The story I’m about to relate happened 45 years ago almost to the day. The incident dates back to Dec. 4, 1926 - which would make yesterday its anniversary for those who might remember.
           
In any event, when steamboating was at its peak on the Hudson River, every city and almost every village along the majestic river had a steamboat landing and was served by one or more steamboats.
           
The bigger cities and villages had direct service to New York, while the smaller villages were served by smaller connecting steamboats.

Newburgh Albany Line
And the Central Hudson Line, which operated primarily between Rondout, Poughkeepsie and Newburgh - with way landings - to New York, also operated a line between Newburgh and Albany.
           
Originally, there were two steamboats in this service, one each day in each direction, carrying freight and passengers between some 20 different landings. In its latter and declining days, the service was down to one lone steamboat - the “Jacob H. Tremper” - carrying freight only.
           
This, then, was the background for the following incident which was told to me by Jack Dearstyne Sr., the “Tremper’s” last captain.
           
It was Dec. 4, 1926 and a heavy snow storm had already set in when Capt. Dearstyne got orders at Albany to start for Newburgh where he was to lay up for the winter. As the “Tremper” made its way down the river, thick snow pelted its deck, hitting harder and harder with each mile navigated.

Two Passed By
Off Coxsackie, the crew of the “Tremper” could barely discern the outlines of the “Osceola” and the “G.C. Adams” of the Cornell Steamboat Company.  But the men of the “Tremper” knew they were indeed passing both boats as they headed slowly up river with a large tow.
           
As the “Tremper” passed Four Mile Point, four miles above Athens, the chief Engineer and the captain stood together in the pilot house…and both strained to see through the snow just as everybody else aboard was attempting to do. They all figured that if they could make Rondout, they would tie up for the night.
           
Suddenly the chief observed, “That looked like the junction buoy.” And they all agreed that it was. Said Captain Dearstyne to the pilot, “Better pull to the west,” and the maneuver was promptly executed by the pilot.
           
​But it had not been the buoy that had been spotted. Instead, the “buoy” turned out to be a large log floating in the river. And before they could back down, the “Tremper” slid up on west flat, just north of the light. Unfortunately for the boat, the time of the accident was near the end of the flood tide.

None Heard Whistle
They backed and backed and backed again - blowing the whistle - thinking and hoping that one of the tug boats they had recently passed might hear them. But neither did. From Captain Jack came this lament; “I guess this is the end of the old ‘Tremper’.”
           
But, then, just as they were about to give up all hope, they heard the muffled sound of another steamboat whistle through the swirling snow. And out of the whiteness of the storm came William H. Burlingham with the steamer “Catskill,” the freight boat of the old Catskill Evening Line.
           
It seemed that Captain Burlingham had been tied up at Stockport because of the storm. Coming to the rescue, the “Catskill” came up astern, put a hawser on the “Tremper” and pulled again and again.
           
With each pull by the “Catskill,” the “Tremper” also helped by working her engine back hard and, in the process, the “Catskill” parted several hawsers.
           
No amount of pulling seemed to help and, finally, Captain Jack yelled over to Captain Will on the “Catskill,” “I guess it’s no use. The tide is falling and her old deck planks and butts are opening up. It’s the last of the ‘Tremper.’”

A Final Try
 But Captain Will came right back with a “Let’s try once more.” Not willing to admit defeat, he had a further philosophic thought. “Both of us are getting old and so is the ‘Tremper.’ We can’t let her go without one more try.”
           
So try they did - and off she came!
           
The “Tremper” then continued on to Rondout and lay in for the night. The next day she followed the Rondout-New York boat, the “Poughkeepsie,” down the river as far as Milton, where the new ice was not so thick as it had been above. She then continued on to Newburgh where she layed up for the winter of 1926-27, and lived on to run for two more years.
           
​Captain Dearstyne was captain of the tugboat “Lion” in 1931 and I was his deckhand. And I remember him telling me then: “Always treat Will Burlingham as a gentleman as that is what he always was and always will be.”

Most boatmen are notoriously sentimental. A fine example of their feelings for an old veteran of the river was the last trip of the Cornell tugboat “Osceola."

The "Osceola" finished her travels and work on the Hudson River on a Sunday afternoon during the latter part of October 1929. At the time I happened to be down along the shore at Sleightsburgh.

On that Sunday afternoon of mid-autumn, the "Osceola" came down river with a large tow, the tugboat "George W. Pratt” helping her. When opposite the Rondout Lighthouse, the big tug "Edwin H. Mead” of the Cornell Steamboat Company came up river, running light, and took over the tow from the “Osceola." As soon as the towing cables were shifted to the "Mead, the “Mead” blew three very long whistles of farewell. The “Osceola" then turned and headed for Rondout Creek, answering the "Mead’s" salute with her own whistle.

Answering Whistles
The steamboat "Poughkeepsie" of the old Central Hudson Line at the time was coming out of the Rondout Creek on her run to New York. The "Poughkeepsie" also blew three long whistles which the "Oscy” answered.

Finally, the "Osceola’s” old running mate and helper for many years, the "George W. Pratt," blew three very long blasts on her whistle saying good-bye, knowing the “Osceola" was to sail the river no more.

