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Editor's Note: The following text is a verbatim transcription of an article written by George W. Murdock, for the Kingston (NY) Daily Freeman newspaper in the 1930s. Murdock, a veteran marine engineer, wrote a regular column. Articles transcribed by HRMM volunteer Adam Kaplan. For more of Murdock's articles, see the "Steamboat Biographies" category. Oseola The steamboat “Oseola” was one of the Hudson river vessels which were in service in the early days of steam navigation on the river and were then taken to other rivers, passing from the pages of Hudson river steamboats. Records of river-craft contain little information about the “Oseola,” but one fact that is evident throughout the sparse recordings of this vessel was her ability to sail up and down the river at a faster pace than most of the other steamboats of her size at that particular time in the river’s history. The wooden hull of the steamboat “Oseola” was constructed by William Brown at New York in the year 1838. She was built for the celebrated Alfred DeGroot, at that period a brilliant figure in the activities of the Hudson river, and was scheduled for service on the waters discovered by Henry Hudson in his quest for a short route to India. Known to rivermen as one of the “clippers of her day,” the “Oseola” was placed in service between New York and Fishkill- running as a dayboat and making landings at intermediate points along the river. The only indication as to the size of the “Oseola” comes from a recorded observation that she was “one of the fastest small boats on the river,” but her actual dimensions have been lost in the maze of steamboat histories that have come down through the years of steamboat navigation. After making numerous trips on the New York-Fishkill route, the “Oseola” established a name for herself as a fast vessel, and her trips were extended up the river to Poughkeepsie. She plied the waters between New York and Poughkeepsie for the balance of her first season. In the spring of 1839 the “Oseola” was placed in service between the city of Hudson and New York, under the command of Captain Robert Mitchell. She left New York at the foot of Chambers street every Tuesday, Thursday and Saturday at four o’clock for Hudson, and made landings at Caldwell’s, West Point, Fishkill, New Hamburgh, Milton, Poughkeepsie, Hyde Park, Thompson’s Dock, Kingston, Red Hook, Bristol and Catskill. On her trip down the river the “Oseola” left Hudson every Monday, Wednesday and Friday morning at 6 o’clock, and made the same landings on her return trip. At Hudson she landed at the old State Prison wharf at the foot of Amos street where both freight and passengers were discharged or taken aboard. The steamboat “Oseola” plied the waters of the Hudson river for several years and was then taken to the Delaware river. The length of her service on the Hudson river, or how long her career continued. after she appeared on the Delaware river, is unknown, as the record of her service closes with her transfer to the Delaware river. AuthorGeorge W. Murdock, (b. 1853-d. 1940) was a veteran marine engineer who served on the steamboats "Utica", "Sunnyside", "City of Troy", and "Mary Powell". He also helped dismantle engines in scrapped steamboats in the winter months and later in his career worked as an engineer at the brickyards in Port Ewen. In 1883 he moved to Brooklyn, NY and operated several private yachts. He ended his career working in power houses in the outer boroughs of New York City. His mother Catherine Murdock was the keeper of the Rondout Lighthouse for 50 years. 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 a verbatim transcription of an article written by George W. Murdock, for the Kingston (NY) Daily Freeman newspaper in the 1930s. Murdock, a veteran marine engineer, wrote a regular column. Articles transcribed by HRMM volunteer Adam Kaplan. For more of Murdock's articles, see the "Steamboat Biographies" category. Daniel Drew The “Daniel Drew” was another of the wooden-hull vessels constructed by Thomas Collyer of New York city, built in 1860, with a hull measuring 224 feet The engine of the “Daniel Drew” was from the steamboat “Titan.” On June 5, 1860, the “Daniel Drew” appeared on the Hudson river and was placed in regular service between New York and Albany. She was an exceptionally fast vessel, making one run in October of the same year, of six hours and 31 minutes traveling up the river and making nine landings. She was a very narrow boat when she first appeared on the river and was at times rather cranky, but this factor was one of the reasons for her ability to attain such high speed. In 1862 she was widened five feet. James Collyer and other boatmen controlled the “Daniel Drew” until September 25, 1863 when she was sold to Alfred Van Santvoord and another group of steamboat men. On October 7 of the same year, Van Santvoord and company also purchased the “Armenia,” and so was laid the foundation of the present Hudson River Dayline. In 1864 the “Chauncey Vibbard” was built to run as a consort to the “Daniel Drew,” and then the “Armenia” was used as a spare boat and for occasional excursions. For many years the “Daniel Drew” and “Chauncey Vibbard” plied the waters of the Hudson river on regular schedule, and then it became necessary to have a new boat. The “Albany” was then placed in service on July 2, 1880, and the “Chauncey Vibbard” was retained to run as the new boat’s consort. The “Daniel Drew” was placed in reserve and the “Armenia” was sold for service on the Potomac river where she was destroyed by fire in 1886. On a Sunday afternoon, August 9, 1886, as the “Daniel Drew” was laying at Kingston Point, she caught fire from the engine house of the Delaware and Hudson Canal Company and was totally destroyed. Thus ended the career of another of the famous steamboats of the Hudson river. AuthorGeorge W. Murdock, (b. 1853-d. 1940) was a veteran marine engineer who served on the steamboats "Utica", "Sunnyside", "City of Troy", and "Mary Powell". He also helped dismantle engines in scrapped steamboats in the winter months and later in his career worked as an engineer at the brickyards in Port Ewen. In 1883 he moved to Brooklyn, NY and operated several private yachts. He ended his career working in power houses in the outer boroughs of New York City. His mother Catherine Murdock was the keeper of the Rondout Lighthouse for 50 years. 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 essay is by author and steamboat scholar Richard V. Elliott (1934-2014). His two volume history of Hudson River Steamboats "The Boats of Summer" is coming soon from Schiffer Publishing. The Albany Day Line's success with the famous Albany of 1880 led to the creation of a grand sister-ship named New York. With her addition to the Line the company had two fine, big and speedy paddle wheel day passenger steamers each named for a terminal of their Hudson River service. The Álbany's´sister was completed in 1887, some seven years later. Though she has been traditionally regarded as a true sister-ship, they were markedly different in appearance. The New York was designed with her three stacks running athwartships as on the Albany and the C. Vibbard, but unlike the other two, her stacks were located forward of the paddlewheels, while the others had the opposite arrangement. Ironically, many people of the day regarded the New York's design as "backwards" and the Albany's style to be "correct." Historically, however, this general local opinion does not seem to have a firm foundation, since a good many of the contemporary steamboats throughout the northeast section of the U.S. had been designed with stacks forward, followed in order by the walking beam and paddlewheels last. This was true to an extent on the Hudson River as well, but some folks from other areas regarded the Hudson River development of wheels, walking beam and stacks aft to be out of the ordinary. Looking at photographs of the New York, however, the location of the boat's wheels do seem to be somewhat extraordinarily near the stern. The New York's lines, especially her hull lines, were streamlined and graceful and she was as fast as the lines suggested that she would be. Much expected and delivered on Maiden Trip Costing some $250,000 and equipped with 4,000 horsepower in a fine hull, much was expected of the New York's performance, by the Albany Day Line and the contemporary steamboat conscious traveling public as well. One New York newspaper heralded the news of her 1887 maiden voyage up the Hudson River in the following detailed description: "The new steamboat New York, with a thousand passengers on board, made her first regular trip up the Hudson to-day, and was enthusiastically received at all points by shouts and cheers, bells ringing and whistles blowing. She left New York at 9:40 a.m. and was two minutes behind at Yonkers, twelve minutes ahead of time at Stony Point, and made West Point, fifty miles from New York at 11:40 a.m. She ran from Hampton Point to Milton, five miles against tide and wind, in thirteen minutes or at the rate of 23 miles per hour, and a fraction and from Milton to Poughkeepsie, four miles in 10 minutes, or at a rate of 24 miles per hour." She had made the 50 mile distance to West Point in two hours flat, making her average for this stretch of the trip some 25 miles per hour, an accomplishment many of the modern steamboats and diesels operating on the Hudson River in modern days would envy. Many of today's motorists still don't make the trip in as good time. New York proved she was a top-ranking "flyer" on the Hudson on her first trip and kept that reputation for the rest of her days. If you enjoyed this post and would like to support more history blog content, please make a donation to the Hudson River Maritime Museum or become a member today!
