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In the mid-1800s, the Hudson River was a busy waterway between the fast-growing New York metropolitan area and the cities, crop lands, timber, and mining regions of the West and North. The Delaware and Hudson Canal linked the Pennsylvania coal fields to the Hudson River at its harbor town of Rondout, about one hundred miles north of New York city. In the 1830s, Thomas Cornell came with a sailing sloop to Rondout to ship coal from the D&H Canal. A native of White Plains, N.Y., Cornell was just twenty-two years old. Until then, sailboats had done the work of carrying freight and passengers, but Cornell saw that steam-powered vessels were the future. In a few years, he became the owner and operator of steamboats running between Rondout and New York. Cornell settled in Rondout, where he established the Cornell Steamboat Company. In those booming years of growth and construction, there was plenty of business for steamboats plying the Hudson. New York City’s thriving metropolitan area needed coal from the D&H Canal, ice that was harvested in winter from the frozen river, building material produced in the mid-Hudson valley brick, lumber, stone, and cement- and agricultural products grain, livestock, dairy, fruit, and hay- which came from near and far. Rondout Creek offered the best deep-water port in the Hudson Valley and thus became the center of maritime activity between New York and Albany. The Cornell Steamboat Company made its headquarters in Rondout village, where many boats were berthed and repaired, and some were built. Between 1830 and 1900, few harbors of comparable size anywhere in America were as busy as Rondout Creek. By the mid-1800s, the Hudson River had many sidewheel steamboats passing north and south, one grander than the other. They carried both freight and passengers, and speed was of the essence- both for bragging rights and because passengers favored the fastest boats. In the 1860s, Thomas Cornell acquired Mary Powell, the Hudson River’s fastest and most beautiful passenger boat. In this time, Cornell built a magnificent sidewheeler to ply the route from Rondout to New York. She was named in his honor- Thomas Cornell- and was one of the finest vessels operating on the Hudson. Steamboats not able to compete in speed or luxury were often turned into towboats, hauling loaded barges that were lashed together to be towed up or down the river. Cornell began to develop a fleet of towboats, which in time would be replaced by tugboats, designed and built especially for towing on the river. After the Civil War, Cornell was joined in the business by Samuel D. Coykendall, who became his son-in-law as well as a partner in the firm. The combination of Thomas Cornell and S.D. Coykendall soon would create the most powerful towing operation on the Hudson River. At its peak in the late 1800s, the Cornell Steamboat Company ran more than sixty towing vessels and was the largest maritime organization of its kind in the nation. Early in 1890, Thomas Cornell died at home at the age of 77. In son-in-law S.D. Coykendall, Cornell had a worthy successor. During a career of more than fifty years, Thomas Cornell built a mighty business empire and became a leading figure in New York and the nation. In addition to running the Cornell Steamboat Company and the Kingston-Rhinecliff ferry, he built and operated railroads on both sides of the Hudson, helped establish two banks, was a principal in a large Catskill Mountain hotel, and served two terms in Congress. By 1900, the Cornell Steamboat Company had given up the passenger business and turned completely to towing. There were more than sixty steam-powered towing vessels and tugboats in the Cornell fleet. Their boilers were fired by burning coal. Cornell vessels were well-known on the river, with their familiar black and yellow smokestacks clearly recognizable from the northern canals to New York harbor. As the years passed, S.D. Coykendall gave his six sons positions of authority and management in the Cornell business empire. “S.D.,” as he was known, was the leading citizen of Ulster County, heading up banks, developing railroads, operating a hotel and a ferryboat line, and building and operating trolley lines and an amusement park. He invested in many enterprises, including cement works, the ice industry, brickyards, and quarrying operations. The diverse Cornell-Coykendall business empire faced rapid changes, including the coming of the automobile and the increased use of oil instead of coal as fuel. Further, new construction methods in the cities no longer required the bricks, stone, and cement of the Hudson River valley. So, there was less cargo on the river, and less work for