![]() itle: Concrete Barge # 442 Description: (U.S. Navy Barge, 1918) In port, probably at the time she was inspected by the Third Naval District on 4 December 1918. Built by Louis L. Brown at Verplank, New York, this barge was built for the Navy and became Coal Barge # 442, later being renamed YC-442. She was stricken from the Navy Register on 11 September 1923, after having been lost by sinking. U.S. Naval History and Heritage Command Photograph. Hiding away in Rondout Creek, New York at 41.91245, -73.98639 is the last known surviving example of a World War I Navy ‘Oil & Coal’ Barge. It is less than a kilometer up the Rondout Creek from the Hudson River Maritime Museum. Based on a lot of ‘Googling’, it seems probable this is the first time that the provenance and history of this particular relic of concrete shipbuilding in the United States during the World War I era has been recognized. [Editor's Note: The concrete barge is featured on the Solaris tours of Rondout Creek.] The hulk is, in fact, the initial prototype of a ‘Navy Department Coal Barge’, concrete barges that were commissioned by the Navy Department : Bureau of Construction and Repair. This was the department of the U.S. Navy that was responsible for supervising the design, construction, conversion, procurement, maintenance, and repair of ships and other craft for the Navy. Launched on 1st June 1918, the ‘Directory of Vessels chartered by Naval Districts’ lists ‘Concrete Barge No.1’, Registration number 2531, as being chartered by the Navy from Louis L. Brown at $360 per month from 11th September 1918. In Spring 1918, the Navy Department had commissioned twelve, 500 Gross Registered Tonnage barges from three separate constructors in Spring 1918 to be used in New York harbour. ![]() Navy Barge #516 which was the first prototype. It is believed that the barge at Rondout Creek is this particular barge based on the subtly different lines of her bow. Possibly photographed when inspected by the Third Naval District on 5 April 1918. She was assigned registry ID # 2531. This barge, chartered by the Navy in September 1918, was returned to her owner on 28 October 1919. While in Navy service she was known as Coal Barge # 516. U.S. Naval Historical Center Photograph. AuthorsRichard Lewis and Erlend Bonderud have been researching concrete ships worldwide for many years. They have identified over 1800 concrete ships, spanning the globe, of which many survive. If you enjoyed this post and would like to support more history blog content, please make a donation to the Hudson River Maritime Museum or become a member today!
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Editor's note: The following text is from the February 1937 issue of "The Open Road for Boys" magazine. The language, spelling and grammar of the article reflects the time period when it was written. With cramped fingers, Tim Grayson shifted the tiller of the Snow Queen a fraction of an inch. Instantly the iceboat responded, veering across the hard black ice toward Lighthouse Point. Tim allowed himself one backward glance. Raleigh Bryan in the Penguin was close behind, with one leg of the race still to go. As the two ice yachts neared the southern side of the lighthouse, Tim prepared to make an extra tack to avoid a line of soft ice behind a small red marker. For a moment he was tempted not to go about. It was so cold that day that he didn’t see how there could be any soft ice left. The red marker had nothing to do with the race course; it was just a danger warning, Tim knew, and the extra tack would cost several seconds of precious time. But Tim’s conscience won, and in another minute he put his rudder hard alee to make the tack. When he came back on his original course he found the Penguin twenty yards ahead of him. Raleigh Bryan hadn't bothered about the red marker! In spite of the cold, little drops of sweat ran down Tim’s back as he shifted his position in the stern of the boat. He knew that his safety tack had cost him the race; but, as he saw it, there was nothing else to do. It wasn’t the risk to himself that had influenced Tim. He could swim in any water, and from the crowd on shore watching the race, many friends would have rushed instantly to haul him out. It was the Snow Queen that would have suffered had they gone through. Staved-in framework, warped rudder, ruined varnish —all threatened an iceboat that broke through the surface, and the Snow Queen belonged to Greg, Tim’s older brother. With all the skill at his command, Tim fought to regain the distance lost, but the Penguin held most of her lead. Tim realized that his last chance to win had vanished; and with this race went the opportunity to pilot the Snow Queen in the Navesink Yacht Club Regatta. Greg had told him he could sail in the Navesink contest if he took first place in one of the Shrewsbury (NJ) skeeter races. And this was the last race of the season. In another minute Raleigh had cut expertly across the line amid cheers from the crowd. “Nice work, Raleigh!” Tim shouted across the icy basin. Raleigh smiled his slow, confident smile. “You all would have trimmed me if you hadn’t been so scary about gettin’ your feet wet,” he drawled, as he led the way into the boat house, Tim never forgot the next half hour. Slowly came the amazing realization that the majority of the crowd thought him a coward. He found himself floundering in the knowledge of their contempt. “What’s the matter, Tim? Afraid of a cold bath?” Red Harris blurted out. “You'd have won that race if you hadn’t been such a, sissy about that soft-ice marker.” Tim’s mouth was still open when he heard Greg beside him. “There’s no use explaining,” Greg said quietly. “People either understand or they don’t. Everybody doesn’t feel the same way about a boat.” Tim looked up at his brother gratefully. At least Greg knew that he hadn’t been afraid of getting wet. “What I didn’t like,” Greg went on, “was the way you made the tack and then your attempts to shift your weight on the last leg.” In his slow, deliberate voice Greg analyzed every inch of the race until Tim fully understood his mistakes. Next day came a sudden thaw. Tim decided that it would be warm enough to work on the Snow Queen out of doors. Greg had suggested a few adjustments in the rigging, and his brother was anxious to carry them out. The thought of meeting people at the boat house so soon after losing the race was unpleasant, but Tim was glad to have something that forced him to get the ordeal over with. The boat house belonged to the township of Shrewsbury and served as a clubhouse for anyone interested in sailing. Usually a crowd collected early, but today the only person in sight was Red Harris. “Hello,” said Red. “Going out?” Tim shook his head. “Nope. Just got some repairs to make.” “This thaw may weaken the ice a bit, but even so I guess you'd be safe,” Red remarked significantly. “Raleigh’s out sailing.” He was just about to ask Red to help him carry in the Snow Queen when Red pointed to the spot where the Navesink River joined the Shrewsbury. “Look at that bird go!” he said, “Doesn’t care a whoop what he does!” Tim looked and could hardly believe his eyes. Raleigh Bryan’s Penguin was tearing ahead toward the place where the fishing lights had been. “It isn’t safe!” Tim gasped. “They were fishing through the ice up there last night, and it won't be properly frozen over.” “Don’t worry, Grandma,” Red’s voice was sarcastic. “Raleigh can take care of himself. He’ll probably jibe.” Tim watched the Penguin skudding along before the wind and a frown came between his eyes. “Listen, Raleigh hasn’t been up north very long and I’ll bet he’s never seen ice like that before. He probably doesn’t know how dangerous it is.” Red laughed and for a minute Tim hesitated. If he went after Raleigh, and the newcomer realized all the time what he was doing, he would be thought more of a mollycoddle than ever. But if he held back and Raleigh did not recognize the circles of thin ice, what then? As the Penguin kept straight on for the spotted ice, Tim grabbed a boat hook and flung it on board the Snow Queen. “You can laugh all you like,” he shouted back at Red Harris. “I’m going to stand by.” Hardly had his little boat got under way when the bow of the Penguin faltered in one of the thinly covered holes. In another instant came the sound of ripping ice and wood. The Penguin’s mast crumpled; her sail flapped and fell; half of her frame disappeared under water. Tim now