No. 41- James W. Baldwin
                                                                              
The “James W. Baldwin” was one of the better-known steamboats to the people of this section of the Hudson river valley. She was built in 1860 and was originally 242 feet long, breadth of beam 34 feet, and a tonnage rating of 710. Her hull was constructed of wood by M.S. Allison of Jersey City and her engine, a vertical beam with a 60 inch cylinder and an 11 foot stroke, was the product of Fletcher, Harrison & company of New York. She had two iron boilers located on the guards. In later years the “James W. Baldwin” was rebuilt- measuring 275 feet, five inches, and a net tonnage rating of 923.
              
The “James W. Baldwin” was built for Captain Jacob H. Tremper of Kingston. Captain Tremper was one of the best-known of the old Hudson river skippers, beginning his career back in the thirties by purchasing and operating the steamboat “Fanny,” a stout little sidewheeler  formerly used on Long Island Sound, which he placed in service between New York and Marlborough. Later he purchased the “Emerald” and ran her for a short period between Poughkeepsie and the metropolis.
                
By the year 1860, Captain Tremper had made Rondout his terminus for a line to New York and he was running the steamboat “North America” on that route. In 1860 he ordered a new steamer which he intended to name the “Wiltwyck,” but when he launched her on November 19, 1860, he christened her the “James W. Baldwin.” The new steamboat was placed in regular service in the spring of 1861, and immediately gained attention because she was the speediest vessel carrying staterooms on the river at that time. She had 50 staterooms and sleeping accommodations for up to 100 persons. Later she was lengthened, an extra tier of staterooms added, and accommodations increased to 350 persons.
              
The “Baldwin” was a typical Hudson river night boat, and she was under the command of Captain Tremper from the day of her first trip until the year 1888 when the Captain died.
              
In the year 1899 the “James W. Baldwin” was purchased by the Central Hudson Steamboat Company of Newburgh, and in 1903 she was rebuilt, two new boilers were placed in her, and her name was changed to the “Central Hudson.” She saw service on the same route for which she was constructed in 1860.
              
During her career the “James W. Baldwin” had many running mates. In 1861-1862 she ran in line with the steamboat “Manhattan.” In 1863 she saw service with the “Knickerbocker,” continuing with the latter vessel until the “Thomas Cornell” made her appearance. The “Baldwin” ran in line with the “Thomas Cornell” until that vessel was wrecked on March 28, 1882, and then for the balance of the season she had the “City of Catskill” as her running mate. In 1883 the “City of Springfield” was the companion boat of the “Baldwin,” and then from 1884 to 1889 she ran in line with the hull propeller vessel “City of Kingston.”
              
In October, 1889, the “City of Kingston” was sold to a company on the Pacific coast, and for the balance of that season the steamboat “Saugerties” was chartered to run with the “Baldwin.”
              
During the winter of 1890 Romer & Tremper bought out the night line business of the Cornell Line between Rondout and New York, and purchased the steamboat, “Mason L. Weems,” later rechristened the “William F. Romer,” from a concern in Baltimore to run in line with the “James W. Baldwin.”

I​n 1910 the Central Hudson Line constructed a new steel hull propeller boat named the “Benjamin B. Odell,” and in the spring of 1911 this new vessel replaced the “James W. Baldwin” or “Central Hudson” as she was known at that period. The “Central Hudson” was then chartered out to the Manhattan Line to run between New York and Albany in line with the steamer “Kennebec,” later called the “Iroquois.”  On May 20, 1911, on the down trip from Albany, the “Central Hudson” ran aground at Jones Point where she was fast for 13 hours. On the return trip she again ran aground near West Point. This second accident occurred at high tide and was more serious than the first mishap, as the bow of the vessel was fast while the stern was floating. The keel was broken. An investigation in dry-dock showed the damage to be quite serious and the “Central Hudson” was abandoned. She was towed to Newburgh from Hoboken and was partly dismantled. Later she was purchased by J.H. Gregory, and on November 15, 1911, the once proud “James W. Baldwin” was towed through New York Harbor on her way to the bone yard at Perth Amboy where she was broken up.  

                                                 No. 20- Dean Richmond

​With the engine from the wrecked “Francis Skiddy” reconditioned and placed in a new wooden hull, the steamboat “Dean Richmond” came into being in 1865 as the property of the People’s Line running in night service between New York and Albany. This vessel like all the other splendid crafts built for the People’s Line was the acme of steamboat construction at that time.
              