Cornell tugboats. In January 1913, S.D. Coykendall died suddenly at his home in Kingston at the age of seventy-six. Frederick Coykendall, who was forty years of age, succeeded his father as president of the Cornell Steamboat Company. Frederick lived in New York and was active in alumni and trustee affairs at Columbia University. He would become chairman of the university’s board of trustees and president of the university press. Frederick Coykendall and the Cornell Steamboat Company faced adverse economic conditions that in many ways were beyond their control. Around 1930, the Hudson River was deepened to allow ocean-going ships to reach Albany and this ended the towing of grain barges. Railroads and trucks could transport most cargoes faster and more effectively than shipping them by boat. Also, electric refrigeration ended the demand for natural ice, once a major commodity towed by Cornell- as had been the Hudson Valley brick, cement, and bluestone no longer used in construction. Assisting Frederick Coykendall was company vice president C.W. “Bill” Spangenberger, who had been through the ranks since joining Cornell in 1933. When Frederick passed away in 1954, Spangenberger became president. Although company executives worked hard and with considerable success to rebuild Cornell, they were forced to sell out in 1958 when their largest customer, New York Trap Rock Corporation -a producer of crushed stone — offered to buy the company. Trap Rock retained Spanberger as president of Cornell. In 1960, the Cornell Steamboat Company built Rockland County, an innovative, push-type towboat—the first of its kind in permanent service on the Hudson River. With Rockland County, a new age of towing began on the Hudson, but there would be no future for Cornell. Trap Rock was soon acquired by a larger corporation, and the towing company was no longer needed. In 1964, the Cornell Steamboat Company finally closed its doors, after making Hudson River maritime history for an unprecedented one hundred and thirty-seven years. AuthorThis article was originally published in the 2001 Pilot Log. Thank you to Hudson River Maritime Museum volunteer Adam Kaplan for transcribing the article. 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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The Hudson River was used as a road for hundreds of years for transport of people and goods before there were paved roads or railroads. The major form of transport on the river from the early 1600s to the early 19th century was the Hudson River sloop, an adaptation of a Dutch single-masted boat which was brought here by the Dutch settlers who were the dominant group among the early European settlers in the Hudson Valley. Everything and everybody traveled by Hudson River sloop, but they didn’t travel fast. In those pre-engine days, it could take a week to sail between New York and Albany. According to ads of the times, the sloops operated on a two-week schedule (one week down and one week back), to allow for the vagaries of the wind and the time it took to fill the boat at various landings and towns. For passengers in a hurry, or perishable freight, such a schedule could be a problem. After 1807, with the advent of the steamboat, life for passengers on the Hudson in a hurry became much better. From a one week trip between New York and Albany, the time was reduced to slightly more than one day, and then became even faster as better and better steamboats and engines were built. However, freight continued to travel by slower sailing vessels because it was much cheaper to ship cargo that way. As more and more steamboats came onto the river and competition made shipping on these boats cheaper, perishable freight like fruit, vegetables and milk traveled by steamboat. Less perishable bulk cargoes traveled in barges pulled by steamboats especially built for towing. Even so, sailing vessels, sloops and schooners still carried bulky heavy cargoes like bluestone and cement until the end of the 19th century. The schooners included a steady traffic of coastal schooners from New England which would bring lumber to the Hudson Valley and return home with cargoes like coal, bricks, bluestone and cement. Ironically, though, the coastal schooners usually did not sail up the Hudson but were towed in convoys by steam towboats or tugs. The smaller Hudson River sloops and schooners, whose scale was more in keeping with the narrow reaches of the Hudson, could sail up the river. By the mid-19th century the railroad began to come on the scene in the Hudson Valley to compete with boats. The railroad had the advantage of being able to run in the winter when the river was frozen and closed for boat traffic, so it steadily gained favor with