As the “Osceola"’ was going between the dikes on either side of the creek, she answered the “Pratt’s" last salute. I can still see in my mind’s eye the white steam from her whistle as it trailed around her big black smokestack in the clear autumn air. It was the last time that old familiar whistle was to echo along the banks of the Hudson.

The "Osceola” tied up at the Cornell shops at Rondout and the fires in her boiler were let die. The "Oscy’s" hull was worn out, but her engine and boiler were still considered to be in good shape. The Cornell Steamboat Company had acquired a sound hull from another company and it was Cornell’s original intention to take the "Osceola’s'’ engine, boiler and deck houses from her original hull and install them in the newer one. During 1930, the work progressed to a point where the transfer of engine, boiler and upper works was almost completed. Then the Great Depression set in and the project was never finished.

Stranded on Beach
The "Osceola’s” original hull, as soon as the engine, boiler and topside gear were removed, was towed to Port Ewen where it was stranded in 1930 on the beach outside of where the Hidden Harbor Yacht Club is now located. The uncompleted newer hull, after work was stopped in the fall of 1930 or early 1931, was shifted to Sleightsburgh where it weathered away for almost 20 years. Finally, in the late 1940’s it, too, was towed to Port Ewen and sunk off the shore, almost right next to the "Oscy’s” first hull.

The "Osceola" was a big tug and very similar to the Cornell tugboat "Pocahontas." Both had been built during the same year, 1884, at the same shipyard at Newburgh.

Both were used in the same type of service and after World War I the two tugboats pretty much handled Cornell's business on the upper river. One would leave Albany one night, and the other the following night with Cornell’s daily tows for down river. The tows would meet the daily up tows from New York in the vicinity of Poughkeepsie where the meeting tugboats would exchange tows. As a result, the "Osceola" and "Pochahontas” [sic] in their latter years were to be seen almost always on the northern half of the Hudson — and their whistles heard on the foggy nights of spring and autumn. In the "Osceola’s” last trip to her home port of Rondout, Howard Palmatier was captain, Dan McDonald her pilot and Victor Matt chief engineer. 

Way back in the 1890’s, the Cornell Steamboat Company had a big tugboat by the name of “John H. Cordts.” And at that time, the steamboats,  “New York” and “Albany” were the regular steamers of the Hudson River Day Line.
           
One summer afternoon, the “Cordts” came out of Rondout Creek to run light to Hudson and to relieve the “Norwich” of a large tow of canal boats. At the same time, the “New York” was leaving Rhinecliff on her way up river, crowded with passengers. The “Cordts” pulled slightly ahead of the “New York” and as the “New York” got up her speed, the “Cordts” dropped back and then hooked up so she lay off the port side aft of the “New York.” The suction from the “New York” dragged the “Cordts” right along with her all the way to Catskill, where the “New York” made a landing.

The “New York” and “Albany” were in that day and age very fast wide wheelers and ordinarily could outrun the “Cordts” like a rabbit would a turtle. However, when those side wheelers were in shallow water they would drag their stern down deep in the water and a bid suction wave would follow right along with them. Whatever lay off the after quarters on the Day Liners would go right along with them.

Disbelief from Distaffers
The “New York” and the “Albany” were advertised in the newspapers of the day as very speedy. Some ladies who were passengers on the “New York” that day wrote a letter to the Day Line saying they did not think the “New York” was so fast when a tugboat could stay right alongside her for so long a distance.

A. Van Santvoord, a president of the Day Line, wrote a letter to S.D. Coykendall, president of the Cornell Steamboat Company, requesting him to please ask his captains to stop trying to race with the Day Line steamers. Of course, Van Santvoord and Coykendall knew what the score was, but passengers on the “New York” wouldn’t understand about shoal water, suction, etc.

Coykendall called captain of the “Cordts”, Jim Monahan, on the carpet about the incident and told him not to do it again or he would be discharged. But the way it has been told to me, Jim Monahan was a very stubborn man. Sure enough, he tried it again and that was the last of Captain Monahan on the “John H. Cordts.”

After leaving Cornell, Captain Monahan was captain of the steam lighter “Uriah F. Washburn,” carrying cement and lime all along the Hudson River and Long Island Sound. After that, until his death, he was captain of the steamer “Newburgh” of the Central Hudson Line. All river men agreed he was always a very good captain or pilot tugboats, steamboats or whatever he happened to be on, the sleigh rides and dismissal notwithstanding. 

​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!​

By William O. Benson as told to Ann Marrott

SLEIGHTSBURGH — Labor Day on the Hudson signified the last runs of the excursion steamers for the summer — especially for the people who had come up from New York City to spend the summer around the Catskill Mountains and Kingston. 

It always seemed that on Labor Day, people didn’t appear so happy — especially the children.  When you saw the boats come up in early June or July, the children would be so happy. But when getting on the boats going back Labor Day Weekend, they would all be nice enough, but there would be no joy. 

Labor Day was one holiday I hated as a boy, because the next day I had to go to school. The Hudson River Day Line would run extra boats on Saturday and Sunday and Labor Day.  And if you were out on Kingston Point on that holiday there would be a number of boats coming out of New York to bring the people back.  Everyone wanted to get home the day before school started. All those boats would be loaded going to Bear Mountain. The Central Hudson Line would be running boats up to Beacon, Newburgh and Poughkeepsie. Labor Day was also the last excursion of the “Homer Ramsdell” and it would be advertised in the papers. 

