​On the bitter cold winter night of December 16, 1835 a fire caused by a burst gas pipe ignited by a coal stove broke out in lower Manhattan and burned for hours. The gale-force winds spread the flames rapidly across 17 city blocks. The frozen East River and Hudson River hampered the fire-fighting efforts. 

More than 600 wood frame buildings were destroyed. The Hudson River Brick Industry flourished during the rebuilding process as more durable brick replaced the former wooden buildings. Watch at www.hrmm.org/lecture-series for upcoming Follow the River Lectures in 2023 to learn more about the Great Fire and the Brick Industry. Come visit the brick exhibit at the Hudson River Maritime Museum.

​Listen as The History Guy gives more details.

This week is the 80th anniversary of the destruction of the S.S. Normandie. On February 9, 1942, the S.S. Normandie, recently renamed the U.S.S. Lafayette, caught fire as civilian shipbuilders were trying to retrofit her as a troop transport. 

​The Normandie was the pride of the French ocean liner fleet. Built in 1935, she was the largest and fastest and most luxuriously appointed of the new ocean liners. But when war broke out in Europe she was in New York Harbor. When France declared war on Germany on September 3, 1939, the Normandie was held by the U.S. government in New York Harbor. Still owned and crewed by the French, she was not allowed to leave. On December 12, 1941, just five days after the attack on Pearl Harbor, the Normandie was officially seized by the U.S. government, and on December 27th she was transferred to the U.S. Navy, who re-christened her the U.S.S. Lafayette and began work on converting her to a troop transport. 

In the first class lounge, where varnished woodwork and flammable life jackets were still in place, sparks from a welding torch lit a stack of life jackets on fire. Sadly, the Normandie's complicated fire suppression system had been disconnected during the process, and the hoses brought by New York City firefighters would not fit the French connections. The blaze aboard the Normandie​ could not be stopped, and she rolled and sank at dock.

Despite an extraordinarily expensive salvage operation in August of 1943, the righted Lafayette had sustained too much damage to be easily repaired, and both war materiel and labor were short. The Lafayette was never repaired and sat in dry dock for the remainder of the war. She was officially stricken from Naval records in the fall of 1945, and the French didn't want her either. Some attempts were made by private individuals to save her, but none were successful. She was scrapped at Port Newark, NJ between October, 1946 and December, 1948. 

Despite this tragic end, many of her most beautiful interiors and artwork were saved and now reside in private collections and at museums around the world, including at the Metropolitan Museum of Art. Her whistle eventually ended up at Pratt Institute, and was used in the New Year's Eve celebrations until recently. 

​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

The steamboat known as the “Crystal Stream” is another of the vessels familiar to folks of the Hudson valley as an excursion boat; but unlike many of her running mates in the same business, the “Crystal Stream” traveled north from the Hudson river to New Brunswick- where she met her end.

The 132 foot six inch wooden hull of the “Crystal Stream” was constructed at Bulls Ferry, New Jersey, in 1875. With a breadth of beam measuring 25 feet six inches, the “Crystal Stream” had a gross tonnage rating of 268 with a net tonnage of 167. She was powered with a vertical beam engine constructed by Fletcher, Harrison & Company of New York, which had a cylinder diameter of 36 inches with an eight foot stroke.

When the vessel was launched she was christened the “Nelson K. Hopkins.” Being a medium-size steamboat, she was placed in the excursion business in and about New York harbor. The “Nelson K. Hopkins” was in service for only a very short time when she was partially destroyed by fire. Records do not disclose the details of this fire, but the steamboat was rebuilt and, when she again made her appearance, she carried the name of “Crystal Stream.”

The initial service of the “Crystal Stream” was on a regular route between New York city and Nyack on the Hudson river. Just how long she remained on this run is not known, but she was later found to be in the excursion business, and was finally purchased by William Myers who used her for towing the excursion barges on the Hudson river during the summer months.

The “Crystal Stream” became a familiar sight along the lower section of the Hudson valley and along the shores of the picnic groves on Long Island Sound. At this particular time in the nation’s history, excursions were a popular sport, and many such outings were a regular part of the program of Sunday Schools and organizations. The “Crystal Stream” hauled many heavily-laden barges of merry-makers to various picnic grounds, and her record does not show any black mark of misfortune in this service.

