Muffled Drums for Albany-Potomac by Thomas A. Larremore
"Washington, May 16 [1949] – (AP) – The Potomac River Line announced today its 69-year-old excursion steamer, The POTOMAC, is headed for the scrap heap. The ship, built in Wilmington, Del., and originally known as the S.S. ALBANY, served until 1933 on the New York-to-Albany Hudson River Day run. The POTOMAC, with a passenger capacity of 2,400, will be scrapped at Baltimore. It will be towed there sometime next week, officials of the line said."

Another oldster is gone, suddenly and unexpectedly. This time is it MARY POWELL's side-kicking ex-side-kick of happy years ago on the Hudson River, the ex-Day Liner ALBANY, since 1934 running excursions out of Washington, D.C., for the Potomac River Line, as POTOMAC.

Almost 69 years ago, on July 3, 1880 ALBANY made her first regular trip from New York up-stream to her namesake city. Save for a few years "on reserve" for the Day Line, she performed regularly, earning her living quietly, dependably, surely, safely – recalling, in this respect, PRISCILLA, COMMONWEALTH and the rest of the Fall River liners. Only last summer, at 68 plus, the POTOMAC completed another annual tour of duty and was ready to resume this coming season. Just when the decision to end her career was made is unknown. Only as recently as Feb. 3 [1949] Her Captain, SSHSA member Harry E. Slye, told the writer that had been no suggestion that she was about to be replaced by BEAR MOUNTAIN a WILLIAM G. PAYNE b BRIDGEPORT c HIGHLANDER, despite the transfer last fall of the latter to Washington.
           
Fearing something of the sort was in the air the writer devoted several hours of a business trip to the capital to photographing POTOMAC tied up alongside BEAR MOUNTAIN. Now he is happy indeed to have done so, although the need for rewriting this essay, begun in a different vein, makes his present task sorrowful. Perhaps his feelings can best be gauged by the fact that he had been trying to organizing an excursion anniversary trip on POTOMAC this coming July 3, [1949].
       
 Instead she is off to the wreckers, to join METEOR a CHESTER W. CHAPIN (SB 29;18) and to go the way of those other Hudson River titans: NORWICH (87 when taken off her run) and MARY POWELL, who lived to be 63. Note that ALBANY-POTOMAC’s near-69 years rank her ahead of the famous MARY in the longevity tables. Let there be hats off and muffled drums. A great steamer has passed, and the writer feels as if he has lost a close relative, overnight, for reasons that will presently appear.
           
According to A.V.S. Olcott, president of the Old Day Line, ALBANY’s hull was built in 1879-1880 by Harlan and Hollingsworth, Wilmington, Del., and her machinery and joiner work were put into her iron hull (first of its kind for the line) in 1880. At that time her length was over 295’, her beam (moulded) 40’, and depth 11’6”. Launched in Jan. 1880, she was christened buy Mr. Olcott’s uncle, Charles. T. Van Santvoord. Her paddle boxes, then, were ungainly and semi-circular. In 1892-1893 she was rebuilt and lengthened to 325’6”, with the same beam (accounting for her lanky look), and her gross tonnage became 1,415.42, with net of 815.03. Feathering paddle wheels were added at the time, and her paddle boxes assumed the oblong, streamlined shape that set the fashion.
           
In 1916 she had new boilers, replacing the “3 lobster back boilers” of the early days. Her passenger capacity became 2000. Her original cost, according to Book 23 of the Day Line Journals now at the N.Y. Historical Society, was $187,318.58, including fittings, dry dock fees, cost of towing and customs charges.
           
When HENDRICK HUDSON appeared in 1906, ALBANY was transferred to the Poughkeepsie run as a special boat and when WASHINGTON IRVING came out in 1913, ALBANY replaced MARY POWELL on the run to Rondout. ALBANY was laid up at Athens in 1931 and was sold at public auction on March 6, 1934 at the new County Court House, N.Y. City, to B.B. Wills. On April 19 she left West 42nd Street Pier at 2:50 p.m. for Washington, D.C.
           
After taking ALBANY to Washington Mr. Wills changed her name to POTOMAC, registered her there, put a dance floor on main deck from the forward gangway to the lower deck housing, and installed a band stand. Later a second dance floor was added, on the saloon deck, and the band stand was raised to enable the music to suffice for both floors at once. POTOMAC was converted to oil burning and so remained save for one year during World War II when the oil shortage compelled temporary reconversion to coal. Captain Slye said her registry had recently been transferred to Baltimore, as is evidenced by the current leg ending on the stern. So much for the strictly statistical indispensables.
           