Now, if you brought the New York World back then you would see two whole pages full of steamboat listings.  There would be steamboats listed there that people today have probably never heard of, such as the “Grand Republic,” the “Commodore,” the “Benjamin Franklin” and the “Sea Gate.” The “Sea Gate” could carry 500 to 600 people.  But the bigger boats you would see would be the “Benjamin E.  Odell,” the “Robert Fulton,” the “Albany,” the “Onteora,” and the “Clermont.” Some of the big Day Line boats could carry 3,000 or 4,000 people.  The “Washington Irving” could carry 6,000 people. 

I remember one Labor Day on the “Albany.”  A lot of people got off her at Bear Mountain and this poor, stout woman came rushing down the pier, screaming and yelling.  Her children were on the boat and it was already leaving.  So the mate yelled back to her, “We'll put them off at Newburgh in charge of the dockmaster there. You'll have to get them at Newburgh.” Anyway, the purser took them under his wing and when they got to Newburgh the dockmaster took care of them.  I’m not sure how they made out, but I’m sure they were fine.  You used to see that all the time!!

The[n] after Labor Day the boats would get back to their regular schedules.  Most of the captains on those boats, especially George Greenwood, the captain of the “Benjamin B. Odell,” were always glad to see Labor Day come.  George was always worried with so many people on the boat during the summer excursions, of a fire starting in the staterooms.  Some of the boats did run after Labor Day on a Saturday or a Sunday to carry passengers to Bear Mountain or an excursion out of Kingston, but they wouldn’t have the big crowds. 

I looked forward to Labor Day, too, when I worked on the boats.  You knew the boats were going to only run another day or two.  Then she was headed for the Rondout Creek to tie up for the winter and you could go home.  All during the summer you never got home much on those boats. 

Whatever boats were the most expensive to run were tied up first — right after Labor Day.  The Day Line, after the holiday, operated only two boats.  Sometimes for two weekends in September they would have, for example, the “Robert Fulton” ready to come out for a fall excursion to see the Hudson River fall foliage. 

When the boats were tied up we worked on them until the first of November cleaning the boat and painting her.  Then of course you were laid off for the winter. In those days if you saved $150 to $200 during the summer you would have it made. You could live very comfortably all winter long.  Some of us would get jobs ashore, which I used to do.  I always looked forward to spring, when I could get back on the boats.

After Labor Day — during the fall and winter — was the busiest time for workmen in the  Cornell Steamboat Company shops.  When the river was freezing over and navigation was closing, that’s when they started to repair and clean up the boats.  Sometimes they would employ 400 or 500 men during the winter.  They had the boiler gang, machinists, sawyers, painters, blacksmiths, the coaling gang and the bull gang—they did all the heavy work.  They also had a lot of white collar workers.  Everyone worked to get the boats ready for the next season.

When steamboating was in its heyday, anyone living in Rondout, Ponckhockie, Sleightsburgh or Port Ewen never needed a clock or a watch.  They could always tell what time it was by the steamboat whistles.
 
First, there was the huge steam whistle on the Rondout Shops of the Ulster and Delaware Railroad that boatmen always said came from the big sidewheel towboat ‘‘Austin.”  There would be one long whistle at 8 a.m., 12 noon, 12:30 p.m. and 4:30 p.m., telling the men at both the U. and D. shops and the Cornell Steamboat Company shops to start work, eat their noon meal and to stop for the day.
 
When the U. and D. shops were torn down in the early thirties, this whistle was then installed on the Cornell shops.
 
Three Long Blasts
 
Then, every afternoon at 3:25 p.m. three long blasts of a steam whistle would be heard along Rondout Creek as either the ‘‘Benjamin B. Odell,” “Homer Ramsdell,’’ ‘‘Newburgh” or “Poughkeepsie” of the Central Hudson Line prepared to leave their dock on Ferry Street for the start of the evening trip to New York.
 
During the summer, on Saturday mornings at 10:55 a.m., one would hear the wonderful whistle of the “Benjamin B. Odell” as she prepared to leave Rondout.  Then in the evening could be heard the ‘‘Homer Ramsdell” as she came in the creek.  She would blow at about 8 p.m. just as she was passing the gas plant at Ponckhockie.
 
Every summer Sunday morning, the “Homer Ramsdell” would leave Rondout at 6:30 a.m. on an excursion to New York.  The three long blasts on her whistle at 6:25 a.m. sounded twice as loud in the still morning air.
 
From May until early October one always heard the Day Line boats blowing for the landing at Kingston Point.  The one long, one short, one long blast of the down boat’s whistle was always heard just before 1 p.m.  Then shortly before 2:30 p.m. would be heard the landing whistle of the north bound steamer.  Phil Maines of Rondout, the former mate of the “Mary Powell,” was then the dockmaster at Kingston Point.
 