In the summer of 1902 the “Crystal Stream” was sold to parties in St. Johns, New Brunswick. Thus, instead of traveling south as many of the Hudson river excursion vessels did, the “Crystal Stream” headed north for more service- and her destruction.

​The “Crystal Stream” was in service on the St. Johns river until the night of June 21, 1907 - when the flames brought her career to a close. Most of the people aboard the vessel were asleep when fire turned the “Crystal Stream” into a seething furnace. Those who were sleeping aft, when awakened by the choking smoke and roaring flames, escaped in a small boat. Others on the vessel found themselves shut in by walls of fire and were forced to dash through the flames in an effort to escape. Many were fortunate to make the wharf at River Point, where the vessel was tied up, but several women were badly burned, and three of the crew lost their lives. The steamboat was a total loss- thus ending a career of 34 years. 

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.

No. 3- Isaac Newton
The “Isaac Newton" was built for William H. and Curtis Peck in 1846 (sic). The hull was of wood, constructed by William H. Brown, and her engine was a product of the Allaire Iron Works. Her original length was 38 feet but she was rebuilt in 1885 and was thereafter 405 feet in length.

The intentions of the owners were to use the new boat as a dayliner and to name her the “George Washington,” but while she was still on the ways she was sold to the People’s Line, who had her christened the “Isaac Newton” in honor of one of the principal owners of the line, who was a pioneer steamboat man.

The “Isaac Newton” had but two decks during the first nine years of her existence, but she was rebuilt in 1885 by John Englis of Greenpoint, and a third tier of staterooms was added, thus making her the second three-decker to appear on the Hudson river; the first being the “New World,” which had a third deck added the previous year. The “Isaac Newton” and the “New World,” when rebuilt into three-deckers were the most beautifully furnished and numbered among the celebrated steamboats of the world.

​The two upper decks, aft of the engine trunk, were arranged in the form of large apartment galleries, and the ceiling of these decks sported enormous glass chandeliers, lighted by gas. The effect of this decoration was pronounced the most beautiful that had been conceived and the novel arrangement was copied not only on many paddle-wheel boats but on large ocean steamships as well.

​The “Isaac Newton” met her fate December 5, 1863. She left the foot of Cortlandt street at 5 o’clock in the evening, carrying 150 passengers, and when passing Fort Washington point, her starboard boiler exploded, sprinkling the deck with hot coals, and enveloping her from stem to stern with raging flames. The towboat “Herald” of Rondout, with Captain Harry Barber in command, was instrumental in saving many lives at this disaster. In all, 10 passengers lost their lives. By most fortunate circumstances the others were rescued by small boats of the “Herald” and the “Daniel S. Miller.” Among the dead were two brothers who made their home in Troy, named John and James Hodgso. The rescued passengers and crew were landed in Yonkers. The steamer was totally destroyed.

Last week we learned about the Lincoln Tunnel, but the earlier Holland Tunnel has stories of its own. Opened in 1927, the Holland Tunnel was at the time the longest vehicular underwater tunnel in the world. It connects Jersey City, NJ to lower Manhattan and is still in use today. 

But in 1949, an extraordinary event would occur. On Friday, May 13, 1949 truck carrying 55 gallon drums of carbon disulfide entered the tunnel. Carbon disulfide is still used today, primarily in the manufacture of viscose rayon and cellophane film. The driver had no idea of the danger of his cargo, which was actually banned from the tunnel because of its toxic and highly flammable fumes. Less than a hundred yards into the tunnel, a drum broke loose from the truck and fell onto the roadway, breaking open and releasing the highly flammable gas. The resulting fire would burn for hours. To tell the full story, we actually have FOUR media resources for you today - two original newsreels from 1949 recounting the event, a podcast entitled "A Miraculous Disaster – In 1949 The Holland Tunnel Burned At 4,000-Degrees And No One Died," and an original report from the National Board of Fire Underwriters.

Although no one died in the fire itself, 66 people were treated and 27 hospitalized for smoke inhalation. Among them was Battalion Chief firefighter Gunther E. Beake, who succumbed to injuries from toxic smoke inhalation on August 23, 1949. 

The incident ultimately resulted in legislation in both New Jersey and New York enacting stiffer penalties and fines for companies who violated cargo rules.

