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Here's a classic of the late Windjammer era, "Paddy, Lay Back!", also known as "Mainsail Haul" or "Valparaiso Round The Horn." There's so many references to the windjammer trade in the lyrics, there's little doubt about its origins, though when exactly it was written is unknown. The references to Valparaiso, guano, barque rigs, manual capstans, rigging lines, and sailing maneuvers could all be as early as the 1870s, but as late as the 1920s for the Nitrates Trade between South America and Europe. This is a walking shanty for bringing in the anchor via the capstan, a type of manual winch. This second recording from the Smithsonian Folkways recordings was done while working, and the sound of the paced work can be heard. At the same time, the song thoroughly reflects the labor conditions aboard windjammers in the late 19th and early 20th centuries: There were few legal protections for sailors ashore or in port, and even fewer once away from harbor governments. This shanty became a popular Irish folk song in the 20th century, though the lyrics betray a separation by the time the Wolfetones recorded their version: The references to the manual machinery of a windjammer are obscured in lines such as "take your turn, pull on your caps, and leap aboard" instead of "take a turn around the capstan, heave a pawl" and a few other corruptions from older sets of lyrics. Whichever version you might prefer, a number of these windjammer era songs still permeate the folk music culture. They are, much like sail itself, no longer considered working songs, nor are they attached to specific tasks in most people's minds. However, as working sail returns in response to high fuel prices and the threat of climate change, these songs may well see a similar revival. DREADNOUGHT LYRICS: 'Twas a cold an' dreary mornin' in December (December) Well, all of me money it was spent (spent, spent) Where it went to, Lord, I barely can't remember (remember) So down to the shippin' office went (went, went) [CHORUS] Paddy, lay back (Paddy, lay back)! Take in yer slack (take in yer slack)! Take a turn around the capstan, heave a pawl All around ship's stations, boys, be handy For we're bound for Valparaiso 'round the Horn! Ah, that day there wuz a great demand for sailors (for sailors) For the Colonies and for 'Frisco and for France (France, France) So I shipped aboard a Limey barque the Hotspur (the Hotspur) An' got paralytic drunk on me advance ('vance, 'vance) 'Twas on the quarterdeck where first I saw 'em (I saw 'em) Such an ugly bunch I'd never seen before ('fore, 'fore) For the captain he had shipped a crew of Belgians (Eughhh!) An' it made me poor ol' heart feel sick an' sore (sore, sore) Ah, but Jimmy the rat he knew a thing or two, sir (or two, sir) An' soon he'd shipped me outward bound again ('gain 'gain) On a Limey to the Chinchas for guano (for guano?) An' soon was I a-roarin' this refrain ('frain 'frain) And I asked the mate a-which a-watch wuz mine-O (wuz mine-O) Sez he, 'You'II soon find out a-which is which' (which, which) An' he blowed me down an' kicked me hard a-stern-O (a-stern-O) Callin' me a dirty rotten son-o'-a-bitch (bitch, bitch) Ah, so there I was-a once again at sea, boys (at sea, boys) The same ol' garbage over and over again ('gain, 'gain) So, won't you stamp the caps'n and make some noise, boys (some noise. boys!) And join me all in singing the ol' sweet refrain ('frain, 'frain) AuthorSteven Woods is the Solaris and Education coordinator at HRMM. He earned his Master's degree in Resilient and Sustainable Communities at Prescott College, and wrote his thesis on the revival of Sail Freight for supplying the New York Metro Area's food needs. Steven has worked in Museums for over 20 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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The 1970s Oil Crisis saw a major revival in interest around Sail Freight, which coincided with the bicentennial of the American War of Independence, itself a trigger for renewed interest in traditional crafts and tall ships. As part of this whole scene, Folk Music also experienced a rise in popularity, and in this particular song, you have these threads all combined. While the lyrics are certainly dated, they do encapsulate the spirit of their times, and a seed off which we build today. Folk tunes are always changing, and the lyrics could be modified just slightly to be far more inclusive and encouraging in a modern context. I propose the following as a candidate, for those interested in recording an updated version: "Sailing ships and sailors 'gain will sail the open waters... so all you brave windjammers