 Rockland Lake Lighthouse, c. 1910, National Archives. Rockland Lake is a large, freshwater lake located quite close to the Hudson River, just across the river from the city of Ossining. Throughout the 19th century, it was the primary source of natural ice for New York City. South of Newburgh, the Hudson River is brackish - as a tidal estuary it contains a mix of fresh and salt water in the lower part of the valley, making it unsuitable for ice harvesting. Rockland Lake, on the other hand, was fed by a spring and remained largely unpolluted. In 1831, the Knickerbocker Ice Company formed at Rockland Lake, where it remained in operation until the turn of the 20th century. (Learn more about ice harvesting on Rockland Lake)  Rockland Lake, Landing, and Lighthouse noted on this 1924 Rand McNally travel map. Hudson River Maritime Museum collection. A large steamboat landing was built on the Hudson River near Rockland Lake to accommodate the ice trade. The need for a lighthouse at Rockland Lake was first reported in October of 1899 by the New York Herald, which noted that "many of the new steamers are propellers of such draught as to make the shoal dangerous." On December 7, 1892, the Brooklyn Union Daily Standard reported that an appropriation of $35,000 was made "[f]or establishing a lighthouse and fog signal at or near Oyster Bed Shoal," off of the Rockland Lake dock. The brief noticed continued, "Steamers lay their course near there, making an important turning point, and it is said that the placing of this lighthouse at that point may have an effect in preventing wrecks there." A year later, the New York Herald reported that the Lighthouse Board had completed the plans for what would become the Rockland Lake Lighthouse, to be located "1,100 feet northeast of the northeasterly end of Rockland Lake landing." In July, 1894, the Rockland County Times reported on the construction of the new lighthouse. "The structure, when finished, will be a facsimile of the Tarrytown lighthouse, with the addition of several recent improvements." The article noted, "There is at present no lighthouse between those at Tarrytown and Stony Point, and boatmen traveling between those two points are now troubled at times to find their bearings. This will be obviated by the Rockland Lake lighthouse, which will afford them a safe guide on the darkest nights." Before it could be completed, however, it was struck by the steam canal boat Richard K. Fox, which had four barges in tow and destroyed the wooden construction dock "together with the workshop and other buildings connected to the works." According to the August 1, 1894 report from the New York World, the steam canal boat Richard K. Fox managed to carry "away on its bow part of one of the buildings and an Italian laborer who was sleeping in his bunk." An article from The Sun on the same incident named him as Guiseppe Luigi. Other workers dove into the water or clung to the iron lighthouse caisson to escape the wreck, which destroyed their living quarters. The lighthouse workers speculated that the captain of the Fox must have been asleep at the wheel. The Richard K. Fox appeared largely unharmed, though some reports indicate she "lost her pilot house," and continued on her way to New York City. The New York World article ends with this sentence, "Hudson River navigators think the lighthouse a menace to navigation." The Sun indicates, "It [the lighthouse, upon completion] will then prove dangerous in foggy or misty weather, boatmen say." By September 5, 1894, notice was given to mariners that the light would be lit "on or about October 1, 1894, a light of the fourth order, showing fixed white for 5 seconds, separated by eclipses of 5 seconds." The cast iron caisson was to be painted brown on the lower half, and white on the upper. Like the lighthouses at Tarrytown and Jeffrey's Hook, the Rockland Lake lighthouse structure was pre-fabricated.  Rockland Lake Lighthouse in 1915, National Archives. By the 1910s, the Rockland Lake lighthouse had acquired a serious tilt. Most theories blame the oyster beds under the foundation. A the time, newspapers speculated that the shoals had washed out from under the lighthouse. Later historians speculate that the weight of the structure could have compacted the shoals, destabilizing them. Righting the lighthouse was considered too expensive a project, so the clockwork mechanism which turned the light was simply adjusted to account for the angle of tilt. One can only imagine what it was like to live there as keeper. By the 1920s, ice harvesting was also in decline, starting to be replaced by electric refrigeration. Perhaps this decline in traffic to the Knickerbocker Ice Company Landing played a role in the decision to decommission the lighthouse in 1923. That same year, a red-painted skeleton light was built adjacent to the lighthouse before that structure was demolished. A skeleton light still exists at that spot today.  