Let us turn to more personal traits. In physical appearance ALBANY, the older and rebuilt CHAUNCEY VIBBARD and the later NEW YORK set a contemporary “new look” for Hudson River boats. The most conspicuous features of this were the three tall funnels set transversely; the ungainly, high, top-heavy-looking, semi-circular paddle boxes; and the general color scheme, perhaps borrowed from the famous “White Squadron” of pre-Spanish War days, i.e., overall whiteness, relieved principally by yellow or buff, most notable on the later-period smoke pipes. ALBANY and VIBBARD looked very much alike, with smokestacks abaft both walking beam and paddle boxes, while in NEW YORK these relative positions were reversed.
           
ALBANY, always a quiet, efficient, dependable, unsensational performer, got away to an appropriately inconspicuous start. After a trial trip to Yonkers on July 2, 1880, to test her machinery, she opened her regular career the next day replacing DANIEL DREW and paddled upstream to her namesake city. New York newspapers paid little attention, being preoccupied with five ocean liners starting trans-Atlantic voyages the same day and commenting on the possibility that they might encounter summer icebergs. Some journals didn’t mention the new river steamer, and only one, the New York World, paid reasonable attention. Perhaps the big city had already become sophisticated enough to take such trivia as the inauguration of another Day Liner too completely in stride to bother about.
           
But there well may have been another reason. In June and July 1880, passenger steamers around New York had suddenly become non grata, recalling very pointedly the earlier days around 1825 when frequent boiler explosions had forced definite recourse to trailer passenger barges. An incredible series of mishaps had taken place. On June 11, 1880, NARRAGANSETT, bound east up L.I. Sound, had collided off Cornfield Point with STONINGTON and burned with the loss of 30 lives. On June 17, two girls had drowned when their rowboat was struck by ELIZA HOWARD, and ugly rumors persisted that adequate efforts to rescue them had not been made. On June 19 GRAND REPUBLIC had engaged in a spectacular collision with ADELAIDE, and an acrimonious investigation of the crash was starting. On June 28 had come the most frightful catastrophe of all. SEAWANHAKA, steamboat for Glen Cove’s commuters, had caught fire passing through Hell Gate and, although skillfully beached broadside to, not five minutes later on Sunken Meadows at Randall’s Island, had notched a toll of 44 or 45 fatalities. On June 29 the stage had been set for a ghastly foreshadowing of the holocaust of the GENERAL SLOCUM (1904) when LONG BRANCH with some 700 passengers, mostly Sunday school children on a picnic, had her bows (openly alleged in the newspapers to be quite rotten) crushed by the oil barge HOP - fortunately, however, without the loss of life. On July 2, 1880, the very day ALBANY made her trial run, the New York Daily Tribune, reporting another accident the day before, had struck the current keynote by writing: “The daily steamboat accident shifted its longitude, yesterday. The boiler of a pleasure boat on one of the Minnesota lakes exploded, killing three persons outright, wounding one fatally and several others seriously.”
           
On the same day the New York Herald announced, as the tragicomic climax to all this: “A barrel of beer exploded on the steamboat STONINGTON, fracturing the leg, arm and collar bone of a sailor named John McCarthy.” Perhaps because of such episodes the Day Line owners preferred to soft-pedal advance publicity about their new boat until they could see how she behaved on the job.
           
At any rate, off she steamed out on the mild blue yonder, as planned, July 3, and that afternoon made a happy landing at Albany, sans fire, sans collision, sans explosion, without even a beer barrel bursting in the air. The New York World gave her this passing mention, July 4. “The new steamer ALBANY, of the Albany day line, made her first regular trip up the Hudson yesterday. She took about one thousand five hundred passengers….She was due at Albany at 6:10 p.m. and was received with fifty guns and a display of bunting. There was a crowd at the wharf to greet her…”
           
Apparently they ordered such things better upstate, for, according to John H. Flandreau, Assistant Archivist, New York State, a clipping from an unidentified newspaper in the Hallenbeck material at Albany reads in part as follows:
           
"On Saturday the ALBANY left her landing in New York nine minutes late, with over 2,000 passengers aboard and against a strong head wind and ebb tide, made West Point and Newburgh on time. Ny the time the boat reached Rhinebeck (then the port of call of Rondout, reached by ferry, and the Southern Catskills), she was about an half hour late, caused by some slight difficulty with her new machinery. By this time the crowd of people had swelled to immense proportions and at this landing fully 500 disembarked, and when Catskill was reached. Fully as many more got off there. From Catskill to this city tows and other hindrances caused the vessel to lose time, and she did not reach here until half-past seven o’clock. All along the river, residents had their houses decorated, and with cannon and other explosives welcomed the advent of the ALBANY.
           