climb your way into the rigging..." The verses will all need a bit of work as well, but that's not a terribly hard task either. We construct our world through the stories we tell, and as I once heard it said, all stories aspire to be songs. We could use more of these types of stories and songs in the face of the challenges we face today. LYRICS: You can see the squares of canvas dancing over the horizon You can hear the chanty wailing to the heaving of the men You can feel the seas up to your knees and you know the sea is risin' And you know the clipper’s day has come again To the men on high the bos'n's cry commands a killing strain ’Til every mother's son begins to pray With a hearty shout she comes about and she heads into the rain And the ship has never seen a better day Sailing ships and sailing men will sail the open water Where the only thing that matters is the wind inside the main So all you loving mothers keep your eyes upon your daughters For the sails will mend their tatters and the masts will rise again Wooden beams and human dreams are all that make her go; And the magic of the wind upon her sails We'd rather fight the weather than the fishes down below; God help us if the rigging ever fails As the timber creaks the captain speaks above the vessel's groans 'Til every soul on board can hear the call It's nothing but the singing of the ship inside her bones And this is when she likes it best of all Sailing ships and sailing men will sail the open water Where the only thing that matters is the wind inside the main So all you loving mothers keep your eyes upon your daughters For the sails will mend their tatters and the masts will rise again Where the current goes the clipper's nose is plowing fields of green Where fortune takes the crews we wish them well Where men could be when lost at sea is somewhere in between The regions of a heaven and a hell Well they're sailing eastern harbors and the California shore; If you set your mind to see them then you can As you count each mast go sailing past you, prouder than before Then you’ll know the clipper’s day has come again Sailing ships and sailing men will sail the open water Where the only thing that matters is the wind inside the main So all you loving mothers keep your eyes upon your daughters For the sails will mend their tatters and the masts will rise again Sailing ships and sailing men will sail the open water Where the only thing that matters is the wind inside the main So all you loving mothers keep your eyes upon your daughters For the sails will mend their tatters and the masts will rise again So all you loving mothers keep your eyes upon your daughters For the sails will mend their tatters and the masts will rise again. AuthorSteven Woods is the Solaris and Education coordinator at HRMM. He earned his Master's degree in Resilient and Sustainable Communities at Prescott College, and wrote his thesis on the revival of Sail Freight for supplying the New York Metro Area's food needs. Steven has worked in Museums for over 20 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!
This Monday, how about a classic song about the wild and unpredictable voyage of one of the largest sail freighters the world has ever seen? It's completely fiction, of course, and written to be absolutely ridiculous, but a classic nonetheless. To give you an idea of how ridiculous, here's an illustration of the ship as described in the song's first verse, which I wasted a full 5 minutes on.  I'm not convinced this vessel would actually be sailable, especially with only 8 crew. Having grown up on Irish folk music (specifically the Clancy Brothers), I'd known this song for decades before I really put together how absolutely absurd the lyrics are: 23 masts, a crew of 7, and millions of units of all sorts of just plain preposterous cargo make it a great satire of many other shipwreck songs. Carrying a load of bricks for the grand city hall in New York, but having absolutely no bricks listed in the cargo verse, and a trans-atlantic voyage of seven years in an era when it should be around 3-4 weeks is a great touch of exaggeration. Deadpan delivery tops off the whole performance. Most convenient for us at HRMM, though, is that this can arguably be a legendary song about one of the most unique Brick Schooners ever built and sailed. While legendarily it never made it to New York or the Hudson before sinking, I think we'll claim it all the same. Enjoy this rendition by the Clancy Brothers and Tommy Makem, and of course the song has been sung by many other legends of the Irish Folk scene: The Dubliners, The Pogues, The (aptly named) Irish Rovers, and many others. Mario Rincon, Mike Pagnani, and