In 1917 the steamboat Mary Powell took one of her last excursions. The above advertisement, published in June, 1917, gives Hudson Valley residents the opportunity to travel down to New York City to see Billy Sunday's Tabernacle. 

Sunday was a former baseball star turned evangelical Christian and had been known for his fiery revivals. But although he once said Prohibition was a greater cause than the First World War, when the U.S. entered the war in April of 1917, he turned to his pulpit to decry Germany and Kaiser Wilhelm as tools of the Devil. 

He arrived in New York City to enormous crowds just days after the U.S. entrance into the war. Thousands met him at Penn Station, where he required a police escort. Thousands more thronged into his custom-built Tabernacle where he preached fiery revivals with a patriotic tinge. The tabernacle included 16,000 seats. He gave revivals multiple times a week in New York City for over ten weeks. ​

Without amplification, Sunday used enormous gestures, a gregarious personality, and special acoustics along with music to make his points. 

While in New York City in 1917, Sunday purportedly converted nearly 100,000 people to his brand of Christianity and was in the pages of the New York Times constantly during the ten weeks of the revival.

But like the Mary Powell, Billy Sunday's career waned after 1917, especially after the end of the First World War and the onset of Prohibition - his cause celebre - in 1920. He continued to preach the revival circuit, albeit to smaller and smaller crowds, until his death in 1935. The Mary Powell's 1917 season was her last. She was out of service in 1918, sidelined due to coal shortages thanks to the First World War, and sold in 1919 for scrap. 

To learn more about the Mary Powell and her long career, visit our online exhibit, "Mary Powell: Queen of the Hudson."

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!​

This week's featured artifact is a recent acquisition! This large model of the Erie Railroad Barge No. 271 was donated by model maker John Marinovich, Jr. His grandparents and mother lived and worked aboard this barge for about five years after emigrating to the United States from Austria in 1912. 

The model has a number of very detailed aspects, including these living quarters at the stern of the barge. Mr. Marinovich even modeled his grandmother and mother along with window boxes, which he said were part of the original barge while the family lived aboard.

The model has a removable roof, some removable walls, and yes, it floats!

The Hudson River Maritime Museum was lucky to be able to receive so many historical details and photos in addition to the model itself. Mr. Marinovich graciously shared this newspaper article about his mother entitled, "Home on the Hudson," written by Ruth Woodward for Beachcomber, August 10, 1978. We reproduce the article below, interspersed with photographs provided by Mr. Marinovich:

​Beachcomber, August 10, 1978
 
HOME ON THE HUDSON
By Ruth Woodward
 
Marinovich means "son of a sailor" in the Croatian language. Mary Marinovich of Harvey Cedars acquired the name by marriage but she is a true daughter of a sailor. She spent her earliest years living on a Hudson River barge, with the deck as a play area and the whole panorama of the Hudson waterfront to stimulate her interest in faraway places. In the days before container ships, the Hudson River was dotted with barges, and Erie Barge 271 was the "old homestead" for Mary.
 
A barge on the Hudson was a busy and exciting place for a small child to live. Ships from all over the world docked at piers along the New York Harbor. Barges were dispatched to meet the ships and transport their cargoes to factories, refineries or railroad cars. Large sliding doors on the roof of a barge's freight house would be opened and part of the ship's cargo would be lowered into the barge. The longshoremen on the dock would board the barge to arrange the cargo which was usually bundled in large burlap bags.        
 
The bags would be stacked until the freight house was filled. With the barge loaded the captain signed for his cargo and learned its destination from the dock master. As soon as one barge was loaded it would be pushed to another part of the dock and the next barge moved into place to be loaded. Tugboats would then pull the barges to the piers where the cargoes were to be unloaded -- to Hoboken, Brooklyn, West New York.
 
As soon as a barge captain reported that his cargo had arrived a ramp would be raised from barge to dock, the longshoremen would come with their hand trucks and load up. For the young children on the barge it was fun to watch the men run up and down the ramp and dump their cargo on the dock. When the barge was unloaded the captain reported to the office on the dock, where there would be orders waiting, telling him where to pick up the next load.
 