“At Hudson, the dock and hills were crowded with people despite the fact that quite a rain prevailed at the time. When she hove in sight of the city, the greatest excitement prevailed, and, amid the booming of cannon, the screeching of steamboat whistles, the ringing of bells, the playing of Austin’s band, and the shouts of a thousand people assembled on the docks and piers, the ALBANY steamed into port and touched her dock.

Description accompanying print: The original painting, by noted artist, John Gould, might well be called an inspired masterpiece. It was developed with help for accuracy from the well known expert, retired captain William O. Benson of Sleightsburgh, N.Y. He is an authority on the Hudson River History, its boats and shipping. Learn more about John Gould (1906-1996) here: https://johngouldart.com/about/

The maiden voyage of the "Alexander Hamilton" was placed by the artist for this painting, passing Rondout Creek, Kingston, N.Y. The area with the two Kingston Lighthouses makes an important historical background for this great documentary painting.

The maiden voyage suggests a wedding procession with the gleaming white boat, the accompanying flotilla and the sparkling reflection of the sun on the water, resembling wedding confetti.

[Editor's note: 2023 season lighthouse tours and Solaris solar powered boat rides are offered by HRMM here: https://www.hrmm.org/all-boat-tours.html]

                                   The ALEXANDER HAMILTON'S First Trip 
The following is a brief description of the event by Captain William O. Benson: On the 29th of May, 1924, the Hudson River Day Line steamer ALEXANDER HAMILTON made her first voyage on the great Hudson River from New York City to the State Capital at Albany.

I was a student in the old District No. 13 School at Port Ewen, and we had been told the HAMILTON was making her first trip up river. I was wishing she would be late, so I could rush out at 3:30 p.m. and run to the sand bank at Sleightsburgh and watch her come up. I will admit all day in school my mind was on the new HAMILTON and sure enough when school was dismissed I guess I was the first out and on my way to the sand bank.

I could see the new flyer coming up off Schleede's brick yard south of Port Ewen. She was about an hour late due to some problem with her new engine, I guess due to the fact she was new.

As she was passing the Rondout Lighthouse, the steamer JACOB H. TREMPER was just coming out of Rondout Creek. When the HAMILTON blew her landing whistle for Kingston Point of one long, one short and one long, how the sea gulls and egrets rose high in the air. The Lighthouse keeper rang the fog bell three times and the ferry TRANSPORT, just inside of the Lighthouse, blew three whistles in salute which the HAMILTON answered. Also on the starboard side of the HAMILTON, out in the river, was Cornell Steamboat Company tug HARRY blowing her chime whistle. It sure was great to stand and watch a new sidewheeler being greeted by other much older steamboats from another age.

She was all decorated out with American flags and signal colors for her first trip up the river.

She was faithful to the old Hudson for 47 long years, carrying many happy people up and down and to the pleasure parks along the beautiful Hudson River.

                                         More about Port Ewen brickyards:
At the end of his school day in Port Ewen, William O. Benson ran to the Sleightsburg shore and spotted the ALEXANDER HAMILTON coming up off Schleede's brickyard south of Port Ewen. The tall brick stack in the painting might have been remnants of one of the Port Ewen Brickyards, Turner or Jacob Kline/Bishop. The chute was probably used to load bricks or ice blocks onto barges for transport to New York City.

In 1852, Jacob Kline, became cashier for the Pennsylvania Coal Co., and John Ewen (namesake of Port Ewen) became President. From then until 1865, Port Ewen thrived as a terminal for Honesdale, PA coal which came on Delaware & Hudson canal boats and was transferred to barges going to New York City on the Hudson River.

