Most boatmen are notoriously sentimental. A fine example of their feelings for an old veteran of the river was the last trip of the Cornell tugboat “Osceola."

The "Osceola" finished her travels and work on the Hudson River on a Sunday afternoon during the latter part of October 1929. At the time I happened to be down along the shore at Sleightsburgh.

On that Sunday afternoon of mid-autumn, the "Osceola" came down river with a large tow, the tugboat "George W. Pratt” helping her. When opposite the Rondout Lighthouse, the big tug "Edwin H. Mead” of the Cornell Steamboat Company came up river, running light, and took over the tow from the “Osceola." As soon as the towing cables were shifted to the "Mead, the “Mead” blew three very long whistles of farewell. The “Osceola" then turned and headed for Rondout Creek, answering the "Mead’s" salute with her own whistle.

Answering Whistles
The steamboat "Poughkeepsie" of the old Central Hudson Line at the time was coming out of the Rondout Creek on her run to New York. The "Poughkeepsie" also blew three long whistles which the "Oscy” answered.

Finally, the "Osceola’s” old running mate and helper for many years, the "George W. Pratt," blew three very long blasts on her whistle saying good-bye, knowing the “Osceola" was to sail the river no more.

As the “Osceola"’ was going between the dikes on either side of the creek, she answered the “Pratt’s" last salute. I can still see in my mind’s eye the white steam from her whistle as it trailed around her big black smokestack in the clear autumn air. It was the last time that old familiar whistle was to echo along the banks of the Hudson.

The "Osceola” tied up at the Cornell shops at Rondout and the fires in her boiler were let die. The "Oscy’s" hull was worn out, but her engine and boiler were still considered to be in good shape. The Cornell Steamboat Company had acquired a sound hull from another company and it was Cornell’s original intention to take the "Osceola’s'’ engine, boiler and deck houses from her original hull and install them in the newer one. During 1930, the work progressed to a point where the transfer of engine, boiler and upper works was almost completed. Then the Great Depression set in and the project was never finished.

Stranded on Beach
The "Osceola’s” original hull, as soon as the engine, boiler and topside gear were removed, was towed to Port Ewen where it was stranded in 1930 on the beach outside of where the Hidden Harbor Yacht Club is now located. The uncompleted newer hull, after work was stopped in the fall of 1930 or early 1931, was shifted to Sleightsburgh where it weathered away for almost 20 years. Finally, in the late 1940’s it, too, was towed to Port Ewen and sunk off the shore, almost right next to the "Oscy’s” first hull.

The "Osceola" was a big tug and very similar to the Cornell tugboat "Pocahontas." Both had been built during the same year, 1884, at the same shipyard at Newburgh.

Both were used in the same type of service and after World War I the two tugboats pretty much handled Cornell's business on the upper river. One would leave Albany one night, and the other the following night with Cornell’s daily tows for down river. The tows would meet the daily up tows from New York in the vicinity of Poughkeepsie where the meeting tugboats would exchange tows. As a result, the "Osceola" and "Pochahontas” [sic] in their latter years were to be seen almost always on the northern half of the Hudson — and their whistles heard on the foggy nights of spring and autumn. In the "Osceola’s” last trip to her home port of Rondout, Howard Palmatier was captain, Dan McDonald her pilot and Victor Matt chief engineer. 

Night Boat …. Night Boat …. Night Boat …. That once familiar cry of dozens of youngsters who would rush to the banks of the Hudson at the first blasts of the Night Boat's whistle as she blew to the drawbridge at Albany, and a cry so familiar to many of us who have spent most of our lives along its banks has drifted away into oblivion, but the memory lingers on. For that one proud fleet of night line steamers, some of them quite appropriately called "floating palaces" is likewise but a memory. Yet it was but a few short years ago that hundreds of folk, both old and young would stroll down to the docks, sit on the benches in Riverside Park or line the rail of the bridge waiting for the boats to leave, and would watch as the brilliantly lighted steam boats would gracefully glide through the open span, play their powerful searchlights along the shore as many a young maiden, with her beau, would pretend to shy at the strong rays, and would continue to watch as the river queen faded away in the distance "round the bend."
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Yes, all of the nightline steamers have answered the last bell, and, with the passing of the last, the "Berkshire", all hope for a renewal of nightly passenger steamer travel to the metropolis has vanished. Thus a "finis" is written to a huge chapter in Memories Garden which to many of us river folk, who love the sound of the splashing paddle wheels, the purring of the engines, the escaping steam in the piston cylinder and the golden throat of the steam whistle, seems like the passing of old friends. Indeed, the only comforting thought is the Day Line's resumption each spring, something which is looked forward to by many of us quite as the robin the tree top or the crocus pushing its way upward to the sunlight.