Mary Marinovich's story has its beginning on the island of Losinj in the Adriatic Sea. This was in the province of Istria, part of pre-World War I Austria. The land on Losinj was too poor to make much of a living from farming, so it was an island of sailors. Like so many European men around the turn of the century, young Joseph Sokolich left his wife and small son in the old- country and came to America alone to try to make a better living for this family. He was a seaman and he wanted to be near water so he found a job on the Judson, on an Erie Railroad barge. When he was ready to send for his wife and son, he applied for a barge with living quarters for a family. Men with families were given priority when applying for boats with two or three rooms for living quarters.

​​Living on a barge was a good way for a young family to get a start in the new country. Most families who rented apartments found it necessary to rent rooms to make ends meet, but the barge captain and his family had privacy and independence, as well as free rent. Coal for the stove and kerosene for lamps was provided by the Erie Railroad. Cargoes were usually things like rice, coffee, flour, sugar, spices, coconut - bags broke and the barge family was welcome to whatever spilled out. And you could barter with other captains when you docked for the evening. Those with refrigerated storage always  had fruit to trade. The Hudson was so clean in those days that you could take a rowboat and go under a dock to crab or fish. And if you happened to have a long haul down the center of the river, you could throw a line in and sit and fish while the tug was pulling you to the dock to unload. You might run out of fresh milk and eggs because there wasn't always an opportunity to leave your boat to get to a store. But there was always plenty of food and the family was sheltered and warm and cozy in the barge.
 
Mary was born in Hoboken because her mother new of a good midwife there. Mother and baby returned to the barge when Mary was ten days old. Later, when sister Tina was born. the midwife came on board the bare to deliver the baby. Whenever word got out that a pregnant woman was aboard a barge, the tugs would signal the news to each other with a signal to "Be Careful! Don't hit this barge hard." When a woman's time for delivery drew near, the dispatcher would see that the barge was sent to drydock for repairs or had some other excuse for staying docked in one place until the baby was safely delivered. To all of the immigrants it was a great source of pride to have a child born in America.

​​The Sokolich barge had a cabin with two large rooms, a kitchen and a bedroom. The bedroom had built-in bunks and the kitchen, dominated by the big, black stove, had built -in cupboards. The deck in front of the cabin could be used as porch or yard or outdoor sitting room and when the freight house was unloaded and empty, it was a room of many purposes. There was room here for Mary's other to set up the washtub and do the family wash. Water had to be brought on board only when the barge was docked in designated areas. The captain would be given a little extra time in order to take on water and this was usually a good time to get at the washing. The freight house was also a large playroom for the children. When it was empty, Captain Sokolich would put up gates so that the children could play there in safety. But Mary remembers sometimes playing in the freight house when it was loaded. "We'd jump all over the bags and play hide and seek. We didn't have any trees to bide behind, so we hid behind the bags instead."
 
And the freight house was the "company room." As soon as the barge docked for the night families looked around to see whether any friends were at the same dock. Each barge captain had a distinctive ornament or figurehead on his boat so that it could be easily recognized. There were German, Dutch, Belgian and Austrian families plying the river, all people who had made their living on the water in Europe. Friends would gather in one of the empty freight houses for the evening. There was always wood floating on the river so the men made benches and tables for the freight houses in their spare time. The tables and benches were brought out when company came and the men settled down to an evening of cards and the women to sew and chat. With the abundance of flour and sugar available on the barges there were always homemade cakes and breads and rolls to pass around. 

Mary remembers that one of the nicest things that could happen was to learn that a ship was expected to be two or three days late arriving in the harbor. Then the barge could stay in one place for a few days and there would be time for her mother to go shopping to buy shoes for the children and fabric to make them clothing. If they were in an area where they had friends living ashore they could fit in a rare visit.
 
The children first learned to read from the signs along the river. They spelled out "Lipton Tea, Coffee, Cocoa" as the sign flashed on and off as they approached Hoboken. Their geography lessons came when they passed ships of all nationalities docked in New York harbor. Mary remembers seeing Japanese ships with the crew sitting on the deck eating from a large communal pot.  Her mother would tell the children where the ship was from and what the men were eating. Most exciting would be to pass a German passenger ship with a brass band in the bow. The children could prance to the sound of the oom-pah-pah as long as they could hear the music.