​Last week, we discussed the impacts of cholera and yellow fever on Rondout in the 1830s and ‘40s, but New York City underwent similar epidemics throughout the early 19th century. At the same time, rising population in New York City, as well as efforts to fill in its brackish wetlands and shorelines, was creating a problem with the water table and pollution. Fresh drinking water was becoming more and more scarce in the growing city and natural water sources were increasingly contaminated by sewage and industrial wastes. 

Enter a pie-in-the-sky idea for yet another enormous engineering marvel (New York’s canals being the previous pipedreams turned reality) – the Croton Aqueduct. The idea was simple – pipe clean water from the relatively unspoiled Croton River through gravity-fed aqueducts to New York City. Aqueducts were certainly not a new idea – the Romans had invented them, after all – but to construct something on this scale was a rather startling idea.

Following the cholera epidemic of 1832, Major David Bates Douglass, an engineering professor at West Point and one of a new school of civil engineers, surveyed the proposed route in 1833. Bates was an excellent surveyor, but had proposed no practical plans for physical structures, and so was fired in 1835.
​
As early as 1835, before construction even began, the project was gaining national attention. An article from the Alexandria Gazette (Richmond, VA) from December 25, 1835 discussed the plan, writing, “In carrying into effect the contemplated plan of supplying the City of New York with water from the Croton River, an aqueduct, we believe, is necessary across one of the rivers. If this is so, the experience gained to that city and the county in submarine architecture, by the works now going on at the Potomac Aqueduct in connexion with the Alexandria Canal, will be invaluable.” 

​December, 1835 gave New York City another reason to want abundant supplies of water – the Great Fire of New York of 1835 wiped out most of New York City and bankrupted all but three of its fire insurance companies. The fire would spur a number of reforms, including an end to wooden buildings (a boon for the Hudson Valley’s brick, cement, and bluestone industries). But many wondered, had the aqueduct already been in place, if more of the city would have been saved.

John B. Jervis, who cut his teeth on the construction of the Erie, D&H, and Chenango canals as well as early railroads, became Chief Engineer on the Croton Aqueduct project in 1836, and construction began the following year.
​
The Croton River was dammed and thousands of laborers, many of them Irish, commenced digging tunnels by hand and lining them with brick. On August 22, 1838, the Vermont Telegraph published a good description of the work: “The Aqueduct which is to bring Croton river water into the city of New York, will be 40 miles long. It will have an unvarying ascent from the starting point, eight miles above Sing Sing to Harlem Heights, where it comes out at 114 feet above high water mark. A great army of men are now at work along the line, and at many points the aqueduct is completed. The bottom is an inverted arch of brick; the sides are laid with hewn stone in cement, then plastered on the inside, and then within the plaster a four inch brick wall is carried up to the stone wall, and thence the top is formed with an arch of double brick work. It will stand for ages a monument of the enterprise of the present generation.” 

On November 11, 1838, a newspaper in Liberty, Mississippi reported on a bricklaying contest – “In a match at brick-laying in a part of the arch of the Croton Aqueduct, between Nicholson, a young man of Connecticut, and Neagle, of Philadelphia, the latter was a head when his strength gave way, having laid 3,700 bricks in 5 ½ hours. Nicholson continued a half hour longer, when he had laid 5,350. The work was capitally done.”

On September 12 of that same year, the Alexandria Gazette chimed in again, noting, “There are full four thousand men employed on the line of the Croton Aqueduct, which is to supply the city of New York with pure and wholesome water. About six of the sections will be completed this fall. The commissioners will now proceed to contract for the ‘Low Bridge’ across the Harlem river, according to the original plan. The whole, when finished, will be the most magnificent work in the United States.” 

The Low Bridge the Gazette referred to was originally planned to go under the Harlem River, but this was quickly abandoned. Instead, what is now known as the High Bridge was constructed in stone – its arched support pillars strongly reminiscent of Roman aqueducts. High Bridge was designed by Chief Engineer John B. Jervis and completed in 1848. It remains the oldest bridge in New York City.

Indeed, the High Bridge and the whole aqueduct warranted a lengthy newspaper article – almost the whole page – August 27, 1839 edition of the New York Morning Herald. Cataloging the extant Roman aqueducts around the world, defining the difference between an aqueduct and a viaduct (aqueducts carry water across water – viaducts carry water across roads), and in all comparing the Croton Aqueduct, and especially the High Bridge, quite favorably to all its predecessors.