shippers. However, the river retained a large amount of freight traffic because it was still a cheap way to ship things. Towing was a big business on the Hudson River during most of the 19th century into the early 20th century. The towing steamers were first outmoded passenger steamers with cabins and extra decks removed. Then steamers especially made for towing were built, like the famous Norwich, the Oswego, the Austin and others which still resembled stripped down passenger steamboats with the usual side paddlewheels. However, around the time of the Civil War a new type of towboat with a screw propeller appeared on the scene. This was the tugboat which we are still familiar with today, a small but powerful vessel, whose attractive shape is easily recognizable and used in many work situations worldwide. Towboats and tugs pulled long strings of barges, often as many as forty, carrying many types of cargoes slowly up and down the Hudson day and night from the late 19th into the early 20th centuries. Usually a second helper tug was employed to take barges on and off the tow as it moved along, helping with the towing also as needed. Often the individual barges had captains who lived in tiny houses onboard their boats, sometimes with their families accompanying them. It was not unusual to see laundry hung out on the backs of the barges or dogs and children playing on deck. Small children were usually tethered with some sort of rope to keep them from falling overboard. Small supply boats called bumboats came alongside the tows as they moved slowly along to sell groceries and other necessities to the barge families. Rondout was the home of the Cornell Steamboat Company, which was the dominant towing company on the Hudson from the 1880s through the 1930s, with a fleet of up to 60 tugs and towboats of all sizes. Rondout was also the home of a number of boat builders who built hundreds of barges and canal boats over the years to carry many different types of cargoes on the Hudson and on the canals like the Delaware and Hudson which fed into the Hudson. Most of the towns along the Hudson had boat-building operations in the early days of the sloops, but by the late 19th century boatbuilding was concentrated in fewer places, like Newburgh and Rondout. What were the cargoes carried on the Hudson River by boat? Farm products and wood dominated the trade from the 17th into the 19th centuries. Industrial products, particularly building products like cement, bluestone and bricks produced in the Hudson Valley in the 19th and early 20th centuries, were the major cargoes traveling on the river to New York City to build the city. Coal was also a major cargo, coming to the Hudson on the Delaware and Hudson Canal in the 19th century, and later by rail from eastern Pennsylvania. Ice cut in the Hudson and lakes along the river was also another major cargo from the mid-19th century into the 1920s transported in fleets of covered barges. Grain from the west was carried on the Hudson, and fruit produced in the mid and upper Hudson regions was transported in huge quantities by steamer through the 1930s. In the 20th century, self-propelled freighters served to carry cargoes not handled by towboats and barges. Sometimes these were cargoes that traveled to or from distant ports, sometimes across the ocean or halfway around the world. Some cargoes that had previously come by coastal schooner, like lumber, now arrived by freighter. Liquid cargoes arrived by tanker including oil and molasses. Fuel oil is today the dominant cargo on the Hudson and it travels by barge and by tanker. The molasses which used to go to Albany by tanker was used as a component in cattle feed. Gypsum remains a cargo carried by freighter on the Hudson. Of the old cargoes carried on the Hudson, few remain today. Only cement and crushed rock or traprock remain of the old building materials excavated and produced along the banks of the Hudson and carried by barge. Most cargo moving along the Hudson today goes by rail or road. Where water was once the cheapest way to ship along the Hudson, it is no longer necessarily true. The industries that shipped by water are gone for the most part. Also much of the bulk cargo that once traveled to Albany from all over the world like bananas or foreign cars now go elsewhere. Those colorful days are gone and are missed by those who remember them. AuthorThis article was written by Allynne Lange and originally published in the 1999 Pilot Log. Thank you to Hudson River Maritime Museum volunteer Adam Kaplan for transcribing the article. If you enjoyed this post and would like to support more history blog content, please make a donation to the Hudson River Maritime Museum or become a member today!