When Mary's brother Joe reached school age, he first stayed in Hoboken at a boarding school run by the church, joining the barge only on weekends. But he was homesick for this family and as soon as he was able to travel by himself, he came back to the barge after school each day. Every afternoon Father would telephone from the dock, leaving a message at the school telling this son just where the barge would be docked for the night. And young Joe would travel by trolley to wherever his home happened to be. This was customary for the barge children. Even the tiny ones learned the trolley routes and traveled across the city to get home each night.
 
Even with the camaraderie of the other barge families on the river, it was a lonely life for the women. It was difficult for them to shop and it was difficult for them to get to church. The barge was the responsibility of the captain so some member of the family usually had to stay on board, though occasionally another bargeman could be asked to keep an eye on the boat for a short time. When barge people left their boats, they talked of "going up the street." But it was difficult for the women to get up the street because it meant walking through the dock areas and the railroad yards and it was not always safe. The captain had to be ready to move whenever orders came, but if a captain knew that there would be an hour's time before a tug's arrival, he would "go up the street" and bring back a bucket of milk. Mary still remembers what a treat this was as a change from condensed, canned milk.
 
To while away the time on the barge, Mrs. Sokolich learned to play dominoes and taught the children to ply. She carved picture frames from cigar boxes and she delighted in making paper flowers. "My mother's barge was the talk of the river because she loved flowers so much. Right in front of the cabin she had a big pot of ivy and she had window boxes for flowers.  And when she couldn't grow plants, she made them.  She would take a piece of straw from the broom and cover it with green crepe paper for the stem. Then she would cut and fold paper to make petals and turn them on a matchstick to create her own 'roses.' She worked had to make our cabin homelike.  She scrubbed the wood floor until it was white and her stove was always polished like a mirror."

Life for the barge families changed abruptly when the United States entered World War I. Instead of flour and sugar and spices the barges hauled barbed wire, machinery and ammunition. It was no longer safe for families to live on the boats and they move ashore to a house in West New York, New Jersey. All of New York harbor was declared a war zone, since it was used for troop embarkation and debarkation. Captain Sokolich and the other barge men had to show their credentials whenever they came on the piers and they had to leave the area as soon as they were off duty. Many people were suspicious of the German and Austrian men, even though they had become American citizens.
 
The Sokolich family never returned to the barge to live. "Once we were able to go to the store and buy a loaf of bread, we never wanted to go back," Mary says. "I can still remember how exciting it was when we moved to shore and turned on the faucet and got all the water we wanted. My mother never could get used to letting the water run!"
 
When the war ended, Mary's father found a job on a Lackawanna Railroad lighter. A lighter was an open boat with a small cabin in front. The freight area was open and the lighter carried heavy articles like tires, cars and steel pipes that could be exposed to the weather.
 
John Marinovich laughingly reminded his wife that when Captain Sokolich no longer had his family on board that he had "another woman" on his boat.  The Captain had a life-sized cardboard figure of a Moxie girl, advertising a popular soft drink. The Moxie girl was a pretty and had a winning smile and he took the head from the figure and attached it to the cabin window with springs. As the lighter plied the river, the men working on the docks would wave and grin and flirt with the girl who was smiling and nodding to them from the cabin window. Sailors on the Rhine had the Lorelei to tempt them, but the men on the Hudson had a Moxie girl!

The model of the Erie RR Barge No. 271 is now safely ensconced behind a plexiglas bonnet in the Charles Niles Model Shop exhibit in the Hudson River Maritime Museum. You can see it in person whenever you visit!

This week we've got something a little different! Here's a fun story about the bell of the Mary Powell, as told by Captain William O. Benson. 

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 volunteers Carl and Joan Mayer. See more of Captain Benson’s articles here. This article was originally published on June 4, 1972.

When the "Mary Powell” was of being broken up at Connelly in the early 1920's, there was great interest among Hudson Valley residents in mementos from the old steamboat.  It seemed that almost anything that came from the steamer, whether it was a section of joiner work, a flag pole, a deck chair, or even a baggage check or spike, found a ready buyer.