Editor’s Note: The following text is a verbatim transcription of an article 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 June 10, 1973. Since I began writing this series of steamboat articles for “Tempo,” I’ve received some 50 letters and more than 100 telephone calls from interested readers. It has been amazing to me, at least, to discover the wide audience reached by the articles. Letters have been received from such diverse points as Alaska, California, and Florida. One of the more interesting of these came from Mrs. Richard Dawson of Silver Springs, Maryland. Her father, Frank Luedike, was the Barrytown agent of the Saugerties and New York Steamboat Company from 1901 until the company ceased operations at the onset of the Great Depression of the 1930’s. She mentioned an incident that was previously unknown to me and had given me permission to use her letter. It follows: Dear Captain Benson: I have not been able to resist writing to you about the journey into the past afforded by your most enjoyable articles in The Freeman on the well remembered Hudson River steamboats. Of deepest interest and nostalgia to me was the “No More Night Boats from Saugerties.” You see, my father (Frank Luedtke) was Agent-in-Charge of the Barrytown dock of the Saugerties and New York Steamboat Company from 1901 until the company went out of business. My parents lived, and I was born, in the house right on the bank of the river - reached by a flight of stairs from the dock. This property was purchased by the company with the express purpose of providing a place for their Barrytown agent to live. In particular, the account of your visit aboard the “Robert A. Snyder” on that afternoon in New York at Pier 43, North River, foot of Christopher Street (how often I heard that address!) brought back many wonderful memories of my childhood and Captain Richard W. Heffernan. He was so wonderful to a small girl who thought that, next to her father, he was about the greatest thing that had ever happened to her and the resplendent gold braid of the Captain’s uniform really cinched it! I am happy to say I never had occasion to change that opinion in later years when the gold braid was long gone - the wonderful person that he was still continued to shine! I also remember well the pilot with whom you spoke and who gave you such timely advice. Strangely enough, I’ve always remembered his name as Harry Gough - not grough has the paper had it. However, I could be wrong about that. The helmsman or quartermaster that I remember was a blond haired young man by the name of Johnnie but his last name escapes me at this point. Incidentally, Captain Heffernan was instrumental in literally saving for us the home I mentioned earlier. Just to the north was a piece of property on which had stood one of the ice houses owned by the Knickerbocker Ice Company. With the advent of electric refrigerators, ice harvesting from the river was no longer profitable and the ice house, badly deteriorated, was pulled down and the materials mostly left where they were. Each summer at least one careless individual walking through would flick a cigarette butt which would ignite the sawdust remaining from the ice house. This, of course, was the most difficult fire to conquer as, while it would seem to be extinguished, it was smouldering beneath the surface only waiting for a breeze to fan it into flame. On this particular late afternoon, a strong breeze from the north sprang up and a really large fire took hold. The Red Hook Fire Department responded but, at that time, they had no pumper so could only stand by with the chemical engine to use on the house should it catch. Just as my mother had some treasured items and clothing ready to be moved out, the “Robert A. Snyder” hove into view. Captain Heffernan immediately sized up the situation and as soon as she was made fast at the dock, the captain ordered her hoses broken out and the pumps manned. The fire was shortly under control, the house was saved and the freight loading operation went on! But, it had been an unforgettable experience I assure you. I also enjoyed your article on the “Old Steamboat Whistles at Rondout.” However, since none of these boats put into “our” dock, with the exception of the “Jacob H. Tremper,” I do not particularly remember their various whistles. Aside from the “Robert A. Snyder” and “Ida,” probably my most vivid recollections are of the beautiful picture the Night Line boats presented gliding by on a mirror-like river with each of their lights from seem to stern reflecting a double glitter. As I recall, they would pass Barrytown going downriver at about 11:15 p.m. I hope you will forgive the presumption on your time of these rambling reminiscences of a total stranger. I can only blame the contagion of your articles which I have just received from relatives in Kingston. Thank you for writing them! Sincerely yours, Wilhelminia Luedtke Dawson AuthorCaptain William Odell Benson was a life-long resident of Sleightsburgh, N.Y., where he was born on March 17, 1911, the son of the late Albert and Ida Olson Benson. He served as captain of Callanan Company tugs including Peter Callanan, and Callanan No. 1 and was an early member of the Hudson River Maritime Museum. He retained, and shared, lifelong memories of incidents and anecdotes along the Hudson River. 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!