While the vessel was still on the ways, newspapers persisted in reporting the progress being made in the building of the “General Grant”, but the officials of the People’s Line saw fit to name the vessel “Dean Richmond” in honor of the president of the New York Central Railroad.
              
Misfortune dogged the patch of the “Dean Richmond” in a like manner as those of other river craft, and on a moonlight night of September 20, 1867, she was in a collision with another vessel and sunk. While sailing south just below Rhinecliff, she sighted the Troy night boat, “C. Vanderbilt.” William Vanderburgh blew the customary one whistle which was answered by the “C. Vanderbilt” in a like manner, but unfortunately a propeller tug following the “Dean Richmond” also blew her whistle, causing a misunderstanding. The “Dean Richmond” changed her course but the “C. Vanderbilt” did not, and the latter vessel crashed into the larboard quarter of the “Dean Richmond” 30 feet aft of the bow, staving in the forward cabin. The engineer of the stricken vessel immediately raised the safety valves thus averting an explosion. The bow of the “C. Vanderbilt” was so firmly wedged into the “Dean Richmond that the latter boat was held up long enough to allow her passengers to climb over the wreckage onto the decks of the “C. Vanderbilt” before the water rose to the upper tier of the “Richmond’s” staterooms. A colored porter employed on the “Dean Richmond” drowned and his body was recovered by George W. Murdock.
              
The Dean Richmond was afterward raised, repaired, and again placed in service on the night line.
              
On June 14, 1877 just above Rockland Lake on a trip to Albany, the “Dean Richmond” met with another accident. This was caused by the breaking of a connecting rod and the end of the walking beam snapping off. No lives were lost, or anyone injured in this accident, but several thousand dollars worth of damage was done to the engine of the vessel.
              
The “Dean Richmond” was again repaired and placed in regular service until the advent of the steamboat “C.W. Morse” in 1904 when the “Richmond” was laid up and used only as an extra boat. After the burning of the “City Of Troy” belonging to the Citizen’s Line of Troy, on April 5, 1907, the “Dean Richmond was placed in service on the Troy route. Finally in 1909, having outlived her usefulness, the “Dean Richmond” was sold to wreckers in Boston and sailed to that port on her last trip where she was burned for the old metal that was used in her construction.

Captain William O. Benson recalls the plight of a sleepy steamboat passenger who got off at the wrong stop.
 
In the long ago days of Hudson River steam-boating, almost every city and larger village along the river had their own steamboat line to New York. Each line would have at least two boats to maintain daily service— one boat going down, one back the next day.
 
The steamers of the lines north of Newburgh were known as night boats because they usually departed in the late afternoon or early evening and arrived at their destination in the early morning. All would carry freight on their main decks, with the deck above reserved for staterooms that offered sleeping accommodations for passengers.
 
Generally, travelling on the night boats was an extremely pleasant way to make a journey for or from New York. The river was always attractive in the evening and travellers could count on a good night's sleep— except when the steamer ran into fog and the pilots would have to blow their boat's whistle or if a passenger had a stateroom right next to the paddle wheels.
 
Saugerties was one of those towns that had its own steamboat service. The name of the company was the Saugerties and New York Steamboat Company, and it was operated mostly by home town men. During its last twenty years or so of service it was promoted and known to the travelling public as The Saugerties Evening Line.' At the time of this particular incident, shortly after World War I, they had two small, smart sidewheelers named "Ulster" and "Ida".
 
The incident took place on the "Ulster," and on this particular trip she left Pier 43, North River, in New York at her regular time. She had freight for all her landings, which in those days were Hyde Park, Rhinecliff, Barrytown, Ulster Landing and Tivoli, before ending her journey at Saugerties.
 
"Ulster" made very good time until she reached Crum Elbow, just south of Hyde Park. Then the fog set in. At the time, she was overtaking the Catskill Line freighter "Storm King". Of course, the fog signals had to be sounded from both steamers.
 
A Cornell tow was also on its way down the river, blowing one long and two short whistle signals indicating they had a tow underway. And as a matter of courtesy, the helper tug back on the tow, was also blowing its whistle because it was a good 500 feet back from the towing tug.
 