However, after litigation between the D&H and Pennsylvania Coal companies, the latter moved to Newburgh in 1865 leaving many Irish canal workers who lived on that Port Ewen hill unemployed. Jacob Kline built a brickyard which employed these workers and saved Port Ewen from economic collapse. Tugs were named after Kline's daughters.

John D. Schoonmaker of Kingston had a large 23,000 ton ice house erected, helping employment in the winter when the river was frozen. Ice was harvested from Turner's pond on the Port Ewen hill and stored in the icehouse.

Way back in the 1890’s, the Cornell Steamboat Company had a big tugboat by the name of “John H. Cordts.” And at that time, the steamboats,  “New York” and “Albany” were the regular steamers of the Hudson River Day Line.
           
One summer afternoon, the “Cordts” came out of Rondout Creek to run light to Hudson and to relieve the “Norwich” of a large tow of canal boats. At the same time, the “New York” was leaving Rhinecliff on her way up river, crowded with passengers. The “Cordts” pulled slightly ahead of the “New York” and as the “New York” got up her speed, the “Cordts” dropped back and then hooked up so she lay off the port side aft of the “New York.” The suction from the “New York” dragged the “Cordts” right along with her all the way to Catskill, where the “New York” made a landing.

The “New York” and “Albany” were in that day and age very fast wide wheelers and ordinarily could outrun the “Cordts” like a rabbit would a turtle. However, when those side wheelers were in shallow water they would drag their stern down deep in the water and a bid suction wave would follow right along with them. Whatever lay off the after quarters on the Day Liners would go right along with them.

Disbelief from Distaffers
The “New York” and the “Albany” were advertised in the newspapers of the day as very speedy. Some ladies who were passengers on the “New York” that day wrote a letter to the Day Line saying they did not think the “New York” was so fast when a tugboat could stay right alongside her for so long a distance.

A. Van Santvoord, a president of the Day Line, wrote a letter to S.D. Coykendall, president of the Cornell Steamboat Company, requesting him to please ask his captains to stop trying to race with the Day Line steamers. Of course, Van Santvoord and Coykendall knew what the score was, but passengers on the “New York” wouldn’t understand about shoal water, suction, etc.

Coykendall called captain of the “Cordts”, Jim Monahan, on the carpet about the incident and told him not to do it again or he would be discharged. But the way it has been told to me, Jim Monahan was a very stubborn man. Sure enough, he tried it again and that was the last of Captain Monahan on the “John H. Cordts.”

After leaving Cornell, Captain Monahan was captain of the steam lighter “Uriah F. Washburn,” carrying cement and lime all along the Hudson River and Long Island Sound. After that, until his death, he was captain of the steamer “Newburgh” of the Central Hudson Line. All river men agreed he was always a very good captain or pilot tugboats, steamboats or whatever he happened to be on, the sleigh rides and dismissal notwithstanding. 

​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!​

                                                                             Belle Horton
                                                                        
Constructed as a replacement for a steamboat that had been destroyed by fire, the “Belle Horton” was in service for 25 years on various routes and finally was also the victim of the flames which brought to a close the careers of many of the Hudson river steamboats.

The wooden hull of the “Belle Horton” was built by Van Loan and Magee at Athens, New York, in 1881, and her engine- a vertical beam type with a cylinder diameter of 32 inches with a seven foot stroke- was the product of Fletcher, Harrison and Company of Hoboken, New Jersey. The vessel’s hull measured 135 feet, six inches in length, with a breadth of beam listed at 25 feet five inches, and a depth of hold of seven feet five inches. Her gross tonnage was listed at 305, and her net tonnage at 224.

The “Belle Horton” was built for the Citizens’ Line of Troy to take the place of the steamboat “Golden Gate,” which had been destroyed by fire during the summer of 1880. Due to the shallow water in the upper Hudson river between Troy and Albany, the larger night boats, “City of Troy” and “Saratoga,” sometimes experienced difficulty in navigating the river between these two cities, and the “Belle Horton” was often used as a tender to these two larger vessels. Because of her fine lines and graceful appearance the “Belle Horton” became a favorite with the river-minded public and she was used frequently for excursion parties on the upper Hudson river during the summer months.

The year of 1894 marked the end of the steamboat “Belle Horton” in excursion service, and she was then chartered out to run between Newark and New York. The following two years, 1895 and 1896, found the “Belle Horton” in service between Keyport, N.J., and New York on the route formerly traversed by the steamboat “Magenta,” which had been chartered to run between the Battery, in New York city, to Bay Ridge, Brooklyn.