Many of my readers will remember the double-ended ferries "W.M. Whitney", "R.C. Reynolds", W.H. Frear", and "C.V.S. Quackenbush" of the Albany-Troy Steamboat Co., which made half hourly trips to Troy, stopping at Midway Beach on their way back and forth. Thousands of area folk took advantage of the cooling breezes of the Hudson during the hot summer evenings on a trip to Troy for a dime.

Then too, they must remember the little passenger steamers "C.H. Evans" and "General" that made regular trips to Castleton for a quarter, the afternoon sailings of the "Alice May" and "Ursula", one of which left Albany every week day at three and stopped at all towns and villages on her way to Catskill. And the "Jacob Tremper" and "Milton Martin" with the spare boat, "James T. Brett", as one of them left from Albany every morning except Sunday loaded mostly with beer for landings all the way to Newburgh.

And surely those same readers cannot forget the engineless barges named "Empress", "Geraldine", "Baldwin", "Merchant", and "Harvest Queen" that used to carry thousands of excursionists down the river about fifteen miles to Bareana Park at Coeymans. There is scarcely a church within twenty miles of the Capitol Building at Albany, that has not at one time sponsored a Sunday School or Church picnic on these hay barges towed by one or more little steam tugs, such as the "Arnold", "Skinner", "Chubb", "Guide Star", or "Paul Le Roux".

And who that has ever seen can forget that grand old steamer, the "Mary Powell", affectionately called "The Queen of the Hudson," a steamer known all over the world, and who's name in steamboat lore has become quite as famous as the river itself, and rivaled only by the "Tashmoo" of the Great Lakes. Built in 1861, she ran on the Hudson for 56 years without a major accident, and without the loss of a single life. She holds the record of being the fastest sidewheeler ever to sail the Hudson.

Even though she was dismantled in 1920, she still lives, for at Indian Point, her bell rings out a welcome as the steamers of the Day Line land there. [Editor's Note: The "Mary Powell" bell is now in the Hudson River Maritime Museum yard.] The name from across her pilot house adorns the front of a cottage at Connelly, N.Y., and her deep-throated golden whistle echoes and re-echoes among the hills and mountains along the river as the "Robert Fulton" blows for a landing.

Finally, from out of the past, we can see the hundreds of tugs, old side-wheelers, steam canalers, ice and hay barges as they lay at the docks from the lumber district in North Albany to the slips at the south end of the city. We can see the "Norwich", built in 1836, as she proudly took her place in the Hudson-Fulton parade in 1907, the "Oswego," at the "Rensselaer" dock in 1918 on her last trip up river, the large tugs "Pocahontas", "Osceola", "Washburn", and "Cornell" together with many smaller tugs as they docked awaiting orders. And we can see several of them even to this day, tied up in Rondout Creek, at Sleightsburg, awaiting the call to the boneyard.

                                                   Steamboat "Jacob H. Tremper"

Built originally for a local concern, Romer & Tremper, with offices in Rondout, the steamboat “Jacob H. Tremper” was a familiar sight sailing in and out of the Rondout creek a few years ago. Today, the “Jacob H. Tremper” is no more as she was broken up in 1928, but memories of this graceful steamboat are not very dim in the minds of local residents, and the tone of her whistle still haunts the hillsides along the banks of the Rondout creek.
               
The wooden hull of the “Jacob H. Tremper” was built by Herbert Lawrence at Greenpoint, New York, in 1885, and her engine was constructed by W.A. Fletcher & Company of New York. She was 180 feet long, breadth of beam 30 feet, two inches. Her tonnage was listed as gross 572 and net 432, and her vertical beam engine had a cylinder diameter of 44 inches with a 10 foot stroke.
               
The “Jacob H. Tremper” was built for the firm of Romer & Tremper of Rondout to be used as a freight and passenger vessel on a daytime run between Newburgh and Albany. She ran in line with the steamboat “M. Martin.” In August of 1884 the steamboat “Eagle,” which had been running on the Newburgh route since 1856 and for several years before 1884 in line with the “M. Martin,” was destroyed by fire, and the “Jacob H. Tremper” was built to replace the “Eagle.”
               
The new steamboat proved to be an exceptionally fine vessel for the purpose for which she was built. She had a large freight capacity and fine accommodations for passengers, and these advantages soon made themselves evident by the appearance of the “Jacob H. Tremper” as one of the first vessels placed in service in the spring of the year and the last steamboat to be laid up in the fall.
               
