the canal encourages exploration, reflection, creative pursuits and the opportunity to get to know people and towns that are invisible while driving at high speeds to more traveled destinations and cities. The unplanned discoveries, minor incidents and occasional challenges enrich the experience and deepen its authenticity. The Erie Canal and its branches once defined New York State and the ability of New Yorkers to accomplish what others could not imagine. The system still connects all of state’s major cities by water. It still links the Hudson River, the Great Lakes, the Finger Lakes, Lake Champlain and many of New York’s most popular recreational destinations. The canal system contributes to irrigation, flood control, and power generation. Importantly, it remains available albeit underutilized for commercial transportation, especially for oversized products such as turbines. Today’s canal system is a significant driver of heritage tourism providing a scenic corridor for private, rental and tour boats as well as for walkers, paddle driven craft and bicyclists. It is strikingly beautiful. Landscapes both grand and prosaic come into focus at each turn and canal-side communities with historic main streets have rolled out the red carpet for visitors. In spite of this, New York State’s canals are still enjoyed by and appreciated by too few. In recent years, the maintenance and operation of these canals, once managed by the NYS Department of Public Works and NYS Department of Transportation, has been transferred to the NYS Thruway Authority and now the NYS Power Authority, an organization headquartered in White Plains with little institutional affinity for navigation. The current Reimagine Initiative, begun in 2017, offers an opening to canal critics who feel the system costs to much, benefits too few, and should be dismantled into small recreational segments for local uses. Instead of diminishing our canals, the system should be protected as the critical waterway that connects virtually all of New York State. I hope readers of this account will discover the Barge Canal while it remains fully operational. Explore its navigable waters, spend money in its towns, commune with New York State’s past and advocate for its continued operation as a navigable waterway and corridor for investment. AuthorMuddy Paddle grew up near the junction of the Hudson River and the Erie Canal. His deep interest in the canal goes back to childhood when a very elderly babysitter regaled him with stories about her childhood on the canal in the 1890s. Muddy spent his college years on the canal and spent many of his working years in a factory building overlooking the canal. Over the years he has traveled much of the canal system by boat and by bicycle. That's all folks! Thank you for joining us on this Erie Canal journey. To read other adventures by Muddy Paddle, see: Muddy Paddle: Able Seaman, about Muddy Paddle's adventures on the replica Half Moon, and Muddy Paddle's Excellent Adventure on the Hudson, about his canoe trip down the Hudson River.
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