Editor's Note: The following text is a verbatim transcription of an article written by George W. Murdock, for the Kingston (NY) Daily Freeman newspaper in the 1930s. Murdock, a veteran marine engineer, wrote a regular column. Articles transcribed by HRMM volunteer Adam Kaplan. For more of Murdock's articles, see the "Steamboat Biographies" category Most of the steamboats built during the period before the Civil War were originally passenger vessels, and it was only in the later years of their service that they were rebuilt for towing purposes. Not so with the steamboat “Pittston”- she was one of the few sidewheel vessels built purposely for towing on the Hudson river, and she was in use for 57 years, hauling heavily laden barges on the river. The wooden hull of the “Pittston” was built at New York in 1852. She was 108 feet long, breadth of beam 20 feet, depth of hold six feet, and her gross tonnage was rated at 74 with net tonnage at 58. The Allaire Iron Works of New York built her vertical beam engine which had a cylinder diameter of 32 inches with an eight foot stroke. The “Pittston” was constructed for the Pennsylvania Coal Company and was considered one of the finest vessels of her type to appear on the Hudson river. During this period the offices and yards of the Pennsylvania Coal Company were located at Port Ewen and the towboat “Pittston” was placed in service towing canal boats off the Delaware and Hudson Canal from Eddyville to Port Ewen. She was under the command of Captain Thomas Murry with James Mollin as chief engineer, and she continued on this route for a period of 13 years. In 1865 the Pennsylvania Coal Company moved its headquarters to Newburgh and the towboat “Pittston” was purchased by Thomas Cornell of Rondout. For the following five years the “Pittston” towed out of Rondout along the river to various ports, and in 1871 she was placed in regular service between Rondout and the city of Hudson. A year later, 1872, found the “Pittston” in service on the route between Rondout and Newburgh, towing in line with the towboats “Frank Carter,” “Ceres” and later the “Isaac M. North” of the Cornell Line. The crew of the “Pittston” during the years of the Newburgh run are listed as captain, William Roberts; pilots, Wash Saulpaugh and Joel Rightmyer; chief engineer, James Purdy. In the year 1875 the “Pittston” was withdrawn from the Newburgh route and placed in service between Rondout and Eddyville on the Rondout creek, taking the place of the steamboat “Maurice Wurtz” which had been towing on this route since 1857. The “Pittston” was used for towing the canal barges of the Delaware and Hudson Coal Company from tidewater at Eddyville to Rondout and she was under the command of Captain George E. Dubois, with Alonzo Woolsey as chief engineer. The “grand old days of the Delaware and Hudson Canal” came to a close in 1898 when the canal was abandoned, and the towboat Pittston” was then used around the Rondout harbor and as a helper for tows on the river. In September 1909 the “Pittston” was found to be in an advanced state of wear, and she was sold and broken up after 57 years of continuous service as a towboat. AuthorGeorge W. Murdock, (b. 1853-d. 1940) was a veteran marine engineer who served on the steamboats "Utica", "Sunnyside", "City of Troy", and "Mary Powell". He also helped dismantle engines in scrapped steamboats in the winter months and later in his career worked as an engineer at the brickyards in Port Ewen. In 1883 he moved to Brooklyn, NY and operated several private yachts. He ended his career working in power houses in the outer boroughs of New York City. His mother Catherine Murdock was the keeper of the Rondout Lighthouse for 50 years. The Pittston is one of many wrecked and abandoned boats in and around the Rondout Creek. To learn more about shipwrecks and other vessels, take one of our new Shipwreck Tours aboard our 100% solar-powered tour boat Solaris! If you enjoyed this post and would like to support more history blog content, please make a donation to the Hudson River Maritime Museum or become a member today!
Editor’s Note: 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!
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 17, 1975. On a tugboat, the one member of the crew that seems to have more than its share of "characters" is the cook. Cooks come in all shapes, sizes and degrees of ability. When they are good, they’re worth their weight in gold. When they are not, about the only thing you can say is they cook food. One time when I was pilot of the tugboat Lion of the Cornell Steamboat Company, we had a cook who was what is known among boatmen as a “sea lawyer.’’ He was the world’s greatest expert on any subject. He was forever holding forth on one topic or another and always in an exceptionally loud voice. My room on the Lion at that time was just ahead of the galley with a very thin partition between. If anyone spoke in a loud voice in the galley it would seem it was right in the same room with you. One morning the cook was arguing with someone about something and, as usual, at the top of his voice. It was about 8 a.m. and I had been in my bunk for less than an hour, as I had been up from midnight until 6 a.m. steering my watch. I told him to pipe down. But the next morning it was the same thing. This time I didn’t say anything, but thought there must be some way to muffle this man’s voice. A morning or two later we had a tow on the upper river and about 2 a.m. I blew to the deckhand to come up in the pilot house to steer while I had a cup of coffee. After I had the coffee, I went to the cook’s room and, disguising my voice, called him. The cook in a sleepy voice said, “O.K. O.K.” Apparently, as I thought would be the case, he never bothered to look at the clock. I went back up to the pilot house and kept the deckhand engaged in conversation there. About 45 minutes later, the deckhand said, "I smell bacon frying." I said, “So do I." When the deckhand went into the galley, there was the cook making oatmeal, french toast, coffee and frying bacon. The deckhand said, ‘‘What in the devil are you doing up? Its only 3 a.m." The cook replied, “You called me didn’t you?” Then, for the first time looking at the clock, he said, "I know, that so and so Benson did that because I woke him up the past couple of mornings.” After that, if anyone talked loud in the galley, the cook would practically whisper, “Talk low. Benson will blame me for waking him up and then he’ll get me up about 2 or 3 a.m. again.” At least, for several weeks afterward, I was able to get my sleep undisturbed. In all honesty, I have to also admit that the pleasant aroma of frying bacon and brewing coffee wafting up through the open windows of the pilot house in the stillness of the early morning wasn’t bad either. 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!
