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Editor’s Note: Welcome to the next 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. Day 4 - TuesdayLast night I paid our bill at the marina and told Captain Terry that I was planning to depart early in the morning by making a tricky three-point turn with the Belle. He didn’t like that plan at all, and later confided to the first mate that the Belle’s captain was “loco.” Brent tried to calm him down but It bothered him enough that when we woke up Tuesday morning, we found that the captain had relocated the big cruiser at our stern giving the Belle a clear exit to the gap in the breakwater. We shoved off under the good captain’s wary eye at 8:15 and shaped our course north along the east shore of the lake. We were hoping to get a nice view of Hector Falls, but we were in too close to the shore, and the falls were completely screened by topography and vegetation. We had a pleasant cruise down the lake with a gentle breeze at our back. As we reached Lodi Point, Brent fired up the gas grill and prepared barbecue pork chops for lunch. Brent loves to cook! The view from the helm consisted of the American flag at our mast, clouds of smoke rising from the bow, and intermittent appearances of our broadly grinning first mate, Brent. There were no boats out on the lake at all. It occurred to me that if we had mechanical trouble or worse, no help was readily available and that there were few access points given the steep banks rising up from the lake. It also occurred to someone on shore that our boat was on fire. A call was apparently made to one of the fine local fire departments. A couple of trucks appeared on the ridge to our east but returned to the station after apparently using binoculars or smelling our pork chops. We reached Geneva after lunch and it grew overcast as we re-entered the C&S Canal. Here we encountered kayakers and a replica of the steam launch African Queen. Brent radioed Lock 4 when we saw the Waterloo water tower. The lock came up abruptly around a sharp bend in the canal. There was a heavy outflowing current bent on carrying us to the adjacent spillway where a rental company canalboat was stuck with emergency lines holding her in place. A breeze from the west didn’t help. We bumped our way into the lock chamber, crooked but safe. We were very grateful to have missed the rendezvous with the other boat and the spillway and even more grateful when the lock doors closed, blocking the breeze. Once again I was unable to keep the engine in neutral. The transmission would creep forward and then backward requiring constant adjustments. I tried using a boat hook to handle the hand line nearest the stern without leaving the pedestal, but once the boat gained any momentum, it was impossible. Brent held tight to his line in the bow, so the stern was always the first to go rogue. Once through the lock, we had a routine return to Seneca Falls and tied the boat up to the wall near the Heritage Area Center. The stranded canal boat was recovered from the edge of the spillway later in the afternoon and towed with her frightened occupants to the wall next to us. The renters were sputtering about the boat, the rental company and their “near death” experience at the spillway. They ended their trip in a rented Escalade after abandoning all of their provisions and all of their pride at our gangway. After cleaning, putting away the new food and making the Belle shipshape, we took ourselves on a walking tour of Seneca Falls. At Seneca Falls, a series of waterfalls and rapids created a barrier for west-bound travelers on the Seneca River. A portage was established in 1787 and mills took advantage of water power early in the 19th century. The Seneca & Cayuga Canal established locks here in 1818 and the connection between the two lakes and the Erie Canal was completed in 1825. Using abundant water power and the ability to ship materials by canal, Seneca Falls became a thriving mill town of four and five story mill buildings, foundries, housing, churches and stores employing thousands of laborers. It was against this background that Elizabeth Cady Stanton, Mary Ann McClintock and others organized the Women’s Rights Convention in 1848 at the Wesleyan Chapel on Fall Street. Central New York and the “burned over district” were primed for reform and advocates for abolition, women’s rights and Native Peoples’ rights had been recruiting in the area, especially among a branch of the local Quaker community. The convention, housed within a plain brick church, attracted both women and men and luminaries including Lucretia Mott and Frederick Douglass. It resulted in the publication of the Declaration of Sentiments, now recognized as a seminal moment in the history of human rights. The chapel building became many things after the Convention including, ironically, its final degradation as a decrepit laundromat. To interpret the building’s history after acquisition, the National Park Service initially deconstructed it to reveal only those materials that were original to it in 1848, leaving large sections of the top and sides open to the elements and accelerated deterioration. In 2010, the building was sensibly enclosed with new material where necessary in order to preserve the original walls and the surviving roof timbers. We toured Fall Street, looked at the stores and restaurants, walked over to Elizabeth Candy Stanton’s house and finally sat to rest at a canal-side pavilion near Trinity Church. Lou, the boat owner’s representative, found us and gave us the unexpected but good news that the that the entire canal system would reopen tomorrow morning at 7:00 AM. We picked up a few supplies and had dinner at a pub on Fall St. It was dark when we returned to the boat. Lou staggered by for a visit after apparently spending a good part of the day at the American Legion. He stumbled on his way down the companionway steps and crashed flat on his face in the galley, blood trickling from his nose and mouth. We got him cleaned up and made him a cup of coffee before sending him home. We took power showers at the visitor center, checked our lines, and then called it a night. We will be entering the Erie Canal tomorrow! 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. Muddy Paddle's Erie Canal adventure will return next Friday! 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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Editor’s Note: Welcome to the next 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. Day 3 - MondayNineteenth century photographs of Seneca Lake often echo similar scenes along the Hudson River. The long lake is surrounded by steep hills and its assortment of steamboats and canalboats look pretty familiar. The lake was also studded by large villas reminiscent of those on the Hudson and lakeside resorts. Commerce on the lake included the movement of coal and agricultural produce north to the Erie Canal and passenger steamers and ferries transited and criss-crossed the lake much as they did along the Hudson. I got up earlier than my mates and walked around the harbor at sunrise. There were a number of interesting and classic boats here including the excursion boat Seneca Legacy, the 1934 excursion boat Stroller, John Alden’s 1926 schooner Malabar VII and General Patton’s 1939 schooner When & If. I sketched vignettes of each and walked the shoreline in search of a souvenir. I recovered the neck of a green nineteenth century beer or soda bottle from a heap of dredge spoil as a talisman of Watkins Glen’s commercial past. Brent and I prepared bacon, eggs and toast in the galley and got caught on video doing a happy dance in front of the range. After cleaning up, we prepared picnic lunches, strapped on backpacks, and hiked to Watkins Glen State Park, about a mile south of the village. The park is one of the gems of the New York State park system and receives guests from around the world, many of them on tour buses heading to or from Niagara Falls. We encountered visitors from China, India and the Philippines. The centerpiece of the park is a two-mile gorge with 19 waterfalls and a precarious trail built on ledges, over stone bridges, through tunnels and up an endless series of steps and staircases. The park was established by a journalist in 1863 and acquired by New York State in 1935. A biblical flood in 1935 raised the water 80 feet deep midway through the gorge and within a few feet of a surviving bridge. Most of the stone-lined trail and bridges post-date this appalling flood. We reached the top of the gorge and had a pleasant picnic under the shade of a tree. It was 88 F. It was easier descending the gorge than climbing it, but it was a hot afternoon so we stopped for ice cream at the “Colonial” on Main Street. We returned to the boat and relaxed for about an hour. We bought some wine on Main Street for friends and had dinner at an Italian restaurant a few blocks south of the lake. Overhearing the conversations, it was apparent that many of the diners here were connected with auto racing and the Gand Prix in particular. After dinner we saw a micro-beer ad at the Chamber of Commerce. Shauna was determined to get some for our son but it was only sold in growlers at the brewery or at a liquor store south of the state park entrance. The brewery was closed so she took one of the bikes lashed to the cabin top and rode into the sunset. She arrived just after the store closed but somehow convinced an employee to let her in to purchase the beer anyway. She returned triumphantly an hour later with a bulging backpack! We watched a comedy in the salon and enjoyed popcorn and chocolate. We called it a night at 11:00 PM and slept soundly on a calm and mild night. 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. Muddy Paddle's Erie Canal adventure will return next Friday! 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.