From the ‘Tremper’
At about 10:30 a.m. on alternate days, one would hear the “Jacob H. Tremper” coming in Rondout Creek on her way to Albany.  Then the next day, she would blow for Rhinecliff at 2 p.m. and by 2:45 p.m. she would be coming in the creek and blow again for Rondout. |
 
In the evening about 8 p.m. one would hear three long whistles out in the river.  One would be the Saugerties Evening Line steamer “Robert A. Snyder” or “Ida’’ blowing for their landing at Rhinecliff on their sail to New York.
 
Before World War I, the finest sound of all was the mellow whistle of the ‘‘Mary Powell” as she prepared to leave the dock at the foot of Broadway in Rondout at 6 a.m.  Then in the evening would be heard her whistle out in the river on her return from New York, just before she entered the creek.  Also, all during the day at 10 minute intervals, except when stopped by ice, could be heard one short whistle from the ferry ‘‘Transport.”

Editor’s Note: The following text is a verbatim transcription of an article featuring stories by Captain William O. Benson (1911-1986). Beginning in 1971, Benson, a retired tugboat captain, reminisced about his 40 years on the Hudson River in a regular column for the Kingston (NY) Freeman’s Sunday Tempo magazine. Captain Benson's articles were compiled and transcribed by HRMM volunteer Carl Mayer. See more of Captain Benson’s articles here. This article was originally published August 27, 1972..

When I was a boy of nine, my father took me to spend a weekend on the steamboat “Onteora" on which my older brother, Algot, was the mate.  The visit was made during the last weekend of August 1920 and made a tremendous impression on me.  I kept notes on the trip, and made a list of every steamboat I saw.  At that time, the "Onteora" made a round trip daily between 125th Street, New York, and Bear Mountain — and was in her first year of excursion service.  She previously had been a night boat of the Catskill Evening Line. 

We crossed Rondout Creek from Sleightsburgh on the old chain ferry "Riverside," better known as the "Skillypot," which was still in service awaiting the opening of the then new Rondout Creek bridge.  From Rondout we took the open trolley car to Kingston Point where we talked to Phil Maines, the dockmaster, who had formerly been the mate of the “Mary Powell" when my father was her ship's carpenter.  While waiting for the down Day Boat, my father remembered he had left his cigars in Jacobson’s store on the Strand and hurried back on the trolley to get them.  I thought sure we would miss the boat, but he got back just as the “Robert Fulton” was landing. 

As we were passing Esopus Island, I saw the wreck of the steamboat "Point Comfort" on the north end of the island where she had piled up the previous September. 
South of Crum Elbow, we passed the "Hendrick Hudson” of the Day Line on her way to Albany and after leaving Poughkeepsie, down off Camelot, we passed the “Benjamin B. Odell” of the Central Hudson Line going to Poughkeepsie. 

River Activity
Down at Newburgh, I remember seeing the steamboats "William F. Romer” and “M. Martin” in the process of being broken up.  Off West Point, we passed the Cornell tugboat "George W. Washburn” going up with a large tow and the tugs "W. N. Bavier" and "Hercules" helping her.  The ferry "Highlander" was crossing the river to Garrison. 

When we approached Bear Mountain, the steamboats “Mandalay,” "Seagate" and "Sirius" were lying at the pier to be used by the “Robert Fulton.” They all pulled out into the river so the "Fulton" could land.  The other pier at Bear Mountain was also crowded with steamboats and, as a little boy, I could not take my eyes off them.  At the spiles [sic] that had been put in specially for the "Mary Powell” during her last years in service, lay the "Onteora.”  I thought what a wonderful boat she was.  It was the first time I had ever seen her.  At the pier were the steamboats “Grand Republic,” "Trojan," “Highlander,” “Clermont” and "Monmouth.”  There were hundreds of people all around and bands playing on some of the steamers.  It was a sight never to be forgotten. 

Then we went aboard the "Onteora" and met my brother.  The way he looked to me in his uniform, I thought he was greater than the President of the United States!

When we left Bear Mountain that night on the "Onteora" at about 7:30 p.m. all of the other steamboats had already departed.  Later, as we were down off Haverstraw, eating our supper in the dining room, my brother said, "Look out there, Bill."

When I looked out the starboard windows, there was the Day Liner "Albany" passing us, the big walking beam reaching, reaching and reaching, her white paddle wheels splashing the water — a truly wonderful sight to my boyish eyes.  I still can remember Mike Rafferty of Kingston, the mate, standing in the gangway and waving his hand. 

As we were nearing Yonkers, I must have fallen asleep on the leather upholstered locker in the pilot house because the next thing I remember we were tied up at the 125th Street pier.   Ike Schermerhorn, the pilot, let us have his room in the pilot house block on the top deck but I slept hardly a wink all night. The 125th Street ferries running back and forth to Edgewater would blow their whistles as they left their slip right next to our pier and kept me wide awake.

The next morning how good that breakfast tasted to me. My brother let me get down and have my breakfast in the deckhand's mess hall with Henry Emmick and Horace Lehman, two of the deckhands from Kingston. Then he took me across the pier to see three of the Coney Island boats of the Iron Steamboat Company that were tied up there — the “Cepheus,” “Perseus” and “Taurus.”