But not all was well in construction. The Morning Herald wrote extensively of the aqueduct again on September 4, 1839 claiming, “owing to the gross mismanagement that has prevailed in the office of the water commissioners, the expense of the work has been twice as much as it ought to have been, and after all it will be very defective in many of its most important points; and independent of the immense trouble and the large sums of money that will perpetually be required to keep the whole of it in repair, we have not the least doubt that, when the work comes to be proved by passing a large body of water through it, at least one-sixth part of it will have to be pulled down and rebuilt.”

The article continues on in that vein for quite some time – the principal complaint besides cost being that, unlike the Romans (who also used better quality brick and cement), the Croton Aqueduct would be largely hidden from sight, and the iron pipes would “burst upon the first pressure,” claiming that the commissioners “wanted to oblige some friend who was an iron founder, and to give him a fat contract, by which he could get rid of a quantity of old metal.”

Of course, the editor of the Morning Herald seemed to have ulterior motives, as he negatively connected the Croton Aqueduct with President Martin Van Buren’s campaign for reelection in July of that year, and blamed politicking for the delays and purported graft. He also seemed to hold a grudge – the Morning Herald reported endlessly about the aqueduct, but also about purported mismanagement. No other newspaper from the era reported similar claims. However, an article in the Richmond Gazette (Richmond, VA) from July 28, 1842, does hint at the enormous cost of the project, but brings up the 1835 fire and its enormous cost as a justification for the price.

At 5 A.M. on June 22, 1842, water began flowing through the Croton Aqueduct. The water commissioners, aboard the small vessel the Croton Maid of Croton Lake, went with it. The 16 foot long, four-person barge was especially built to traverse the tunnels and continued until High Bridge, which was not yet completed. On June 27, the Croton Maid was carried across the river and the commissioners continued back into the aqueduct, arriving at the York Hill Reservoir to a 38 artillery gun salute.

The following day, the Board of Water Commissioners submitted a report to Robert H. Morris, the Mayor of New York City. It was printed in the New York Herald on June 25, 1842.

“SIR – The Board of Water Commissioners have the honor to Report, that on Wednesday, the twenty second instant, they opened the gates of the Croton Aqueduct at its mouth, on the Croton Lake, at 5 o’clock in the morning, giving it a volume of water of 18 inches in depth.

“The Commissioners, with their Chief and Principal Assistant Engineers, accompanied the water down, sometimes in their barge, ‘the Croton Maid of Croton Lake,’ and sometimes on the surface of the Aqueduct above.
“We found that the water arrived at the waste gates at Sing Sing, a distance of 8 miles in 5 hours and 48 minutes: here we suffered the water to flow out at the waste gates until 12 o’clock, M., when the gates were closed on a volume of about 2 feet in depth. The water then flowed on and arrived at Mill River waste gates at a quarter past 3 o’clock, a distance of 5 miles.

“It was there drawn off through the waste gates for half an hour, and was, at a quarter before 4 o’clock, allowed to flow on. We continued to precede it on land, and to accompany it in our boat, in the aqueduct, to Yonkers, a distance of 10 miles, where it arrived at half past 10 o’clock at night. Here we permitted it to flow at this waste gate until a quarter past 5 o’clock in the morning, when the waste gates were closed, and it flowed on and arrived at the waste gate on the Van Courtlandt farm, a distance of five miles and a half, in three hours and a quarter. Here we permitted it to flow out of the waste gates for two hours when the gates were closed, and it flowed, in two hours and twenty minutes, a distance of about four miles and three quarters, down to the Harlem river, where the Commissioners and their Chief Engineer emerged to the surface of the earth in their subterranean barge at 1 o’clock, June 23d.

“The average current or flow of the water has been thus proved to be forty-five minutes to the mile, a velocity greater, we are happy to say, than the calculations gave reason to expect.

“It is with great satisfaction we have to report, that the work at the dam, on the line of aqueduct proper, the waste gates and all the appendages of this great work, so far as tried by this performance, have been found to answer most perfectly the objects of their construction.

“In conclusion, we congratulate the Common Council of the city, and our fellow citizens, at the apparent success of this magnificent undertaking, designed not for show, nor for luxury, nor for glory; but for health, security against fire, comfort, temperance [note: a reference to the habit of mixing New York water with alcohol to make it safe and palatable to drink] and enjoyment of our whole population – objects worth of a community of virtuous freemen.

