The assassination of Abraham Lincoln on April 15, 1865 shocked the nation. Six days after his death, an ornate, nine-car funeral train left Washington, D.C. for Lincoln’s home in Springfield, Illinois. The train carried Lincoln’s body as well as the remains of his son William Wallace Lincoln, also known as Willie, who had died of typhoid in 1862 at the age of 11. Pulled by a steam locomotive carrying Lincoln’s framed portrait and a wreath on the front, the nine cars were draped in black bunting and included a car for the hearse and horses, the President’s car, which was retrofitted as a hearse for the two caskets, as well as accommodations for family, an honor guard consisting of Union generals and other military brass, and funeral procession personnel, including an embalmer, who had the somewhat gruesome task of re-embalming Lincoln’s body between stops. Mary Todd Lincoln, distraught by her husband’s violent death, did not accompany the train home.

Traveling an extensive route designed to pass through most major cities in the Northeast, the train arrived in New York City on April 24, 1865. Lincoln’s casket was removed from the train and processed through the city for the thousands of mourners who gathered to see his body. 

​After the procession, the train departed New York City at 4:15 PM on April 25 and traveled through the evening and overnight, reaching Albany at 1:55 AM on April 26. Traveling up the east shore of the Hudson River, the train passed through many stations, watched by mournful New Yorkers as it made its way to Illinois.
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Perhaps because the train’s journey through the Hudson Valley took place largely at night, in the years after experienced railroad men began to report strange sightings. In the days before automation, trackmen and line workers often worked at night, caring for the rails, operating switches, and manning signal and water stations.

On September 13, 1879, the Rockland County Journal published "A Railroad Ghost Story," reprinted from the Fishkill Standard, which is excerpted below in its entirety. 

A RAILROAD GHOST STORY.
"An exchange tells the following tale. — We do not remember having seen it before. It was related among a number of other railroad stories. The writer says: "Then was narrated a weird story about an apparition of a train on the Hudson River Railroad. It was told with an effort at sincerity that did not deceive the listener, but I am told that there are many trackmen and laborers along the line of the Hudson River Railroad who pretend to have seen the spectacle. The tale was about a mystic counterpart of the funeral train that bore Abraham Lincoln's remains from New York City to the West. The actual and substantial train passed over the road on a certain day in April, 1865. The car that contained the President's remains was heavily draped, I believe. It is said that on that night, every year, all the train men that are on the road at a certain hour (that varies in various subdivisions of the road), hear and see and feel the spectre train rush by them. It sounds hollow and awful. Its lights are yellow, pale and funeral. Its train hands and passengers are sepulchral figures. It looks like the outline of a train, yet every detail is perfect. Those who have seen it say, though they felt that it was only a vision, that a man could walk through it if he dared, or throw a stone through it; yet it seems perfect in everything but substantialness. It even carries with it a whirl of wind as fast as trains do, but it is a cold, clammy, grave-like atmosphere, all its own. As it passes another train the shriek of its whistle and clang of its bell strike terror to the hearts of those that hear them." 

​Have you ever seen Lincoln's ghost train? If you haven't you'll have to wait until April 25th of next year to see if you can catch a glimpse. Happy Halloween!

If you or someone you knew grew up in the 1990s, they probably have fond memories of the PBS children's television series "Wishbone." Although relatively short-lived, the popular weekly series featured a precocious Jack Russell terrier named Wishbone who daydreamed about himself starring in tales from classic literature, interspersed with a storyline set in modern day featuring his boy Joe and his human friends and family.

We shared a version of the Legend of Sleepy Hollow featuring adults last week, but for this week's Media Monday, we thought kids of all ages might enjoy this episode of Wishbone, who stars as Ichabod Crane. 

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"From the listless repose of the place, and the peculiar character of its inhabitants, who are descendants from the original Dutch settlers, this sequestered glen has long been known by name of Sleepy Hollow ... A drowsy, dreamy influence seems to hang over the land, and to pervade the very atmosphere."

— Washington Irving, "The Legend of Sleepy Hollow"

​Since spooky season is upon us, this Media Monday we're sharing "The Legend of Sleepy Hollow," part of Shelley Duvall's Tall Tales & Legends TV series, and which originally aired on September 25, 1985.

Featuring an all-star cast, this version keeps pretty closely to the original Washington Irving tale. Ed Begley Jr. stars as timid schoolteacher Ichabod Crane faces a headless horseman one dark Halloween night. Beverly D'Angelo stars as as Katrina Von Tassel, Charles Durning as Uncle Duffue/the Narrator, Tim Thomerson as Brom Bones, Barret Oliver as Heinrich Von Tassel, Diana Bellamy as Mrs. Von Tassel.

If you'd like to read the original in full, Project Gutenberg has a fully digitized version available for download or to read online. 