I can remember the “Washington Irving," the flagship of the Hudson River Day Line, landing at the end of the pier on her way to Albany. Next came the “Trojan” of the Hudson River Night Line landing at 132nd Street on her Sunday trip to Newburgh. Then came my pride and joy, the big "Benjamin B. Odell,” to land at the end of the pier for her Sunday excursion to Highland Falls, Newburgh, Beacon and Poughkeepsie.
​
I could see the lookout come out and hook open the pilot house door, so Captain George Greenwood could stand outside the pilot house to ring bells to the engine room to land her. After she left with a full load of people, in came the "Mandalay” and did the same thing.

Feeling Important
Next, the “Albany" came in on her way to Poughkeepsie.  I can remember I was standing in the "Onteora’s” pilot house, my brother having told me to stay there.  I suppose he was afraid I would get lost among all the people.  I hollered over to Mike Rafferty, the mate, who was standing in the “Albany's” gangway.  When he hollered back,”Hello, William, are you having a good time?” it made me feel very important.  Ike Schermerhorn, the “Onty’s” pilot, said, “How do you know him?" — and I answered, “I go over on her in the winter when she is tied up in Rondout Creek.  My father does the carpenter work on her."

Next came the "Poughkeepsie,” but she did not stop and went right on by.  A few minutes later we were blowing to let go and started for Bear Mountain.  As we were leaving, the “Grand Republic” was coming up the harbor, getting ready to land at 132nd Street on her way to Bear Mountain. 

As we were passing Fort Washington Point, I saw the Cornell tug “Eli B. Conine” coming down light, probably on her way to Edgewater.  Later off Tarrytown we passed the tugboat “J. C. Hartt" with the down tow, the Cornell tugs “J. G. Rose” and “Ellen M. Ronan” helping her.  The “Hartt” blew one long, one short and the “Onteora” answered with one long and two short blasts on her whistle.  The captain of the “Onteora” was Ben Hoff, Jr. and his father, Ben Hoff, Sr., was captain of the “Hartt.”

When we arrived at Bear Mountain, the “Mandalay” was already there as was the “Seagate,” the “Seagate” having an excursion from Poughkeepsie.  That afternoon, my father said, “Well, Bill, I guess it’s about time to go home.” So we boarded the West Shore train at Bear Mountain for the trip to Kingston.  As we passed over the bridge that spans Popolopen Creek, just above Bear Mountain, there was the replica of the “Half Moon” that had been used in the Hudson-Fulton Celebration of 1909, snuggled between the high hills bordering the creek.
​
And, so, a great time for me came to an end, one I shall never forget.  

Editor’s Note: The following text is a verbatim transcription of an article featuring stories by Captain William O. Benson (1911-1986). Beginning in 1971, Benson, a retired tugboat captain, reminisced about his 40 years on the Hudson River in a regular column for the Kingston (NY) Freeman’s Sunday Tempo magazine. Captain Benson's articles were compiled and transcribed by HRMM volunteer Carl Mayer. See more of Captain Benson’s articles here. This article was originally published June 18, 1972.

The Rob's Job
The Barge would be painted at the Cornell shops and at dawn on boat race day, the tug “Rob" would tow the “finish boat" from Rondout to Poughkeepsie and anchor it at the proper place. After the last race, the anchors would be pulled up and the “Rob” would tow the canal boat back to Kingston for other year.

John Lynn of Port Ewen, captain of the "Rob," used to invite friends of his and their families to watch the regatta. These people would go out to Kingston Point and take the down Day Liner to Poughkeepsie.After the Day Liner left, the "Rob" would come chuffing into the finish line where she would stand by the "finish boat." These people probably had the best view of the end of the races of anyone at the regatta.

After the last race, all the boats at the regatta would get underway at once and almost all of them headed for New York. Almost all except the “Rob,” which with the "finish boat" alongside would head for Rondout Creek where she would arrive at about 11 p.m.

Editor’s Note: The following text is a verbatim transcription of an article featuring stories by Captain William O. Benson (1911-1986). Beginning in 1971, Benson, a retired tugboat captain, reminisced about his 40 years on the Hudson River in a regular column for the Kingston (NY) Freeman’s Sunday Tempo magazine. Captain Benson's articles were compiled and transcribed by HRMM volunteer Carl Mayer. See more of Captain Benson’s articles here. This article was originally published April 9, 1972.

​'Splendid Conduct'
Under remarks, the report states, "The Supervising Inspector of the 2nd District considers the conduct of the Captain, officers and crew of this trying occasion, so splendid, that he gives below further details in the hope that these examples may stimulate others to do as well.
 
"The Captain. Charles H. Bruder, being told of the fire, went to the place where it appeared to be and found two streams already playing on the fire — and men cutting a hole in the deck above.

He woke up the first pilot and told him to make a good dock at Dobbs Ferry. He then went back to the fire and had some cargo shifted, so they could cut another hole in the deck above it.
 
"He approved the Engineer's suggestion to get out the gang plank while they could see. He approved the Purser's arrangements for calling the passengers and having them ready to land when he gave the word.
 
Last to Leave
"While the passengers were being landed the Captain was fighting the fire forward. He was the last man to leave the forward end of the boat.
 