The History Blog is supported by museum members and readers like you! Donate or join today! Editor’s Note: Welcome to the next 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. Day 2 - SundayThe Belle was comfortable for a boat of her size. The wood paneled cabins were warm and attractive, the layout was convenient and there was plenty of headroom. Shelving, cabinets and drawers used space efficiently and the window ports were dressed with curtains. A packet boat of the kind used on these canals before the Civil War would have been nearly twice as long, but would have carried dozens of passengers, segregated by gender and fit into bunks that could be folded away or otherwise removed during the day. Our boat cruises at about five or six miles per hour, only slightly better than its horse drawn predecessors. Mule drawn freight boats were slower. After an infusion of coffee, we cast off our lines and headed for Lock 4 and Seneca Lake beyond. Lock 4 is in the village and takes boats up to the lake level. We radioed the lock in advance of our approach and had a green light and open gates when we arrived. I got the boat lined up nicely on the right side of the lock chamber and put the shift into neutral so I could leave the pedestal and take hold of one of the hand lines to keep the boat parallel and next to the chamber wall. Brent did the same in the bow. We started having problems as soon as the doors closed behind us. First, the boat would begin to creep forward and Brent would yell that he couldn’t hold his line any more. I would go back to the pedestal, give the boat a few revolutions of reverse, go back to neutral and then run back to grab my line. But then the boat would creep backwards. She was living up to her name the Belle MULE!” I was grateful when the chamber was full and the gates opened at the upper end. We encountered a stiff current carrying excess lake water east over the spillway and had to use the bow thruster to remain on course. Two miles west, we stopped at a dock and walked up to Route 20 to visit the Scythe Tree, a local point of interest with a sad story. James Wyman Johnson enlisted in the Union Army in 1861 and left his scythe in the crotch a cottonwood tree near his family’s farmhouse. He asked that it remain there until his return. He died of battle wounds in a Confederate prison in Raleigh and never returned to the farm. The tree grew around the scythe. When the United States entered World War I, two brothers living on the farm, Ray and Lynn Schaffer, enlisted, placed their scythes in another crotch of the tree and found them embedded in the tree, when unlike Johnson, they returned safely. All three scythes remain in the big tree. We continued our cruise west into Seneca Lake and set a course for Belhurst Castle on the west shore of the lake below Geneva where we had made brunch reservations. However, we realized that it was getting late and a long brunch, not to mention the steep ascent up from the dock, would burn up hours and delay our efforts to reach Watkins Glen and find a berth. It was also beautiful weather, so we cancelled our reservations and continued our cruise, viewing the big Victorian house from half a mile out. We steered well clear of a sailboat race underway at the north end of the 36-mile long lake. In addition to its considerable length, Seneca Lake is also more than 600 feet deep and littered with the wrecks of dozens of canalboats, steamboats and other craft from its long history of use. Many of these went down in bad weather and as a result of accidents (maybe this is why the boat rental companies prohibit their canalboats from venturing out onto the lakes….). Others were scuttled here at the end of the animal powered canal era. One of the best wrecks for divers to visit is located along our course below Geneva in Glass Factory Bay at a depth of about 115 feet. Unfortunately, visiting divers were careless some years earlier and dragged an anchor through the intact canalboat, carrying its lightly framed cabin top off the boat and over the side. Traveling south at about six miles per hour, we reached the power plant near Dresden late in the morning and the Navy training platform in the center of the lake around 1:00 PM. The derrick-studded platform is now leased as a research facility but some years ago it represented the center of a highly classified experimental submarine warfare station and was heavily guarded by armed sentries and patrol boats. Shauna and Lora relaxed and soaked up the sun in lawn chairs set up in the bow. Women passengers aboard the packet boats were similarly offered chairs in the bow to enjoy their journeys. Watkins Glen is located at the south end of Seneca Lake and we began making calls and using the radio in an effort to find a berth for the Belle. The most likely facility was Village Marina but we were unable to make contact. After passing several very large cruising sloops and a schooner we arrived at a rip rap breakwater protecting the marina. The radio crackled and we were told to switch to channel 66. Once there, Captain Terry, the marina manager, told us that he had a berth available. He sounded agitated. He told us to enter the basin between two drunken pilings; turn sharply right and then approach the T-dock “under spirits.” As we entered, we could see that there was very little space to maneuver and that there were plenty of big and expensive fiberglass cruisers to stay clear of. I threw the transmission into reverse to kill our momentum, spun the wheel to starboard and then crawled forward. A crowd emerged outside of the bar to watch the expected pile-up. We could see that we would need to parallel park because there was no room to turn the Belle around. A gentle breeze helped us line up and a bystander threw us a line at exactly the right moment. We made a clean landing, secured our lines and shut down the engine. A greeting committee gathered with drinks for us and we felt obliged to graciously open up the boat to them to satisfy their curiosity. One woman on her fourth martini made herself at home in the salon where she held court. Captain Terry raced in from the lake to see if we had done any damage to the expensive boats or the docks. Seeing that we were well secured and seemingly accepted at the marina, he relaxed a little and explained that hire boats like ours make him nervous. A similar boat crashed and sank on the inside of the stone breakwater in a previous year. Recalling the incident, he said, “you know a guy is in trouble when you see his wife yelling at him, his daughter tugging on him and his mother-in-law giving him instructions as he tries to dock a big boat.” After tidying up and gently asking Mrs. Martini to leave, we walked into Watkins Glen, explored Main St, and got bad directions to Walmart where we planned to buy groceries and ice. We returned to boat much more directly using a shortcut along the railroad tracks. Brent found that our grille had no gas, so he made a second trip to Walmart to get some so that he could grill chicken for dinner on the bow. Shauna and Lora prepared salads and rice in the galley. We set up folding chairs on the cabin top and had a relaxing dinner as the sun set. Sailing cruisers and an excursion boat sailed in and out of of the harbor with red and green running lights as it got darker. We retired to the cabin for a spirited game of Pictionary and fell asleep quickly as the sea gulls squealed overhead. We slept restfully as the Belle swayed gently to the lake swells. 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. Muddy Paddle's Erie Canal adventure will return next Friday! 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.