And if you'd like to learn about OTHER spooky Hudson River Valley stories, take one of our Lantern Tours aboard Solaris! These spooky narrated tours feature stories based on real, historical events. 

​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!​

T'was the night before Halloween! And while many a passenger is aboard Solaris for this weekend's Lantern Cruises, we thought it apt to share a tale from Washington Irving. First published in 1822 as part of the two volume Bracebridge Hall, the tale of the Storm Ship is an unassuming one, but has spawned a lot of lore about the ghostly ship that plies the Hudson against wind and tide. The story entitled "Storm Ship" is quite a bit longer than this excerpt, and is preceded by one entitled "Dolph Heylinger." But the remainder of "The Storm Ship" is not actually about the ship at all, but rather Dolph's exploits and redemption. You can read the entire Storm Ship story here. Although Irving is best known for his masterful Sleepy Hollow, this shorter story is nonetheless a fascinating look at early Dutch colonial life - fictionalized through a 19th century lens - in what was once New Netherland.

Note: The following text is taken verbatim from the original Washington Irving publication and has the original spelling.

​In the golden age of the province of the New-Netherlands, when it was under the sway of Wouter Van Twiller, otherwise called the Doubter, the people of the Manhattoes were alarmed, one sultry afternoon, just about the time of the summer solstice, by a tremendous storm of thunder and lightning. The rain descended in such torrents, as absolutely to spatter up and smoke along the ground. It seemed as if the thunder rattled and rolled over the very roofs of the houses; the lightning was seen to play about the church of St. Nicholas, and to strive three times, in vain, to strike its weather-cock. Garret Van Horne’s new chimney was split almost from top to bottom; and Doffue Mildeberger was struck speechless from his bald-faced mare, just as he was riding into town. In a word, it was one of those unparalleled storms, that only happen once within the memory of that venerable personage, known in all towns by the appellation of “the oldest inhabitant.”
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Great was the terror of the good old women of the Manhattoes. They gathered their children together, and took refuge in the cellars; after having hung a shoe on the iron point of every bed-post, lest it should attract the lightning. At length the storm abated: the thunder sunk into a growl; and the setting sun, breaking from under the fringed borders of the clouds, made the broad bosom of the bay to gleam like a sea of molten gold.

The word was given from the fort, that a ship was standing up the bay. It passed from mouth to mouth, and street to street, and soon put the little capital in a bustle. The arrival of a ship, in those early times of the settlement, was an event of vast importance to the inhabitants. It brought them news from the old world, from the land of their birth, from which they were so completely severed: to the yearly ship, too, they looked for their supply of luxuries, of finery, of comforts, and almost of necessaries. The good vrouw could not have her new cap, nor new gown, until the arrival of the ship; the artist waited for it for his tools, the burgomaster for his pipe and his supply of Hollands, the school-boy for his top and marbles, and the lordly landholder for the bricks with which he was to build his new mansion. Thus every one, rich and poor, great and small, looked out for the arrival of the ship. It was the great yearly event of the town of New-Amsterdam; and from one end of the year to the other, the ship—the ship—the ship—was the continual topic of conversation.

The news from the fort, therefore, brought all the populace down to the battery, to behold the wished-for sight. It was not exactly the time when she had been expected to arrive, and the circumstance was a matter of some speculation. Many were the groups collected about the battery. Here and there might be seen a burgomaster, of slow and pompous gravity, giving his opinion with great confidence to a crowd of old women and idle boys. At another place was a knot of old weatherbeaten fellows, who had been seamen or fishermen in their times, and were great authorities on such occasions; these gave different opinions, and caused great disputes among their several adherents: but the man most looked up to, and followed and watched by the crowd, was Hans Van Pelt, an old Dutch sea-captain retired from service, the nautical oracle of the place. He reconnoitred the ship through an ancient telescope, covered with tarry canvas, hummed a Dutch tune to himself, and said nothing. A hum, however, from Hans Van Pelt had always more weight with the public than a speech from another man.

In the meantime, the ship became more distinct to the naked eye: she was a stout, round Dutch-built vessel, with high bow and poop, and bearing Dutch colours. The evening sun gilded her bellying canvas, as she came riding over the long waving billows. The sentinel who had given notice of her approach, declared, that he first got sight of her when she was in the centre of the bay; and that she broke suddenly on his sight, just as if she had come out of the bosom of the black thunder-cloud. The bystanders looked at Hans Van Pelt, to see what he would say to this report: Hans Van Pelt screwed his mouth closer together, and said nothing; upon which some shook their heads, and others shrugged their shoulders.