"The first pilot, William Van Woert, being called by the Captain, went to the pilot house and headed the steamer, then off the Palisades, for the east shore. He conferred with the second pilot, Mr. Bundy, and decided to make Gould's Dock, because there are no buildings there to which the fire might spread.
​
"The pilots and quartermaster fought the fire for-ward after the steamer was made fast, until they were ordered ashore. They had then to climb down outside and walk ashore on one of the mooring hawsers by the aid of a line thrown to them.
 
"The Chief Engineer, W. R. Fairbrother, when the fire was reported and he was told that the mate had one stream already going, gave additional steam to both pumps, and in five minutes there were three streams. Shortly afterwards there were seven streams at work.
 
Outside Line of Duty
"While he does not mention it, the Captain acted on Mr. Fairbrother's suggestion about the gang plank, and other officers testify to his rendering valuable assistance outside of his regular duty.
 
The Purser, Charles G. Ambler, when notified of the fire, saw that the fire extinguishers were being properly used, and then went about among the passengers quieting them.
 
"When the boat was made fast, he took his passenger list and went to each room telling the passengers to dress and get ready to go ashore with their baggage.
 
"He then reported to the Captain, who told him to wait orders before having the passengers landed. He then made a second round of the rooms.
 
All Passengers Ashore
"When the gang plank was ready, lights were placed all along to the dock, and the Purser and freight clerk, Mr Greenman, assisted the passengers ashore.
 
"Afterwards, Mr. Ambler went all around aft calling "All ashore," got his way bill from his office and, with the steward and three porters who were assisting him, started to go ashore. The smoke was too thick and they got out a small boat and rowed ashore, taking with them a passenger who had not heard the last call.
 
"The testimony of the mate, Mr. Egnor, was not taken, but the Captain says the mate had two streams of water playing on the fire by the time he got there and men cutting a hole in the deck.
 
"All testimony shows that he put his men at work immediately and maintained good discipline. His efficiency is demonstrated by the work done.
 
Copies Were Sent
"A copy of this bulletin will be sent to the Hon. Oscar S. Straus, Secretary of Commerce and Labor, and  to the Supervising Inspector-General, as well as to the Associations of the Masters, Mates and Pilots and Marine Engineers in Albany-and New York."
 
Bulletin No. 56, as the report was titled, was signed by Captain Ira Harris, Supervising Inspector, 2nd District. And so ended the career of the steamboat "City of Troy" on the Hudson River.

“Steamboat racing was once a way of life ... when racing was banned due to accidents friendly ‘goes’ became popular.”
​
Back in the 19th century, steamboat racing was a way of life.  After a number of accidents traced directly to racing as the cause, steamboat racing was prohibited.  This, however, didn’t prevent latter day steamboats from time to time having a friendly "go" if the conditions were right.  One such incident took place in June 1922 between the "DeWitt Clinton” of the Hudson River Day Line and the “Benjamin B. Odell" of the Central Hudson Line. 

The story of the “race” was related by Lester “Happy” Diehl who was then the 1st Assistant Engineer of the "Odell.”  At the time, I was coming across Rondout Creek on the "Skillypot" with my brother Algot who was home for a few days from his job as Chief Mate on the steamer “Onteora."  We had gone to Rondout to get a copy of the old New York World, the newspaper my father always liked to read. 

"Happy" was also a passenger on the "Skillypot" and, on seeing my brother, said "Hey, Algot, you ought to see what we did to the "DeWitt Clinton" coming up on Sunday." As he told the story, I was all ears. 

It had been a beautiful summer’s Sunday.  As boatmen used to say, both boats were crowded to the guards.  The "Odell" was a soft coal burner in those days and the “Clinton" burned hard coal to make her steam.  As the “DeWitt Clinton” was leaving her pier at Yonkers, the “Odell" was just a little ahead.  A south wind was blowing making the flags, while underway, hang limp from the flag poles.  The black smoke from the “Odell” went straight up in the air, as did the blue smoke from the "DeWitt."

The "Clinton" was about one length of open water astern of the "Odell." Sometimes her bow was only fifty feet off the "Odell's" stern.  But try as she would, she couldn’t get out of the "Odell's" back swell.  Up the river they went, both dragging deep in the shallow waters of Tappan Zee and Haverstraw Bay.  The only slow down for each steamer was, when passing a Cornell tow, and in those days there were plenty going up and down. 

At that time the "DeWitt Clinton" in her second year on the river was a very hard boat to keep steam on with hard coal.  On the other hand, the "Odell" was always ready to blow off steam.  Nevertheless, like a dog chasing a cat the two steamboats sped up the Hudson.  Passengers on both steamers got into the spirit of the occasion, cheering their boat on when one or the other would gain slightly.  At times, a slight shift in the wind would cause cinders from one to drop on the other. 

A fellow later told me he had stood on the dock at Haverstraw when they went by.  How the Cornell tugs “Engels” and “H. D. Mould,” that were tied up there over Sunday, rocked and pulled on their lines from the drag of both these big steamers racing up through the bay.  Some of the brick scows that were at the brick yards were only half loaded, otherwise he said they would have swamped. 

When arriving at Bear Mountain, the "DeWitt Clinton" had to temporarily give up as she had the landing to make.  The "Benjamin B. Odell”, however, had a landing to make at Highland Falls.  When the "Odell" was leaving Highland Falls, the “Clinton" was already underway and coming up fast.  By the time the "Odell" was up to speed, she as a scant length in front of her adversary.  Captain Greenwood of the "Odell" gave his engineer of the watch, "Happy" Diehl, the extra hook up signal to get around West Point and Magazine Point ahead of the Day Liner. 

