History Blog
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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 May 6, 1973. For many decades in years past, one of the true harbingers of spring locally was the annual run of shad in the Hudson River. The shad fishermen would lay their nets and, to many residents, the first shad was a happy event. Generally, the relations between boatmen and the shad fishermen were amicable. The shad nets wound frequently drift across the channel and the boatmen would do their best to avoid them. On occasion, however, due to conditions of tide and wind - the boatmen would have no recourse but to run over the nets. Then, the relationship would be somewhat strained. At times the results were not without a touch of humor and, at other times, a bit bizarre. One time back in the, 1920's the tug "Victoria" of the Cornell Steamboat Company was going down river with several loaded scows for New York. She was bucking a flood tide off Highland and shaping the tow up for the cantilever span of the railroad bridge. The pilot on watch was getting close to the [b]ridge when he noticed he was going to run over a shad net. On looking over to the Highland side of the river, he saw a row boat coming out with an outboard motor and two men in it. Obviously they were the shad fishermen. He quickly blew one short blast on the whistle for the deckhand to come to the pilot house. When the deckhand came up, the pilot said, "Here, watch her, I’ve got to go below for a minute." Going down to the main deck, he went to the galley and put on the cook’s apron and hat and stood in the galley door as the shad fishermen came alongside. When they were within shouting distance, one of the fishermen hollered over, "What the devil are you running over my nets for?” and added a few more choice words of admonition. Of course, the deckhand in the pilot house didn’t know what to say since he was a new man and green at the game. The pilot, dressed like the cook, stood in the galley and laughed at the poor deckhand taking the bawling out. Then, to add insult to injury, he looked at [t]he fishermen, shaking his head and pointing up at the pilot house — as if he was in sympathy with the fishermen and perhaps not thinking much of the “pilot” steering the tugboat. On another occasion shortly after World War I, the steamboat "Trojan" of the Albany Night Line was on her way down river and, when off Glasco at about 11 p.m., ran over some fisherman's shad net. The fisherman yelled up to the pilot house of the passing steamer from his rowboat, "The next time you do that, I'll shoot you." About a week later as the "Trojan” was coming down past Crugers Island, a shad net was again stretched across the channel. Due to the nature of the channel at that point and the way the tide was running, the pilot bad no alternative but to run over the net. All of a sudden, [a] fellow in the rowboat stood up and fired a shot in the direction of the "Trojan." Fortunately, the shot missed the pilot house, but did hit the forward smokestack, putting a small hole in it. The later incident was related to me by the late Dick Howard Jr. of Rensselaer who was quartermaster on the “Trojan” at the time. Actually a sidewheeler, like the "Trojan,” would do little damage to a shad net by running over it. Despite their size, the side-wheelers were of exceptionally shallow draft and almost always would pass right over the net itself suspended beneath the surface. The only damage would be to have a couple of the net's surface floats clipped off by the turning paddle wheels. A propeller driven vessel, on the other hand, with its deeper draft, could do considerable damage to a shad net by snagging it and chewing up part of it by the revolving screw propeller. Most boatmen though, whenever possible, when passing over a shad net - would stop their boat’s engine and drift over it so as to avoid damaging the net. AuthorCaptain William Odell Benson was a life-long resident of Sleightsburgh, N.Y., where he was born on March 17, 1911, the son of the late Albert and Ida Olson Benson. He served as captain of Callanan Company tugs including Peter Callanan, and Callanan No. 1 and was an early member of the Hudson River Maritime Museum. He retained, and shared, lifelong memories of incidents and anecdotes along the Hudson River. If you enjoyed this post and would like to support more history blog content, please make a donation to the Hudson River Maritime Museum or become a member today!
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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 March 19, 1973. To a boatman, particularly a steamboatman, there was always something special about getting ready to go into commission in the spring of each year. In the days of long ago, all steamboats and most tugboats would be layed up for the winter season as the river froze over in December. In spring, when the days got longer and the ice broke up, the boats would get ready to go back into operation. Then, it was a new season — you knew spring had really arrived. On a tugboat, the crew would report aboard in the early morning. All the new lines, supplies for the galley, mattresses, blankets and sheets and other supplies for the new season were brought aboard. The cook would be rushing around getting the galley ready and cooking the first meal, which usually had to be prepared quickly. Generally, he would go over to Planthaber’s on the Strand in Rondout and order his supplies for the first few days. When these came down to the dock, they always looked as if they would last a month. Coaling Up Then the tug would go down to the coal pocket and coal up. The smell of dryed [sic] new paint in the fireroom and on top of the boilers, the soft hiss of the steam, and the pleasant aroma of the soft coal smoke made one so hungry, he could eat almost anything that was put before him. Outside, the freshly painted cabins and coamings, the big shiny black smokestack with its yellow base, the glistening nameboards, and the new pennant on the jackstaff gently waving in the clean spring air suddenly made everything right with the world. Then when the tug started away from the dock for the first time, to feel and hear her softly throbbing engine, and the gentle wake of the water around her bow and stern were all sounds a boatman never forgets. Down off Port Ewen, the tug would generally blow a series of salutes on the whistle. It seemed there was always someone in the crew from Port Ewen. Often you could see someone on shore or from the upper window of a house waving back with a towel or maybe even a bed sheet. How clear and pleasant the whistle would sound in the early spring evening. It was great to be back in commission! That First Meal And the first big meal— generally steak. The table would be set with a fresh red and white checked table cloth and the cook would be wearing a big white apron—probably the cleanest it would be all year! The meal never tasted better. And then to go to sleep on the first night in a comfortable bunk with nice, clean fresh sheets and blankets in a newly painted cabin was indeed pleasant. Of course, after a hard day of getting lines and equipment all aboard, I am sure one could have slept soundly on a bed of hard rock! It was much the same on the steamboats. All the clean white paint, the fire and boat drills, old friendships renewed among returning crew members, the freshness of it all. Somehow on that first day she went into commission — for that one day at least — if you were a deckhand you would completely forget all the white paint you would have to scrub, all the brass you would have to polish, all the decks you would have to wash down, all the lines at all the landings you would have to handle, and the thousands of deck chairs you would have to fold up and stow before the new season would come to its end in the fall. AuthorCaptain William Odell Benson was a life-long resident of Sleightsburgh, N.Y., where he was born on March 17, 1911, the son of the late Albert and Ida Olson Benson. He served as captain of Callanan Company tugs including Peter Callanan, and Callanan No. 1 and was an early member of the Hudson River Maritime Museum. He retained, and shared, lifelong memories of incidents and anecdotes along the Hudson River. If you enjoyed this post and would like to support more history blog content, please make a donation to the Hudson River Maritime Museum or become a member today!
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AuthorThis blog is written by Hudson River Maritime Museum staff, volunteers and guest contributors. Archives
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