During the time of the Spanish-American War, 1897-1898, the “Belle Horton” was running between New York city and Norwalk, Conn., and in 1899 she was returned to Troy where she was again used for excursion purposes. For one month during this period in her career the “Belle Horton” was in service between Peekskill and New York, replacing the steamboat “Chrystrah,” which was laid up for repairs to a broken shaft.

The beginning of the 20th century closed the career of the “Belle Horton” on the waters of the Hudson river. The trim little steamboat was sold and taken to Norfolk, Va., where she was placed in service as an excursion boat on the James river. She sailed the James river between Norfolk and a place called Pine Beach, and the name “Belle Horton” disappeared from her sides- giving way to the name “Pine Beach.” In 1906, after a quarter of a century of service, the “Pine Beach” was destroyed by fire- thus erasing from active service the steamboat which had been known to travelers of the Hudson river as the “Belle Horton.”

By William O. Benson as told to Ann Marrott

SLEIGHTSBURGH — Labor Day on the Hudson signified the last runs of the excursion steamers for the summer — especially for the people who had come up from New York City to spend the summer around the Catskill Mountains and Kingston. 

It always seemed that on Labor Day, people didn’t appear so happy — especially the children.  When you saw the boats come up in early June or July, the children would be so happy. But when getting on the boats going back Labor Day Weekend, they would all be nice enough, but there would be no joy. 

Labor Day was one holiday I hated as a boy, because the next day I had to go to school. The Hudson River Day Line would run extra boats on Saturday and Sunday and Labor Day.  And if you were out on Kingston Point on that holiday there would be a number of boats coming out of New York to bring the people back.  Everyone wanted to get home the day before school started. All those boats would be loaded going to Bear Mountain. The Central Hudson Line would be running boats up to Beacon, Newburgh and Poughkeepsie. Labor Day was also the last excursion of the “Homer Ramsdell” and it would be advertised in the papers. 

Now, if you brought the New York World back then you would see two whole pages full of steamboat listings.  There would be steamboats listed there that people today have probably never heard of, such as the “Grand Republic,” the “Commodore,” the “Benjamin Franklin” and the “Sea Gate.” The “Sea Gate” could carry 500 to 600 people.  But the bigger boats you would see would be the “Benjamin E.  Odell,” the “Robert Fulton,” the “Albany,” the “Onteora,” and the “Clermont.” Some of the big Day Line boats could carry 3,000 or 4,000 people.  The “Washington Irving” could carry 6,000 people. 

I remember one Labor Day on the “Albany.”  A lot of people got off her at Bear Mountain and this poor, stout woman came rushing down the pier, screaming and yelling.  Her children were on the boat and it was already leaving.  So the mate yelled back to her, “We'll put them off at Newburgh in charge of the dockmaster there. You'll have to get them at Newburgh.” Anyway, the purser took them under his wing and when they got to Newburgh the dockmaster took care of them.  I’m not sure how they made out, but I’m sure they were fine.  You used to see that all the time!!

The[n] after Labor Day the boats would get back to their regular schedules.  Most of the captains on those boats, especially George Greenwood, the captain of the “Benjamin B. Odell,” were always glad to see Labor Day come.  George was always worried with so many people on the boat during the summer excursions, of a fire starting in the staterooms.  Some of the boats did run after Labor Day on a Saturday or a Sunday to carry passengers to Bear Mountain or an excursion out of Kingston, but they wouldn’t have the big crowds. 

I looked forward to Labor Day, too, when I worked on the boats.  You knew the boats were going to only run another day or two.  Then she was headed for the Rondout Creek to tie up for the winter and you could go home.  All during the summer you never got home much on those boats. 

Whatever boats were the most expensive to run were tied up first — right after Labor Day.  The Day Line, after the holiday, operated only two boats.  Sometimes for two weekends in September they would have, for example, the “Robert Fulton” ready to come out for a fall excursion to see the Hudson River fall foliage. 

When the boats were tied up we worked on them until the first of November cleaning the boat and painting her.  Then of course you were laid off for the winter. In those days if you saved $150 to $200 during the summer you would have it made. You could live very comfortably all winter long.  Some of us would get jobs ashore, which I used to do.  I always looked forward to spring, when I could get back on the boats.