In the winter of 1899 the Romer & Tremper fleet of river steamboats was purchased by the Central Hudson Steamboat Company of Newburgh. This transaction included the steamboats “Jacob H. Tremper, “M. Martin,” “James W. Baldwin,” and “William F. Romer.”
               
Another distinction which places the “Jacob H. Tremper” apart from many of the other Hudson river steamboats was her exceptionally clear record. In fact, only one accident to the “Jacob H. Tremper” was demed worthy of note in her history. This accident occurred on Monday morning, July 21, 1913. On this morning, the “Jacob H. Tremper” left Newburgh at her usual time for Albany. On her way up the river she struck an uncharted rock off Esopus Island. The captain immediately ordered her course set for the mud flats off Staatsburgh on the east side of the river, and at this place she sunk rapidly.
               
Following this experience, the “Jacob H. Tremper” was raised and repaired and again placed in service, and in 1916 she was plying her regular route under the command of Captain John Dearstyne.
               
​The “Jacob H. Tremper” was also one of the last of the sidewheel steamboats of her class to continue in service on the waters of the Hudson river as a freight and passenger vessel. In the fall of 1928 the “Jacob H. Tremper” was deemed unfit for further service and was laid up at Newburgh, and in July of the following year she was sold to a junk dealer and broken up at Newburgh.

Racing of Steamboats. – We are sorry to learn that the practice of putting certain steamboats to a competition of speed, on the North River, has been resumed this season.  This practice is in itself highly reprehensible, and in the present state of alarm, in consequence of the late fatal explosion on board the General Jackson, it is an act of disrespect to the passengers, and to those of a more timid make, particularly ladies, an act of absolute cruelty.  If the proprietors of the boats engaged in this practice were to give fair notice – if they were to advertise that on such a day there would be a trial of speed between certain boats – that people would not then be landed at Colwell's and West Point, and other usual landing places along the river – that the steam would not be let off at the few places where the boats stopped to leave or take in passengers; and that those only who were willing to risk their lives under such circumstances, were desired to become passengers, then all would be fair.  Those who liked to witness the sport, and were willing to run the hazard of being blown up, could then go on board; and those who preferred a safe and comfortable passage, could take some other boat.  Besides the alarm and terror of the passengers, there are other inconveniences.  A gentleman sets out with his family, on a trip of pleasure, to go to West Point.  In spite of his remonstrance, he is carried by West Point, and landed at Newburgh, amidst a mob of people, assembled at the wharf to witness the race between the boats.  Here he is obliged to stay in a grog shop for several hours, waiting for a boat to come along and take him down again to his place of destination.  In the meantime, his only amusement is to witness the tumultuous excitement which the strife between the boats has created among the people who are divided into regular factions on the subject; and who celebrate, as we are informed, the victory of a favorite boat, with discharges of rockets, and other fire-works. New-York Evening Post, June 27, 1831, p. 2, col. 1
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Hyde Park, Sunday, Sept. 14. -- We left Albany at half-past six this morning, in the steamboat "Champlain."  There is a violent opposition between two lines of boats.  The fare to New York is fifty cents.  We were contending with the "Nimrod" all the way down, and for five or six miles before we reached Hyde Part landing, the boats were in contact, both pushing furiously at the top of their speed, and we and our trunks were pitched ashore like bundles of hay.  The people at the landing being all in favour of the opposition, except Dr. Hosack himself, nobody would take a line, and we might have drowned without an arm being reached to save .
            
September 16. -- We left Hyde Park and came on board the "Champion," an opposition boat, at half-past twelve o'clock.  The "Albany," passed the landing a few minutes in advance, but did not stop.  Our boat had three or four hundred passengers, and such a set of ragtag and bobtail I never saw on board a North-river steamboat -- the effect of the fifty-cent system.  If the people do not rise up in their might and put a stop to the racing and opposition, it will be better to return to the primitive mode of travelling in Albany sloops.  I would rather consume three or four days in the voyage, than be made to fly in fear and trembling, subject to every sort of discomfort, with my life at the mercy of a set of fellows whose only object is to drive their competitors off the river.  Philip Hone, The Diary of Philip Hone, 1828-1851, Bayard Tuckerman, ed., N. Y.: Dodd, Mead, 1889, vol. I, pp. 111-12, entries of September 14 & 16, 1834.  

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 ​ February 18, 1973.

One day back in February of ‘36 I took a drive to Bear Mountain where the steamboats “Onteora” and “Clermont” were layed up for the winter.  I planned to pay a visit to my friend John Tewbeck, who was the mate on the “Clermont” and acting as shipkeeper for the two steamboats.  He had been second Mate with my brother, Algot, when Algot had been first Mate of the “Onteora” back in 1921.
           