The History Blog is supported by museum members and readers like you! Donate or join today! Editor’s Note: The New York State Barge Canal system is in many ways a tributary of the Hudson River. Initiated in the early nineteenth century and reinvented in the early twentieth century, New York State’s canals are part of an integrated waterway linking the Great Lakes, Lake Champlain and the Finger Lakes with the Atlantic Ocean by way of the Hudson River. The nineteenth century development of the Hudson River Valley including its expanding cities and canalboat tows is inextricably linked to the history of these canals. Our contributing writer, Muddy Paddle, has previously shared his adventures on the Hudson by canoe, and aboard the Half Moon. He loved boating, but as he reached retirement age, long distance paddling and its lack of creature comforts became a little less appealing. A narrow boat canal adventure was exactly what was needed. Muddy went to college along the canal and during his working years maintained many connections to the canal and its communities. Touring the canal in a comfortable boat with a dry cabin and a well-equipped galley was very appealing. His wife and best friends would join him. All the included illustrations are from Muddy Paddle’s sketchbooks. There are several excellent canalboat rental outfits but Muddy selected a well-worn narrow boat from a private owner for this trip. He and his crew members picked up the boat on the Cayuga and Seneca Canal in Seneca Falls and planned to travel north to the junction with the Erie at May’s Point and then west on the Erie to Buffalo. The all steel Belle Mule was a retired hire boat measuring 46 feet in length, 12 feet in beam and a draft of about 3.5 feet. She featured a virtually flat bottom with a rounded bow and stern. Her cabin was built of steel and contained a galley and salon at the after end and two compartments forward, each with a head, and bunks for four. She had been designed to recall the shape of a nineteenth century horse-drawn packet boat. The Belle was powered by a Yanmar diesel beneath the quarterdeck and a bow thruster for help in docking in tight quarters. She carried a pedestal helm with a steering wheel and engine controls. The quarterdeck was protected from rain and sun by a canvas canopy. A marine radio was carried under the canopy with the microphone hanging directly above the helm. The weather was terrible for the the entire week before Muddy’s departure and rainwater flooded the Erie throughout central New York. The Finger Lakes were over their banks flooding Penn Yan and discharging millions of gallons of water into the Seneca River and other feeders of the canal including the Clyde River. An advisory was issued temporarily closing the Erie but allowing the Cayuga and Seneca to remain open. So Muddy changed the itinerary to explore the Finger Lakes in hopes that the Erie would re-open later in the week, which it did. His illustrated account of the adventure, taken from his on-board journal, is presented in the following pages. Day 1 - SaturdayWe sailed to Seneca Falls aboard Brent’s Silverado. The bed of the truck was filled will gear and provisions and the hatch was covered with a tarp due to the never-ending rain. The weather improved as we plotted our final approach to the village. Arriving at the Water St bulkhead, we met the boat owner’s representative, Lou. Lou turned over the keys and we took the boat out for a brief shakedown cruise on Lake Van Cleef to get acquainted with her operation and handling. Lake Van Cleef is a product of the early twentieth century Barge Canal. The falls on the Seneca River, and the stone locks carrying boats around the falls were dammed and flooded in 1915 to create two massive concrete locks with a combined 42-foot drop and an adjacent hydroelectric plant. Many of the water-powered factories in Seneca Falls were demolished in preparation for the flooding and the character of the village was forever changed. The old Cayuga and Seneca Canal locks and building foundations remain intact at the bottom of the lake. We had a nice ten-minute cruise before returning to the wall, moving our gear aboard and then berthing the truck at a village lot. After getting the boat settled, we motored under the George Bailey bridge (Seneca Falls is said to have been the inspiration for Bedford Falls in the Jimmy Stewart film “It’s a Wonderful Life”) and continued several miles west on the C&S Canal to Waterloo to take in Memorial Day weekend celebrations. Founded on the site of a Cayuga village destroyed during the American Revolution, Waterloo was settled in the 1790s, named “New Hudson” in 1807 and then re-named “Waterloo” in 1816 in commemoration of Napoleon’s 1815 defeat. The village retains fine early nineteenth century houses and later nineteenth century commercial blocks. Waterloo bills itself as the birthplace of Memorial Day, first celebrated here in 1866. At Lafayette Park, we found an enormous display of flags, food vendors, and bands playing country, swing and rock. A tribute rock band belted out Judas Priest and AC/DC and a country band performed “Sentimental Journey.” We visited a Civil War re-enactment camp and listened to the Erie Canal song accompanied by guitar. The “Erie Canal” song was tamed and published by Thomas Allen as “Low Bridge, Everybody Down” in 1905, but earlier versions referenced the darker side of life along the canal. One of the many folk stanzas still circulating at the time the song got cleaned up referred to Sal as an alcoholic cook who “died in sin, and had too much gin; ain’t no bar where she didn’t go, from Albany to Buffalo.” We had a food truck dinner at the park and returned to the Belle for the evening where we watched fireworks above the village from the cabin top. Lou stopped by before we turned-in for the evening and asked us if we wanted to go out for a few beers. Brent lied and said that he was an 67 and “too old for that kind of nonsense.” 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. Muddy Paddle's Erie Canal adventure will return next Friday! 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.
The History Blog is supported by museum members and readers like you! Donate or join today! Rockland Lake is a large, freshwater lake located quite close to the Hudson River, just across the river from the city of Ossining. Throughout the 19th century, it was the primary source of natural ice for New York City. South of Newburgh, the Hudson River is brackish - as a tidal estuary it contains a mix of fresh and salt water in the lower part of the valley, making it unsuitable for ice harvesting. Rockland Lake, on the other hand, was fed by a spring and remained largely unpolluted. In 1831, the Knickerbocker Ice Company formed at Rockland Lake, where it remained in operation until the turn of the 20th century. (Learn more about ice harvesting on Rockland Lake) A large steamboat landing was built on the Hudson River near Rockland Lake to accommodate the ice trade. The need for a lighthouse at Rockland Lake was first reported in October of 1899 by the New York Herald, which noted that "many of the new steamers are propellers of such draught as to make the shoal dangerous." On December 7, 1892, the Brooklyn Union Daily Standard reported that an appropriation of $35,000 was made "[f]or establishing a lighthouse and fog signal at or near Oyster Bed Shoal," off of the Rockland Lake dock. The brief noticed continued, "Steamers lay their course near there, making an important turning point, and it is said that the placing of this lighthouse at that point may have an effect in preventing wrecks there." A year later, the New York Herald reported that the Lighthouse Board had completed the plans for what would become the Rockland Lake Lighthouse, to be located "1,100 feet northeast of the northeasterly end of Rockland Lake landing." In July, 1894, the Rockland County Times reported on the construction of the new lighthouse. "The structure, when finished, will be a facsimile of the Tarrytown lighthouse, with the addition of several recent improvements." The article noted, "There is at present no lighthouse between those at Tarrytown and Stony Point, and boatmen traveling between those two points are now troubled at times to find their bearings. This will be obviated by the Rockland Lake lighthouse, which will afford them a safe guide on the darkest nights." Before it could be completed, however, it was struck by the steam canal boat Richard K. Fox, which had four barges in tow and destroyed the wooden construction dock "together with the workshop and other buildings connected to the works." According to the August 1, 1894 report from the New York World, the steam canal boat Richard K. Fox managed to carry "away on its bow part of one of the buildings and an Italian laborer who was sleeping in his bunk." An article from The Sun on the same incident named him as Guiseppe Luigi. Other workers dove into the water or clung to the iron lighthouse caisson to escape the wreck, which destroyed their living quarters. The lighthouse workers speculated that the captain of the Fox must have been asleep at the wheel. The Richard K. Fox appeared largely unharmed, though some reports indicate she "lost her pilot house," and continued on her way to New York City. The New York World article ends with this sentence, "Hudson River navigators think the lighthouse a menace to navigation." The Sun indicates, "It [the lighthouse, upon completion] will then prove dangerous in foggy or misty weather, boatmen say." By September 5, 1894, notice was given to mariners that the light would be lit "on or about October 1, 1894, a light of the fourth order, showing fixed white for 5 seconds, separated by eclipses of 5 seconds." The cast iron caisson was to be painted brown on the lower half, and white on the upper. Like the lighthouses at Tarrytown and Jeffrey's Hook, the Rockland Lake lighthouse structure was pre-fabricated. By the 1910s, the Rockland Lake lighthouse had acquired a serious tilt. Most theories blame the oyster beds under the foundation. A the time, newspapers speculated that the shoals had washed out from under the lighthouse. Later historians speculate that the weight of the structure could have compacted the shoals, destabilizing them. Righting the lighthouse was considered too expensive a project, so the clockwork mechanism which turned the light was simply adjusted to account for the angle of tilt. One can only imagine what it was like to live there as keeper. By the 1920s, ice harvesting was also in decline, starting to be replaced by electric refrigeration. Perhaps this decline in traffic to the Knickerbocker Ice Company Landing played a role in the decision to decommission the lighthouse in 1923. That same year, a red-painted skeleton light was built adjacent to the lighthouse before that structure was demolished. A skeleton light still exists at that spot today. 