The ship was now repeatedly hailed, but made no reply, and, passing by the fort, stood on up the Hudson. A gun was brought to bear on her, and, with some difficulty, loaded and fired by Hans Van Pelt, the garrison not being expert in artillery. The shot seemed absolutely to pass through the ship, and to skip along the water on the other side, but no notice was taken of it! What was strange, she had all her sails set, and sailed right against wind and tide, which were both down the river. Upon this Hans Van Pelt, who was likewise harbour-master, ordered his boat, and set off to board her; but after rowing two or three hours, he returned without success. Sometimes he would get within one or two hundred yards of her, and then, in a twinkling, she would be half a mile off. Some said it was because his oarsmen, who were rather pursy and short-winded, stopped every now and then to take breath, and spit on their hands; but this, it is probable, was a mere scandal. He got near enough, however, to see the crew; who were all dressed in the Dutch style, the officers in doublets and high hats and feathers: not a word was spoken by any one on board; they stood as motionless as so many statues, and the ship seemed as if left to her own government. Thus she kept on away up the river, lessening and lessening in the evening sunshine, until she faded from sight, like a little white cloud melting away in the summer sky.

The appearance of this ship threw the governor into one of the deepest doubts that ever beset him in the whole course of his administration. Fears were entertained for the security of the infant settlements on the river, lest this might be an enemy’s ship in disguise, sent to take possession. The governor called together his council repeatedly to assist him with their conjectures. He sat in his chair of state, built of timber from the sacred forest of the Hague, and smoking his long jasmine pipe, and listened to all that his counsellors had to say on a subject about which they knew nothing; but, in spite of all the conjecturing of the sagest and oldest heads, the governor still continued to doubt.

Messengers were despatched to different places on the river; but they returned without any tidings—the ship had made no port. Day after day, and week after week, elapsed; but she never returned down the Hudson. As, however, the council seemed solicitous for intelligence, they had it in abundance. The captains of the sloops seldom arrived without bringing some report of having seen the strange ship at different parts of the river; sometimes near the Palisadoes; sometimes off Croton Point, and sometimes in the highlands; but she never was reported as having been seen above the highlands. The crews of the sloops, it is true, generally differed among themselves in their accounts of these apparitions; but they may have arisen from the uncertain situations in which they saw her. Sometimes it was by the flashes of the thunder-storm lighting up a pitchy night, and giving glimpses of her careering across Tappaan Zee, or the wide waste of Haverstraw Bay. At one moment she would appear close upon them, as if likely to run them down, and would throw them into great bustle and alarm; but the next flash would show her far off, always sailing against the wind. Sometimes, in quiet moonlight nights, she would be seen under some high bluff of the highlands, all in deep shadow, excepting her top-sails glittering in the moonbeams; by the time, however, that the voyagers would reach the place, there would be no ship to be seen; and when they had passed on for some distance, and looked back, behold! there she was again with her top-sails in the moonshine! Her appearance was always just after, or just before, or just in the midst of, unruly weather; and she was known by all the skippers and voyagers of the Hudson, by the name of “the storm-ship.”

These reports perplexed, the governor and his council more than ever; and it would be endless to repeat the conjectures and opinions that were uttered on the subject. Some quoted cases in point, of ships seen off the coast of New-England, navigated by witches and goblins. Old Hans Van Pelt, who had been more than once to the Dutch colony at the Cape of Good Hope, insisted that this must be the Flying Dutchman which had so long haunted Table Bay, but, being unable to make port, had now sought another harbour. Others suggested, that, if it really was a supernatural apparition, as there was every natural reason to believe, it might be Hendrick Hudson, and his crew of the Half-Moon; who, it was well-known, had once run aground in the upper part of the river, in seeking a north-west passage to China. This opinion had very little weight with the governor, but it passed current out of doors; for indeed it had already been reported, that Hendrick Hudson and his crew haunted the Kaatskill Mountain; and it appeared very reasonable to suppose, that his ship might infest the river, where the enterprise was baffled, or that it might bear the shadowy crew to their periodical revels in the mountain.

Other events occurred to occupy the thoughts and doubts of the sage Wouter and his council, and the storm-ship ceased to be a subject of deliberation at the board. It continued, however, to be a matter of popular belief and marvellous anecdote through the whole time of the Dutch government, and particularly just before the capture of New-Amsterdam, and the subjugation of the province by the English squadron. About that time the storm-ship was repeatedly seen in the Tappaan Zee, and about Weehawk, and even down as far as Hoboken; and her appearance was supposed to be ominous of the approaching squall in public affairs, and the downfall of Dutch domination.

Since that time, we have no authentic accounts of her; though it is said she still haunts the highlands and cruises about Point-no-point. People who live along the river, insist that they sometimes see her in summer moonlight; and that in a deep still midnight, they have heard the chant of her crew, as if heaving the lead; but sights and sounds are so deceptive along the mountainous shores, and about the wide bays and long reaches of this great river, that I confess I have very strong doubts upon the subject.

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