It was an overcast day and looked as if a snow storm might be in the making.  Sure enough, after I arrived aboard the “Clermont” about 2 p.m., it started to snow.  John had to go on an errand to Highland Falls and suggested I wait until he returned.  After he left, I took a walk around the two steamboats, all dark and still in their winter hibernation.
           
As I stood in the silent, cold pilot house of the “Onteora” I couldn’t help but think how it must have been there in the day when the “Onty” was new, back at the turn of the century, and running for the old Catskill Evening Line to Catskill, Hudson, Coxsackie and other up river landings. 

I could almost see the ghosts of Captain Ben Hoff and the Pilots and quartermaster during the early morning hours discussing the political events of the day, as pilot house crews are wont to do.  Perhaps talking about Teddy Roosevelt’s campaigns against Judge Alton B. Parker in 1904 and in 1912 against Wilson and Taft. 

Boyhood Memories
Then my thoughts wandered to the early 1920’s when the “Onteora” had been converted to an excursion steamer and was running between New York and Bear Mountain.  How as a little boy I would visit my brother and be sitting enthralled in that same pilot house.  On one such visit, I remembered looking out the port windows and seeing the steamer “Poughkeepsie” of the Central Hudson Line running up river at about the same speed as the “Onteora,” getting a little too close.  And Captain Hoff saying “Come on, Amos (meaning Captain Amos Cooper of the “Poughkeepsie”), get over there.”
           
Now, however, all was still and quiet in the pilot house and the only sound was a train on the New York Central going up the east side of the river at the foot of Anthony’s Nose.  How the steam would “siss” across the cold, icy river.
           
I then leisurely walked back on the “Clermont” and went through her cold, silent engine room.  The bright work and moving parts of her engine were all covered with black grease as protection against the onslaught of winter’s rust.  Up in her pilot house, it sure was cold with the snow falling outside.  The brass was all tarnished and dark.  By that time, dusk was falling and the now was coming down heavier.  I couldn’t even make out the Bear Mountain bridge or the aero beacon on top of the Nose. 
           
John Tewbeck came back and said, “Well, Bill I guess you will have to stay here tonight as the roads are very slippery.” So I stayed aboard the “Clermont” all night.  On the second deck, in one of her former staterooms on the port side, John had two cots and a small stove.
 
Rattling Windows
During the night, how the wind rattled her windows and how the “Clermont” creaked and groaned as she tugged on her mooring lines.
           
It was very snug and comfortable that winter’s night in the “Clermont’s” cabin with the reassuring dull red glow from the coal fire in the small stove.  How nice and warm it was to lay in bed and dimly see the lights up in Bear Mountain Park and the snow plows going along the highways very slow with their red lights blinking their warning signals.
           
About 3 a.m. I woke up and dressed.  John, somewhat taken aback, said, “Where are you going at this hour?” I answered, “I’m going to take a walk around the boat to see how it is this hour of the morning in a snowstorm.”
           
After giving me his flashlight, which I took, John said, “I guess there is only one Benson like you in this world.” I replied.  “Well, I will never again have this opportunity to stay all night and walk around a passenger boat tied up at Bear Mountain, so I thought I’d take advantage of it.” John retorted, “Well, Bill, enjoy yourself, while I sleep in this warm bed.”
 
Cold on Deck
I went out on deck.  It was bitter cold, but the snow had lightened up considerable.  I could now clearly see the Bear Mountain highway bridge and the aero light atop the Nose.  How different the river looked all full of ice and snow.
           
I went up to the dark, still pilot house of the “Clermont.” There was something about it that drew me there.  Although it was very cold, I couldn’t help but think of how it must have been in that pilot house in seasons past when the steamboat was alive. 
           
Things were all hustle and bustle with passengers out on the decks, and perhaps the “Clermont” might be going into Stockport on a warm summer's morning with all the pilot house windows and doors open to catch the warm breezes. 
           
Finally, the cold brought my thoughts back to the present and that warm bed and coal stove on the second deck.  John was fast asleep and in a few moments so was I.  About 7 a.m. I awoke to the aroma of freshly brewing coffee and frying ham and eggs.  It was indeed pleasant to eat breakfast by the warm fire and look out on the snow covered park with the sun shining brightly.
 
Recalling That Night
About 10 a.m. I left for home.  After that I went to visit John a number of times, but never again did I stay overnight.  In 1946 he died of a heart attack and the “Clermont” herself was broken up in 1949.  A number of times in years later when going by Bear Mountain on cold and stormy nights, I would think about that night in February 1936 and recall my pleasant winter visit to the layed up steamboats.
           