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 December 16, 1973. In today’s jet age of airplane travel, and human nature being what it is, some people seem to take a perverse delight in recounting incidents where their flight — because of adverse weather conditions — was diverted to an airport other than that of their original destination, or now of delays encountered because of the energy crisis. In the simpler age of steamboat travel, there were also on occasion unforeseen delays. In that long ago era before the advent of the automobile and the airplane, virtually every trip of more than a few miles was made either by railroad or, if the destination was adjacent to navigable water, by steamboat. Travel by steamboat was generally leisurely and delightful. However, you always didn’t get to where you were going when you expected to. One such incident was related to me years ago by Captain Ed Van Woert of the Cornell tugboat “G. C. Adams.” In December 1913, Captain Van Woert had to go to New York to testify in a lawsuit being held there pertaining to damage to a schooner that occurred while being landed at Hudson some months before. He thought he would take his wife along for the trip. On this particular day, Captain Ed left the ‘‘Adams” at Athens and went home to get ready. That evening, he and his wife boarded the steamer “Onteora” of the Catskill Evening Line at Athens, expecting to be in New York the following morning. After going aboard the “Onteora” and getting their stateroom, they had a leisurely supper in the steamer’s dining room. After eating, Captain Ed said to his wife, “I guess I'll go up in the pilot house awhile and talk to my friend the pilot.”’ At this point, the “Onty” was approaching the landing at Cheviot and a snow storm had set in. On leaving Cheviot, the "Onteora" headed for County Island to get over in the main channel. The snow storm had increased in intensity and visibility had decreased almost to zero. The pilot held her on the west course a little bit too long and she went hard aground just north of County Island, with her bow in about five feet of water and her stern in deep water. They backed and backed, but she wouldn’t come off. The tide was falling and at daybreak the next morning the "Onteora" was still hard aground. Captain Van Woert and his wife got off in a small boat and after being rowed to shore, walked through two feet of snow to the nearest railroad station to catch a train for New York. The “Onteora” got herself off on the next high tide and was back on her run — although nearly 12 hours late — none the worse for her mishap. Another incident that took place about the same period, although this time during the summer, was related to me by my old friend George W. Murdock, an old time Hudson River steamboat engineer who died at his home in Ponckhockie in 1940, well into his eighties. On a Saturday summer’s afternoon, Mr. Murdock boarded the “William F. Romer” at her New York pier for the run to Kingston. At that time, the “Romer" of the New York to Rondout night line regularly would leave New York on Saturday in the early afternoon and arrive at Rondout in the early evening. Mr. Murdock’s brother-in-law, Joel Rightmyer of Ponckhockie, was the “Romer's" pilot. On this particular trip, the “Romer” was bucking a strong ebb tide from the time she left her New York pier. The wind, like it so often does during the summer, was blowing straight up river out of the south. Worse yet, what breeze there was was blowing at about the same velocity as the “Romer’s" speed through the water, so that while underway the “Romer’s” flags hung limp on their poles. Underway, it was hot, humid, virtually airless and, because of the strong ebb tide, the steamer was running later and later with each passing hour. Past the Palisades and up through Tappan Zee and Haverstraw Bay, the “Romer” plodded her way up river. It wasn’t much of a day for steamboating. Finally, the "Romer" reached the Hudson Highlands and as she approached the landing at West Point, Mr. Murdock noticed a West Shore passenger train chuffing away from Highland Falls. He decided to