could see Raleigh’s terrified face just above the water. He was fighting wildly against the current, handicapped by a tangle of rope and canvas. Working fast, Tim drew as near to the Penguin as he dared and spun her head into the wind. With a rattle of gear and rigging he dropped his sail. The Snow Queen still coasted forward and Tim frantically used one leg and the boat hook to check her speed. When she finally slithered to a standstill he was within thirty feet of Raleigh and the black pool of open water. Hurriedly casting off the painter, Tim threw one end of it to within a few inches of Raleigh’s shoulder. “Grab it!” he shouted, but Raleigh shook his head desperately. “I can’t!” he gasped. “My feet are caught and I’ve done something to my left arm. The current’s too strong. I tell you, I can’t let go.” Tim was already overboard, carrying the boat hook in one hand. “I’m coming,” he called reassuringly. But as he spoke the ice creaked threateningly beneath him. Dropping on his stomach, he began inching his way forward. When he came within a few feet of Raleigh the ice dipped under his weight, letting water ooze out over the surface to drench his chest and legs. Every second he expected the groaning ice would give way and throw him into the driving current. He could hear the rush of the water and could see that it was pushing the Penguin further under the ice. In another minute Raleigh would have to let go of her stern or be dragged under with it. In spite of wet hands, clumsy with cold, he fastened the painter around the end of the boat hook and thrust it toward Raleigh. “Stay just as you are,” he ordered, “I think I can get the rope round you. If I come any nearer, I'll break through.” “R-right,” Raleigh muttered from between blue lips. Maneuvering carefully with the boat hook, Tim finally looped the rope around Raleigh’s body. Once, as he drew it back, it slipped and started sliding snake-like toward the water. Tim reached for it with the hook and retrieved it just in time. “All set,” he shouted to Raleigh and began pulling on the rope; but instead of extricating the other pilot, he felt himself being drawn forward toward the open water. Unable to get a grip on the ice with his feet, Tim knew that continued pulling would only send him into the water. Casting about desperately for a solution of his difficulty, Tim thought of the Snow Queen. “Hold on,” he yelled, scrambling backward, “I’ll have you out pronto!” But he felt little of the confidence his words implied, for he could see that Raleigh was weakening fast and might be drawn under at any minute. Furiously Tim worked himself toward the ice boat. Trembling in his haste, he made the painter fast to a cleat at the stern. He knew he would now need every ounce of the skill Greg had tried to teach him. “Hang on to the rope with your good hand,” he shouted to Raleigh, “and when we begin to move try to kick clear.” Swiftly he shoved the Snow Queen’s bow in the direction he wanted to go and hoisted her sail. Then, hands grasping the boat, he ran alongside, pushing her forward. As he wind filled her sail, he jumped aboard. Would she start with Raleigh’s weight acting as an anchor? Would the drowning boy be able to kick himself free? Was the painter long enough to give them a chance? Tim looked back breathlessly. He moved the rudder lightly. “Go to it, Snow Queen!” he said under his breath. As if the little boat understood, she strained forward and Raleigh came sprawling across the ice like a gigantic fish. Just how he got him on board, Tim was never sure, but somehow he stopped the boat long enough to haul the half-frozen boy beside him. “How did—” Raleigh began, as Tim shoved him close to the center rail in the middle of the boat. “Don’t try to talk,” Tim snapped, his whole attention concentrated on getting the boat to shore, “Just hang to that safety rail with your good arm.” When they reached the basin in front of the boat house Greg was standing on the ice beside Red Harris, a pile of sails in his arms. “We—we—were just coming after you,” Red sputtered but Greg said nothing. Dropping the sailcloth, he reached a helping hand to Raleigh and half carried him toward the house. “Hurry up, Tim,” he ordered, “you've got to get on some dry clothes yourself.” “How about the Queen?” Tim began, but Red hastily interrupted. “l’ll put her up for you, Timmy,” he said. Relieved, Tim raced after Greg into the stuffy warmth of the boat house. In a few minutes Greg had Raleigh dressed in some old dungarees, a torn sweat shirt, and a heavy blanket that he’d found lying about. Around Raleigh’s bruised wrist he had fashioned a temporary bandage. In spite of the heat, Raleigh’s teeth were still chattering; but the color had come back to his lips and his cheeks no longer looked green. As he stuttered and stumbled through his story, Tim realized that it was exactly as he had surmised. Raleigh was practically on top of the newly frozen over fishing holes before he recognized the danger. Once in the water, his feet caught in the ropes and it was impossible for him to do more than keep himself afloat. “I still don’t see how you got across that ice,” he declared, turning to Tim, “It was the bravest thing I ever have seen!” “Tim’s never been accustomed to shy from danger,” Greg said dryly, as Red Harris poked his flaming head around the door to tell them that two men from the Navesink Yacht Club had succeeded in pulling the battered Penguin ashore. In about half an hour, the blood was coursing warmly through Raleigh’s veins and Greg thought it was safe to take him home. When they left him at his door he was still praising Tim’s bravery. “Well,” said Greg, as they drove off, “I guess that squelches any rumor about your losing yesterday’s race because you were afraid of a ducking. But what pleases me most, Timmy boy, is the way you handled the boat just now. You sailed her like a veteran! If you do anything like as well in the Navesink Yacht Club Race you ought to win it hands down!” Editor's Note: As mentioned in the 6/30/2023 blog, “Ice Yachting Winter Sailboats Hit More Than 100 m.p.h. by John A. Carroll, The Detroit Ice Yachting Club has fostered one of the more exclusive organizations in the world - the Hell Divers. To be eligible, a yachtsman merely has to take the plunge and survive to tell the story.” It appears that Raleigh became a Hell Diver by his harrowing experience. To learn more about the fishermen who created the circles on the ice, go to New York Heritage HRMM Commercial Fishermen oral histories here. Author"Circles on the Ice" by L. R. Davis and Illustrated by R. B. Pullen; "The Open Road for Boys" magazine February 1937. From the Ray Ruge Collection, Hudson River Maritime Museum. 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: This article, "'Companionship and a Little Fun': Investigating Working Women’s Leisure Aboard a Hudson River Steamboat, July 1919," written by Austin Gallas and published in Lateral 11.2 (2022). https://csalateral.org/issue/11-2/companionship-and-a-little-fun-investigating-working-women-leisure-hudson-river-steamboat-1919-gallas/#:~:text=The%20investigator's%20written%20account%20offers,Hudson%2C%20and%20how%20Progressive%20reformers Article Abstract: This article provides an in-depth consideration of a single report penned on the night of July 27, 1919 by a private detective employed by New York City's Committee of Fourteen (1905-1932), an influential anti-vice and police reform organization. A close reading of the undercover sleuth's account, which details his experiences, subjective judgments, and general observations regarding moral and social conditions while aboard the "Benjamin B. Odell", a palatial Hudson River steamboat enables us to enrich our grasp of the courtship and pleasure-seeking practices popular among working women and men active in New York City's heterosocial and largely segregated amusement landscape during the so-called "Red Summer". Specifically, the report reveals how wage-earning women articulated femininity and sought individual freedoms, companionship, pleasure and romance via Hudson River steamboat excursions. AuthorAustin Gallas recently earned a PhD in Cultural Studies from George Mason University, where he currently teaches in the Department of Communication. His dissertation is titled "Value of Surveillance: Private Policing, Bourgeois Reform, and Sexual Commerce in Turn-of-the-Century New York." Austin's current research interests include undercover surveillance in New York City history, Progressive Era urban police reform, American literary journalism during prohibition, and the sexual and gender politics of the American minimum wage debate of the 1910s. 