Of course, when they got off the Military Academy both steamers had to slow down to get around West Point.  By pure chance, the pilots of both steamboats blew their whistles at the same instant — the one prolonged blast required by the rules of the road when approaching a sharp bend in the river.  Both boats had beautiful sounding steam whistles.  How that pleasant sound must have pealed up through those old Highlands on that long ago day. 

As the two steamers came up to Little Stony Point north of Cold Spring, there was a Cornell tow on the way down in charge of the tugboat “Edwin H. Mead" with her helper tug the "R. G. Townsend."  When they passed the tow, both steamboats had to go dead slow, it was such a big tow.  The "Odell" passed to the west of the tow and the "Clinton" to the east.  The "Odell" slowed a little more than the "Clinton," so by the time they were clear of the tow the two foes were neck and neck up through Cornwall Bay. 

Both steamboats were scheduled to make landings at Newburgh and off New Windsor both began to slow down.  As they did, both steamers started to blow off steam since the engineers on both the "Clinton" and “Odell” had their steam pressures at the upper limits.  What a racket that must have made over Newburgh Bay and the streets of Newburgh. 
When the “Benjamin B. Odell" landed at Newburgh, Mr. Herbert R. Odell, General Manager of the Central Hudson Line, was on the dock and came aboard.  He asked Captain Greenwood not to do that again.  When he gave his admonition, however, Mr. Odell did so with a smile on his face. 

Years later I was talking to Jim Malia of the Cornell tug "R. G. Townsend" and asked him if he had been on the "Townsend" at that time.  He said he was and remembered the incident well, as the “Clinton” did not slow down enough when passing on the port side in the tow and had done some damage to a canal boat in the tow owned by his uncle.  Some chocks had been pulled out and other minor damage.  

Actually the “race" between the "DeWitt Clinton" and the “Benjamin B. Odell” from Yonkers to Newburgh had been pretty much of a draw, a brush between two evenly matched steamboats.  The following winter, allegedly because of her reputation as a hard steamer, the "DeWitt Clinton" was converted from coal firing to oil burning, the first Day Liner to be so converted.  After that, the single screw “Odell" with her 2,500 h.p. engine was no longer a match for the "Clinton" with her twin screws and 4,000 h.p.  

As the 19th century gave way to the 20th century, the Cornell Steamboat Company of Rondout was the largest and most progressive marine towing organization in the country.  In 1902 they had built what was to be their largest and most powerful tugboat.  When completed, it appropriately bore the name “Cornell.”

By whatever standard of measurement, the “Cornell” was a most impressive tugboat.  At a few inches less than 150 feet in length, she was 25 feet longer than any of Cornell’s other big tugboats.  Her 1,400 h.p. engine exceeded by over 500 the horsepower of other units of the fleet. 

Boatmen used to refer to her as the "Big Cornell" and her two big boilers had a ravenous appetite for coal to make enough steam for her powerful engine.  As a result, she had the reputation of being a very hard boat to fire.  Many boatmen from Hudson River towns one would talk to in the early 1920’s would almost always say how at one time or another they had fired on the “Big Cornell.”  Some would stay only a few hours, some a few days and rarely would she end the season with a fireman who had started out on her in the spring. 

On Lower River
Because of her size and deep draft, she was used almost exclusively on the lower river.  During her service on the Hudson, the channel north of Athens had not been dredged for deep draft vessels like it is today.  During her career, the “Cornell” made only one trip to Albany and this trip was her most notable exploit while carrying the colors of the Cornell Steamboat Company.  It took place in early March, 1910. 

The winter of 1910 had been an old fashioned winter with plenty of ice in the river.  During late February and early March the weather turned unseasonably warm, causing high water at Albany as the result of the melting of the winter’s snow and ice in the Mohawk River.  A huge ice jam formed in the river below Albany which caused the water to back up and flood the waterfront areas of Albany and Rensselaer.  Fears were also expressed that the ice crowding the Albany railroad bridges might move them off their abutments. 

In order to relieve the ice and flood crisis at Albany, the federal government was asked to take action.  The government's plan was to use dynamite on the ice jam to break it up and to charter the most powerful vessel they could find to go up river to break up the river ice so the broken ice could move down river.  The “Big Cornell” was chosen for the job. 
​
The “Cornell" left Rondout Creek on March 3, 1910 with the tug “Rob" to follow and assist in any way possible.  I have been told the whole operation was in charge of Captain Ulster Davis, Cornell’s agent at Rensselaer, and the regular crew of the “Cornell” whose captain was Tim Donovan and pilot Irving Hayes.  Although the upper Hudson was at flood stage, the “Cornell” carried minimum amounts of coal and water in order to keep her draft at a minimum so she would have clearance over the shallow spots north of Athens.  

Very Heavy Ice
The “Cornell” encountered very heavy ice from Kingston to Athens, sometimes as much as two feet in thickness. 