leave the steamer and catch the train for the rest of his trip to Rondout, As he was leaving the steamboat, Mr. Murdock said to his brother-in-law, “Joel, I don’t think you'll get to Kingston by nightfall." Replied Pilot Rightmyer, “Well, George, if we don’t get there today, we’ll get there tomorrow.” Mr. Murdock boarded the train at West Point, thinking he’d get home well ahead of the steamer. However, as luck would have it, there was a freight train stuck on the West Park hill where the tracks make their incline from the river and head inland. His train, on the same track as the freight, stood on the tracks for what seemed like an eternity in the hot summer air. Finally another locomotive was sent down from Kingston and got the freight train ahead moving. Eventually, Mr. Murdock got to Kingston and took the trolley car for Rondout. As he was walking up Abruyn Street to his home in Ponckhockie, he glanced over his shoulder — just in time to see the top deck of the “William F. Romer” gliding past on her way in Rondout Creek to her berth on Ferry Street! During the 1950’s the Cunard Line had a great slogan — “Getting there is half the fun.” Generally it was. Sometimes, though, as it is in all forms of travel, the fraction was wrong. 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!
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 12, 1972. Once upon a time in the early 1900’s, a young boy about 16 years of age from up Athens way came down to Rondout to seek a job as a deckhand on one of the tugboats of the Cornell Steamboat Company. He went to the Cornell office at 22 Ferry Street and spoke to Isaac M. North, who was then the company’s agent in charge of all tugs. North gave him a job as a deckhand on the big tugboat “John H. Cordts.” After the new deckhand had been on the “Cordts” for about four or five days, the tow on which he was working was coming down the river past the lower Port Ewen ice house. Just north of this ice house was a small cluster of three homes. The deckhand was standing by the engine room talking to one of the old firemen. He said, “What do they call that over there?,” pointing at the houses. The fireman replied very seriously, “Why, they call that Grubville.” They Passed It Again A few days later, the deckhand was up in the pilot house talking to the captain, when the tow went by the same spot again. So he asked the captain, “Why do they call that place over there Grubville?” The captain turned around, his face livid red, and said, “Son, I’ll tell you when we get in the creek.” So when the “Cordts” tied up at the Cornell shops, the Captain handed the boy his time. In other words, he was fired. Now there had been a time around the tugboats when the captain was given food or “grub” money, a certain amount per man per day on which to feed the crew. Some of the captains would pocket a small amount from each man’s food money. A Shady System For example, under that shady system, a captain in those days might be given $.65 a day for each crew member by the company. The captain would hire a cook on the condition he feed each many for $.55 or $.60 a day. Then the captain would keep the rest. Not all captains would do this and most did not. But there were others who would. So when the fired deckhand went to the office to get his money, agent North said, “What’s the matter son, homesick?” The boy replied, “I don’t know. No, I’m not homesick. The captain fired me because I asked him why they called those houses below Port Ewen Grubville.” North tried to explain to the boy what had happened, knowing full well the boy was an innocent participant in the incident. A Change of Heart As it turned out, North also had a talk with the captain of the “Cordts.” After this talk, the captain told the boy he could come back aboard as deckhand again. The boy, however, was stubborn and wisely went back to his home at Athens. A few days later, North offered the boy a job as deckhand on the tugboat “Harry.” The boy took the job, became a man and continued to work for the Cornell Steamboat Company for over 50 years. 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!