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 from articles printed in the New York Times in February, 1860. Thank you to Contributing Scholar Carl Mayer for finding, cataloging and transcribing this article. The language, spelling and grammar of the article reflects the time period when it was written. New York Times - 1860-02-15 page 8 Bloody Affray on the Ice at Port Ewen. - TWO MEN KILLED, ONE FATALLY WOUNDED, AND ANOTHER BADLY HURT. Great excitement has existed in and around Port Ewen, Ulster County, during the last two or three days, in consequence of a shocking and bloody affray which occurred on the ice opposite that village on Saturday afternoon last, [Feb. 11, 1860] about 3 o’clock. The facts are as follows: Two brothers, named RILYEA, with a friend, all residing at Esopus, Ulster County, were sailing in an ice-boat on the river on Saturday afternoon. After amusing themselves for sometime, they fastened the boat to the dock at Port Ewen, and went into a tavern to drink. While there, three Irishmen took possession of the boat, loosed it from the dock, and sailed to the middle of the river, where they were observed by one of the brothers, who instantly went to them demanded the boat. The Irishmen refused to surrender it, and angry words ensued. During the altercation, young RILYEA unfastened the tiller and threatened to drive out the occupants of the boat. Upon this, one of the Irishmen drew knife from his pocket and stabbed the unfortunate [22 year old] youth in the heart, inflicting a fatal wound. The remaining brother and his friend witnessed the transaction from the shore and immediately started for the scene of the affray. Before they arrived at the boat, however, they came to the place where the elder RILYEA lay, and seeing that he was dying, rushed towards the boat to take revenge. After a short fight, one of the Irishmen seized the tiller and struck the friend of the brother a severe blow upon the head, which felled him senseless, [cracked his scull and lead to his demise]. HIRAM RILYEA then repaired to the tavern where he procured a pistol, and returning to the boat, shot one of the Irishmen, killing him instantly. He then turned and [despite being badly hurt,] ran for the shore in the direction of Rondout, followed by the remaining Irishmen, where he arrived in advance of them, and instantly gave himself up to the authorities. The brothers RILYEA were 20 and 22 years of age respectively. The one who was killed was buried on Sunday. Both the offenders have been arrested. New York Times, Feb. 17, 1860, Page 5 The Grand Jury of Ulster County, which has been for several days in session at Kingston, adjourned on Wednesday, after having disposed of about thirty cases, in various forms. The most important of them was the affair at Port Ewen, which took place on Saturday last. The case, as laid before the Grand Jury, differs essentially from the reports formerly printed, and is substantially thus: On Saturday morning, two brothers, named HIRAM and JEREMIAH RELYEA [sic], with a friend, JOHN SLATER, while cruising down the river on the ice, with an iceboat, landed at Port Ewen, a small village, inhabited mainly by Irish, employes of the Delaware and Hudson Canal Company. It seems that HIRAM RELYEA and SLATER proceeded some distance back of the village, while JEREMIAH remained to take charge of the boat. While thus engaged he was surrounded by a gang of ruffians of the place, was terribly beaten and obliged to flee for his life. Thus matters stood until about 5 o'clock P. M., when Hiram and Slater returned to take the boat, when they were also attacked by the gang, and being surrounded upon all sides were obliged to fight for their lives. At this juncture RELYEA and SLATER endeavored to take refuge between two canal boats near by, but were still more closely pursued, and RELYEA was felled to the ground by a heavy blow from MARTIN SILK. Instantly springing to his feet, he discharged a pistol at SILK, the ball of which passed through the heart of his assailant, killing him instantly. RELYEA immediately fled toward Rondout, about a mile distant, pursued by a crowd of over a hundred infuriated Irishmen. When he reached the village he was covered with blood, and his clothes nearly torn from him by the crowd. He immediately gave himself up to the authorities. A scene of the greatest excitement prevailed in Rondout, and for a time it was with difficulty that a serious riot between the canal men and the citizens was prevented. Both HIRAM and JEREMIAH RELYEA now lie in a critical condition. Doubts are entertained of the recovery of the latter. Coroner DUBOIS on Saturday proceeded to hold an inquest on the body of SILK, who, with the jury impaneled, after much opposition by the friends of deceased, found a verdict in accordance with the above facts. The Grand Jury on Tuesday refused to find a bill against HIRAM RELYEA, on the charge of killing MARTIN SILK, admitting the ground of self-defence. Indictments were found against PATRICK KINNY, TOBIAS BUTLER, PATRICK MORAN, and some six other rioters, charged with “assault with intent to kill.” Warrants were issued, and those named have been arrested. 1860-02-17 New York Daily Herald Iceboat Affray - The Tragedy on the Ice at Port Ewen. ADDITIONAL PARTICULARS —SPEEDY JUSTICE BY THE GRAND JURY OF ULSTER COUNTY. The Grand Jury of Ulster county, which for several days past has been in session at Kingston, adjourned on Wednesday, after having disposed of some thirty cases, the most important of which however, was the affair which took place at Port Ewen, about three miles south of Kingston, on Saturday last. The case was laid before the Grand Jury on Tuesday, at which time the true facts in the same appeared, and are in substance as follows: On Saturday morning last two brothers, Hiram and Jeremiah Relyea, together with a friend, John Slater, while cruising down the river on the ice in an ice boat, landed at Port Ewen, a small village, populated for the most part by Irishmen employed on the Delaware and Hudson Canal, which has its terminus at that point, and a community bearing no favorable reputation. It seems that Jeremiah Relyea and Slater proceeded some distance back of the village, while Hiram remained to take charge of the boat. While thus engaged he was surrounded by a crowd of ruffians—representatives of the village—and Relyea was severely beaten and driven away. Thus matters stood until about five o'clock in the afternoon, when Jeremiah and Slater returned to take the boat, &., when they were also attacked, and, being surrounded upon all sides, were obliged to fight for their lives. At this juncture, Relyea and Slater endeavored to take refuge between two canal boats near by, but were still closer pursued, and [Hiram] Relyea was felled to the ground by a heavy blow from Martin Silk. Instantly springing to his feet, he discharged a pistol at Silk, which took effect, the ball passing through the heart, killing him instantly. Relyea immediately fled towards Rondout, about a mile distant, pursued by a crowd of over a hundred infuriated Irishmen, which place he, however, reached, covered with blood and his clothes nearly torn from him by the mob. He instantly gave himself up to the authorities. A scene of the greatest excitement prevailed in the village, and for a time it was with difficulty that a serious riot between the Irish canal men and the citizens was prevented. Both Hiram and Jeremiah Relyea now lay in a very critical condition, and doubts are entertained of the recovery of the latter. Coroner Dubois on Saturday proceeded to hold an inquest on the body of Silk, who, with the jury empannelled [sic], after much opposition by the friends of deceased, found a verdict in accordance with the facts as stated. The Grand Jury, at Kingston, on Tuesday acquitted Hiram Relyea on the charge of killing Martin Silk, upon the grounds of self defence. It further found bills of indictment against Pat Kinney, Tobias Butler, Pat Moran and some six others on the charge of ‘‘assault with intent to kill." Warrants were issued for their arrest, and those named are now in jail. 