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 essay is by author and steamboat scholar Richard V. Elliott (1934-2014). His two volume history of Hudson River Steamboats "The Boats of Summer" is coming soon from Schiffer Publishing. More information about hospital ships can be found here. While "Dean Richmond" was being torn apart at Boston in 1909, the City of Yonkers ventured to consider purchasing the old steamer for possible conversion into a floating hospital. At the time, certain officials wanted a craft for use in providing quarantined care of convalescing children and contagiously diseased patients. Yonkers' Mayor Warren wrote to Alexander M. Wilson of the Boston Association for the Relief and Control of Tuberculosis, asking his advice about purchasing the "Richmond" for hospital duties. An Equity of $3,000 and a Sad State Mr. Wilson went to the yards of Thomas Butler in Boston, where the once well respected steamer was being dismantled, took a good look at her and sent his appraisal to May Warren. In a rather ambivalent manner, Wilson reported: "I have just returned from an inspection of the "Dean Richmond", and I must confess that I feel incompetent to render a judgement as to its value to you. It is difficult to determine just what you are to secure for $4,000 …. As the boat stands, it is in a sad state of disorder … would cost another $1,000 to tow her to New York …" Wilson was particularly impressed with the "Richmond's" hull, reporting that the copper plating of the hull was worth $3,000 alone, and exclaimed, "there is an equity of $3,000 in the boat if you take the bare hull." He then went on to say, "The hull, however, is apparently in good condition, it has not needed to be pumped out since July 2 … and if you are limited to a floating hospital, I should think that you could not secure so much room for so little money in any other hulk that you might find." His report came to Yonkers July 26. Yonkers Declines Offer The 'high cost' of acquiring the remains of the steamer, even though she hadn't leaked appreciably for 24 days, was the reason expressed by the City Mayor in declining the opportunity to purchase the "Dean Richmond's" hull. After reading Wilson's report, Mayor Warren stated, "…it would now seem that that (this floating hospital) was impracticable, because the cost to the city would be too great, and the same amount of money could be used to better advantage in the establishment of a land camp." Thus, with this last hope for further service dashed, the scrappers continued their job of dismantling. So ended the life of "Dean Richmond." If you enjoyed this post and would like to support more history blog content, please make a donation to the Hudson River Maritime Museum or become a member today!
Editor's Note: The following text is a verbatim transcription of an article written by George W. Murdock, for the Kingston (NY) Daily Freeman newspaper in the 1930s. Murdock, a veteran marine engineer, wrote a regular column. Articles transcribed by HRMM volunteer Adam Kaplan. For more of Murdock's articles, see the "Steamboat Biographies" category. The “Empire of Troy” was constructed in 1843, being 307 feet long, and was one of the leading Hudson river boats of her time, running in line with the steamboat “Troy” on the New York-Troy route. She was the second large steamboat built for the Troy Line and was supposed to be called the “Empire” but her owners feared that she might be mistaken for an Albany boat so they had the name “Empire Of Troy” painted in large, black letters on her paddle-wheel boxes. These owners had plenty of reason to be proud of their vessel because she was the largest of her type that had been built up to that time. However, despite her size and construction, she turned out to be a rather unfortunate craft, meeting with many mishaps. In April of 1845, she met with a most peculiar accident. During a dense fog she ran into the pier at the foot of 19th street in the North River. Although this pier was constructed of solid, ballasted crib-work, the impact was so great the steamer’s hull cut through the pier for a distance of 30 feet, doing little or no damage to the vessel but completely wrecking the pier. On the night of May 18, 1849, the “Empire of Troy” left New York bound for Troy. While proceeding up Newburgh Bay at 10 o’clock at night, she was in a collision with the sloop “Noah Brown”. The “Empire of Troy” began to settle immediately and the steamer “Rip Van Winkle” which was following the ill-fated vessel, succeeded in rescuing a great number of passengers, but even at that some 24 lives were lost. The “Rip Van Winkle” towed the “Empire of Troy” over to the flats on the eastern side of the river where she settled on the bottom. She was later raised and repaired, and continued to run on the Troy route until another accident of a similar nature eventually put her out of service. This second accident which wrote “finis” to the steamer’s career happened between two and three o’clock in the morning of July 16, 1853, of New Hamburgh. The pilot of the “Empire of Troy” saw the sloop “General Livingston” trying to beat across his bow. He threw over his wheel so as to give the sloop leeway, but the “General Livingston suddenly sheered off and struck the “Empire of Troy” on the larboard side, throwing her boiler from its anchorings and staving in the guards and paddlebox. The passengers, alarmed by the terrific crash and the noise of escaping steam, rushed from their berths and staterooms into the upper cabin and saloon, only to be submerged in the cabin