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: These articles are from 1825 - 1827. January 8, 1825; New York Evening Post The books opened yesterday agreeably to notice at the Tontine Coffee House, for subscription to the stock of the Delaware and Hudson Canal Company, with a capital of $1,500,000 were filed, as we are informed, at a little past 2 o'clock. October 11, 1825 Vermont Gazette, Bennington. To Laborers. We are authorised, by the Board of Managers of the Delaware and Hudson Canal Company, to state by information of their agents it is probable, that one thousand men would find immediate employment on that part of the line which is located in Mamakating Hollow, Sullivan county. February 24, 1826 - New York American Three Thousand Men. Will find employment at good wages, on that part of the Delaware and Hudson Canal, which is now under contract, commencing at the Hudson River, near the village of Kingston, 60 miles below the City of Albany, and about 80 miles above New York, extending through the counties of Ulster, Sullivan, and Orange, in the State of New York, to the Delaware River. A line of 65 miles of Canal, together with all Locks, Aqueducts, Culverts, Bridges, and Fencing is to be completed during the present year. Laborers and Mechanics will find employment on application to contractors on the line, as soon as the spring opens. The country is remarkably healthy; in this respect it offers greater inducements than any other work of the kind in the U. States, to all persons wishing steady employment throughout the season. (Signed,) Maurice Wurts, Agent, For the Delaware & Hudson Canal Co. Kingston, Feb. 2, 1826. July 21, 1826 Albany Argus (Albany, New York) The work upon the Delaware and Hudson canal, (says the N.Y. Mercantile Advertiser) is progressing rapidly, and a union of the two rivers, (64 miles apart) is confidently expected this season. A continuation of the line upon the Delaware, is now locating, and more masons and laborers are wanted. Three thousand men are at present employed. Masons receive from 1.50 to 2 dollars a day, and laborers from 11 to 13 dollars per month, besides their board. August 14, 1827 Albany Argus (Albany, New York) Delaware and Hudson Canal. (From the Ulster Sentinel). We announce, with peculiar satisfaction, that on Saturday morning last the canal boat Neversink of Wurtsborough arrived in tide water at Eddy-Ville from the summit level at Mammakating, a distance of 40 miles, without having encountered a single accident, or being detained a single moment by obstruction on the route. The canal has an abundance of water, and no difficulty was experienced in passing the locks. At the aqueduct thrown across the Rondout at the High Falls, the Hon. Nathan Sanford, of the U.S. Senate, accompanied by President Bolton and John Sudan, Esq. witnessed the progress of the boat, and were highly gratified with a short passage on the canal. The bottom and sides of the aqueduct are so impervious to water, that these gentlemen stood under it without being discommoded by any leak. We may observe, in explanation of the reports heretofore circulated, that the canal has been once or twice filled with water, previous to this experiment, and again drained, for the purpose of saturating the banks and allowing them to settle. They are, in consequence of this precautionary measure, now so compact and firm, that no interruption of the navigation is anticipated through breaches or apertures of any serious magnitude. The lock tenders and other assistants of the company are now taking their places on the line, and by the middle of this month, the whole distance from the Delaware to the Hudson, will be in perfect condition for regular navigation. Thus do we see a new, and, let us add, a blessed era opening upon the good old county of Ulster and her daughter Sullivan, even to the fulfillment of their highest hopes. AuthorThank you to HRMM volunteer George Thompson, retired New York University reference librarian, for sharing these glimpses into early life in the Hudson Valley. And to the dedicated HRMM volunteers who transcribe these articles. 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: In 2018, the Hudson River Maritime Museum opened the Hudson River and its Canals exhibit to help celebrate the 200th anniversary of the construction of the Erie and Champlain canals between 1817 and 1825. These canal led to far reaching economic and social changes for the areas adjacent to these canals but also for New York City and the Hudson River upon which this system ultimately depended. The Barge Canal system, the backdrop for Paul Schneider’s article, was, completed little more than 100 years ago. Built upon the work of the earlier canals, it was conceived instead on the use of motive power versus animal power. And yet much of the construction still depended upon human labor. Paul Schneider’s article provides important insight into the labor practices and culture surrounding this enormous public works undertaking. On a dreary November day three women and a photographer trudged through rain to examine conditions in a construction labor camp on the state’s barge canal. In one of the unkempt shacks housing workers, they “came upon an Italian who seemed to feel the camp[’s] desolation. He sighed as he said to us: ‘This, America?’” After proudly sharing photographs, pulled from his bunk, of Rome and of his children, “he pointed again to the waste of mud and water [outside]. ‘This, America?’ he said, ‘All for nine dollars a week.’”1 This encounter occurred in 1909. The building of the barge canal system had been underway for four years. An additional nine years would pass before the massive undertaking spanning the state was completed. Now in its 101st year of operation, the New York State Barge Canal System is most easily recognizable by the enormous concrete structures that define it: hulking locks punctuated by gigantic steel gates, immense dams spanning and transforming the Mohawk River, and distinctive powerhouses once generating the electricity to operate each lock and the valves that filled and emptied it. Designated a National Historic Landmark in 2017 as “an embodiment of the Progressive Era emphasis on public works,” the barge canal was further recognized as “a nationally significant work of early twentieth century engineering and construction.”2 In 2015, the American Society of Civil Engineers named the five locks at Waterford, New York as a Historical Civil Engineering Landmark representing “the greatest series of high lift locks in the world … elevating boats through a height of 169 feet."3 As this photograph of a boarding house for workers employed on the Champlain section of the barge canal illustrates, housing conditions varied according to the contractor responsible for a specific phase of work. Although appearing neatly built and a great improvement of over the shacks visited by the investigating committee, it is quite possible that this house was intended for skilled workers rather than unskilled immigrant laborers. Handwritten annotations on the bottom of this image state that the house was taken down after the project was completed. Courtesy of the Mechanicville District Public Library. Largely overlooked in the superlatives emphasizing engineering and construction prowess are the thousands of un-skilled laborers – many of them immigrants – whose back-breaking and often dangerous work made its construction possible. There are no monuments to them. No preserved shacks or reconstructed labor camps to reveal to modern visitors the conditions in which these laborers lived and worked. The four unannounced callers to that unspecified construction camp were making an automobile tour – an arduous undertaking itself in that early era of auto travel – visiting similar camps associated with major governmental construction projects. In addition to the state barge canal system, New York City’s Board of Water Supply was, by damming the Esopus Creek in Ulster County, constructing the immense Ashokan Reservoir, linking it by a 120-mile long aqueduct to deliver an increased supply of water to the city.4 The small group of