​I remember an editorial that once appeared in the old New York Herald Tribune when the Day Liner “Washington Irving” was finally sold for scrapping.  The writer observed that of all inanimate objects, ships and steamboats seemed to be endowed with a life of their own and have friends.  I know the truth of the writer’s words, for this was my feeling for the “Clermont” and “Onteora.”

                                                       Poughkeepsie
The tale of the steamboat “Poughkeepsie” is the story of a vessel that is still in service- although today the name “Westchester” has replaced “Poughkeepsie" and she is no longer a familiar figure on the Hudson river.

The steel hull of the “Poughkeepsie” was built by the Tampa Foundry and Machine Company at Tampa, Florida, in 1916. Her hull was 206 feet 8 inches long, with an overall length of 215 feet; breadth of beam 47 feet; depth of hold 14 feet 2 inches; gross tonnage 1,366; net tonnage 948. She carried a triple expansion engine with cylinder diameters of 18 1/2, 28, and 46 inches, with a stroke of 30 inches.
           
The “Poughkeepsie” was built for the Central Hudson Steamboat Company of Newburgh, and was the largest steel steamboat built south of Virginia yards up to that time. She was launched on September 25, 1916, and was delivered to the Central Hudson Company at New York in April 1917. The hull of the “Poughkeepsie” was or extra heavy steel construction with reinforced frame below the water line for the purpose of battling river ice during the winter months. The first deck was used exclusively for freight, the second deck containing staterooms which would accommodate 32 passengers, aft of the pilot house. The new steamboat represented an investment of a quarter of a million dollars at the time she joined the fleet consisting of the “Benjamin B. Odell,” “Homer Ramsdell,” and “Newburgh.”
           
The first route of the “Poughkeepsie,” under the banner of the Central Hudson Steamboat Company, was between Rondout and New York, running in line with the “Benjamin B. Odell.” She was under the command of Captain Amos Cooper, with William Ross, pilot, and Howard Caniff, chief engineer. During the period in her career she became very popular with the traveling public, especially as an excursion vessel during the summer months.
           
In May 1929 the Hudson River Night Line and the Hudson River Dayline jointly purchased the Central Hudson Company’s steamboats, and then the “Poughkeepsie” and the “Benjamin B. Odell” were placed on the night line between New York and Albany. These two steamboats made their last trip on the night line late in November 1936, and were then withdrawn from service.
​

Measurements were taken of the “Poughkeepsie" for the purpose of conversion into an excursion vessel, and on January 13, 1937 she was transferred to the Meseck Steamboat Company who immediately solicited bids for her conversion. On February 4, John A. Meseck, president of the new owners of the “Poughkeepsie,” announced that the Tietjan and Lang yards had been awarded the contract for the re-construction at a cost of $169,780.
           
The name “Westchester” replaced “Poughkeepsie”, and the re-vamped vessel made a trial trip on May 15, 1937 with a thousand guests aboard. On Memorial Day, 1937, the “Westchester” entered regular service between Jersey City, New York, and Rye Beach.
           
Today the “Westchester” is considered to be the finest equipped excursion vessel in New York harbor, with a licensed carrying-capacity of 2,000. She still carries the deep, booming whistle which echoed from the Highlands of the Hudson when she sailed on the river under the name “Poughkeepsie,” but she rarely plows the waters of the Hudson. Occasionally she appears on a moonlight excursion on the Hudson river, but her regular service keeps her in and around New York harbor, and the steamboat “Poughkeepsie” no longer exists in the pages of Hudson river history.

With dismantling now almost complete, little that is recognizable remains of the once noted Hudson River steamboat "Berkshire", latterly "USA 1000". Wrecking operations on her superstructure have been in progress at Philadelphia since last fall when the vessel was towed from Norfolk by her present owners who purchased her from the Navy. Soon nothing will remain of what was once the world's largest river steamer, and one of the largest sidewheelers ever built.

In 1906, with plans by J.W. Millard & Bro. completed, the contract for "Berkshire's" construction was given by the People's Line to W. & A. Fletcher Company, of Hoboken. They sublet the hull work to the New York Shipbuilding Corp. and made plans themselves to build the engine. Joiner work was placed with C.M. Englis.

The People's Line at that time was part of the Consolidated Steamship Company controlled by C.W. Morse, and several other vessels, notably "Yale" and "Harvard", were being built for the same interests. It is said that Mrs. Morse suggested naming the new vessels after colleges. In any case, the steel hull of the new People's Line vessel was launched at Camden, N.J. 21 September 1907 as the "Princeton", a name she never carried in active service.
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Shortly after launching, the hull was towed to Hoboken where the engine was installed. Work stopped when the panic of 1907-8 brought about the downfall of the Consolidated Steamship Company, and "Princeton" lay at the Fletcher Docks for at least two years. She was then towed to a point on the Hudson River near Saugerties where she remained until 1912 when work was resumed. Early in 1913 construction was completed and the magnificent new steamer commissioned "Berkshire". She made her trial trip 20 May 1913, and two days later went into regular service on the Hudson River Night Line between New York and Albany. The Company advertised that she had cost $1,500,000.