and scalded in the saloon. A chambermaid, frightfully scalded, jumped overboard and was drowned. Captain Smith ordered the bell rung to call help but before any aid arrived, the vessel had careened to the leeward and was rapidly filling. The sloop “First Effort” and the propellor-driven “Wyoming” then came alongside and took off the passengers, and later the “Wyoming” pushed the “Empire of Troy” into the shallows on the eastern shore where she sank in eight feet of water. The accident caused the death of eight people and injured 14 others. Those that were scalded were given first aid at the residence of Mr. Van Renssaleer at New Hamburgh. The “Empire of Troy” was finally raised but it was found that her hull was badly damaged and so she was dismantled after a record of only 10 years service. AuthorGeorge W. Murdock, (b. 1853-d. 1940) was a veteran marine engineer who served on the steamboats "Utica", "Sunnyside", "City of Troy", and "Mary Powell". He also helped dismantle engines in scrapped steamboats in the winter months and later in his career worked as an engineer at the brickyards in Port Ewen. In 1883 he moved to Brooklyn, NY and operated several private yachts. He ended his career working in power houses in the outer boroughs of New York City. His mother Catherine Murdock was the keeper of the Rondout Lighthouse for 50 years. If you enjoyed this post and would like to support more history blog content, please make a donation to the Hudson River Maritime Museum or become a member today!
Editor’s Note: The following text is a verbatim transcription of an article 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 January 23, 1977. Tugboats in some respects are like people. Some have long lives, some short ones. Some during the course of their lifetime change greatly in appearance. And some seem to be more accident prone than others. All tugboats, especially in the old days, had their share of mishaps, which were caused by any number of things. River traffic was greater then, and there were fewer buoys, beacons and other navigational aids. It was a time of no radar, which today permits the pilot to “see” where he is in the fog, blinding snow or rain storm. In addition, of course, there were and are always those mishaps caused by human error or folly. The debacles that befell the tugboat “Hercules” of the old Cornell Steamboat Company are perhaps typical. Some of the incidents were not without a touch of humor. Others have a bit of pathos. The “Hercules” — a good name for a tug — was a member of the Cornell fleet during its heyday. She was built in 1876 and remained in active service until 1931. "Herk," as they often called her, was smaller than the large tugboats that used to pull the big flotillas of barges, but also larger that the helper tugs that regularly assisted every big tow. As a result, she was used for a lot of special tasks: towing dredges, expressing special barges or lighters, pulling steamboats from winter lay up to a shipyard, etc. "Herk" also had a reputation as an ice breaker and was used often for this purpose - particularly in the spring. To help her in the ice, she had extra stout oak planking and steel straps all around her bow. One day in the summer of 1917, the "Hercules" was running light to Rondout. Her pilot was off watch, asleep in his bunk, and the captain was dog tired. Since it was a clear summer’s day, the captain decided to grab a nap and let the deckhand steer. After he went below for his nap, a heavy thunder shower came up off Esopus Meadows lighthouse. The decky altered course, and — thinking he was on the proper heading — kept her hooked up. A few minutes later, "Herk" came to a slow stop and raised partly out of the water. When she listed, the captain woke up and ran to the pilot house. But the heavy rain was coming down in sheets. He couldn’t see a thing. All he knew for sure was that his tug was aground and the tide was falling. When the rain stopped a few hours later, the problem was obvious. The deckhand had turned too much towards the northwest, going aground directly off the old Schleede’s brickyard at Ulster Park. The “Hercules” had plowed right over the Esopus Meadows, coming to rest with her bow on the north bank and her stern on the south bank, straddling the cut channel between the Meadows and the brickyard. The tide was ebbing and, unsupported as she was in the middle, her crew was afraid the Herk would either break her back or roll over on her side. But as the water fell, she listed only a trifle and sat there— just as she had run aground. “Herk" must have been made of good stuff to stand that ordeal. The next high tide, Cornell sent down the tugs “Harry", “G. C. Adams” and “Wm. S. Earl” and pulled her off, none the worse for the experience. The deckhand who put her there lived in Port Ewen. For years afterward, he took a lot of ribbing for trying to put his tug up in his own backyard. Two years later — in 1919 — the “Hercules" had another mishap. For this one, her pilot was fired. At that time, "Herk" was expressing a coal boat from New York to Cornwall. She was off Jones Point at about 1:30 in the morning, when the pilot, who used to so some fishing, said to the deckhand, “Steer