“With great respect, we remain, your obedient servants, Samuel Stevens, John D. Ward, Z. Ring, B. Birdsall.
​
“P.S. – We expect the water will be admitted into the Northern Division of the Receiving Reservoir on Monday next, at half-past 4 o’clock, P.M. at which time and place we shall be happy to see yourself and the other members of the Common Council.”

In fact, the water did not begin to fill the Manhattan reservoirs until July 4, 1842. The official celebration was reserved for October 14, 1842. The New York Herald reported the following day, “The celebration commenced at daylight with the roar of one hundred cannon, and all the fountains in the city immediate began to send forth the limpid stream of the Croton. Soon after this, the joyous bells from a hundred steeples pealed forth their merry notes to usher in the subsequent scenes. At and before this moment, over half a million of souls leaped simultaneously from their slumbers and their beds, and dressed themselves as for a gladsome gala day – a general jubilee.”

Workers were given the day off and an enormous parade, with representatives from every official organization in the city followed, ending at City Hall Park, where an enormous fountain was flowing. Again, the New York Herald, “For several days previous, thousands of strangers had been pouring into the city from all parts of the country, to see and join in the procession, until there must have been at least 200,000 strangers in the city, making an aggregate with the resident inhabitants of half a million of souls congregated in our streets.”

The opening of the Croton Aqueduct marked a period of transformation for New York City. Already one of the most important port cities in the nation, the abundance of clean water meant that urban and industrial growth could continue apace. The aqueduct was expanded several times, but in 1885 the “New Croton Aqueduct” was constructed. The Old Croton Aqueduct continued to be used until the 1950s, and is today a park – many of its old aqueduct bridges are now pedestrian bridges, as had been suggested during their original construction. The New Croton Aqueduct is still in use, still bringing Croton River water to New York City.

​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. 59 - “Saugerties”
                                                        ————--
She came from “foreign waters” under the name of the Shenandoah, she served on the Hudson River under the name of the Saugerties, and she went to a watery grave as the result of the ravages of flames; thus reads a brief history of the Saugerties.
 
Her wooden hull, built at Brooklyn in 1882, was 200 feet long with a 33 foot breadth of beam, and she was rated at 424 net tons. A vertical beam engine with a 36-inch diameter cylinder and a 10 foot stroke furnished the power for the Saugerties.
 
The steamboat was originally named the Shenandoah and was built for the old Dominion Steamship Company in whose service she plied the James river and Chesapeake Bay, carrying freight and passengers to and from the company’s steamships in Norfolk, Va.
 
In 1888 the Shenandoah was purchased by the Saugerties Company to run between Saugerties and New York on the night line in line with the steamer Ulster. She was completely overhauled and her name changed to the Saugerties, and she was advertised as “the largest little steamboat on the Hudson river.”
 
On Sunday, November 23, 1906, the Saugerties, under Captain Charles Tiffany, made her last run and ended her career as another steamboat that fell before the flames which wrote finis to the term of service of many of the river steamboats. The fire occurred at the dock at Saugerties village and caused the death of Charles Rosch, a member of the crew from New York city.
 
The Saugerties arrived at her dock at the up-river village on Sunday morning with a cargo of freight and passengers. It being Sunday, no freight was removed from the steamboat which was scheduled to make her return trip to New York on Monday evening. About 5 o’clock on that Sunday afternoon in November, flames were discovered coming from the oil room of the vessel, and a few moments later the entire lower section of the boat was ablaze.
 
The men who were aboard the steamer were compelled to flee for their lives and were unable to take the time to gather any of their possessions other than the clothes they were wearing. The ill-fated Rosch, a member of the crew, made his way back to the burning steamer after he had safely reached the wharf, in order to rescue a suit of clothing in which he had four dollars. Others on the wharf shouted to him that his efforts were foolhardy but he dashed into the smoke and flame and was suffocated.
 
The flames spread to all parts of the stricken vessel with amazing rapidity, eating their way along the upper deck and completely enveloping the steamer within 15 minutes. The roar of the fire could be heard for some distance and the heat from the flames was terrific.
 
The burned hulk sank at the dock at 2 o’clock Monday morning; the water of the Saugerties inlet squelching the last flames too late to save the fine steamboat. The Saugerties had been practically rebuilt during the years when she was the property of the Saugerties Steamboat Company, and her loss was estimated at $100,000. Of that sum, $80,000 was the estimate placed on the vessel itself and the other $20,000 was the value of the cargo.