A racket of steam whistles reverberated across Hyde Park. If Franklin D. Roosevelt was at home— or the Vanderbilts or the great naturalist John Burroughs, they certainly woke up. For on top of all the other whistles, the big night boats out of Albany and Troy came along, sounding their way through the fog.
 
Some of the passengers on the "Ulster" were up complaining about all the noise. Others just stayed in their staterooms and put up with it. Then, a short while after things got reasonably quiet again, came the landing at Rhinecliff with the organized confusion of unloading freight. The hand freight trucks clattered on and off the gang plank, and the mate shouted at the freight handlers to get the freight off so they could get out on time.
 
After leaving Rhinecliff all was serene for a few moments, except for the periodic blowing of the fog signal. But off Astor's tunnel, they met a canal tow which was siting crossways in the channel and this caused more whistle blowing. Once clear of the tow, the "Ulster " landed at Barrytown. The freight trucks started up again, and an argument between two freight handlers, halted by the authoritarian voice of the mate, added to the din. (More on page 17)
 
The ”Ulster” then headed across the river to Ulster Landing. It was the custom on night boats for a hallman to knock on the door of the stateroom of a passengers getting off at a patircular landing about ten minutes before docking and announce the arrival. Sometimes, a passenger would have to listen pretty closely, for some hallmen were like some of the conductors on the old West Shore Railroad – they had an odd way of pronouncing the names of some of the stations or landings.
 
In any event, a hallman knocked on the door of the stateroom of one Ulster Landing passenger and called out “Ulster Landing, Ulster Landing”. A lady passenger bound for Saugerties and in a stateroom or two away also heard the knocking and the announcement “Ulster Landing”. After all the whistle blowing at Hyde Park, Rhinecliff, and Barrytown, she in all probability had been sleeping fitfully and in her half awake state may have thought “Ulster Landing” meant that the “Ulster” was docking and that it was time to get off. In any case, she got up, got dressed and when the steamer ghosted through the fog into the dock at Ulster Landing, she was at the gangway. As soon as the gang plank was put out, she walked ashore.
 
There was very little freight for Ulster Landing, so the gang plank was taken in and in a few minutes, the “Ulster” was on her way to Tivoli. The lady found herself virtually alone on a river dock before dawn. And it sure wasn’t Saugerties.
 
The only light on the lonely dock was a kerosene lantern, and the only other person around was the dockmaster who was an elderly man who was very hard of hearing. The sight of this well dressed lady alone in the freight shed made him so nervous that she had a hard time getting him to understand her plight. But the message finally got through, and the dockmaster got her a chair to sit in until daylight, then found a friend with a horse and wagon to take her on to Saugerties.
 
I often wondered if she ever made the steamboat trip to Saugerties again.
 
I, too, once made an overnight trip on the “Ulster” – by then renamed the “Robert A. Snyder”. It was in August of 1928, and I was a deckhand on the steamer “Albany” of the Hudson River Day Line.
 
I’d been home for a day and thought I’d go back to New York on the “Snyder” with my friends Richard Heffernan, who was her captain, and Harry Grough, her pilot. I got aboard her at Rhinecliff at 8 p.m. It must have been late in the month, for I remember it was already dark when we pulled away from the dock. Quite a few passengers were aboard.
 
I got the key to my stateroom and then went up to the pilot house to visit with my friends, Dick and Harry.
 
We talked for a while as the “Snyder” paddled her way down the Hudson, then, as we passed Poughkeepsie, I went down to my stateroom, which turned out to be on the port side just forward of the paddle wheel. All night long I could hear the old wheels pounding in the water below me. Once I got used to it, it was a very rhythmic and soothing sound. Every once in a while, though, the buckets on the wheels would pick up some sort of debris floating in the river, which would clatter and spin around in the wheel batteries.
 
Down around Clinton Point, I could hear the whistle of the “Snyder” blow one long and two short. On looking out the stateroom window, I could see the steamer “Ida” on her way up the river to Saugerties. Then again off Roseton I heard a whistle, which I recognized right away. It was the “Benjamin B. Odell” of the old Central Hudson Line headed north for Rondout. She sure looked great with all her electric lights shining in the dark and reflecting on the water.
 
After the passing “Odell”, I went to sleep and didn’t wake up until we landed at Pier 43, North River. The I said goodbye to Captain Heffernan and Pilot Grough, and took the old Ninth Avenue El Line up to 42nd Street and back to work again on the “Albany” at the Day Line pier at the foot of the street.

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