her a little while. I’m going down to the galley and knit on my fish nets.” While the pilot knitted, the decky dozed off at the wheel, and the “Hercules” hit a rock near Fort Montgomery. It put a sizable hole in her hull, she sank in 45 feet of water. The salvage company later located her by her hawser, which was still attached to the coal boat, and floated her like a big buoy. “Herk” was raised and repaired, and she ran for another 12 years. After the accident, the president of the Cornell Steamboat Company is said to have called the pilot into his office to ask him how it happened. The pilot was truthful, telling him where he was and what he'd been doing, whereupon Cornell’s president is supposed to have said: “Well,”(calling the pilot by name),"now you can go home for the rest of your life and knit nets to your heart’s content." And he never worked on a Cornell tugboat again. In 1924, the “Hercules" had another near accident— but this one ended on a happier note. The tug was running light in the upper river on her way to Albany. It was the era before three crews manned each boat, and the captain was off for the weekend. Peter Tucker, the pilot, was in charge and standing a double watch. At the time, it was early morning and breakfast was ready. The cook claimed he had a Hudson River pilot’s license and came up to the pilot house saying, "Now Pete, go down and enjoy your bacon and eggs. I'll steer for you.” Pete said, “‘Are you sure you know the channel?", to which the cook replied, "Yes, yes I know all about it." So pilot Tucker went down to the galley to have his oatmeal, bacon and eggs. At that point, "Herk” was off the Stuyvesant upper lighthouse. A little while later, she was at the junction of the Hudson and Schodack Creek. Given a choice, the poor cook thought he was to go up the shallow Schodack, instead of west and up the Hudson. Ned Bishop, the chief engineer, came out of the galley just in time to see where they were heading. Yelling to pilot Tucker, he said, “Pete, where is this guy going?" The pilot looked out of the galley, and there they were, headed up Schodack Creek. Pete started to run up the forward stairway to the pilot house, hollering to Ned Bishop as he ran, "Full speed astern!" The chief reversed the throttle just in time. The "Hercules" slid up on the bank and right off again. If he hadn’t been so quick, "Herk" would probably be there yet. Going into the pilot house, Pete said to the cook, “I thought you knew the river." The cook (rather sheepishly) replied, "Well, that’s the way I always went.” The pilot retorted, "What’s the use? Go down and start dinner. Now!” And so ended another incident of the many in the long life of the "Hercules." AuthorCaptain William Odell Benson was a life-long resident of Sleightsburgh, N.Y., where he was born on March 17, 1911, the son of the late Albert and Ida Olson Benson. He served as captain of Callanan Company tugs including Peter Callanan, and Callanan No. 1 and was an early member of the Hudson River Maritime Museum. He retained, and shared, lifelong memories of incidents and anecdotes along the Hudson River. If you enjoyed this post and would like to support more history blog content, please make a donation to the Hudson River Maritime Museum or become a member today!
Editor’s Note: The following text is a verbatim transcription of an article 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 December 15, 1971. The story I’m about to relate happened 45 years ago almost to the day. The incident dates back to Dec. 4, 1926 - which would make yesterday its anniversary for those who might remember. In any event, when steamboating was at its peak on the Hudson River, every city and almost every village along the majestic river had a steamboat landing and was served by one or more steamboats. The bigger cities and villages had direct service to New York, while the smaller villages were served by smaller connecting steamboats. Newburgh Albany Line And the Central Hudson Line, which operated primarily between Rondout, Poughkeepsie and Newburgh - with way landings - to New York, also operated a line between Newburgh and Albany. Originally, there were two steamboats in this service, one each day in each direction, carrying freight and passengers between some 20 different landings. In its latter and declining days, the service was down to one lone steamboat - the “Jacob H. Tremper” - carrying freight only. This, then, was the background for the following incident which was told to me by Jack Dearstyne Sr., the “Tremper’s” last captain. It was Dec. 4, 1926 and a heavy snow storm had already set in when Capt. Dearstyne got orders at Albany to start for Newburgh where he was to lay up for the winter. As the “Tremper” made its way down the river, thick snow pelted its deck, hitting harder and harder with each mile navigated. Two Passed By Off Coxsackie, the crew of the “Tremper” could barely discern the outlines of the “Osceola” and the “G.C. Adams” of the Cornell Steamboat Company. But the men of the “Tremper” knew they were indeed passing both boats as they headed slowly up river with a large tow. As the “Tremper” passed Four Mile Point, four miles above Athens, the chief Engineer