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 from the 1819 Letters to his father by Henry Meigs describing his life in then rural Greenwich Village. Thank you to Contributing Scholar George A. Thompson for finding, cataloging and transcribing this article. The language, spelling and grammar of the article reflects the time period when it was written. 1819: N. York, Feby 6th, 1819 Dear father. Since I last wrote you, Julia + I have decided on placing our tent in the Country as we call it for the ensuing summer. Where we can live much more economically and deliciously. *** It is a decent, convenient house immediately on the North River Margin, with the beach where we can bathe, at our door. Green slopes covered with thrifty Apple trees from the road to the River, a garden large enough to exercise Henry + I. We have all this for less than I have been used to pay these 10 years, and the distance from my office is only 13000 feet! I shall bring my dinner in my Pocket in the morning + retreat at night from our noisy, noisy town and when the apple trees are dipped in flowers, I shall be able to relish Homer. [passage in Greek] *** New York, March 14, 1819. My dear brother. ** You know when one owns an apple tree, what pains one must be at to keep the young rascals from stealing all the fruits. All one has of it is to consider that apple tree owning is a troublesome business *** N. York, April 18, 1819.Dear father - Yesterday we had a very interesting display of Electricity between two and three of P. M. [the lightning followed an all-day gale; a sketch-map showing that most of the lightning strikes were on the East River, below Wall-street] My country house is so situated as to receive the full force of blowing weather. So that in the stormy nights Julia + I have been delightfully lulled to sleep by the roar of wind + rain attended with that still more pleasant music [passage in Greek]. I assure you that [illegible] waves three feet hight roll on our sand beach most agreeably. *** The weather has been damp but we are all free from colds. Julia thinks the bank of the river is drier than our City brick vaults. The passing of the river boats of all sorts is a constant amusement + interest. When the wind blows heavy you watch as far as you can see, some bumpkin schooner or sloop whose press of sail threatens him every moment with a keel up + you admire some clean painted vessel with close reefs reaching hand over hand in the wind's eye towards the Metropolis and mark at every half [?] minute the spray fly from stem to stern thus [a sketch] and when she comes about we have all the noise of the sails [illegible] shivering in the blast. Henry Meigs, Letters. N-YHS; Between two and three o'clock on Saturday last, the city was visited by a storm of rain and hail, accompanied with considerable thunder and lightning. The schooner Thames, lying at Coffee house slip, was struck by the lightning, and was on fire for a considerable time, and much damaged; three men on board were hurt by the lightning, and sent to the hospital. *** National Advocate, April 19, 1819, p. 2, col. 3; [a destructive thunderstorm] N-Y E Post, April 19, 1819, p. 2, col. 3, from Mer Adv & Gaz; N-Y D Advertiser, April 19, 1819, p. 2, cols. 1-2 New York, April 25, 1819. Dear father - *** I am at work in my Garden at about sunrise + continue for two hours. Yesterday + the day before I dug up and raked over neatly, each morning about 800 superficial feet: about as much as a common labourer would do in a whole day. It is after such labour that I take pleasure in a good shave, wash, clean shirt, &c. breakfast, 2 mile walk + then sitting at my desk with pen. Henry Meigs, Letters. N-YHS.- a plan of his grounds and house: 200 feet along the river, 260 feet deep to the road; a house apparently with porches front & back; a barn, cow shed & fowl-house; a garden, approximately 100 x 130; apple & other fruit trees; the "quidnunc necessarius" (sp?) at the river's edge] - Henry Meigs, Letters. N-YHS, undated, filed between letters of May 9 and May 12, 1819 [fish in the market sell so cheaply that he tends his garden rather than fish for flounder from "the timber raft now in front of my door"; letter of May 16, 1819] One of the greatest evils of our London is, the vile quality of the water, which is obviously produced by the 1000s of Cloacinious (sp?) structures on the surface. I moved one mile from the Coffee house 8 years ago, principally, to obtain better water, for it may be observed at every street as you remove from the South end of our City, that the water becomes better. *** In the City, our tea kettle became encrusted with stony matter to the thickness of nearly 1/4 Inch in some months. *** I met Burr day before yesterday, and his appearance, so sprightly, induced me to remark to him that he had lost nothing of the appearance of health in the last 10 years. He replied smilingly "I presume, -- I have no doubt that I shall live all the days of my life! that is my philosophy!" *** This has been as usual (Sunday) a great River sloop day. They fill up cargo by Saturday all along the Hudson and improve Sunday to reach our market, -- baaing, cackling + horse blowing it -- along with calves, sheep, fowl, fresh butter et omnia cetera farmalia. I have to day counted 8 to 10 frequently in sight, in 15 minutes. *** Henry Meigs, Letters. Letter of May 23, 1819. N-YHS. ["whole dozens of boys" come to swim in the river near his house] I am sitting in my largest room looking thro the west windows on the opposite shore. Staten Island, the river, the sloops, the boys swimming. Henry Meigs, Letters. Letter of June 6, 1819. Henry Meigs, Letters to his father. New-York Historical Society. 1819-04-18 -- Henry Meigs, Letters to his father. At New-York Historical Society. Henry Meigs, coun. & nota, 16 Nassau, h. 43 Franklin (Longworth's, 1818/19);. Henry Meigs, coun. & nota, 16 Nassau, h. Greenwich (Longworth's, 1819/20) ![]() A more modern view of the former farmland. https://www.google.com/url?sa=i&url=https%3A%2F%2Fwww.propertynest.com%2Fblog%2Fcity%2Fgreenwich-village-manhattan-review-neighborhood-moving-guide%2F&psig=AOvVaw3pxW29IOBs6lnJaQsSKSn9&ust=1692726439999000&source=images&cd=vfe&opi=89978449&ved=0CA8QjRxqFwoTCKiYr8an7oADFQAAAAAdAAAAABAd 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 from the New York Times issue from August 18, 1889. Thank you to Contributing Scholar Carl Mayer for finding, cataloging and transcribing this article. The language, spelling and grammar of the article reflects the time period when it was written. Very few persons who journey up and down the Hudson River either upon the palatial steamers or upon the railway trains that run along both banks of this great waterway know how great an amount of wealth is daily floated to this city on the canalboats and barges that compose the immense tows that daily leave West Troy, Lansingburg, Albany, Kingston, and other points along the river bound for this city. Twice each day-—early in the morning and in the evening—a large number of tows made up of boats that have come through the Erie Canal from Buffalo, the Northern Canal from points along Lake Champlain as far north as Rouse's Point, and through the Delaware and Hudson Canal from the anthracite coal regions of Lackawanna and Wyoming, in Pennsylvania, leave the above places in tow of huge side-wheel towboats and of puffing little screw propeller tugs, all moving toward one objective point, which is New-York City. Frequently these tows will be bunched together, so that, within a distance of three or four miles on the river, there can be seen several hundred barges and canalboats afloat carrying in their holds hundreds of thousands of dollars in merchandise, produce, lumber, grain, and ore. Many of these single tows contain as much as 100 boats, and sometimes a larger number, marshaled six and eight abreast, and reaching back at least a quarter of a mile from the stern of the leaders to the sterns of the last boats. Few persons would believe it, if told that enough freight was carried in a single tow of this kind to load a couple of dozen large trains of freight cars; yet such in the case. During the past week several such tows have arrived from Albany in tow of the powerful tugs of the Schuyler Steam Towboat Line of 15 South-street. Their largest steamer, the huge side-wheeler Vanderbilt, only a few days ago brought down from Albany 120 grain barges, each barge carrying from 8,000 to 10,000 bushels of grain, weighing 240 tons, with a gross tonnage for the entire tow of nearly 40,000 tons. On Tuesday last one of their smaller boats, the