Andre Ernst all also play this tune on Solaris from time to time, if you come out on one of their concert cruises. For good measure in filling out the post, here's The Irish Rovers playing "The Irish Rover." LYRICS: In the Year of our Lord Eighteen Hundred and Six We set sail from the Cobh quay of Cork We were sailing away with a cargo of bricks For the grand City Hall in New York We'd an elegant craft, she was rigged 'fore and aft And lord how the trade winds drove her She had twenty-three masts, and she stood several blasts And they called her the Irish Rover There was Barney McGee from the banks of the Lee There was Hogan from County Tyrone There was Johnny McGurk who was scared stiff of work And a man from Westmeath called Malone There was Slugger O'Toole who was drunk as a rule And fighting Ben Tracy from Dover And your man Mick McCann, from the banks of the Bann Was the skipper on the Irish Rover We had one million bags of the best Sligo rags We had two million barrels of bone We had three million bales of old nanny goats' tails We had four million barrels of stone We had five million hogs and six million dogs And seven million barrels of porter We had eight million sides of old blind horse's hides In the hold of the Irish Rover We had sailed seven years when the measles broke out And our ship lost her way in the fog And the whole of the crew was reduced down to two 'Twas m'self and the captain's old dog Then the ship struck a rock; oh Lord, what a shock We nearly tumbled over Turned nine times around and the poor old dog was drowned Now I'm the last of the Irish Rover AuthorSteven Woods is the Solaris and Education coordinator at HRMM. He earned his Master's degree in Resilient and Sustainable Communities at Prescott College, and wrote his thesis on the revival of Sail Freight for supplying the New York Metro Area's food needs. Steven has worked in Museums for over 20 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!
We've talked before about the role of WWI U-Boats in the demise of Sail Freight in the Atlantic, and this song is about that topic. As a warning, this song contains strong language and violent references. Anna Maria is the story of a French brigantine sunk by a U-Boat on the fourth of February, 1917. The Brigantine Anna Maria existed, and is present in Lloyd's 1917 register of shipping under the registry number 424. She was 91 feet long, home ported in Bayonne, France, and owned by J. Legasse. Built of wood in 1896, she measured 140 Gross Register Tons, 105 Net. She was 91 feet 4 inches long, and 24 feet 7 inches on the beam.  She was sunk in the first quarter of 1917, as reported under "War Losses" by Lloyd's Registry in their casualties supplement. Other sources point to her being sunk by U-83 which was sunk in turn by a Q-Ship submarine hunter 13 days later.  While the source of the details for the song are of unknown origin, the basic story is historically sound. As part of the Dreadnought's 2017 First World War Concept Album "Foreign Skies," released during the centennial of the conflict, it brings a story of naval warfare to life vividly. A story of love, loss, and vengeance, it is a bit different than the usual content of HRMM Media Monday blogs, but well worth the listen. LYRICS: Well the waves were breaking sharply ‘cross the oaken brigantine While the misty air came up behind And the sky was acid green Well they called me Jean LaGasse I had just turned fifty three On the day I stood upon her deck And put her out to sea Sweet Anna Maria Never More, Never more I'll see When the thunder ripped across the bow Well I crumbled where I stood And I woke to find she'd kept me alive With her final piece of wood Don't speak to me in a fancy language I can't understand Don't flash your pretty medals Don't you take my blood red hand Just tell me how you let us stray Before the pirate's gun And tell me how I can find the man Who killed my dearest one Sweet Anna Maria Never More, Never more I'll see Sweet Anna Maria Never More, Never more I'll see Well he says she was U83 Some magical machine Sent by Kaiser Willy To the banks of the Lorient Gonna find that coward captain Gonna break his front door down Gonna wrap my hands around his neck And put him in the ground Sweet Anna Maria Never More, Never more I'll see Sweet Anna Maria For Love, For Love, of thee AuthorSteven Woods is the Solaris and Education coordinator at HRMM. He earned his Master's degree in Resilient and Sustainable Communities at Prescott College, and wrote his thesis on the revival of Sail Freight for supplying the New York Metro Area's food needs. Steven has worked in Museums for over 20 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!