Many items acquired by people interested in souvenirs from the old “Queen of the Hudson” were genuine.  Others, however, were not.  One of the latter that even today occasionally appears are bells reputed to be the bell of the “Mary Powell." I have seen locomotive bells, farm bells, big bells and small bells, all supposed to be the bell that graced the forward spar of the steamer during her career on the Hudson River.  All are fakes, for the real one was removed before the steamer was sold for breaking up, for awhile was installed at Bear Mountain, later at Indian Point, and is now at the New York Historical Society Museum in New York City.

In the fall of 1919, when the “Mary Powell” was sold to be broken up, she lay aft of the steamer “Albany” at the Sunflower Dock at Sleightsburgh on the south side of Rondout Creek.  Just before she was sold, orders came from the New York office of the Hudson River Day Line to Michael Rafferty, the mate of the "Albany”, to remove the bell from the "Powell” and put it aboard the "Albany.”

Transferred to “Albany”
That winter my father was doing carpenter work on the “Albany” and on Saturdays, and other days when I was not in school; I used to take his lunch over to him.  After the bell of the "Powell" was taken down from the mast in back of her pilot house, it was put on a large hand truck and placed on the deck in the after port gangway of the "Albany.”

One day when I was on, the “Albany,” I stood alongside the bell thinking how big it looked sitting there on the hand truck.  Alongside the bell on the deck was a chipping hammer, one end round and the other end like a blade.  Being a young boy of nine and not thinking, I picked up the chipping hammer and started to hit the bell to hear it ring. 

I must have pounded the bell 15 or 20 times when Mr. Rafferty came along and said in a very nice way, “Here, here, William, you are putting marks in that soft metal.  Use this.” And he handed me a wooden fid [sic].  When I hit the bell with the fid, though, it only made a dull sound, so I didn’t bother anymore.
 
That spring of 1920, when the “Albany” went into commission, the “Mary Powell’s” bell went down the river with her and was put ashore at Bear Mountain.  There, it was installed high on the hill above the boat landings.  Today, in that same location, there is a very large cast bronze deer’s head in its place.  

When the Hudson River Day Line built its own recreation park at Indian Point, just below Peekskill, the "Powell’s” bell was moved from Bear Mountain and installed on a wooden frame adjacent to the line’s steamboat landings. 

This was in 1923 or 1924.  When one of the line’s steamers would come around Jones Point, the bell would be rung to let people at the park know one of the Day Liners would be landing in about five minutes.

When I was a deckhand on the "Albany" during the seasons of 1928 and 1929, we lay at the Indian Point pier one day with a charter.  I went over and looked at the bell from the “Mary Powell” and sure enough there were the dents I had put there many years before with the chipping hammer. 

Mike Rafferty, the man who removed the bell from the “Mary Powell,” was a fine man to have as a mate.  He was very aristocratic looking, very strict, but fair with everyone with whom he came in contact — whether you were an old hand or a green deckhand in your first season.  He had once been a chief in the Kingston Fire Department, before it became a paid department in 1907. 

On to New York
After the Day Line sold the Indian Point Park in the mid 1950s, Alfred V. S. Olcott, the old Day Line’s president, had the "Mary Powell" bell taken to New York.  There, he presented the bell as a gift to the New York Historical Society on Central Park West, New York City.  When he made the presentation, there was a photograph of him and the bell in the New York newspapers.  The old Indian Point Park is now the site of Consolidated Edison’s nuclear electric generating station. 

So, the bell that was heard and carried on the “Mary Powell” for all those years — from the time she was built until she turned her last wheel — and then placed at Bear Mountain and Indian Point, now has reached her final port. 
​
Also at the same museum is the "Powell’s" soft, sweet-sounding whistle.  The “Powell’s” whistle, after the “Queen” was withdrawn from service, was installed on the Day Liner "Robert Fulton.”  When the “Fulton" left New York for the last time, the whistle was acquired by William H. Ewen, Sr. of Hastings-on-Hudson, a former president of the Steamship Historical Society of America, and he, in turn, donated it to the same New York Historical Society.