Belle, Capt. John Oliver, assisted by the propeller James T. Easton, brought seventy-four boats from Albany and Troy, many of them laden with iron ore from Lake Champlain, while the others were loaded with grain and lumber and lying so low in the water that much of the time they were partially submerged. The gross tonnage of this tow was over 25,000 tons. In taking a trip from this city to Albany, frequently as many as fifty of these tows are passed, it taking about thirty-six or forty hours for them to reach port at this city after leaving Albany. From Kingston, which is the tide-water outlet of the Delaware and Hudson Canal, another class of merchandise is shipped in the same manner. From the mouth of the Rondout Creek, which forms the harbor of the thriving and busy city of Kingston, can be seen emerging every evening huge rafts of canalboats, tall-masted down-Easters, and barges of various sorts, laden with coal, ice, hay, lumber, lime, cement, bluestone, brick, and country produce. Many of these craft have received their cargoes at the wharves of Kingston, while others have come from the coal regions about Honesdale and Scranton, in Pennsylvania, all bound for this port and consigned to, perhaps, as many different persons as there are boats in the tow. ![]() Of the heaviest part of the traffic of the entire river at least two-thirds is monopolized by the two great towing companies, the Cornell Transportation Company of Kingston and the Schuyler Steam Towboat Line of Albany. The Schuyler Company practically has a monopoly of the trade coming from the Erie and Champlain Canals at Albany and Troy, as well as the towing for the Pennsylvania Coal Company from Newburg, while the Cornells hold in a tight grasp the business of the Delaware and Hudson Canal Company from Kingston, both north and south, on the river. The business of the Knickerbocker and other ice companies, which is something immense in volume, is scattered about among individual towboat owners, the two companies spoken of above, and several smaller towing lines. On the arrival of the tows that come from various points up the river at this port a complete transformation takes place from the sleepy quiet that has reigned on the boats while slowly, but steadily, on their way creeping down the river. As soon as a large tow is sighted far up the river, a number of tugs belonging to the various towing lines in the harbor start with a full head of steam and race with each other to reach the tow. Each tug carries orders from the consignee of some particular boat to take it from the tow and place it in some selected berth. The boats to be dropped first from the tow are always placed on the outside or on the tail end, and as soon as the tugs reach them they begin to cast off and the tow begins to break up. They are then picked up by the tugs sent for them and taken to their several destinations. The boats from the Albany tows, laden with flour and grain, are mostly taken to the piers along the East River from Pier 3 to Coenties-slip, the Erie and Atlantic Basins, and the elevator docks at Dow’s stores in Brooklyn. The boats laden with lumber, brick, cement, lime, building material, and bluestone from Kingston and other points are docked at the brick, stone, and lumber yards along the North and East Rivers, the coal barges go to Weehawken and Perth Amboy, and the ice barges to various stations along the North and East Rivers. Among the famous towboats plying between this city and up-river points are the America, Anna, Belle, Cayuga, Connecticut, Niagara, Ontario, Syracuse, Vanderbilt, Oswego, Mount Washington, Austin, Sammy Cornell, James T. Easton, the famous old ice king the Norwich, and many others. Many of these boats have labored upon this great waterway for at least thirty years, and some of them for a longer period. They have earned fortunes for their owners, and have also furnished employment for a huge army of men whose lives have been spent on the river and whose occupation promises to descend to their children in turn. The wealth that has been transported to this city in tow of this fleet of steam vessels is incalculable, and probably far exceeds if not doubles that of any other waterway in the world. 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 from the August 3, 1831 issue of "Cabinet" , Schenectady, New York. Thank you to Contributing Scholar George A. Thompson for finding and cataloging this article. The language, spelling and grammar of the article reflects the time period when it was written. Fortune Telling – A system of fraud has been lately followed in this city, to a considerable extent, which is important the public should have a knowledge of, that they may guard against impositions. A man named Pierce has been in the practice of enticing people from the country to houses on pretence of getting their fortunes told, and he would then fleece them out of their money. His practice was to leave the city until he ascertained that the cheated person had gone off, and he would then return and practice his villanies on others. Complaints had sometimes been made to the police officers, but they could never get Pierce, until the complainant had left the city, and there was then no evidence to convict him. But last week the biter got bit. One or two weeks ago, a man from Vermont, named Carey, who had engaged a passage to the west, in a canal boat, was accosted by Pierce, who told him he was going in the same boat, and by his attentions to him become ingratiated in his favor. He proposed to C. to go and get their fortunes told. In going across one of the pier bridges, they met a man named Brown; P. pretended to be a stranger to him, and asked him where there was a fortune teller. B. said he was one. They then went into a store on the pier, where B. commenced telling P's fortune, and the latter expressed his great astonishment that he could tell him so correctly, how old he was and where he was born, & c. He then urged Carey to have his fortune told, but C. declined. P. and B. then began to bet on the turning up of cards. Finally B. offered to bet $50 that he would turn up a particular card after the pack had been shuffled by his adversary. Pierce said he had but $210 with him, and after much urging, he persuaded Carey to lend him forty dollars. The particular card was not turned up, when P. seized the money and immediately left the room. Carey could not find him afterwards. He made complaint to the police, but Pierce could not be found, having gone off as usual. The police advised Carey to leave the ciy in the boat in which he had engaged to go to the western part of the state, but to stop a few miles out for town for a short time, and advise where he could be found, in case they secured Pierce. The plan succeeded; Pierce, having ascertained that Carey had gone, and supposing him far away from the city, returned, intending no doubt to renew his schemes on others. But the officers of Justice laid their hands on him, and having obtained the attendance of Carey, the cunning Mr. Pierce was committed to prison, and will be tried next week. He has been taught the lesson that simple honest is better than the deepest craft. Brown left the city at the same time with Pierce. He also has since been arrested. Albany Gazette 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: This article was originally published in Ships and the Sea magazine, Fall 1957. The language, spelling and grammar of the article reflects the time period when it was written. Learn more about Liberty Ships here. What could be done with the outmoded Liberty ships in the event of an emergency? The Maritime Administration is proving they can be turned into assets. During World War II, pressed by the dire need of the national emergency, U.S. shipyards produced thousands of merchant ships. During this era, even the most lubberly of land-lubbers came to hear of that famous-type ship, the Liberty. Shipyards on all coasts of this nation made headlines with the fantastic speed with which these large oceangoing vessels were constructed. The average time for the completion of a Liberty was an amazing 62 days! By the time the building program had been completed, some 2600 standard Liberty ships had splashed into the water and taken up their vital task of delivering war material overseas. This tremendous fleet had a carrying capacity of almost 30 million tons. But what has happened to this vast fleet of Libertys in the postwar era? Have their