"Berkshire's" dimensions and accommodations caused much comment in the newspapers and the marine press. She definitely was impressive, measuring 4500 tons, with an over-all length of 440 feet. Her breadth was 88 feet over guards, and her depth of hold 14 feet 6 inches. She had five passenger decks above the hull, designated main, saloon, gallery, upper gallery and observation. Her dining room on the main deck aft was nearly 100 feet long and had French windows opening out onto the deck where tables were sometimes placed in good weather. Her 450 staterooms and additional berths provided accommodations for nearly 2000 passengers, and the capacity of her freight "hold" on the main deck forward was enormous.

The vessel's engine, one of the largest of its type ever built was a single cylinder surface condensing beam engine of 5000 horsepower. The cylinder was 84 inches in diameter and the stroke 12 feet. Paddle wheels were 30 feet in diameter each having 12 curved steel buckets. "Berkshire" was capable of a speed of 18 – 20 miles per hour..

The year 1914 saw "Berkshire's" only serious accident. On 9 August she was forced to anchor off Dobbs Ferry on the down trip because of fog. Near her, also at anchor lay "Rensselaer" and "Frank Jones". Suddenly out of the fog loomed the southbound "Iroquois (a) Kennebec of the Manhattan Line. Too late, her pilot saw "Berkshire's" stern dead ahead, and a moment afterward she crashed into the latter's dining room and two decks above. Fortunately, "Berkshire's" hull was undamaged, although her steering gear was put out of commission. "Iroquois," in sinking condition, was pulled loose by "Rensselear" and "Frank Jones" after about two hours work and convoyed down river. "Berkshire" remained at Dobbs Ferry until her rudder could be repaired, after which she proceeded to New York. Despite her damaged condition, she went back into service the next day.

"Berkshire" ran regularly for the Hudson River Night Line through good years and lean. She usually alternated with "C.W. Morse" (b) "Fort Orange" until that steamer was retired in 1930. Later she ran opposite the smaller "Rensselaer" and "Trojan", and in the last few years of her career had "Trojan" alone as consort.
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With the Night Line stumbling from one financial difficulty to another in the 1930's, "Berkshire's" trips became more and more irregular. Finally, after 1937, she was tied up at Athens and "Trojan" carried on alone for a couple more years. "Berkshire was finished. Residents along the river had heard her deep whistle for the last time. No more would they signal for an answering flash from her big searchlight, nor watch her pass through the narrow reaches of the upper river, her tiers of decks and giant smokestacks towering above everything along shore.

Early in 1941, "Berkshire" was sold by Sam Rosoff, final owner of the Night Line, to the U.S. Government as a floating barracks. In February she was towed through the ice to Hoboken by the Coast Guard cutter "Comanche". Nothing further was done with her until June when two Moran tugs took her in tow for Bermuda. Arriving there, she was anchored in St. George's Harbor, painted a dull green, and put to use as a powerhouse and barracks for workers at Kindley Field Army Air Base.

The war over, "Berkshire" returned to the United States at the end of a towline late in 1944. There were rumors that she was to be placed in service again, but these were soon disproved when an inspection at Norfolk revealed that her superstructure had been badly damaged by heavy seas on the return trip. She was sold to Bernard Maier and towed to Philadelphia for scrapping.
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The world will probably never see another vessel like "Berkshire", but she will be long remembered for having been the largest river steamboat in the world.

When steamboating was in its heyday, anyone living in Rondout, Ponckhockie, Sleightsburgh or Port Ewen never needed a clock or a watch.  They could always tell what time it was by the steamboat whistles.
 
First, there was the huge steam whistle on the Rondout Shops of the Ulster and Delaware Railroad that boatmen always said came from the big sidewheel towboat ‘‘Austin.”  There would be one long whistle at 8 a.m., 12 noon, 12:30 p.m. and 4:30 p.m., telling the men at both the U. and D. shops and the Cornell Steamboat Company shops to start work, eat their noon meal and to stop for the day.
 
When the U. and D. shops were torn down in the early thirties, this whistle was then installed on the Cornell shops.
 