This song is a bundle of Victorian references which I'll let you look up for yourselves, but is also a uniquely windjammer song. I'd like to focus on those elements, more than the other content, as the song was from the late 19th century, when steam and sail had diverged, but both were still going strong. There's a number of references which all indicate this is a windjammer sailor's song: Setting Sail, of course is obvious, but others are not. Doldrum Grounds are unique to windjamming, as a motor vessel doesn't care if the wind stops. Slacking neither tacks nor sheets is an expression for fast cruising, or maintaining all possible speed, but steamships have none of these parts of square-sail rigging. Rocks and Shoals are dangerous to almost any vessel, but especially to sailing vessels off a lee shore, where the wind can drive a sailing ship on the rocks while a motor ship could employ its engines to move off from the hazard. This remnant of windjamming has survived in several recordings, and uses various years, all from the mid-to-late 19th century, after steam propulsion became common, so it is likely to have been something that differentiated between sailors with the two separate skillsets for the different types of vessels. Regardless, now it is simply a good song in the queue for those of us ashore. LYRICS: 'Twas in the year of '94 and I think of March the 20th day I thought I'd have a little cruise from the Well Street home to Tiger Bay As I rolled through old Wappin street, 'twas there I met a pretty maid She gave me a kiss and she lifted her skirts, her legs were all in fine array [Chorus] Whack fol the looray looray laido whack fol the looray looray lay Whack fol the looray looray lay hurrah for the pilots of Tiger Bay! When we set sail it was quite late, it was the hour of ten at night We never slacked a tack nor a sheet 'til we came to the house of Mother Wright And when I saw that cosy room, I there resolved to stay next day So I took that gal for me harbour dues and she piloted me down to Tiger Bay [Chorus] Then in the morning when I woke, I found myself in doldrum grounds But the madam wouldn't let me go until I had spent twenty pounds Says I to myself: this'll never do, I'll jump this bark without delay So I took a slant for the Well Street home from the rocks and shoals of Tiger Bay [Chorus] Now when I got back to the Well Street home I met my mate in the smoker there He shouted: Jack, where the hell have you been? You seem to be in ballast there I hung my head, not a word I'd say, I got me another ship that day And if I ever go to London again I'll take another cruise down to Tiger Bay [Chorus] To all you young fellers in this room I've only got one word to say Whenever you meet a pretty little maid just lead her gently by the way There's many an ups and downs in the world, and many a pretty girl down the highway But the prettiest ones that you'll ever see are the pilots down in Tiger Bay [Chorus] AuthorSteven Woods is the Solaris and Education coordinator at HRMM. He earned his Master's degree in Resilient and Sustainable Communities at Prescott College, and wrote his thesis on the revival of Sail Freight for supplying the New York Metro Area's food needs. Steven has worked in Museums for over 20 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!
In the 1850s, the Clipper Ships gained fame as some of the fastest ships to ever float, and the Dreadnought was one of the fastest on the Atlantic. She once set the record for New York to Queenstown in 9 Days and 17 Hours, and averaged a far faster time than most on her packet run. She was 212 feet long, and 1,227 Gross Register Tons, and could carry about 2,000 tons of cargo and 200 passengers. Her fame was known far and wide, and she performed very well for the Red Cross Line, after being built in Newburyport, Massachusetts, and was of course famous enough to have a song written about her at the time. This is a more modern rendition, but still a good one. LYRICS: Oh, there is a flash packet Flash packet of fame She hails from New York And the Dreadnought's her name She's bound to the west Where the stormy winds blow All away to the westward In the Dreadnought we'll go Derry down, down, down derry down With the gale at her back What a sight does she make A skippin' so merry With the west in her wake Her sailors like lions On the jacks to and fro She's the Liverpool packet Oh, Lord let her go! Derry down, down, down derry down Now the Dreadnought's a-sailing The Atlantic so wide While the high roaring seas Move along her black sides With her sails tight as wires And the Black Flag to show All away to the Dreadnought To the westward we'll go Derry down, down, down derry down Here's a health to the Dreadnought And all her brave crew To bold captain (Willy!) And his officers too Talk about your flash packets Swallowtail, Black Ball The Dreadnought's the flyer That out sails them all! Derry down, down, down derry down AuthorSteven Woods is the Solaris and Education coordinator at HRMM. He earned his Master's degree in Resilient and Sustainable Communities at Prescott College, and wrote his thesis on the revival of Sail Freight for supplying the New York Metro Area's food needs. Steven has worked in Museums for over 20 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!