bluff-bowed and full-bellied forms, and their 2500-horsepower reciprocating engines which produced speeds of only 11 knots, managed to survive the competition of cargo vessels with speeds up to 20 knots? The best answer to that may be a blunt statistic – some 1400 Liberty ships are tied up in the U.S. Maritime Administration's reserve fleet sites in rivers and bays around our coastline. This figure, taken in conjunction with the fact that several hundred Libertys were lost due to enemy action and other causes, and that several hundred others have been converted to such speck-purpose vessels as colliers, oil tankers, troop transports, hospital ships, ammunition ships and training vessels, leaves us with but one conclusion – the Liberty is too slow and inefficient for modern shipping needs. Some Libertys, of course, are in operation, but these are mostly doing tramping duty under foreign flags or carrying bulk cargoes like grain, ore and coal. However, it is not the economic aspect of the outmoded Liberty which concerns the Defense Department and the Maritime Administration. Those 1400 Liberty ships in the reserve fleet are supposed to represent security in any future national emergency. In the last few years the conviction has been growing among these military experts that the Liberty ship in its present design does not really represent insurance in case of need. Can the Liberty, for example, keep up with the speeds of future convoys? Can the Liberty hope to elude atomic-powered, snorkel-type submarines with speeds under the water of, say, 20 knots? The answer is clearly "No." Even in the limited Korean emergency, very few Liberty ships were taken out of the reserve fleet in spite of the need. The faster (16-knot) Victory and C-type ships were taken out first. Then the Defense Department had to charter privately owned vessels. With these dismal facts confronting it, the Maritime Administration has now embarked upon and completed an experimental Liberty conversion program which proves that those 1400 ships still represent an enormous national asset. The program, using four ships, had as its objective the upgrading of the ships with regard not only to speed but also to over-all efficiency. Increasing the speed of the Liberty may sound, on paper, like an easy matter. Why not increase the horsepower and efficiency of the engines and build new streamlined bows to replace the bluff "ugly-duckling" bows? To be sure, this can be and has been done. The problems confronting the Maritime Administration, however, were not simple in deciding upon the extent of the alterations which should be made. It must be remembered, first, that to upgrade hundreds of Liberty ships quickly in case of emergency would require vast dry-docking facilities, a call for quantities of scarce steel, and a need for new and more efficient engineering equipment. There were other equally pressing problems of design. Could the war-built ships stand the pounding in heavy weather which the higher speeds would cause? The Liberty ships, as a matter of fact, have been quite prone to cracking, even at the lower speeds. It was apparent that the altered ships would have to be heavily strapped. Also, there were the problems of propeller vibration at higher revolutions per minute, greater stresses on the rudder, and the like. Defense authorities had indicated a desire for 18 knots for the upgraded Libertys, but were willing to settle for 15 knots as a minimum. The latter speed was finally selected in view of the numerous problems involved, although technically it is possible to obtain an 18-knot speed with an appropriately lengthened, strengthened, finer and more powerful ship. It was decided that one of the four ships, the Benjamin Chew, would have its speed increased to 15 knots merely by the expedient of installing 6000-horsepower steam turbines with no change in hull form. This was undertaken with some misgiving as to the seakeeping qualities of such a blunt form driven at a 15-knot speed. But the savings in steel and dry-docking capacity in an emergency dictated that the attempt be made. Early experience with the ship has, in fact, confirmed these misgivings to some extent since the ship has had difficulty in maintaining 15 knots in heavy weather. The rate of fuel oil consumption has also been relatively high. However, it has been proved that, if necessary, the Liberty in its original form can be driven at significantly higher speeds with a minimum of alterations. The second of the ships, the Thomas Nelson, has been given geared diesel engines with 6000 horsepower as well as a lengthened and finer bow. As expected, 15-knot speeds have been easily maintained with a very low rate of fuel consumption. It would appear that if time and facilities permit, this type of alteration is to be preferred over that of the Benjamin Chew. The third and fourth ships, in addition to having lengthened and finer bows, are also being used to pioneer a new type of prime mover for ships – the gas turbine. The John Sergeant is the first all-gas-turbine merchant ship in the world, although a few vessels have been fitted with gas-turbine engines combined with other types of power plants. A controllable pitch propeller, another innovation for large U.S. ships, is used in conjunction with the gas turbine. This enables the pitch of the propeller blades to be controlled from the navigating bridge. For those of our readers who are not acquainted with the principles by which a gas turbine operates, a brief description might be helpful. A gas turbine operates by first compressing air, then heating it before sending it to a combustion chamber where fuel is mixed with the air and burned. The resulting gas is expanded through turbine nozzles, thus providing the power to turn the propeller shaft. The gas turbine is claimed to produce high thermal efficiency with reduced size and weight of machinery. Low-cost bunker "C" fuel oil may be burned. The gas turbine will probably be most efficient in the 7500- to 15,000-horse-power range. The William Patterson, the last of the four conversions, went into service in mid-1957. She is equipped with a gas turbine, too, but it is of a somewhat different type from the Sergeant's. The latter has what is known as an "open-cycle" gas turbine, while the Patterson has a "free-piston" type. (in the free-piston machinery, the pistons are not connected to crank-shafts as is customary in other internal combustion engines. Instead, the air-fuel mixture is burned between opposed pistons which then spring apart, compressing air at both ends of a cylinder. The compressed air causes the pistons to bounce back, thus forcing the gas into the turbine.) The marine industry is watching with great interest to find, first, whether the gas turbine will produce a more efficient prime mover than the steam turbine or diesel drive and, second, to find which type of gas turbine is better from an over-all point of view. Another aspect of the Liberty ship conversion program deserves comment. The Maritime Administration is using the program to experiment with different types of cargo-handling equipment, the theory being that increased speed at sea is only part of the picture of more efficient utilization of ships, the time spent in port loading and discharging cargo being of equal importance. So we find that the Thomas Nelson, for example, is equipped with radically new cargo cranes of two different types. The Benjamin Chew has a conventional set of cargo booms but of an improved type. She also has a removable 'tween deck in No. 2 compartment. All in all, these four Liberty ships are vastly improved vessels from their 1400 sisters still resting in the reserve fleet. They are being operated on the North Atlantic run by the same operator, the United States Lines. This will ensure, as nearly as possible, the same weather and port conditions, so that the many differences among the ships can be evaluated to arrive at valid conclusions as to what the ultimate form of the converted Liberty prototype should be. Although the program has primarily been aimed at the objective of upgrading the reserve fleet of Liberty ships in time of national emergency, it is also proving of great value to U.S. ship operator. The new look in Liberty ships appears to be not only new but also very pleasing. AuthorThis article, written by John La Dage, appeared in the Fall 1957 issue of Ships and the Sea magazine. 