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 14, 1972. Up until the time the Cornell Steamboat Company acquired the diesel tugboats “Lion’’ and “Jumbo” in 1924, all of their tugboats were steam propelled. As steamers, all the tugs burned coal and taking on coal - or coaling up - was a regular event of day to day operations. For many decades, Cornell maintained a coal pocket at the easterly end of its property on East Strand. Coal would be transferred by conveyor from railroad cars on an adjacent siding into large bins in the coal pocket. The coal pocket itself was located right next to the dock and the tugboats would berth at the coal pocket and take on coal from large shutes direct from the bins. When I was a boy growing up along Rondout Creek, it was quite a sight watching the big Cornell tugs taking on coal at the coal pocket. As the tug would come in the creek, she would tie up at the coal pocket and first take coal on the starboard side. As the coal went aboard, the tug would lay over on her side and it seemed the large smokestacks would be only a few feet from the upper part of the coal pocket. Then seeing the tugs turn around with their starboard guards and main deck rail part under water, one would think they were going to turn over on their sides and sink. Always Wondered There I used to watch the “Pocahontas,” “Osceola,” “George W. Washburn,” “Edwin H. Mead,” “Perseverance” and the smaller helper tugs take on coal and wonder what kept them from rolling over. Always I would watch, thinking in my young mind I was going to see something happen that no one had seen before. But, they always got around, took coal on their port side, came back to an even keel, and went back out to the river. As the years rolled on, the day came when I was to do the same thing with many of the same tugboats at the same coal pocket that the men of my youth had done. Now, however, the steam tugs are all gone as is the coal pocket. Once, in May 1935, one tug did sink at the coal pocket and as far as I can recall this is the only time it happened. The small tug ‘‘Empire’’ was coaling up. Her starboard guard caught on a broken spile [sic] under water which held her up. The men in the engine room and the pilot house thought she could take a little more coal and put some more aboard. Then, when they went to turn her around, she slipped off the spile and really lay over on her side. They wound her around and when the port side hit the dock, she went over just enough more for the water to pour in her deck scuttles — and down she went. In a few days a Merritt, Chapman and Scott derrick was brought up from New York and raised her. The Cornell Steamboat Company tug “Pocahontas” was built in 1884 and acquired by Cornell in 1901. The “Pocahontas” had a sister tug, the “Osceola.” This large and handsome tug operated on the Hudson River until 1939. The Hudson River Maritime Museum has a nameboard from the “Pocahontas.” Donald C. Ringwald Collection, Hudson River Maritime Museum Always A Hazard Since coal burns, fire was always a hazard to a coal pocket. The Cornell Steamboat Company lost two of theirs by burning, the first time in 1907 and the second time in 1936. The fire in 1907 — on November 3, a Sunday — totally destroyed the coal pocket, several hundred tons of coal, and almost destroyed the big tugboat “John H. Cordts.” The “Cordts’’ was tied up at the dock adjacent to the coal pocket. The fire broke out in the coal pocket and got a good start before it was discovered. The fire spread rapidly and soon the forward part of the “Cordts” was also aflame. The burning coal in the coal pocket made an incredibly hot fire. Although the coal pocket and most of its contents were total losses, the Kingston Fire Department was able to save the “Cordts” — not however before the forward half of the tugboat had been burned away and the tug had been purposely sunk at the dock. The “Cordts” was subsequently raised, rebuilt and continued in service for nearly another 20 years. After the 1907 fire, Cornell built a new coal pocket at the same site, somewhat smaller in size. Once during the mid 1920’s, the big tugboat “George W. Washburn” came into the Cornell shops and tied up at the coal pocket dock. During the night a fire broke out on the tugboat and spread to the coal pocket. Prompt action by the Kingston Fire Department, however saved both the “Washburn” and the coal pocket. Thanksgiving Disaster Finally, at 2 a.m, on Thanksgiving morning 1936, this coal pocket again caught fire and this time the fire got such a start it was impossible to save it. The fire which was a two alarmer, completely destroyed the coal pocket and about 50 tons of coal. The 1936 fire marked the end of steamboat coal pockets on Rondout Creek. By this time, the Cornell fleet was considerably reduced in size due to a decline in towing on the Hudson River and diesel tugboats were taking the place of steam tugs. And so another era — the age of coal — came to a close along the banks of the Rondout. 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!