After Labor Day — during the fall and winter — was the busiest time for workmen in the  Cornell Steamboat Company shops.  When the river was freezing over and navigation was closing, that’s when they started to repair and clean up the boats.  Sometimes they would employ 400 or 500 men during the winter.  They had the boiler gang, machinists, sawyers, painters, blacksmiths, the coaling gang and the bull gang—they did all the heavy work.  They also had a lot of white collar workers.  Everyone worked to get the boats ready for the next season.

Today's Featured Artifact is a once-shiny metal jewelry box - a memento of a trip on the Hudson River Day Line steamboat "Peter Stuyvesant." The steamboats had shops onboard where passengers could purchase souvenirs of their voyage on the Hudson River.

​The last steamer built for the Day Line was the Peter Stuyvesant in 1927.  She was the only propeller steamer built for the line.  The Stuyvesant was built for charters and for service mostly on the lower river. Moonlight dance cruises were a popular part of her service. She was a well-known and popular vessel in her day and ran through 1962. After the Stuyvesant retired from the Hudson she was bought by a restauranteur in Boston to become a cocktail lounge moored at Anthony’s Pier 4 Restaurant. Unfortunately, a bad winter storm sank her in early 1978, and she was left underwater for many years.  Her wreck was only recently removed from her resting place in Boston harbor.

This 6 inch diameter commemorative tile was created years after the DeWitt Clinton was no longer plying the waters of the Hudson River. This artifact was donated to Hudson River Maritime Museum in 2000.
​
​The Dewitt Clinton was a Hudson River Day Line steamboat which was originally a nightboat called the Manhattan built in 1913 to run to Providence, R.I. with another steamer, the Narragansett, as a night boat.  The new company did not start up, and the boats lay idle until they were called to serve in World War I in 1917 when the Manhattan became a naval transport called Nopatin, and crossed the Atlantic to serve on the English Channel.  After the war, back in America she became a Day Line boat and was rechristened DeWitt Clinton.  She began service on the Hudson in May of 1921. The DeWitt Clinton, after rechristening again, also served as transport vessel to Europe during World War II, and later as a refugee and immigrant ship in the Mediterranean. 

To learn more about the Hudson River Day Line visit the online exhibit by clicking the button below.​

“Steamboat racing was once a way of life ... when racing was banned due to accidents friendly ‘goes’ became popular.”
​
Back in the 19th century, steamboat racing was a way of life.  After a number of accidents traced directly to racing as the cause, steamboat racing was prohibited.  This, however, didn’t prevent latter day steamboats from time to time having a friendly "go" if the conditions were right.  One such incident took place in June 1922 between the "DeWitt Clinton” of the Hudson River Day Line and the “Benjamin B. Odell" of the Central Hudson Line. 

The story of the “race” was related by Lester “Happy” Diehl who was then the 1st Assistant Engineer of the "Odell.”  At the time, I was coming across Rondout Creek on the "Skillypot" with my brother Algot who was home for a few days from his job as Chief Mate on the steamer “Onteora."  We had gone to Rondout to get a copy of the old New York World, the newspaper my father always liked to read. 

"Happy" was also a passenger on the "Skillypot" and, on seeing my brother, said "Hey, Algot, you ought to see what we did to the "DeWitt Clinton" coming up on Sunday." As he told the story, I was all ears. 

It had been a beautiful summer’s Sunday.  As boatmen used to say, both boats were crowded to the guards.  The "Odell" was a soft coal burner in those days and the “Clinton" burned hard coal to make her steam.  As the “DeWitt Clinton” was leaving her pier at Yonkers, the “Odell" was just a little ahead.  A south wind was blowing making the flags, while underway, hang limp from the flag poles.  The black smoke from the “Odell” went straight up in the air, as did the blue smoke from the "DeWitt."

The "Clinton" was about one length of open water astern of the "Odell." Sometimes her bow was only fifty feet off the "Odell's" stern.  But try as she would, she couldn’t get out of the "Odell's" back swell.  Up the river they went, both dragging deep in the shallow waters of Tappan Zee and Haverstraw Bay.  The only slow down for each steamer was, when passing a Cornell tow, and in those days there were plenty going up and down. 