Three Long Blasts
 
Then, every afternoon at 3:25 p.m. three long blasts of a steam whistle would be heard along Rondout Creek as either the ‘‘Benjamin B. Odell,” “Homer Ramsdell,’’ ‘‘Newburgh” or “Poughkeepsie” of the Central Hudson Line prepared to leave their dock on Ferry Street for the start of the evening trip to New York.
 
During the summer, on Saturday mornings at 10:55 a.m., one would hear the wonderful whistle of the “Benjamin B. Odell” as she prepared to leave Rondout.  Then in the evening could be heard the ‘‘Homer Ramsdell” as she came in the creek.  She would blow at about 8 p.m. just as she was passing the gas plant at Ponckhockie.
 
Every summer Sunday morning, the “Homer Ramsdell” would leave Rondout at 6:30 a.m. on an excursion to New York.  The three long blasts on her whistle at 6:25 a.m. sounded twice as loud in the still morning air.
 
From May until early October one always heard the Day Line boats blowing for the landing at Kingston Point.  The one long, one short, one long blast of the down boat’s whistle was always heard just before 1 p.m.  Then shortly before 2:30 p.m. would be heard the landing whistle of the north bound steamer.  Phil Maines of Rondout, the former mate of the “Mary Powell,” was then the dockmaster at Kingston Point.
 
From the ‘Tremper’
At about 10:30 a.m. on alternate days, one would hear the “Jacob H. Tremper” coming in Rondout Creek on her way to Albany.  Then the next day, she would blow for Rhinecliff at 2 p.m. and by 2:45 p.m. she would be coming in the creek and blow again for Rondout. |
 
In the evening about 8 p.m. one would hear three long whistles out in the river.  One would be the Saugerties Evening Line steamer “Robert A. Snyder” or “Ida’’ blowing for their landing at Rhinecliff on their sail to New York.
 
Before World War I, the finest sound of all was the mellow whistle of the ‘‘Mary Powell” as she prepared to leave the dock at the foot of Broadway in Rondout at 6 a.m.  Then in the evening would be heard her whistle out in the river on her return from New York, just before she entered the creek.  Also, all during the day at 10 minute intervals, except when stopped by ice, could be heard one short whistle from the ferry ‘‘Transport.”

On August 17, 1807, Robert Fulton launched the "Steamboat" in New York City, bound for Albany, NY. Funded by founding father Robert Livingston (whose estate at Clermont became the home port of the steamboat), the "Steamboat" made the voyage north in 32 hours. Learn more about the background behind this first voyage below.

Although Fulton was not the inventor of the steamboat, or even the first to launch a successful steamboat, he and Livingston were the first to turn a profit making passenger runs. Therefore it was Fulton's sidewheel design that would go onto dominate designs of Hudson River steamboats and others for decades to come. 

If you'd like to see a scale replica of Fulton's North River Steamboat, visit the Hudson River Maritime Museum to see our newly-acquired, six-foot-long model in the East Gallery. 

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 August 27, 1972..

When I was a boy of nine, my father took me to spend a weekend on the steamboat “Onteora" on which my older brother, Algot, was the mate.  The visit was made during the last weekend of August 1920 and made a tremendous impression on me.  I kept notes on the trip, and made a list of every steamboat I saw.  At that time, the "Onteora" made a round trip daily between 125th Street, New York, and Bear Mountain — and was in her first year of excursion service.  She previously had been a night boat of the Catskill Evening Line. 

We crossed Rondout Creek from Sleightsburgh on the old chain ferry "Riverside," better known as the "Skillypot," which was still in service awaiting the opening of the then new Rondout Creek bridge.  From Rondout we took the open trolley car to Kingston Point where we talked to Phil Maines, the dockmaster, who had formerly been the mate of the “Mary Powell" when my father was her ship's carpenter.  While waiting for the down Day Boat, my father remembered he had left his cigars in Jacobson’s store on the Strand and hurried back on the trolley to get them.  I thought sure we would miss the boat, but he got back just as the “Robert Fulton” was landing. 

As we were passing Esopus Island, I saw the wreck of the steamboat "Point Comfort" on the north end of the island where she had piled up the previous September. 
South of Crum Elbow, we passed the "Hendrick Hudson” of the Day Line on her way to Albany and after leaving Poughkeepsie, down off Camelot, we passed the “Benjamin B. Odell” of the Central Hudson Line going to Poughkeepsie. 

River Activity
Down at Newburgh, I remember seeing the steamboats "William F. Romer” and “M. Martin” in the process of being broken up.  Off West Point, we passed the Cornell tugboat "George W. Washburn” going up with a large tow and the tugs "W. N. Bavier" and "Hercules" helping her.  The ferry "Highlander" was crossing the river to Garrison. 