intrepid travelers included two members of the New York State’s Commission of Immigration, Lillian D. Wald and Frances A. Kellor. They were accompanied by Mary Dreier and photographer Lewis W. Hine. A founder of the Henry Street Settlement House (which celebrated its 125th anniversary in 2018) in New York City, Lillian Wald was forty-two years old. While focusing her dynamic energies in the Lower East Side, she had expanded her advocation for improving the health, education, working and living conditions of the poor and immigrant communities to a state and national level. She invited the then serving Republican governor, Charles Evans Hughes, to Henry Street in 1908 and persuasively made her case regarding the exploitation of immigrants. In response, Governor Hughes appointed both she and Frances A. Kellor to the nine-member commission mandated by the state legislature to "make full inquiry, examination and investigation into the condition, welfare and industrial opportunities of aliens in the State of New York."5 Frances A. Kellor, described as a “hard-driving personality,” was thirty-six, had earned a law degree from Cornell University Law School in 1897, studied the newly emerging fields of sociology and social work at the University of Chicago, where she lived in Jane Addams Hull-House, and then in 1903 moved to New York City and the Henry Street Settlement House, where she concentrated her attention on the “difficulties of immigrants and other minorities in gaining equal treatment and opportunity in U.S. society.”6 Mary Dreier, age thirty-four, was at the time, the president of the New York Women’s Trade Union League. Characterized as “an ally of workers,” she, like Kellor, “believed that reform was best achieved by investigation, analysis, and legislation."7 The fourth member of the group, the photographer Lewis Wickes Hine, was the youngest at thirty-two. Writing of Hine’s work, American photographer, Walter Rosenblum suggests that, “the social turmoil of the Progressive period of American history was the fabric of his vision.” The work camp conditions he saw through his 5 x 7 view camera became part of that vision.8 What the lone Italian laborer sitting in the dismal surroundings of his work camp must have thought when these four suddenly trooped in unannounced is not recorded. Certainly, he must have been surprised by the fact that three of them were women. Wald, in her 1915 book, The House on Henry Street, records the meeting with a bit more detail: In a shack that held three tiers of bunks, occupied alternately by the day and night shifts, with a cook-stove in a little clearing in the middle, we found a homesick man, who chanced not to be on the works, reading a book. When we engaged in conversation with him he pointed contemptuously to the bunks and their dirty coverings, and said, "This America! I show you Rome," and produced from under his bed a photograph of the Coliseum.9 The homesick Italian laborer who Wald, Kellor, Dreier and Hine encountered in a state barge canal work camp in November 1909. Black and white photograph by Lewis Wickes Hine. Courtesy of the New York Public Library, Digital Collections, the Miriam and Ira D. Wallach Division of Art, Prints and Photographs: Photography Collection. The photograph shown above is of that same “homesick” laborer quoted above. This photograph was one of twenty taken by Hine that graphically illustrated Wald and Kellor’s report on the findings of their investigation published in the January 1910 issue of The Survey. Wald’s criticisms of what she, Kellor, Dreier, and Hine discovered are blunt: [The state] takes great care to prevent the freezing of cement, but permits any kind of houses to be used for its laborers. It is wholly indifferent as to how they are ventilated, lighted, or heated, how many men sleep in them, or whether the sleeping quarters are also used for cooking and eating and the bunks as cupboards. Neither does it care whether the men can keep themselves or their clothes clean.10 Quoting a New York Times article, The Albany Evening Journal of Tuesday, January 4, 1910 noted that the investigators discovered that “the mules were found to be housed in better quarters than the laborers.” Further, the reprinted article stated that, “One entire state camp consists of five buildings. The largest about 50 by 20 feet, contains 52 bunks in a double tier and has a small stove for heating and cooking. The windows are closed tightly and there is one door. This building is set flat upon the side of the canal, upon swampy ground in the midst of mud so deep that on the day of the visit it was necessary to wear rubber boots.”11 Wald and Kellor in their published report articulated their belief that “here in a democracy, in our greatest creative achievements, we can set standards which will make for democracy and not for petty despotism, immorality and physical deterioration. State and city can set standards for life and labor in the construction camps, and see that they are enforced, as easily as they can determine the grade of stone used and the tensile strength of steel.”12 Particularly in the state barge canal camps, however, what they found fell far short of such standards. “With one exception, they found state and city personified, so far as the immigrant workers were concerned, by the padrone whose largest profits are to be drawn from the vice, drunkenness, instability and ignorance of the men …. In state camps they found the padrone in full control, supplying job, bed, board and drink; they found a building with sixty-five cots for a hundred men, another with bunks in the dark cellar; they found state camps wholly dependent upon any spring, well or pump in the neighborhood; they found nuisances committed without restriction, the grounds filthy, and no means for recreation.”13 Who was the “padrone” Wald and Kellor referred to so vehemently? The word had its origins in fourteenth century Italy according to the Oxford English Dictionary. At that time, it referred to the master of a ship. The term came to be associated in the United States with “an exploitative (usually Italian) labor contractor, who employs unskilled Italian immigrants.”14 On the state and city government construction projects that Wald, Kellor, Dreier and Hine were investigating during their auto tour, the padrone acted as the intermediary between the construction contractor and the unskilled laborers that contractor required. This freed the governmental agencies responsible for these massive projects from having to recruit, care for, administer, manage, and supervise the huge temporary workforce needed to turn plans and specifications into physical and monumental reality. Detail of a Lewis Wickes Hine photograph published with their 1910 investigative report. Its caption read in part: “A Camp Bar. Connecting through a store with the sleeping quarters… The other furnishings consist of tables for card playing and gambling. The ‘commissaire’ (the padrone owner) of this establishment was asked if he needed policemen to keep order. ‘Me the sheriff,’ he said. Courtesy of the New York Public Library, Digital Collection, the Miriam and Ira D. Wallach Division of Art, Prints and Photographs: Photography Collection. In 1909 the padrone system was already decades old: a proven method of acquiring cheap labor needed to construct dams, railroads, canals, and roads in addition to mining operations of all types throughout the United States.15 It was extremely exploitive of those unskilled workers on whom it depended. John Koren in an 1897 report he wrote for the federal Department of Labor described in detail how it worked. The American contractor, wishing to secure the cheapest possible labor wherewith to carry out some new enterprise, would apply to a resident Italian immigration agent (soon to be dignified by the name ‘banker’) for a stated number of men. The latter, having through subagents in Italy collected as many as required, shipped them across on prepaid tickets, for which he received a stipulated commission. On arrival of these immigrants the agent would make an additional profit by boarding them at exorbitant prices until they could be sent to their destination, the expense being deducted from their prospective wages. The further privilege of supplying them with food and shelter while at work was also commonly granted the agent, and if a banker, he could from time to time add to his profits by charging unreasonable rates for sending the scanty savings of the laborer to Italy. Finally, he had in prospect a commission on the return passage to Italy when the contract expired, for the immigration then as now, was chiefly of a migratory character. Few remained here beyond the time of their contract….16 The lonely Italian laborer encountered by Wald, Kellor, Dreier, and Hine had undoubtedly undergone something very similar to find himself sitting in that work camp shack in November 1909. While Hungarians and immigrants from Slavic countries were also caught up in the clutches of the padrone system, the majority of unskilled laborers came from Italy, specifically from southern Italy. In a report published in 1907 for the federal Bureau of Labor, Frank J. Sheridan included numerous tables of statistical information clearly showing the higher percentage of unskilled laborers immigrating into the United States and especially into New York State were southern Italians. For example, in the span of a year ending in June of 1906, 117,119 immigrants from southern Italy versus just 12,984 from northern Italy came to New York.17 The historic causes that created this late-nineteenth through early-twentieth century geographic wave are far too complex to address in this article. However, Sheridan presents three primary reasons driving “common laborers” to leave their native countries: “(1) primary necessity; (2) to escape compulsory military service and other burdens; (3) to become self-supporting.”18 Another compelling reason was unremitting poverty. Historian Michael La Sorte writes, “by the decade of 1910 Italians in the United States were sending home large sums of money …. for some families back home, this money represented a large portion of their total income.”19 Wald and Kellor echo this in the opening sentence of their 1910 report on the work camps: “Word has gone down the line and across the water that New York state is ‘America’ and that a ‘harvest is on.’ Thousands of alien laborers, writing home or returning to Italy or Austria, have told their countrymen of ‘America’ as they have seen it …”20 Large exterior sign advertising for laborers to work on both state roads and the barge canal. The Auburn Citizen newspaper for Monday, April 25, 1910 ran a notice under the headline, “Work for Italians,” that “John Zuccarelli, the general manager of the Barge Canal Italian Laborers’ Supply Company with headquarters at No. 26 Jefferson Street, has secured the contract from Morris Kantrowits of Albany, N.Y. to furnish 160 men of whom 50 will be set to work at once.” The sign is in the collections of the New York State Museum. Image is provided courtesy of the New York State Museum, Albany, NY. The expectations raised by such words going “down the line,” were often dampened by the reality immigrants found. For not only were the living conditions many were forced to endure terrible, but often their very presence was resented. The construction of the barge canal itself had faced considerable opposition from those who saw it has an enormous expenditure by the state in an outmoded form of transportation. A printed circular advancing opposition arguments was published in May 1903, asserting in part that, “if the policy of the State requires the expenditure of the State’s moneys for the purpose of creating facilities for transporting freight in competition with the existing railroads, why should it not be better for the State to construct a four track railroad from Buffalo to Albany along the present route of the Erie canal?”21 The same circular also pressed home an anti-immigrant labor contention: “if carried through, the enterprise is sure to injure the laboring population now employed to the upmost and to bring … tens of thousands of foreign laborers of the lowest type, who will remain when the work is done a drag on our own civilization and a menace to our native workers.”22 Obviously, the opposition challenges to the barge canal’s construction failed, but criticism remained as the actual work proceeded slowly. The Buffalo Times newspaper for Sunday, August 22, 1909, for example, reported on the findings of a tour of inspection a group of state legislators had just completed. Senator Henry W. Hill of Buffalo was quoted as saying, “we found the work progressing very satisfactorily in most places and the contractors generally entering into the work with enthusiasm.” He also asserted that the “undertaking …. in some respects is more difficult than the building of the Panama Canal, because the New York waterways involve so many more engineering and hydraulic problems.”23 Within such an atmosphere, it seems fair to conclude that both state officials in charge of the work and the contractors hired to implement it were under pressure to pursue construction with as much speed and economy as possible. Tellingly, the 1910 inspection tour by the legislators did not mention the laborers toiling across the state or the conditions under which they lived and worked. Did Lillian Wald or Frances Kellor or Mary Dreier or Lewis Hine – each of whom were well versed in the plight of immigrants coming into New York – tell the lonely Italian laborer they met in that barge canal work camp, that his experience was far from unique? We will never know, unless some written record of their visit eventually is found. His fellow countryman, Napoleone Colajanni, writing in 1909 bitterly observed that “the Americans consider the Italians as unclean, small foreigners who play the accordion, operate fruit stands, sweep the streets, work in the mines or tunnels, on the railroad or as ‘bricklayers.’”24 In fact, far more Italian immigrant laborers were employed on railroad construction in the northern states than on both the city and state construction projects Wald and her party were visiting. The living and working conditions of these workers were similar if not worse in some cases.25 It is from the experiences of those Italians in railroad construction work camps reported by Frank Sheridan that we finally hear the actual voices of some of these men. Sheridan writes that their declarations were given in evidence of the abuses they had undergone while working on railroad construction projects. He also notes that their words “are translations from the statements made in Italian by each of the laborers.”26 Below is just a portion extracted from one such statement. Names and locations were deleted in the original. "During the summer of 1903 I was working on the _________ Railroad in the gang of ______, and was lodged at the shanties conducted by [the padrone] at _________. On account of the unhealthy conditions of the shanties, the rottenness of the groceries sold in the store therein, and the exorbitant prices charged, I couldn’t live there and I quitted work. I had to sleep on a handful of straw [charged 25 cents], pay $1 monthly for rent of the shanty, 25 cents per month for lamp and light, 50 cents monthly for coal, beer 6 cents per bottle, 1 ½-pound loaf of bread 10 cents, macaroni 8 cents per pound, tomatoes 14 cents a can, cheese 36 and 40 cents per pound …. and not only that, but bound to spend at least $10 per month, and with such high prices $10 was not enough to keep a man in shape for work fifteen days. Further, to secure work on the _______Railroad at such conditions, I had to pay to [the padrone] $10 [$5 per time] otherwise he wouldn’t allow me to work.27" Today, we might think such prices remarkably cheap until we are reminded that unskilled Italian laborers were typically charged amounts that “were never less than two to four times the prevailing market prices.”28 So, for example, if a consumer paid $2.35 for a loaf of fresh white bread today in 2019, the immigrant buying that same loaf from the padrone run store in a work camp might be charged anywhere from $4.70 to $9.40. It is small wonder that workers sometimes simply walked away looking for better work and living conditions, sometimes scrimped together enough money to return to Italy, sometimes tenuously managed to establish themselves in the communities near where they worked, and sometimes simply had enough and attacked the padrone or his representatives. Late in April of 1908 this is exactly what happened in Waterford, New York. The Wyoming County Herald ran a story datelined April 29, Troy, which reported that: “a riot occurred among the Italians employed on the barge canal work at Waterford. The padrone who places men at work, it is charged, gets $5 from each man and then if the man does not trade at the supply store conducted by the padrone, that person is discharged, and another is hired. Several hundred Italians descended upon the store and there was a free fight in which clubs and fists were freely used. The Italians prevented all work at the section. Deputy sheriffs were necessary to quell the riot.29" What happened to either the padrone or the rioting laborers is not reported, but it illustrates the sheer frustration and anger that could build-up in the confines of the laborer camps. While not all canal construction workers lived in such camps, they represent what was an indispensable component in the creation of the barge canal system; a massively re-imagined and re-engineered waterway that served the state’s and nation’s urgent needs for the shipment of materials, fuel, and equipment during both World Wars I and II. Detail of Lewis Wickes Hine famous portrait of an Italian laborer on the NYS Barge Canal. Hine has captured the rough-hewn character, weariness, and dignity of this individual. Courtesy of the New York Public Library, Digital Collection, the Miriam and Ira D. Wallach Division of Art, Prints and Photographs: Photography Collection. Today’s barge canal is characterized by pleasure boats, kayaks, tour boats, and leisurely piloted rental canal boats carrying visitors eager to experience its beauty and to explore the villages, towns, and cities it connects. Walkers, joggers, and bicyclists ply its banks along paved towpaths, the original need for which was eliminated by the self-powered vessels and towing tugs that replaced horses and mules from the pre-barge canal era. In the reigning tranquility of the canal today, its users hear no echoes of the shouts, groans, cries of pain or anger, laughter, insults, name calling, curt orders, hammers, squeaking wheel barrow wheels, dynamite detonations, shrill whistles and exhaust blasts from steam dredges and locomotives, and the myriad of other sounds that heralded its birth. The physical remains of those flimsy structures composing the work camps where thousands temporarily lived amid those sounds are long gone, but the human lives they barely sheltered are woven into the fabric of the history of the state. 