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The steamboat “Mary Powell”, built in 1861, sailed on the waters of the Hudson River over a period of 55 years. She was one of the fastest steamboats of her time, was pleasing in appearance, and reliable. She became known as the “Queen of the Hudson.” By the middle of the 19th century, commerce on the Hudson River was particularly vigorous. The Hudson River - Erie Canal corridor was one of the principal gateways to the west. The Delaware and Hudson Canal, opened in 1828, brought coal destined for use in the northeast from Pennsylvania to the Hudson River at Kingston. The railroads were just beginning to appear on the scene, all of which made the steamboat the principal method for the movement of people and freight. By the 1860s, the section of Kingston bordering the Rondout Creek had become the leading port between Albany and New York. Between 1861 and 1863, three large steamboats were built to take advantage of the booming economy and home ported at the village of Rondout (in 1872 becoming part of the city of Kingston). Two of the steamboats were night boats for the carrying of freight and overnight passengers. The third was the “Mary Powell,” designed as a day steamer solely for the carrying of passengers. For virtually her entire career, her schedule was to leave Kingston early in the morning and make landings at Poughkeepsie, Milton, Newburgh and Cornwall, arriving at her pier in lower Manhattan in the late morning. On her return she would leave New York at 3:30 p.m. and arrive back at Kingston in the early evening. Over the years, other landings were made or discontinued as traffic warranted, as did minor time changes in her schedule. The period of operation normally was from mid-May to late September or early October. The “Mary Powell” was built at a shipyard in Jersey City, N.J. to the order of Captain Absalom Anderson at a reported cost of $80,000. Captain Anderson was to be both her operator and captain. As it turned out, over a period of 40 years, the “Mary Powell” had but two captains- Captain Absalom Anderson and later his son, Captain A. Eltinge Anderson. Other captains commanded the vessel for relatively short periods of time. During her last two years of service, her captain was Arthur Warrington of Kingston. Initially, Captain Anderson was somewhat disappointed in his new vessel’s speed. After the close of her first full season in 1862, the “Mary Powell” was sent back to the shipyard, cut in two, and 21 feet added to her length. The added length achieved the desired result, and thereafter the “Mary Powell” was known as one of the fastest boats on the Hudson. Her reputation for speed was such that during the latter part of the 19th century, a number of newly built yachts were brought to the Hudson and run along with the “Mary Powell” to test the desired speed of the yacht. The “Mary Powell” was always superbly maintained and had almost a yacht-like appearance. Known as a “family boat,” Captain Anderson saw to it that all passengers conducted themselves properly. If they did not, it was said they ran the risk of being put ashore at the next landing. After the close of the 1902 season, the “Mary Powell” was acquired by the Hudson River Day Line, the largest operator of day steamboats on the river. Although the Day Line continued to operate her, as before, on the Kingston to New York and return run, a number of relatively minor physical changes were made to the steamboat, including new boilers and an enlargement of the second deck forward. In 1913, the Day Line placed in operation a new steamboat, the “Washington Irving,” the largest day boat to be built for service on the Hudson. Her appearance caused a realignment in service of their other vessels, including the “Mary Powell.” During the seasons of 1914 to 1917, the “Mary Powell” would start and end the seasons on her old Kingston to New York run. However, during the peak of the seasons, she would be used for charter trips, an excursion type operation from New York to Bear Mountain, and occasionally special trips to Albany. Finally, on September 5, 1917, she sailed on her old route. It was to be her last trip with passengers. She was subsequently played up at her old “winter dock” at Rondout Creek and in January 1920 was sold for scrapping, AuthorThis article was originally published in the 2000 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 was originally published in an undated published booklet "Ice Yachting Winter Sailboats Hit More Than 100 m.p..h.. by John A. Carroll with additional information from the "New York Times" article from February 8, 1978. The language, spelling and grammar of the article reflects the time period when it was written. For information about current ice boating on the Hudson River go to White Wings and Black Ice here. Ice yachting easily qualifies as the fastest winter sport in the world. Skiing? The ice yacht moves twice as rapidly. Bob-sledding? Nearly 25 m.p.h. faster. And ice yachts, unlike bob-sleds, do not have brakes. According to Ray Ruge, president of the Eastern Ice Yachting Association, the world ice yacht speed record over a measured course with flying start stands at 144 m.p.h. At Long Branch, N.J., Commodore Elisha Price in Walter Content's "Clarel" set the mark in February 1908, by covering one mile in 25 seconds. The time was clocked by five stop watches. The speed has been exceeded unofficially on several occasions. "From - Feb 6, 1978 - New York Times: Outdoors: Slipping Silently over the Ice by Fred Ferretti: One of the first lessons taught when you take up the speedy and somewhat dangerous sport of iceboating is to watch out for Christmas trees. Christmas trees mark thin ice or ice that has holes in it, that is rough and heavily pitted or that is overlaid with an invisible layer of water. These hazards can be disastrous to the spruce or fiberglass boats that tear across frozen rivers and lakes, sometimes at speeds of more than 100 miles an hour." While speed records remain a goal for winter sailors, most American ice yachtmen now center their attention on competitive racing and the annual regattas that have become an important part of the cold weather sports scene. Keen spectator and participant interest in this old sport are comparatively recent developments. Ice yachting, of necessity, has a limited appeal. There are few sections in the country where cold weather and hard-frozen lakes make the sport practicable. Moreover, the high cost of constructing the large yachts popular at the turn of the century restricted the sport to the very wealthy. The weather factor has remained fairly constant and ice yachting still is confined to a few choice locations - mainly in the American-Canadian border states and provinces. However, the financial requirement has undergone a radical change. The organization of the International Skeeter Association in 1939 is, to a large degree, responsible for the current boom in the sport. The "Skeeters," which are limited to 75 square feet of sail and cost as little as a few hundred dollars to build, outraced the larger boats in most of last year's major regattas. Approximately 75 per cent of all present ice boat construction follows this design. There are still large boats on the ice, although initial building expenses and prohibitive transportation costs have held construction to a minimum during the last few years. The two largest yachts currently in active competition are “Deuce”, owned by Clare Jacobs of Detroit and piloted by Joe Snay of the same city, and “Debutante”, owned by the Van Dyke family of Wisconsin and skippered by John Buckstaff of Oshkosh. Both yachts carry 600 sq. ft. of heavy Wamsutta sail cloth, but the “Deuce” is the longer of the two. The Detroit yacht, which is a thing of picturesque beauty with its huge jib-and-mainsail rig, is 52 feet in length and carries a 52-foot high mast. Its solid, springy runner plank measures 30 feet across. ![]() The Last of the Stern-Steerers: A starting lineup on Lake Winnebago at Oshkosh, Wisconsin. Left to right: “Debutante III”, Oshkosh I.Y.E., “Deuce”, Detroit I.Y.C. and “Flying Dutchman”, Oshkosh I.Y.E. Race won by “Deuce” shod with 8 ft. runners because of soft ice. Ray Ruge Collection, Hudson River Maritime Museum. To the non-scientist, it seems unbelievable that any craft backed only by a stiff wind, can hit 100 miles an hour or better. The secret is the reduction of surface friction to just a few inches of sharp steel runner slipping across the