Tilting Rockland Lake Lighthouse with new skeleton light adjacent, August, 1923. National Archives.  Photo of modern skeleton light on site of old Rockland Lake Lighthouse, taken October 4, 2018, by Joan Mayer. 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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Rockland Lake, near the Hudson River about 25 miles north of New York City, was the largest natural ice harvesting operation of the Knickerbocker Ice Company, which was the most prominent ice purveyor at the turn of the 20th Century, when these Thomas Edison films were shot. The three ice houses stored close to 100,000 tons of ice, which were loaded onto barges that made their way down the Hudson to New York City. Today, Rockland Lake is a New York State Park, and the home of the Knickerbocker Ice Festival. 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 originally published July 4, 1976.  Halley's Comet in 1910. Image from https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=Uido6ckjgA0 When I was pilot and captain of the tugboat “Callanan No. 1” from 1946 until 1954, we had a steward by the name of Ed Carpenter from Port Ewen. In addition to being the best cook on the river, he was also an excellent story teller. On more than one occasion, he would recall the summer months of 1910 when Halley’s Comet was streaking through the heavens. He would also recall the days of another generation when the natural ice business was a big employer of men along the Hudson. At the time when Halley’s Comet was at its most spectacular, Ed Carpenter was cook on a repair barge of the Knickerbocker Ice Company by the name of “Beverwick.” During the summer of 1910, the “Beverwick” was tied up at the old ice house dock on Rattlesnake Island, just north of Coxsackie. Ed would relate how, night after night, he and other members of the ice house gang would sit on deck and watch with awe as Halley’s Comet would go through the skies. Apparently, the comet had a fiery tail that never failed to amaze the comet watchers. A more earthly sight that also enthralled the comet fans was the passage of the big Albany night boats — the “Adirondack” and the “C.W. Morse,” the largest steamboats on the river. Along the upper reaches of the Hudson, where the river is so narrow, they, too, were a particularly impressive sight. In the narrow channel the huge steamers would dwarf everything else. As they glided past with their hundreds of electric lights, their names spelled out in large electric signs on their hurricane decks, and their search lights probing the darkness of the night, they would appear to be one of mankind's most wondrous achievements. After the Albany night boat would pass from sight, Ed would turn in for a night’s rest, for it was up at 3:30 a.m. to start the hearty breakfast for the men working at the ice house, loading the ice barges for the New York market. In those days, before the invention of the home electric refrigerator, almost everyone used ice. And most of the ice for the New York City area would come from the Hudson River north of Poughkeepsie. A traveller on the upper Hudson would never be out of sight of an ice house — those huge wooden structures with double walls filled with sawdust that housed the winter’s harvest.  Ice House of American Ice Company, Kingston Point, 1909. Kingston Daily Freeman The ice harvest would follow a fixed and then familiar pattern. In the fall of the year, after pulling ice wagons through the streets of New York all summer, the ice company’s horses would be herded to the New York piers where they would board a steamboat to the upper Hudson ice houses. There they would be stationed until needed on the ice. Once the river froze over, generally in January, the ice harvest would begin. Large numbers of men, usually boatmen layed off for the winter months, would be hired. The horses would then be put to work and used to pull plows to scrape off the snow covering the ice, pull the markers to lay out the ice field, and to help