1 Lillan D. Wald and Frances A. Kellor, “The Construction Camps of the People: The Findings of an Automobile Tour of Investigation of Camp Conditions Along the Line of New York State’s New Barge Canal and New York City’s New Aqueduct,” The Survey, January 1, 1910, 460 (hereafter cited as Wald, “Construction Camps”). The Survey was published by the Charity Organization Society of New York City, founded in 1882 and characterized as “one of the most influential philanthropic organizations in New York City.” For this quote see Anne M. Filiaci, “Lowell and the Charity Organization Society of New York,” accessed 30 December 2018, http://www.lillianwald.com/?page_id=216. 2 National Historic Landmark, A National Honor” Erie Canal National Heritage Corridor website, accessed 27 December 2018, https://eriecanalway.org/resources/NHL. 3 “Flight of Five Locks,” ASCE American Society of Civil Engineers, Historic Landmarks, accessed 27 December 2018, https://www.asce.org/project/flight-of-five-locks/. 4 Edward Hagaman Hall, The Catskill Aqueduct and Earlier Water Supplies of the City of New York […] (New York: The Mayor’s Catskill Aqueduct Celebration Committee, 1917), 112. “The length of the aqueduct from Ashokan to this reservoir [Silver Lake Reservoir in Staten Island] is 119 miles, to be exact, but it is called 120 miles in round numbers.” 5 Report of the Commission of Immigration of the State of New York (Albany, NY: J. B. Lyon Company, 1909), 1. For an overview of the history of the Henry Street Settlement House and Lillian D. Wald visit its website at: https://www.henrystreet.org/about/our-history/exhibit-the-house-on-henry-street/ and especially view the short video there “Baptism of Fire – The House on Henry Street.” 6 Allison D. Murdach, “France Kellor and the Americanization Movement,” Social Work 53, no.1 (January 2008): 93. 7 Ann Schofield, "To do & to be": portraits of four women activists, 1893-1986 (Boston: Northeastern University Press, 1997), 50, 60. 8 Walter Rosenblum, foreword to America & Lewis Hine: Photographs 1904-1940 (New York: Aperture, 1997), 12, 15. 9 Lillian D. Wald, The House on Henry Street, with a new introduction by Eleanor L. Brilliant, (New Brunswick, NJ: Transaction Publishers, 1991). First published 1915 by Henry Holt and Company. 295, (hereafter cited as Wald, House on Henry Street). 10 Wald, House on Henry Street, 296. 11 “Barge Canal Labor,” The Albany Evening Journal (Albany, NY), January 4, 1910. 12 Wald, “Construction Camps,” from the Foreword, unpaginated, following page 448 13 Wald, “Construction Camps,” from the Foreword, unpaginated, following page 448 14 “padrone,” Oxford English Dictionary online, accessed February 9, 2019, http://www.oed.com.dbgateway.nysed.gov/view/Entry/135946?redirectedFrom=padrone#eid. The plural of padrone is padroni. 15 Edwin Fenton asserts that the padrone system dates to the 1840s, while John Koren, writing about it for the Department of Labor in 1897, says its origins “are not easily traced” but seems to have come into prominent use after the Civil War during industrial recovery and growth during “which capital sought labor with almost reckless eagerness.” See Edwin Fenton, Immigrants and Unions, A Case Study: Italians and American Labor, 1870-1920 (New York: Arno Press, 1975), 77, and John Koren, "The Padrone System and Padrone Banks," Bulletin of the Department of Labor 9, March 1897 (Washington: Government Printing Office, 1897), 113, hereafter cited as Koren, “The Padrone System.” 16 Koren, “The Padrone System,” 114. 17 Frank J. Sheridan, “Italian, Slavic, and Hungarian Unskilled Immigrant Laborers in the United States,” Bulletin of the Bureau of Labor 72, September 1907 (Washington: Government Printing Office, 1907), 409. 18 Sheridan, “Immigrant Laborers,” 406. 19 Michael La Sorte, La Merica: Images of Italian Greenhorn Experience (Philadelphia: Temple University Press, 1985). 5. 20 Wald, “Construction Camps,” 449. 21 This circular is quoted in Henry Wayland Hill, “An Historical Review of Waterways and Canal Construction in New York State,” Buffalo Historical Society Publications, 12 (Buffalo: Buffalo Historical Society, 1908), 346. 22 Hill, “Historical Review,” 347. 23 “Four Years Yet on Barge Canal, Says H. W. Hill,” The Buffalo Times (Buffalo, NY), August 22, 1909. The Senator Hill quoted in the news article is very likely the same Henry W. Hill who wrote the 1908 article quoted in footnote 21. 24 This quotation is from Napoleone Colajanni, Gli Italiani negli Stati Uniti (Napoli: Rivista Popolare, 1909), 44, translated and cited in La Sorte, La Merica, 61. 25 In a table included with Frank Sheridan’s 1907 report illustrated the numbers and percentages of various immigrant nationalities (dominated by Italians, Slavs, and Hungarians) employed in various occupations in both northern and southern states. In the North fully 75.93 percent of those immigrants engaged in railroad construction and repairs were Italians. Those immigrants in occupations categorized as “canal construction laborers” or “dam and waterworks construction,” were quite small by comparison. Sheridan’s breakdown of occupations may distort his results. For example, “excavating laborers, ditching laborers, and concrete and cement laborers” could all have been employed on either the barge canal or the Ashokan Reservoir projects. Also, his numbers are based on immigrants sent to these occupations by New York Employment Agencies and very likely do not reflect those hired out through the difficult to regulate padrone system. See Sheridan, “Immigrant Laborers,” 420. 26 Sheridan, “Immigrant Laborers,” 445. 27 Sheridan, “Immigrant Laborers,” 447. 28 La Sorte, La Merica, 81. 29 “Riot Among Barge Canal Laborers,” Wyoming County Herald (Arcade, NY), May 01, 1908. AuthorPaul G. Schneider, Jr. is an independent historian and a member of the National Coalition of Independent Scholars. This article was originally published in the 2019 issue of the Pilot Log. If you enjoyed this post and would like to support more history blog content, please make a donation to the Hudson River Maritime Museum or become a member today!
In 1825, the Erie Canal was completed with the hopes of improving and expanding economic opportunity between the areas surrounding Lake Erie and the Hudson River. Having proved to be a great success, the state of New York seized many opportunities to further develop the waterway. As such, they undertook multiple enlargement projects. The final project integrated the Erie Canal into the New York State Barge Canal system. Finished in 1918, the system also includes the Cayuga-Seneca, Champlain, and Oswego canals. All of which were originally built within a few years of the Erie Canal’s completion. The project not only enlarged the dimensions of all four canals but also altered their original routes. The Barge Canal era is represented in a shipwreck located in Kingston’s Rondout Creek, the Frank A. Lowery. Constructed in Brooklyn, New York the same year that the Barge Canal was completed, the Lowery was likely built to take advantage of the opportunities provided by the new-and-improved waterway. The barge Frank A. Lowery, then registered as OCCO 101, began operation under the ownership of the Ore Carrying Corporation. According to the 1921 publication of the Annual Report of the Superintendent of Public Works for New York State, “the Ore Carrying Corporation … engaged in the transportation of iron ore from Port Henry on Lake Champlain, to Elizabethport, N.J.”. The report also notes that in terms of the amount of ore shipped per season, the company was substantially more productive in 1920 than it was in 1919. In fact, the company shipped over three times the amount of ore in 1920 than it did the previous season. Having joined the company’s fleet in 1918, the OCCO 101 likely assisted the company in achieving this feat. Ownership was transferred to the L. & L. Canal Line in 1926 and the vessel was renamed L & L. 101. As shown in the 1930 publication of Inland-waterway Freight Transportation Lines in the United States, the L. & L. Canal Line shipped steel and pig iron on the New York State Barge Canal. Based in New York City, the line had six wooden barges that could be found traveling the waters to and from Buffalo, New York. Finally, Frank A. Lowery purchased the vessel and renamed it after himself in 1929. Though much about Lowery remains unknown, the Merchant Vessels of the United States publications for the years 1930 and 1936 list Lowery as living in Creek Rocks, New York. However, in the publication for the year 1951, he is listed as living in Athens, New York. The later record also notes that he owned six vessels, including the Frank A. Lowery. While it is unclear who initiated the renovations, the vessel was refit with an engine in 1929. This renovation distinguished the Lowery from other canal boats and allowed for its classification as a Hoodledasher, or a powered canal boat. As such, it could move itself through the water with two hundred and forty horsepower and could be used to both tow and carry cargo. Following these renovations, the Lowery measured 104 feet in length, 21 feet in beam, and had a tonnage of 195 net tons. Surely, such a vessel was viewed to be a more efficient option. The Frank A. Lowery was put to use as the leading vessel of the Lowery flotilla, which also included the six barges it towed. A 1955 New York District Court case, further discussed below, provides a glimpse into the history of the