and the captain stood together in the pilot house…and both strained to see through the snow just as everybody else aboard was attempting to do. They all figured that if they could make Rondout, they would tie up for the night. Suddenly the chief observed, “That looked like the junction buoy.” And they all agreed that it was. Said Captain Dearstyne to the pilot, “Better pull to the west,” and the maneuver was promptly executed by the pilot. But it had not been the buoy that had been spotted. Instead, the “buoy” turned out to be a large log floating in the river. And before they could back down, the “Tremper” slid up on west flat, just north of the light. Unfortunately for the boat, the time of the accident was near the end of the flood tide. None Heard Whistle They backed and backed and backed again - blowing the whistle - thinking and hoping that one of the tug boats they had recently passed might hear them. But neither did. From Captain Jack came this lament; “I guess this is the end of the old ‘Tremper’.” But, then, just as they were about to give up all hope, they heard the muffled sound of another steamboat whistle through the swirling snow. And out of the whiteness of the storm came William H. Burlingham with the steamer “Catskill,” the freight boat of the old Catskill Evening Line. It seemed that Captain Burlingham had been tied up at Stockport because of the storm. Coming to the rescue, the “Catskill” came up astern, put a hawser on the “Tremper” and pulled again and again. With each pull by the “Catskill,” the “Tremper” also helped by working her engine back hard and, in the process, the “Catskill” parted several hawsers. No amount of pulling seemed to help and, finally, Captain Jack yelled over to Captain Will on the “Catskill,” “I guess it’s no use. The tide is falling and her old deck planks and butts are opening up. It’s the last of the ‘Tremper.’” A Final Try But Captain Will came right back with a “Let’s try once more.” Not willing to admit defeat, he had a further philosophic thought. “Both of us are getting old and so is the ‘Tremper.’ We can’t let her go without one more try.” So try they did - and off she came! The “Tremper” then continued on to Rondout and lay in for the night. The next day she followed the Rondout-New York boat, the “Poughkeepsie,” down the river as far as Milton, where the new ice was not so thick as it had been above. She then continued on to Newburgh where she layed up for the winter of 1926-27, and lived on to run for two more years. Captain Dearstyne was captain of the tugboat “Lion” in 1931 and I was his deckhand. And I remember him telling me then: “Always treat Will Burlingham as a gentleman as that is what he always was and always will be.” AuthorCaptain William Odell Benson was a life-long resident of Sleightsburgh, N.Y., where he was born on March 17, 1911, the son of the late Albert and Ida Olson Benson. He served as captain of Callanan Company tugs including Peter Callanan, and Callanan No. 1 and was an early member of the Hudson River Maritime Museum. He retained, and shared, lifelong memories of incidents and anecdotes along the Hudson River. 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 essay is by author and steamboat scholar Richard V. Elliott (1934-2014). His two volume history of Hudson River Steamboats "The Boats of Summer" is coming soon from Schiffer Publishing. For more information about "Mary Powell" visit the Hudson River Maritime Museum's online exhibit here: In all of the history of illustrious Hudson River steamboats none it seems has ever surpassed the Mary Powell as the most loved of all. Throughout her long fifty-six years of service, she was the subject of stories, songs and poems. When she made her last voyage in 1918, people all along the shores of the Hudson went down to the waterfront to see her glide by for the last time. Old timers who recall the event say that no steamer has ever gone out in greater glory. Every steamer, tug, ferry and factory along the Hudson gave her a thrilling salute. Many of the women waved a fond farewell with their handkerchiefs and not a few of both the men and women were glassy-eyed holding back their tears. Others less inhibited, wept openly, for after over half a century on the River, she was a childhood pal to many generations of Valley people. The Mary Powell's personality was bound to be especially missed. It was not surprising to her contemporaries that one of her hundreds of thousands of admirers decided to write a special memorial or obituary on the occasion of her passing. Fletcher Dubois spoke for a great many people in his poem of tribute to the Mary Powell, written in part as follows: "Among the Hudson's wonderous fleet No Vessel ever won such fame, And carried through the passing years Such widely known and honored name. For many a year you filled the hearts Of thousands here, both old and young, And by thousands more your fame was known Thru songs the poets' lore has sung … Good-bye old boat, your work is done, And now we shed the parting tear And pay a tribute here in prose to you, who friends hold dear." 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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