When we approached Bear Mountain, the steamboats “Mandalay,” "Seagate" and "Sirius" were lying at the pier to be used by the “Robert Fulton.” They all pulled out into the river so the "Fulton" could land.  The other pier at Bear Mountain was also crowded with steamboats and, as a little boy, I could not take my eyes off them.  At the spiles [sic] that had been put in specially for the "Mary Powell” during her last years in service, lay the "Onteora.”  I thought what a wonderful boat she was.  It was the first time I had ever seen her.  At the pier were the steamboats “Grand Republic,” "Trojan," “Highlander,” “Clermont” and "Monmouth.”  There were hundreds of people all around and bands playing on some of the steamers.  It was a sight never to be forgotten. 

Then we went aboard the "Onteora" and met my brother.  The way he looked to me in his uniform, I thought he was greater than the President of the United States!

When we left Bear Mountain that night on the "Onteora" at about 7:30 p.m. all of the other steamboats had already departed.  Later, as we were down off Haverstraw, eating our supper in the dining room, my brother said, "Look out there, Bill."

When I looked out the starboard windows, there was the Day Liner "Albany" passing us, the big walking beam reaching, reaching and reaching, her white paddle wheels splashing the water — a truly wonderful sight to my boyish eyes.  I still can remember Mike Rafferty of Kingston, the mate, standing in the gangway and waving his hand. 

As we were nearing Yonkers, I must have fallen asleep on the leather upholstered locker in the pilot house because the next thing I remember we were tied up at the 125th Street pier.   Ike Schermerhorn, the pilot, let us have his room in the pilot house block on the top deck but I slept hardly a wink all night. The 125th Street ferries running back and forth to Edgewater would blow their whistles as they left their slip right next to our pier and kept me wide awake.

The next morning how good that breakfast tasted to me. My brother let me get down and have my breakfast in the deckhand's mess hall with Henry Emmick and Horace Lehman, two of the deckhands from Kingston. Then he took me across the pier to see three of the Coney Island boats of the Iron Steamboat Company that were tied up there — the “Cepheus,” “Perseus” and “Taurus.”

I can remember the “Washington Irving," the flagship of the Hudson River Day Line, landing at the end of the pier on her way to Albany. Next came the “Trojan” of the Hudson River Night Line landing at 132nd Street on her Sunday trip to Newburgh. Then came my pride and joy, the big "Benjamin B. Odell,” to land at the end of the pier for her Sunday excursion to Highland Falls, Newburgh, Beacon and Poughkeepsie.
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I could see the lookout come out and hook open the pilot house door, so Captain George Greenwood could stand outside the pilot house to ring bells to the engine room to land her. After she left with a full load of people, in came the "Mandalay” and did the same thing.

Feeling Important
Next, the “Albany" came in on her way to Poughkeepsie.  I can remember I was standing in the "Onteora’s” pilot house, my brother having told me to stay there.  I suppose he was afraid I would get lost among all the people.  I hollered over to Mike Rafferty, the mate, who was standing in the “Albany's” gangway.  When he hollered back,”Hello, William, are you having a good time?” it made me feel very important.  Ike Schermerhorn, the “Onty’s” pilot, said, “How do you know him?" — and I answered, “I go over on her in the winter when she is tied up in Rondout Creek.  My father does the carpenter work on her."

Next came the "Poughkeepsie,” but she did not stop and went right on by.  A few minutes later we were blowing to let go and started for Bear Mountain.  As we were leaving, the “Grand Republic” was coming up the harbor, getting ready to land at 132nd Street on her way to Bear Mountain. 

As we were passing Fort Washington Point, I saw the Cornell tug “Eli B. Conine” coming down light, probably on her way to Edgewater.  Later off Tarrytown we passed the tugboat “J. C. Hartt" with the down tow, the Cornell tugs “J. G. Rose” and “Ellen M. Ronan” helping her.  The “Hartt” blew one long, one short and the “Onteora” answered with one long and two short blasts on her whistle.  The captain of the “Onteora” was Ben Hoff, Jr. and his father, Ben Hoff, Sr., was captain of the “Hartt.”

When we arrived at Bear Mountain, the “Mandalay” was already there as was the “Seagate,” the “Seagate” having an excursion from Poughkeepsie.  That afternoon, my father said, “Well, Bill, I guess it’s about time to go home.” So we boarded the West Shore train at Bear Mountain for the trip to Kingston.  As we passed over the bridge that spans Popolopen Creek, just above Bear Mountain, there was the replica of the “Half Moon” that had been used in the Hudson-Fulton Celebration of 1909, snuggled between the high hills bordering the creek.
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And, so, a great time for me came to an end, one I shall never forget.