vessel under the ownership of Frank Lowery. This includes what was transported in the vessel’s cargo hold as well as the routes it covered: “The Lowery flotilla . . . sailed the waters of the Hudson River and Barge Canal for a considerable number of years. It was old in the service of carrying cargo, well known to the trade and canal and river people, and on many… occasions it carried scrap iron west from New York City to Buffalo, and grain east from the terminal at Buffalo to the City of Albany.” In 1953, the Frank A. Lowery was involved in an incident that resulted in a district court case. According to the case report, the Lowery flotilla was on its way to the Port of Albany when a steel barge collided with the last vessel in the flotilla tow, the Marion O’Neill. The steel barge was being pushed by the Ellen S. Bouchard of the Bouchard Transportation Company. Having caused a chain reaction, the Marion O’Neill then collided with yet another barge in the tow, the Mae Lowery, and both vessels subsequently sank. The Mae Lowery’s misfortune continued when it was struck by the unsuspecting Clayton P. Kehoe of the Kehoe Brothers Transportation Company nearly two hours after the initial collision. The day’s events resulted in one presumably fatal casualty, the captain of the Marion O’Neill. The Lowery was abandoned east of Rondout Creek’s Sunflower Dock following an accident in 1953, perhaps the one mentioned here, and her valuable effects were salvaged five years later. The vessel’s tell-tale hanging and lodging knees, half-round bow, and parallel sides allowed for the easy identification of the wreck for many years. However, the structure continues to deteriorate with the erosive nature of weather and ice. Soon, only her keel will remain. AuthorLauryn Czyzewski is a Hudson River Maritime Museum volunteer. Her interests include twentieth and twenty-first century maritime history and shipwrecks. She graduated from SUNY Potsdam with a bachelor’s degree in Archaeological Studies. Lauryn would like to thank the editors of this article, Sarah Wassberg Johnson and Mark Peckham. 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History of the Delaware & Hudson Canal - Supplying coal to the 19th century industrial era. From its opening in 1828 till its closing in 1899, the barges of the D&H canal carried anthracite coal from the mines of Northeastern Pennsylvania to the Hudson River at Kingston where it was transshipped to market in New York City. William Wurts was the first to explore the anthracite coal fields of North East Pennsylvania. He believed anthracite, sometimes known as “hard coal” could be burnt for heating and fueling of steam boilers. He brought samples back to Philadelphia for successful testing. When restrictions were placed on the import of British coal and inspired by the success of the newly opened Erie Canal , Wurts wanted to build a canal of his own from Pennsylvania to New York, through the narrow valley between the Shawangunk Ridge and the Catskill Mountains ending at the Hudson River near Kingston. William convinced his brothers Charles and Maurice to join him in creating the Delaware and Hudson Canal Company. In 1823 they successfully obtained charters from the States of New York and Pennsylvania to establish the canal company. Unlike the Champlain and Erie Canals the D&H company was to be privately financed. To attract investment, the brothers arranged for a demonstration of burning of anthracite in New York City in January of 1825. The reaction was enthusiastic, and the stock oversubscribed within hours raising 1.3 million dollars. D&H canal construction started in May 1825 and was completed October 1828 with the labor of 2500 men. The engineering challenges were significant as the canal had to climb 600 feet from the Hudson River at Rondout to reach the Delaware River and then proceed to Honesdale Pennsylvania. Overall 108 locks were required to travel the 108 miles. Fifteen miles of gravity railroad brought the coal over mountains, which were too steep for a canal, from the mines near Carbondale to be loaded on barges at Honesdale. The canal had to cross the Delaware River and did so using a slack water dam allowing barges to float across relatively still water of the Delaware. In 1847 a suspension bridge aqueduct designed by the now famous engineer John A. Roebling, increased traffic capacity and reduced conflict with log rafters bringing timber down river. The canal was quite successful and by 1832 carried 90,000 tons of coal and three million board-feet of lumber. Also shipped down the canal was Rosendale cement, bluestone, and agricultural products. With the canal’s success the communities along the canal grew into vibrant villages and towns. High Falls, Ellenville, Wurtsboro, and Port Jervis are present day reminders of the canal’s economic impact. During the later part of the 19th century, the canal faced increasing competition from railroads which ultimately benefited from a more direct route across New Jersey and the ability to operate for much of the winter, while the canal boats were wintering over, iced in at Rondout and New York. The canal ceased operation in 1899.Unlike many other canals of the 19th century the D&H canal remained a profitable private operation for most of its existence. Roy Justice is a singing historian known as a Time Travelling Minstrel. He presents programs on different aspects and topics of American History, combining music of the time period with the historical landscape within which the music was a part. https://royhjustice.com/home THE D & H CANAL - LYRICS Around and round the Wurtsboro Bend The big boat chased the squeezer Ed Lax’s boat had passed them both Slicker than the weasel In eighteen hundred and seventy-eight the canal was hit by a freshet The embankment broke and flooded the vly The damage was terrific. A load of cement went through the break Houses and barns were uprooted To try and save whatever they could To the river the big boat scooted There was a girl named Sarah Jane And a youth named Samuel They courted long and happily On the D&H Canal They loved each other tenderly And the Rosendale folks all said That before the boating season was o’er These lovers would be wed. These lovers would be wed. But they never did, for he succumbed to hard times. And his lifeless body was buried six feet beneath the sod Along the Twelve Mile level. And e’re her lover was dead one week She started keeping company With a junk dealer that did live up back in Rondout. Up back in Rondout. From “Of Canals and Coal”. Roy Justice Time Travelling Minstrel. 2007. Thanks to HRMM volunteer Mark Heller for sharing his knowledge of Hudson River music history for this series. 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!
"The Erie Canal Song," also known as "Low Bridge, Everybody Down," was first published in 1905 by Thomas Allen. Reacting to the changeover from mule power to powered barges and tugboats, Allen captured the nostalgia of 80 years of mule power on the canal, as well as some of its dangers - including low bridges!
Construction on the New York State Barge Canal began in 1905 and was completed in 1918, an expansion of the original Erie and Lake Champlain Canals, widening the channel and charting new courses around cities like Rochester. This signaled an end to mule-powered canals in New York State, as the D&H Canal had closed several years earlier, in 1899 (although cement was still transported by canal from Rosendale to Rondout on the D&H until 1917). This particular version was recorded by Bruce Springsteen for the album We Shall Overcome: The Seeger Sessions (2006).
Erie Canal Lyrics
I've got a mule and her name is Sal Fifteen miles on the Erie Canal She's a good old worker and a good old pal Fifteen miles on the Erie Canal We hauled some barges in our day Filled with lumber, coal, and hay We know every inch of the way From Albany to Buffalo [Chorus] Low bridge, everybody down Low bridge, yeah we're coming to a town And you'll always know your neighbor And you'll always know your pal If you ever navigated on the Erie Canal [Verse 2] We'd better look around for a job, old gal Fifteen miles on the Erie Canal You can bet your life I'll never part with Sal Fifteen miles on the Erie Canal Get up mule, here comes a lock We'll make Rome about six o'clock One more trip and back we'll go Right back home to Buffalo [Chorus] Low bridge, everybody down Low bridge, yeah we're coming to a town And you'll always know your neighbor And you'll always know your pal If you ever navigated on the Erie Canal [Verse 3] Where would I be if I lost my pal Fifteen miles on the Erie Canal I'd like to see a mule good as my Sal Fifteen miles on the Erie Canal A friend of mine once got her sore Now he's got a broken jaw Because she let fly with an iron toe And kicked him back to Buffalo [Chorus] Low bridge, everybody down Low bridge, yeah we're coming to a town And you'll always know your neighbor And you'll always know your pal If you ever navigated on the Erie Canal Low bridge, everybody down Low bridge, yeah we're coming to a town And you'll always know your neighbor And you'll always know your pal If you ever navigated on the Erie Canal Low bridge, everybody down Low bridge, yeah we're coming to a town And you'll always know your neighbor And you'll always know your pal If you ever navigated on the Erie Canal Did you grow up singing this song in school? Have you ever visited the Erie Canal? Tell us your memories in the comments!
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