ice, plus the small air resistance offered by a streamlined fuselage. Once an ice boat gets underway, the friction becomes almost negligible. And the speed is created by a partial vacuum of air currents ahead of the sail which pulls the craft forward until the boat is traveling from three to six times the velocity of the wind. Little is known of the origin of ice boats, although it has been established that Scandinavians in the Middle Ages were using a workable craft. Chapman's "Architecture Navalis Mercatoria" of 1768 mentions the sport by describing an ice yacht with a converted hull, a cross piece and a runner at each end. The Poughkeepsie Ice Yacht Club, an organization leaning to men of wealth and leisure, was organized in 1861. Using large, expensive craft, the club members specialized in racing trains along the river banks. The engineer tooted the whistle and passengers cheered, as the yachtsmen accepted the challenge and a contest was on. At the turn of the 20th century, new and more complete organizations began to take place. In 1912, new sportsmen formed the Northwestern Ice Yachting Association at Oshkosh, Wis., to embrace clubs in 'the Illinois, Michigan and Wisconsin region. Sail expanse classifications were drawn up to promote competition. As interest in the sport drew and new boats were built in greater numbers, new classifications were established. The Northwestern Association now lists the following: Class A, up to 350 square feet of sail; Class B, up to 250; Class C, up to 175; Class D, 125; Class E, 75. ![]() Sailing preparations are underway in the yacht basin at Hamilton, Ont., as enthusiasts ready their boats for the day's activity. Yachtsmen pray for blustery, windy weather to ensure higher racing speeds. The sport, which is aging in new followers every year, attracted an estimated 3,000 participants this winter. Ray Ruge Collection, Hudson River Maritime Museum. Patterning itself after the Northwestern, a group of eastern ice yachting enthusiasts met in 1937 at the Larchmont (N.Y.) Yacht Club to form the Eastern Ice Yachting Association. There are, however, a few differences in classification. The eastern body calls the up-to-250 square-foot group Class X, instead of Class B, and the newer organization lists an up-to-200 square-foot sail area as Class B, a type not recognized by the Northwestern. In addition to the standard classifications, the Scooter and the D.N. 60 (Detroit News, 60 square feet of canvas) attract considerable attention. The Scooter, a remarkable amphibian which sails serenely on ice or in water, is the pride and joy of the South Bay Scooter Club, a member of the Eastern Association. It is believed that Coast Guardsmen, tired of long winter walks across ice for supplies, developed the first Scooter. They put runners on the bottom of one of their flat-bottomed sailboats and it worked. The boat has no rudder for water sailing and no movable runner for steering on ice. Direction is controlled only by shifting weight and sail handling. The D.N. 60 sprang from that Detroit newspaper's hobby shop, as an economical boys' sailing craft. It has turned out to be another case of the parents playing with their kids' electric trains. Adults love them. Their surprising speed and easy construction resulted in the building of almost 100 in the Detroit area alone. And the News now sponsors annual competitions on Lake St. Clair for their popular “baby.” The skeleton of an ice yacht is T-shaped, with the fuselage forming the long part, and a cross-piece or "runner plank" the horizontal. There are three runners or skates. The ones at each end of the runner plank are fixed. The steering runner, at the end of the fuselage, is moveable. Originally, all yachts were stern steerers. The runner plank was forward, the steering skate in the rear, behind the yachtsman's seat. Stern steerers have one pleasant advantage: boats using this design do not capsize easily. But the winter sailors wanted speed, and in the 1920's the Meyer brothers of Wisconsin began experimenting with bow-steering. Boats with bow-steering have the runner plank crossing the rear seat. The steering runner is at the front end of the fuselage. The bow steerer is faster - much faster. And sufficient pressure is kept on the steering runner to afford traction and maneuverability. But to counteract these advantages, the bow steerer spills more readily. Championship regattas of both the Northwestern and Eastern Associations are run in three-heat series to determine the champion of each class. The Northwestern winds up with a Free-for-All in which all classes are eligible. The Eastern concludes with an Open Championship limited to class titlists. With the present pre-eminence of the Skeeter, the International Skeeter Association Championship Regatta now is widely regarded as the "World Series" of the sport. The I.S.A. runs a five-heat series, weather permitting. The international character of the organization stems from the fact that it has member clubs in both the United States and Canada. Winners are determined on a point basis. Ice yachting's man of the year for 1947 probably was Jim Kimberly of Chicago, formerly of Neenah, Wis. Kimberly, who took his first ice boat ride at the age of five, won last year's International Skeeter Association title and the Northwestern Free-for-All. The 40-year-old executive is seeking additional titles this season in his 22-foot Skeeter, “Flying Phantom III”, one of several boats he owns. In racing, all boats are staggered at the starting line to give each entry unbroken wind. Lots are drawn for post positions and the order is reversed in successive heats. Races begin from a standing position, and here the yachtsman discovers the importance of a good pair of legs. At the crack of the gun he must take off like a sprinter for 25 to 50 feet, pushing his yacht to get "way" on her. Once underway, he needs all his skill to keep the boat moving. Inept handling stops the boat and the runners take a freezing grip on the ice. Then, out steps the yachtsman to give another starting push. This, of course, means a tremendous loss of face for the winter sailor. The sport is dangerous and thrilling. The most exciting moments come at the turning markers around which racers try to cut as sharply as possible. When one yacht overtakes another at this point, the leader is required to leave "stake room" (sufficient space) for the overtaking yacht to pass between him and the marker. Sometimes the cry is not heard, or a racer figures he has left sufficient room. Then the spectator sees two strong-willed ice yachtsmen tacking toward the stake at 90 miles an hour on sheer ice with no brakes to soften any possible collision. To make matters worse from the yachtsmen's point of view, the slightest touch of craft to marker means automatic disqualification from the race. Even pleasure cruising has its hazards. Good natural ice surfaces of sufficient size are rare. And these are subject to pressure ridges, weak ice and stretches of open water caused by currents and thaws. A quick plunge into icy water in the middle of winter with the nearest helping hand miles distant, is a sobering consideration for any frost-bitten sailor. The Detroit Ice Yachting Club has fostered one of the more exclusive organizations in the world - the Hell Divers. To be eligible, a yachtsman merely has to take the plunge and survive to tell the story. While the Skeeter pilots crow about their superiority over the larger boats, they frankly admit that the speed record probably will remain in the hands of Class A men. Speed runs are made over a straight measured course, under ideal wind and ice conditions and from a flying start. It is under the varying conditions of ice and wind in competitive racing - where maneuverability is at a premium - that the big boats are left behind. THE END Editor's Note: A future History Blog will discuss the Hell Divers. 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Members Matter!Become a member and receive benefits like unlimited free museum admission, discounts on classes, programs, and in the museum store, plus invitations to members-only events.
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Support EducationThe Hudson River Maritime Museum receives no federal, state, or municipal funding except through competitive, project-based grants. Your donation helps support our mission of education and preservation.
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