Of course, that wasn't the end of the bell of the Mary Powell! After the Hudson River Maritime Museum moved to its present location in 1983, the bell of the Mary Powell was brought to the museum on long-term loan from the New York Historical Society.

If you'd like to visit the bell in-person, and even ring it (it's very loud!), you can visit the Hudson River Maritime Museum. And if you'd like to learn more about the Mary Powell, check out our new exhibit, "Mary Powell: Queen of the Hudson," available in-person and online. 

​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!​

2021 is the 50th anniversary of the last trip of the sidewheel steamboat Alexander Hamilton, so we thought we'd highlight one of the artifacts currently on display in the museum's new mini-exhibit about the Hamilton and her last voyage.

This life ring from the Alexander Hamilton was donated to the museum in 1986 by Charles Metzger, just 15 years after the Hamilton​'s last trip. 

Built in 1924 and taken out of service at the end of 1971, the Alexander Hamilton was built for the Hudson River Day Line and is considered "the last of the Dayliners," and was the last Hudson River sidewheel steamboat constructed. Over 300 feet long, she was not the largest of the Hudson River steamboats, but her construction toward the end of the steamboat heyday on the Hudson River makes her unique. Accommodating over 3,000 passengers, she ran from Albany to New York City until the last few years of her service, when the route was shortened to Poughkeepsie to New York City.

Life rings like this one were used as emergency life preservers for situations when passengers or crew fell overboard or when anyone ended up in the water and needed rescuing. They were designed to be thrown out to a person in the water, and had a line attached so that rescuers could pull the overboard person back to the boat for recovery. Historic life rings were often made of cork, but after WWI they were also made of balsa wood. These lightweight substances would float, allowing the overboard victim to keep their head above water until rescue. The ring design was first posited by Leonardo DaVinci, and was easy to place around one's middle, which is why the rings are sometimes called lifebelts or lifebuoys, among many other names. 

Life rings still remain in use today at marinas and on board vessels where passengers and crew do not regularly use personal floatation devices due to the size of the vessel. The overall basic design remains unchanged - a circle or u-shape floatation device with a line attached to shore or the vessel. Some modern life rings include water-activated lights and GPS tracking, especially those used on ocean-going vessels.

This life ring from the Alexander Hamilton is one of several historic life rings from Hudson River steamboats in the museum's collection. If you would like to visit this artifact in person, it is currently on display in the museum's East Gallery.​

​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!​

Today's Featured Artifact is a fur top hat that once belonged to Mary Powell Captain Absalom Lent Anderson! Accompanied by a letter of provenance written on the front of an envelope in 1960, this amazing artifact is currently on display as part of the new exhibit, "Mary Powell: Queen of the Hudson." 

The letter reads,

"Capt. Absalom Anderson's Hat

"This hat was given to me by Valerie Capowski, widow of Dr. William Capowski, of Milton, NY, who told me that the hat was given to the doctor by descendants of Capt. Anderson, who had assured the doctor that this was the Captain's dress hat which he wore during the period when he was the captain of the Mary Powell."
​
Sept. 1960, William H. Austin.

Born in 1812 in Croton-on-Hudson, NY, Absalom Lent Anderson married Catharine Ann Leveret Elting in 1843. They went on to have 10 children together, although several would not survive childhood.

Moving frequently between New York City and Ulster County, the Andersons eventually settle in Port Ewen. In the 1840s and ‘50s, Absalom Lent Anderson was part-owner and captain of the passenger steamboat Thomas Powell. In 1860, he conceived of a newer, faster, more modern vessel that became the Mary Powell. Anderson was captain of the Mary Powell from 1861 until 1865, when he sold to boat to Thomas Cornell. From 1866 to 1871, Captain Ferdinand Frost ran the boat, but Absalom Anderson regained captaincy in 1872, and continued as captain until his retirement in 1886.

In poor health, Absalom Lent Anderson and his wife Catharine, accompanied by their unmarried daughter Charlotte, moved to Montecito, California. Steamboat ownership and captaincy had made Absalom wealthy, as they maintained an estate in Port Ewen, NY as well as their mansion in Montecito, called Stone Hedge.