pull the cut ice through the ice channels to the ice house elevators. During a good winter, the same ice field might be harvested several times in order to fill the ice house. In the spring of the year, the horses would go back to New York by steamboat to resume their summer job of pulling the ice wagons through the city streets. The ice itself would all be transported to New York by ice barges and a gang of men would be employed at the ice houses to load the barges. An ice barge was somewhat like a floating box. The ice would be loaded on the inside of the box — the barge's hold — so that as much of the barge as possible, when loaded, would be set low in the water to use the lower river temperatures to keep the ice melting to a minimum. A river watcher could always spot an ice barge for it would invariably have a wind mill atop the barge. The wind mill served the practical purpose of operating the barge’s pumps to pump overboard the water from the melting ice as the barge was towed down river. There would be tows on the river during the summer that would consist solely of dozens of nested ice barges. The electric refrigerator and artificial ice making brought the natural ice industry to an abrupt end. The ice barges soon disappeared from the scene. The huge ice houses gradually passed from the river's banks. Some were torn down, others burned to the ground in rather impressive conflagrations, and a very few survived until the 1940’s for the growing of mushrooms. Like Halley’s Comet, the natural ice industry was a great show while it lasted. 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: This article protesting river pollution is from the October 18, 1888 issue of the New York Herald newspaper. See more Sunday News here.  Poison in the River Large Amounts of Sewage Filth is Being Dumped into the Hudson at Albany [By telegraph to the Herald} Albany, N.Y., Oct. 17, 1888 - Danger threatens our river towns and possibly the metropolis. It arises in the wholesale contamination of the Hudson River with tons of festering filth now being dredged from the Albany basin. For years complaint has been made of this basin as a plague spot. Once a valuable part of the canal system, it has become gradually filled up and useless. The filling was chiefly the silt from the spring freshets, the refuse from mills and factories, and, worst of all, the washings from the city sewers. When the health of the city was threatened by the accumulated nastiness the State Board of Health rose up and demanded that something be done. The city officials joined in the demand and an appropriation was secured to clear out the basin and restore it to the canal system. A Large Mass of Sewage Deposit An amount of filth, nearly equal to 150,000 cubic feet, is to be removed, and dredges are now at work upon it. Sanitarians recommended that steps be taken to compost this filth as it lay, but nothing of the kind was done. It is simply scooped up, loaded into scows and tugged off down stream. The workman say these scows are dumped some distance below the city. This leaves tons of putrid matter to be spread out along the shores by the tide or by every slight freshet, or to be carried on down stream by the current. The danger arising from such a proceeding is that the filth is likely to contaminate the water to an extent which should fill with alarm all residents of cities and villages whose water supply is taken from the river. Contaminating the Ice Crop Nor does the danger stop there. The same source of contamination threatens the ice crop. The officials of the State Board of Health agree that this danger is even greater than the other. The ice crop is gathered for distribution over a large territory and can easily be contaminated by sewage poison. Physicians recognize ice gathered from impure water as a frequent source of enteric troubles, and warn the public against it as strongly as against the use of polluted water itself. The work of dredging out the Albany basin is well under way, and unless prompt action be taken by the proper authorities, a large increase in typhoid troubles may result in the section of country to which the filth is likely to be carried by the river. AuthorThank you to HRMM volunteer George Thompson, retired New York University reference librarian, for sharing these glimpses into early life in the Hudson Valley. And to the dedicated HRMM volunteers who transcribe these articles. 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!