There's been a lot of talk around our new exhibit about the decline and revival of working sail, but most of it has been rather serious or technical. This isn't, at all, in any way. I first became aware of this tune through my Dad, who was in the Navy and sang with several choirs while he was in. It's a classic example of mild sarcasm to deal with the changing of the times and the decline of sail, as well as other technical changes which occurred quite rapidly over the 20th century. The song comically laments changes and the now-pointless nicknames of some jobs, such as Bunting-Tossers (signalers), Stokers (engineers), and the change from hammocks to bunks. This is also a song that has seen some significant revival recently, being recorded in several styles, of which these two are just a sampling. David Coffin is an old hand in the nautical and folk music scene, but Nathan Evans is a relatively new Scottish pop-folk sensation. This broadening of audiences helps spread and preserve these songs as a living and changing tradition, as they have been for thousands of years. So, sit back and enjoy the sounds of a satirical farewell to the first age of sail, and an ode to the harder, harsher, near-unsurvivable, tough old days of the "Real Navy" only remembered by Senior Chief Petty Officers who are nearing retirement. LYRICS (From David Coffin's version): Well my father often told me when I was just a lad A sailor's life is very hard, the food is always bad But now I've joined the navy, I'm aboard a man-o-war And now I've found a sailor ain't a sailor any more Don't haul on the rope, don't climb up the mast If you see a sailing ship it might be your last Just get your civvies ready for another run ashore A sailor ain't a sailor, ain't a sailor anymore Well the killick of our mess he says we had it soft It wasn't like that in his day when we were up aloft We like our bunks and sleeping bags, but what's a hammock for? Swinging from the deckhead, or lying on the floor? Don't haul on the rope, don't climb up the mast If you see a sailing ship it might be your last Just get your civvies ready for another run ashore A sailor ain't a sailor, ain't a sailor anymore They gave us an engine that first went up and down Then with more technology the engine went around We know our steam and diesels but what's a mainyard for? A stoker ain't a stoker with a shovel anymore Don't haul on the rope, don't climb up the mast If you see a sailing ship it might be your last Just get your civvies ready for another run ashore A sailor ain't a sailor, ain't a sailor anymore They gave us an Aldiss Lamp so we could do it right They gave us a radio, we signaled day and night We know our codes and ciphers but what's a sema for? A bunting-tosser doesn't toss the bunting anymore Don't haul on the rope, don't climb up the mast If you see a sailing ship it might be your last Just get your civvies ready for another run ashore A sailor ain't a sailor, ain't a sailor anymore Two cans of beer a day and that's your bleeding lot And now we've got an extra one because they stopped The Tot So we'll put on our civvy-clothes find a pub ashore A sailor's still a sailor just like he was before Don't haul on the rope, don't climb up the mast If you see a sailing ship it might be your last Just get your civvies ready for another run ashore A sailor ain't a sailor, ain't a sailor anymore AuthorSteven Woods is the Solaris and Education coordinator at HRMM. He earned his Master's degree in Resilient and Sustainable Communities at Prescott College, and wrote his thesis on the revival of Sail Freight for supplying the New York Metro Area's food needs. Steven has worked in Museums for over 20 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!
The Hudson River Maritime Museum has an extensive collection of oral histories interview of Hudson River commercial fisherman, including fisherman Edward Hatzmann, who was interviewed on April 25, 1992. Below, Hatzmann recalls a story told to him by fellow fisherman Charlie Rohr, about a prison break from Sing Sing Prison in Ossining, New York.