At that time the "DeWitt Clinton" in her second year on the river was a very hard boat to keep steam on with hard coal.  On the other hand, the "Odell" was always ready to blow off steam.  Nevertheless, like a dog chasing a cat the two steamboats sped up the Hudson.  Passengers on both steamers got into the spirit of the occasion, cheering their boat on when one or the other would gain slightly.  At times, a slight shift in the wind would cause cinders from one to drop on the other. 

A fellow later told me he had stood on the dock at Haverstraw when they went by.  How the Cornell tugs “Engels” and “H. D. Mould,” that were tied up there over Sunday, rocked and pulled on their lines from the drag of both these big steamers racing up through the bay.  Some of the brick scows that were at the brick yards were only half loaded, otherwise he said they would have swamped. 

When arriving at Bear Mountain, the "DeWitt Clinton" had to temporarily give up as she had the landing to make.  The "Benjamin B. Odell”, however, had a landing to make at Highland Falls.  When the "Odell" was leaving Highland Falls, the “Clinton" was already underway and coming up fast.  By the time the "Odell" was up to speed, she as a scant length in front of her adversary.  Captain Greenwood of the "Odell" gave his engineer of the watch, "Happy" Diehl, the extra hook up signal to get around West Point and Magazine Point ahead of the Day Liner. 

Of course, when they got off the Military Academy both steamers had to slow down to get around West Point.  By pure chance, the pilots of both steamboats blew their whistles at the same instant — the one prolonged blast required by the rules of the road when approaching a sharp bend in the river.  Both boats had beautiful sounding steam whistles.  How that pleasant sound must have pealed up through those old Highlands on that long ago day. 

As the two steamers came up to Little Stony Point north of Cold Spring, there was a Cornell tow on the way down in charge of the tugboat “Edwin H. Mead" with her helper tug the "R. G. Townsend."  When they passed the tow, both steamboats had to go dead slow, it was such a big tow.  The "Odell" passed to the west of the tow and the "Clinton" to the east.  The "Odell" slowed a little more than the "Clinton," so by the time they were clear of the tow the two foes were neck and neck up through Cornwall Bay. 

Both steamboats were scheduled to make landings at Newburgh and off New Windsor both began to slow down.  As they did, both steamers started to blow off steam since the engineers on both the "Clinton" and “Odell” had their steam pressures at the upper limits.  What a racket that must have made over Newburgh Bay and the streets of Newburgh. 
When the “Benjamin B. Odell" landed at Newburgh, Mr. Herbert R. Odell, General Manager of the Central Hudson Line, was on the dock and came aboard.  He asked Captain Greenwood not to do that again.  When he gave his admonition, however, Mr. Odell did so with a smile on his face. 

Years later I was talking to Jim Malia of the Cornell tug "R. G. Townsend" and asked him if he had been on the "Townsend" at that time.  He said he was and remembered the incident well, as the “Clinton” did not slow down enough when passing on the port side in the tow and had done some damage to a canal boat in the tow owned by his uncle.  Some chocks had been pulled out and other minor damage.  

Actually the “race" between the "DeWitt Clinton" and the “Benjamin B. Odell” from Yonkers to Newburgh had been pretty much of a draw, a brush between two evenly matched steamboats.  The following winter, allegedly because of her reputation as a hard steamer, the "DeWitt Clinton" was converted from coal firing to oil burning, the first Day Liner to be so converted.  After that, the single screw “Odell" with her 2,500 h.p. engine was no longer a match for the "Clinton" with her twin screws and 4,000 h.p.  

Editor’s Note: The following text is a verbatim transcription of an article featuring stories by Captain William O. Benson (1911-1986). Beginning in 1971, Benson, a retired tugboat captain, reminisced about his 40 years on the Hudson River in a regular column for the Kingston (NY) Freeman’s Sunday Tempo magazine. Captain Benson's articles were compiled and transcribed by HRMM volunteer Carl Mayer. See more of Captain Benson’s articles here. This article was originally published October 13, 1974.

​Ever since the rumble of summer thunder in the Catskills was attributed by Washington Irving to a form of bowling by his merry little men, the Hudson Valley has had a certain renown for its thunder and lightning storms.  Many a boatman has been a witness to spectacular lightning displays, primarily because his boat has been in the middle of the river and he had, as a result, a particularly good vantage point. 

There have been a number of instances where river boats have even been struck by lightning, although I don’t know of a single instance where a boat has been seriously damaged as a result.  This has probably been due, I suppose, to the fact the boat has been effectively grounded by the water on which it floated. 