In 1894 daughter Charlotte died of heart disease at age 40. On May 6 of that same year, Catharine died. Both were returned home to New York and were buried in Montrepose Cemetery in Kingston, NY.
​
On November 18, 1895, Absalom Anderson also died in Santa Barbara, California. He had been in an accident some weeks prior, having been thrown from a cart, and although newspaper sources say he appeared fine at the time, he may have had some internal injuries which caused his death. He, too, is buried in Montrepose Cemetery in Kingston, NY.

Today's Featured Artifact is an eel pot used by Hudson River commercial fishermen. The wire pot contains a series of cones which allow the eels to enter the trap, but make it difficult or impossible to leave. The wooden pegs used as closures on this eel pot were carved by Hudson River commercial fisherman Henry Gourdine. 

​Eel fishing was once a major industry in the Hudson River. British food traditions include eel pie and jellied eel, smoked eel is considered a delicacy in most Eastern European and Scandinavian countries, and Japan, Korea, and Vietnam also enjoy eel in a wide variety of foods. In the mid-20th century, eel was a major export from the Hudson River fishery. 

American eel are opposite of many Hudson River fish in that they live in the river, and only return to the ocean to spawn. All American eels (and over 30 other species of eel) are born in the Sargasso Sea off the Atlantic coast of Florida and the Caribbean. The tiny new hatchlings ride the Gulf Stream north along the Atlantic coast in search of fresh water. By the time they reach the Hudson River, they are known as "glass eels," for their tiny, transparent bodies. 

American eel can take between 12 and 20 years to reach maturity, at which point they return to the Sargasso sea to lay and fertilize eggs. This lengthy period of maturity means fewer eels survive to reproduce. In addition, the damming of tributaries, habitat loss, pollution, and overfishing contributed to their precipitous decline in the 1980s. 

The exact life cycle of all species of eel and the reason for their decline remains largely a mystery, although more research is being conducted every year.

Today, American Eels are endangered and fishing for them in the Hudson River, and elsewhere, is no longer allowed. It may take decades for the population to recover. 

Thankfully, in 2008 the NYS Department of Environmental Conservation started the Hudson River Eel Project, in which volunteers work with DEC scientists and educators to count glass eels and help transport them over obstacles to access freshwater tributaries in the Hudson Valley.

To learn more about the project, check out the video below! 

​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!​

Today's featured artifact is this electric lantern from the steamboat Mary Powell. The Mary Powell, built in 1861, underwent one of many overhauls during the winter of 1887-88. Several changes were made to the steamboat, including rearranging the interior accommodations. For instance, the main dining room was moved from the hull to the main deck, so passengers could see out the windows as they ate. The other major change was the installation of over one hundred electric lights, which made evening travel safer and more pleasant. 

This particular lantern was likely meant for use by the crew. Designed to either plug in to direct current lines or unplugged for use powered by an internal battery, this was likely used in the engine room. 

A similar lantern is held in the collections of the National Maritime Museum in London, UK, where it is listed as a "naval emergency lantern." 

Electric improvements continued aboard the Mary Powell in subsequent seasons. In the winter of 1893-94, two new private parlors were constructed, with electric call bells - presumably to call the steward or other staff for assistance. In 1905, an electric fire alarm system was installed. On May 10, 1905, the Kingston Daily Freeman reported on the improvement:

An electric fire alarm, the idea of Captain Anderson, is being installed on the Mary Powell by H. B. Legg and H. H. Buckbee.  Instead of sounding a large gong in case of fire, which would alarm the passengers, electric annunciators are placed throughout the boat notifying the crew where to report, thereby saving time.  The inspectors who were here Tuesday say the system is perfect and the first to be installed on any vessel.

Although historical record of these electric systems is limited, we can presume that the electricity was produced by a dynamo powered by the steam engines. 

If you would like to see the electric lantern in person, it is on display as part of the museum's "Mary Powell: Queen of the Hudson" exhibit. 

Today's Featured Artifact is this beautiful brass engine room gong, once found on a steamboat owned by the Homer Ramsdell Transportation Company, based in Newburgh.