 Aerial view of the Coast Guard icebreaker Comanche towing the former nightboat Berkshire south down the Hudson in January 1941 for use as a barracks by the U.S. Army. HRMM archive. As the ice began to encroach on the Hudson River each year, many activities – fishing, shipping goods, passenger service – ceased. But unlike today, the coming of ice did not mean an end to all activity. For the Hudson River, winter was just another season of work and play. When it came to transportation on the river in the winter, the boats often remained in the water as long as possible. In the days of wooden boats, some of the heavier boats’ hulls were reinforced with iron to enable them to break through the ice. Ferry services continued as long as they were able to break through the ice with their heavy iron or steel hulls. Larger tugboats pulled barges as long as their iron or steel hulls could navigate through the ice. Commercial vessels like tugs and barges were not removed from the creeks or river in the winter, but spent the season frozen in along the shores. In the 20th century, with the formation of the Coast Guard, their steel vessels patrolled the Hudson, breaking ice and looking out for boats that needed help.  View from the deck of a Coast Guard icebreaker of three small boats stuck in the ice in the Hudson, c. 1940s. HRMM archive.  A Coast Guard vessel breaking ice in the ship channel in the early 1940s. HRMM archive. As the Hudson gradually froze over completely and the ice thickened up, it was time for ice harvesting. Begun in the early 19th century on Rockland Lake to service New York City, the demand for ice soon outstripped the capacity of local freshwater lakes in New York and New Jersey to provide enough ice. Areas on the Hudson beginning around Kingston became the perfect place to harvest natural ice. Well above the salt line (south of Poughkeepise), and located where the river widens with easy shore access, Kingston became prime ice harvesting territory featuring enormous white and yellow wooden ice houses up and down the shores of the Hudson and the Rondout Creek. Over time ice harvesting expanded further north to Albany and beyond. The ice had to be eight to twelve inches thick for optimal harvesting. Employing seasonal workers like fishermen, tug boat men, farmers, brick yard and quarry workers, and anyone else willing to brave the weather for some wintertime income, ice harvesting was an enormous business. Blocks of ice weighing upwards of 300 pounds were packed floor to ceiling in enormous ice houses and packed with marsh hay, or other insulators to keep the ice frozen until summer, when it would be loaded onto barges and headed south for New York City and locations as far away as the Caribbean and India.  Small scale ice harvesting on the Rondout Creek ca. 1900. There was at least one large ice house on the Rondout. HRMM archive.  A young man looks on as men harvest ice on upper Rondout Creek. HRMM archive. To cut ice, the area in front of the ice house was marked off into a grid by an ice plow very much like a farmer’s plow which was pulled by a horse. Then men with large saws cut through the ice along the grid lines. After that the large cakes of ice were floated along a channel of open water into shore guided by men using long pike poles. On reaching shore the ice cakes were loaded onto a conveyor built powered by a steam engine and moved up into the ice house. In the ice house men with pike poles guided the ice cakes along into chutes to fill the ice houses rooms. In spring and summer the ice houses were gradually unloaded as the ice was shipped out. The use of natural ice declined with the onset of both electric refrigeration and the use of electricity to create artificial ice, which was deemed to be purer and cleaner. Ice harvesting for personal use did continue on many of the Hudson River estates and in rural areas. In the 1930s some people were using gasoline-powered mechanized ice harvesting equipment, but horse-drawn and human-powered equipment was the norm for nearly one hundred years.  Ice skating behind Kingston High School, ca. 1950. HRMM archive. The onset of winter also offered recreational opportunities. Ice skating was a longtime popular pastime for young people, but ice yachting or boating was a Hudson River staple for decades. First popularized around the Civil War, ice boating fell out of favor until a revival around the turn of the last century. The sport was primarily practiced by wealthy sportsmen who loved the speed involved. The enormous wooden stern steerer ice boats would be taken apart and stored in barns and outbuildings all year, just waiting for the winter ice to be thick enough for the ice boating season. Ice boats are extremely fast due to the lack of friction on their metal-capped wooden runners. Powered by the wind, the largest ice boats can top out at over 100 miles per hour. They were once the fastest vehicles on earth. Old stern steerers still exist today along the Hudson and when the ice gets thick enough on Tivoli Bay or Orange Lake or, best of all, the Hudson, you’ll find enthusiasts braving the icy cold winds for an exhilarating ride.  A 19th century lithograph of stern steerer iceboats on the Hudson River. HRMM archive.  Modern style iceboats on Orange Lake, ca. 1950s. HRMM archive. |
AuthorThis blog is written by Hudson River Maritime Museum staff, volunteers and guest contributors. Archives
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