When boats have been struck by lightning, almost always the target for the lightning bolt has been the flag poles.  In some instances, a flag pole has been split right down the middle.  In others, a flag pole has been snapped off like a matchstick.  Events, such as I describe, I know have occurred to the Day Liners “Alexander Hamilton," "Hendrick Hudson" and “Albany.”

Since the beginning of steamboating, steamers have always carried flagpoles and generally, a generous display of flags and bunting.  If nothing else, the flags gaily flapping in the breeze helped attract attention to the steamer. 
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Even at night or in the dreariest weather, one would always find a pennant or a wind sock flying from the forward flag pole, for this would help tell the pilot from which direction the wind was blowing.  

The Day Liners, in particular, always had a lot of flag poles.  The big sidewheelers carried eleven flag poles — one at the bow from which on a good day would fly the union jack, one in back of the pilot house from which would fly the house flag, one at the stern from which would fly the national ensign, and eight side poles from which would fly smaller American flags. 
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During their profit making years, a Day Liner would start the season with a complete set of new flags for sunny days, a complete set of older flags for rainy days, and a set of pennants for windy days.  Prior to World War I, the side poles used to fly the flags of foreign countries, allegedly as a tribute to the diverse population of New York City and its reputation as the nation’s “melting pot," not to mention the possibility of perhaps attracting the people of these diverse backgrounds to ride the steamers.

When lightning would strike a steamer’s flag pole, the jack staff - the one at the bow - seemed to be the greatest attraction.  One one occasion in the 1930's, the “Alexander Hamilton” was in the lower river when she ran into a severe thunderstorm.  The passengers scurried for cover.  Shortly thereafter a bolt of lightning struck the jack staff, snapping it off.  The pilot later related a ball of fire appeared to roll down the edge of the deck from the broken jack staff to about opposite the pilot house and then roll overboard, with no visible damage other than the broken bow flag pole.

​The "Hendrick Hudson” had a similar experience but without the accompanying fire-ball.  The lightning bolt that struck the "Albany” did so in August 1926 while she lay along the Day Line pier at the foot of 42nd Street, New York during a heavy thunder shower.  The lightning in this case struck the stern flag pole and split it down the middle so it lay open like a large palm.  In both cases there was no other damage whatever.

​Perhaps the most spectacular damage from a thunderstorm to a river steamer occurred on June 20, 1899 to the well-known “Mary Powell.”  Here, however, the damage was caused by tornado like winds accompanying the storm and not by lightning.  Captain A. E. Anderson at the time said it was the worst storm he had encountered in his then 25 years of steamboating.

The “Powell” was on her regular up trip from New York to Rondout.  Going through Haverstraw Bay, there appeared to be two thunderstorms, one to the southwest and one to the north, both accompanied by generous displays of lightning.  Near Stony Point the two storms appeared to meet with the “Mary Powell” right at the center.  A cyclonic funnel of dust laden wind seemed to move out from the west shore straight toward the graceful steamboat. 

The wind caught the "Mary Powell” with great force and listed her sharply to starboard. 

The starboard smoke stack came crashing down toward the bow onto the paddle box, the stack’s guys snapped and the supporting rods twisted.  A very short time later, the port smoke stack also toppled over athwart in this instance the aptly named hurricane deck.  The resulting shower of sparks was doused by a deluge of rain that accompanied the storm. 

In about 15 minutes the storm abated and it was all over.  In addition to the toppled smoke stacks, a sliding door had been blown in, the life boats had been lifted from their chocks and the davits bent, and quite a number of folding chairs had been blown overboard. 

The “Powell's” engineers started her blowers and the steamer continued on her way, making her regular landings at Cranston’s (later Highland Falls), West Point, Cornwall, Newburgh, New Hamburg, Milton, Poughkeepsie, Hyde Park and Rondout.  At the time of the great storm, the "Mary Powell” had aboard approximately 200 passengers.  Fortunately, none were injured although many were probably shaken by their experience. 
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The “Mary Powell” must have presented a strange appearance as she steamed into Rondout Creek with her fallen smoke stacks.  Repair crews had been alerted and as soon as she docked, the workmen commenced work.  A gang of men worked throughout the night and it is said the steamer left Kingston the following morning for New York on her regular schedule.