Most steamboats and many diesel tugs were known as "bell boats," meaning the captain or pilot and the engineers communicated by a system of bells. Up in the wheelhouse, the pilot could only control the direction of the boat, with the pilot's wheel. If he wanted to change direction or speed, he had to communicate with the engineers down in the engine room. Imagine driving a car where one person is steering, and another person, who cannot see the road, is controlling the gas pedal and brakes. Thankfully, most boats are not as fast or maneuverable as a car, but the changes still had to be quickly executed to ensure safe and smooth operation of the boat.

The larger, louder bell, called a "gong," signaled a change in direction. Smaller bells, called "jingles," usually signaled a change in speed. Controls in the pilot house were connected to the bells in the engine room, making them ring. Many transportation companies had their own code, although New York Harbor had a code shared by many boats. 

In this sound clip, collected by steamboat sound recording enthusiast Conrad Milster, we can hear the gong and jingle aboard the Newburgh ferryboat Dutchess. 

Here are some examples of simplified bell signals, to give you an idea of how the system would work.

When the steamboat was stopped:

• 1 gong = work ahead (move forwards)
• 2 gongs = go astern (backwards)

When working ahead or backing (moving forwards or backwards):

• 1 gong = stop

Jingles to change speed:

• 1 jingle = increase speed
• 2 jingles = decrease speed

Signals could also be combined. For example, when stopped:

• 1 gong and 2 jingles = dead slow ahead
• 2 gongs and 1 jingle = half speed astern (backwards)

Mystic Seaport operates a historic steamboat that still uses the bell and jingle system. In this video, the captain of the Sabino explains how he and the engineer communicate. The video includes great footage from the engine room as well. 

You can visit the museum's engine room gong, which is on permanent display in the East Gallery, along with many other fascinating maritime artifacts, at the Hudson River Maritime Museum. We hope to see you soon!

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!​

Today's Featured Artifact is this sign from the Newburgh Ferry terminal. Reading "Ferry Entrance - Pay Toll Here" with a red arrow in a red frame, this striking sign was designed to show the way for vehicles to drive onto the ferry. 

Although it is unclear when exactly the sign was created, you can see it in this photo of the Newburgh Ferry Terminal, c. 1957. The sign is on the toll booth in the lower right-hand corner. The Newburgh-Beacon Ferry departs in the background. If you look closely, you can see the words "New York State Bridge Authority" on the side of the ferry, and the name of the ferry on the pilot house - the Beacon. The Bridge Authority had purchased the ferry service in preparation for the construction of the Newburgh-Beacon Bridge and operated three car ferries - the Beacon, the Orange, and the Dutchess.​

Here is a zoomed in shot of the same photo, where you can see the sign more clearly. 

The Newburgh-Beacon ferry continued to operate until November 3, 1963, when the ferry service was ceased following the opening of the Newburgh-Beacon Bridge. The ferries themselves were scrapped over a series of years, and the Newburgh Ferry Terminal, which dated back to 1899, was demolished with Urban Renewal in the 1970s.

If you'd like to see the "Ferry Entrance" sign in person, come and visit it at the museum! It is on display in the East Gallery.

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This barrel piano is a more recent addition to the museum's collection and is believed to have been used to provide music for the Merry-Go-Round or carousel at Kingston Point Park. 

A barrel piano, also known as a street piano, uses a hand crank to turn a pinned barrel. The pins in the barrel hit the levers of the piano hammers, which then strike the piano strings, making a sound. How the pins are placed on the barrel determines what song is played. The person operating the crank must move it in a steady rhythm, or the music will come out jumbled. 

Sometimes confused with other crank instruments like the barrel organ (which uses forced air and pipes to make sound) or the hurdy gurdy (which turns a rosined wheel against the strings of a violin-like instrument), the barrel piano was often a feature of amusement parks. Also not to be confused with the steam calliope, which would have provided music aboard steamboats and was powered by their steam engines.

The museum's particular barrel piano, also known as a cylinder piano, was manufactured by E. Bona & A. Atoniazzi in New York City. Little is known about the original owners, but the company became known later as the B.A.B. Organ Company. You can read more about the company history here.

To hear what a barrel piano might have sounded like, check out this video of one playing a very complex piece of music. ​

If you would like to see the barrel piano in person, come visit the Hudson River Maritime Museum and head to the East Gallery. 

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