Editor's Note: The following text is a verbatim transcription of an article written by George W. Murdock for the Kingston (NY) Daily Freeman newspaper in the 1930s. Murdock, a veteran marine engineer, wrote a regular column. Articles transcribed by HRMM volunteer Adam Kaplan. For more of Murdock's articles, see the "Steamboat Biographies" category at right. No. 79- A.B. VALENTINE The steamboat “A.B. Valentine” is another of the Hudson river vessels that began her career under a different name than the one which she bore when her days of sailing the waters of the river were ended. The original vessel was built in the early “forties” [1840s] - a wooden hull steamboat used in passenger service and running under the name “Santa Claus.” The “Santa Claus” ploughed the waters of the Hudson River in 1846 between New York and Albany as a day boat in the service of the People’s Line. In 1847, she ran for a short time between New York and Pierpont, [Piermont] and was later returned to the New York-Albany route. One notable feature of the “Santa Claus” was a painting which she displayed on her wheelhouses. This painting portrayed Santa Claus himself making his entrance into the chimney of a home - the spirit of the legend of old Saint Nick coming down the chimney with his sackful of toys at Christmas-tide. During the season of 1848 the “Santa Claus” carried passengers between Wilbur and New York in dayline service. At that early period there were few docks along the Rondout Creek and the section did not represent the beehive of activity which later developed. About the year 1853 Thomas Cornell of Rondout purchased the steamboat “Santa Claus” and converted her from a passenger-carrying vessel into a towboat. She ran under the Cornell banner as the “Santa Claus” until 1868. During the winter of 1869 the towboat “Santa Claus” was entirely rebuilt at Red Hook, South Brooklyn, and when she next appeared she carried the name of “A.B. Valentine,” in honor of the New York agent employed by Thomas Cornell. The dimensions of the “A.B. Valentine” were listed as follows: Length of hull, 205 feet; breadth of beam, 25 feet; depth of hold, 9 feet; gross tonnage, 308; net tonnage, 191; vertical beam engine with a cylinder diameter of 50 inches with a 10 foot stroke. The overhauling of the former ”Santa Claus” and its re-appearance as the “A.B. Valentine” gave the Cornell line a practically new steamboat. She was placed on the towing route between Rondout and New York, running on this route until the fall of 1887, taking the place of the “George A. Hoyt". The following spring the “A.B. Valentine” was placed in service between Rondout and Albany, towing in line with the towboat “Norwich,” under the command of Captain Jerry Patterson and with Andrew Barnett as chief engineer. She continued in service until the fall of 1901, when she seemed of no further use and was sold to J.H. Gregory of Perth Amboy, New Jersey. A peculiar coincidence in connection with the history of the steamboat “A.B. Valentine” is found in the fact that on the day she was sold to the wreckers, the man whose name she bore, died. A.B Valentine had served as superintendent of the Cornell Steamboat Company of New York for half a century. The “A.B. Valentine” left Rondout on her last voyage on December 17, 1901, sailing to Perth Amboy, where she was broken up. Cornell Steamboat Company towboat "A. B. Valentine", right, ca. 1880s, towing a string of barges in distance at left, with the help of a Cornell tug, center. The small boat at center left is a bumboat, or peddler's boat, which carried food and other supplies that people on the barges and tugs might want. HRMM Collection. AuthorGeorge W. Murdock (b. 1853-d. 1940) was a veteran marine engineer who served on the steamboats "Utica", "Sunnyside", "City of Troy", and "Mary Powell". He also helped dismantle engines in scrapped steamboats in the winter months and later in his career worked as an engineer at the brickyards in Port Ewen. In 1883 he moved to Brooklyn, NY and operated several private yachts. He ended his career working in power houses in the outer boroughs of New York City. His mother Catherine Murdock was the keeper of the Rondout Lighthouse for 50 years. Tugboats are, and long have been, the workhorses of the Hudson River moving needed cargoes up and down the river in large quantities more cheaply than by other means. Today the tugs move bulk cargo like fuel oil, cement, crushed rock, and scrap metal. In earlier times the cargoes were somewhat different, but tugs have been needed going back well into the 19th century. Since demand for many products is year round, the tugs must work all year including during the winter when ice can freeze the river entirely.
Since about the 1940s, the U.S. Coast Guard has kept a channel open on the Hudson during winters of heavy ice. However, before that time, heavier commercial tugs from companies like Cornell were used as icebreakers in their home areas. As the accompanying photo shows, in severe winters in the early 20th century, even the best icebreaker tugs were not able to keep a channel open in the Hudson. |
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