The ice was so heavy, the “Cornell’s” steel hull plating was scalloped inward between her frames at the water line forward caused by her smash into the rock-like ice. 
At Athens, the "Cornell” went up the wider Athens channel rather than the deeper Hudson channel along the east shore, since men going ahead on foot had determined the ice in the west channel wasn’t quite as thick.  She passed Athens through 15 inches of ice on March 5.  All along the river, men and boys would come out on the ice to watch the “Cornell” go by. 

The “Cornell” arrived at Rensselaer on March 6, the river opened and the ice jam broken.  Once the ice jam was broken, I have been told one could literally see the water begin to drop at Albany.  Although the crisis to Albany was over, a new problem arose for the “Cornell.”  The Company was afraid the water might drop so fast, they would not be able to get their big tug back down river in time to clear the up river sand bars and ledges. 

An Early Start
The “Cornell” took on coal, fresh water and grub at Rensselaer as fast as she could.  Due to the strong current in the river, when they started to turn the "Cornell” around for her return trip, the tug “Rob” had to push wide open against her stern in order to get the “Cornell” headed down stream.  At first, they were going to wait for daylight all the way, but because of the falling water decided to start down as soon as possible.

When they started back for Rondout, I have been told it was a clear, cold March night.  The water in the river was running down stream so fast, they ran the “Cornell's” engine dead slow — just enough to keep steerage way.  They were reluctant to run her any faster as they did not want to scrape or hit bottom and possibly smash her rudder shoe or break her propeller. 

They had had such good luck so far, they didn't want to tempt fate any more than necessary. 

Everything went fine until the two tugs came to Dover Platte Island off Coxsackie.  Captain Donovan of the ‘'Cornell’’ knew there had always been a sand bar there and figured the freshet in all probability might have built up the bar higher than usual.  When they reached that point, they stopped the “Cornell's” engine and just let her drift.  Sure enough she fetched up on the bar, stopped and rolled over very slightly to port.  To be sure there was only sand, they sounded all around with pike poles.
 
Over the Bar
Once they were certain there were no rocks on the bottom, they decided to have the “Rob” go up ahead and put a hawser on the “Cornell's” bow — and then to open up both tugs full throttle and to try and “bull” the ‘‘Cornell’’ over the bar.  When all was in readiness, the “Cornell” gave the signal for full speed ahead and for the “Rob” to start pulling.  I can readily imagine on that cold March night the load “chow chow” of the “Rob's” high pressure engine. 

They tell me when the “Cornell’’ hooked up, she lay down on her port side, her propeller part out of the water for a few moments.  Some of her crew thought her towering smoke stacks would topple over, the starboard guy lines being incredibly taut and the port ones having about two feet of slack.  However, in but a few minutes the ‘‘Cornell’’ had inched her way over the bar. 

Once she cleared the sand bar, though, the ‘‘Cornell’’ leaped ahead so fast before they could stop her engine she almost ran over the “Rob’’ pulling on her bow. 
​
Quick action by a deckhand on the “Rob” saved the day.  By wielding a fast, sharp axe he cut the connecting hawser.  From that point back to Rondout Creek they encountered no more difficulties.  From Athens south, the river ice still held, but by following the channel they had previously made going northward the going was relatively easy.  

Renamed Her
The difficulty in keeping firemen on the “Cornell” continued to plague her and led to the end of her career on the Hudson River.  Shortly before World War I she was sold to the Standard Oil Company of Louisiana.  Her new owners renamed her “Istrouma,” converted her to an oil burner, and operated her on the Mississippi River out of Baton Rouge where she remained in service until the late 1940's. 

I have been told the Cornell Steamboat Company always maintained it was not feasible to convert the “Cornell” to an oil burner, since it wouldn't be possible to install sufficient oil storage capacity aboard her.  It is my understanding before purchasing her, the Standard Oil people, unknown to Cornell, sent some men to Cornell who hired out on her as firemen.  The masquerading firemen thoroughly examined the “Cornell” and apparently concluded she could successfully be converted to oil firing.  In any event, she was — and remained in service for another 30 years. 

Many years later, during World War II, my friend Roger Mabie was the commanding officer of a submarine chaser in the U.S. Navy.  One day his ship was in a shipyard at Algiers, Louisiana, across the river from New Orleans.  There, in an adjacent dry dock was the “Istrouma,” the old “Cornell.”  He went aboard. 

Her shell plating forward was still scalloped between frames from her bout with Hudson River ice in 1910.  Her brass capstan caps were still inscribed “Cornell.”  In her engine room, her steam and vacuum gauge faces still were etched ‘‘Cornell,” Cornell Steamboat Company, Rondout, N.Y. 
​
A few days later, Roger told me his ship was leaving New Orleans to go back to sea.  Out in the river, the old ‘‘Cornell” was going upstream.  He blew her a whistle salute, which the former “Cornell” answered with her old deep steam whistle.  I thought it was a nice gesture, both a greeting to an old work horse from the Hudson River and a sort of salute to the maritime greatness that was once Rondout’s.

The tug/fireboat "Istrouma" was scrapped in 1949. If you've seen a large red tugboat named "Cornell" on the Hudson River or New York Harbor, it's not the same as this "Cornell," but nearly as big! She was built the same year the "Istrouma" was scrapped. Learn more.

​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!​