Unlike some fishermen's tales, this one was really true! Fisherman Charlie Rohr really did have to deal with the prisoners. He was interviewed for the Yonkers, NY Herald Statesman in an article published April 14, 1941. The article is transcribed in full below:
"'We're Going To Bump You Off!' Killers Promise Charlie Rohr. But Shad Fisherman, Who Rowed Fugitives Across Hudson, Talks Them Out of It and Escapes Alive" OSSINING - Charlie Rohr is alive today, but from now on he feels he's living on borrowed time. Rohr is the shad fisherman who rowed two desperate escaped convicts across the Hudson River and then talked himself out of being their third victim. "It was pretty tough sitting there with two guys holding guns to you," Rohr reported, "but it didn't do any good to lose your head." Rohr and another fisherman were getting their equipment together in their shack shortly before 3 A.M., preparatory to rowing out to their weirs. A series of shots broke the pre-dawn stillness but the men didn't pay much attention to it. "I thought it was just a brawl," Rohr said. The other fisherman went upstairs for a minute, and Rohr stepped to the door of the shack on Holden's Dock. Two men, white-shirted and in the gray trousers unmistakably of Sing Sing Prison, confronted him. Two guns were held against his stomach. "Is this your boat?" one growled. "Yes," said Rohr. "Get going then," he was told. "And fast - we've just killed a cop." Rohr wasn't having any. "You take the boat," he urged. "You're rowing," he was told. "Get going." The trip across the river took an hour - the longest hour of Charles Rohr's life. The thugs sat in the center and stern seats of the boat, and trained their guns upon him during the entire trip. Rohr worked the oars, and then men whispered back and forth. The fisherman pulled up at a point near Rockland Lake on the west bank. The convicts prepared to leave the boat. "Now," said one in an expressionless voice, "we're going to bump you off." "Listen," said Charlie Rohr, his mind working faster than it ever had before, "that won't do you no good." The men paused. "I'm well known around here, see? Everyone knows my boat. And if you knock me off, and the boat's around here, everyone is going to know what happened and where you guys got away." They were still listening, so Rohr kept on. "What you'd better do is let me go back. Then no one's going to know anything about this." Four eyes regarded him coldly. Then the pair whispered together for a minute. Charlie Rohr held his breath, and then his heart leaped. The men jumped from the boat and ran into the woods on the shore of Rockland County. He rowed back across the river with shaking knees. 
"Disheveled at battered, these two fugitives from Sing Sing prison are shown today after eight hours of freedom during which they left a train of four dead in a prison break. They are Joseph Riordan, left, and Charles McGale. They were captured in the Rockland County hills a mile from the Hudson, which they crossed in a rowboat." caption of photograph from Yonkers "Herald Statesman" front page, April 14, 1941.
Joseph Riordan and Charles McGale were caught in Rockland County and returned to prison. Charlie Rohr went back to fishing.
​If you'd like to hear more stories from Edward Hatzmann, check out his full oral history interview, available on New York Heritage. For more fishermen's oral history interviews, check out our full collection.
​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!​
 Aftermath of the World Trade Center attack as seen from space, recorded by NASA, public domain. In honor of the attacks on the World Trade Center on September 11, 2001, we are sharing one of our favorite and most poignant documentary films about that day, "Boatlift." "Boatlift" chronicles the marine evacuation of lower Manhattan during the attacks. Narrated by Tom Hanks, this short film highlights the ordinary people who stepped up to help strangers in a time of crisis. If you would like to learn more about the evacuation and the people involved, read Jessica DuLong's book Saved at the Seawall: Stories from the September 11 Boat Lift or catch up on her 2021 lecture for the Hudson River Maritime Museum, "Heroes or Human: September 11th Lessons on the 20th Anniversary," as recorded below. Jessica DuLong shares the dramatic story of how the New York Harbor maritime community delivered stranded commuters, residents, and visitors out of harm’s way on September 11, 2001. Even before the US Coast Guard called for “all available boats,” tugs, ferries, dinner boats, and other vessels had sped to the rescue from points all across New York Harbor. In less than nine hours, captains and crews transported nearly half a million people from Manhattan. This was the largest maritime evacuation in history. DuLong’s talk, and her book Saved at the Seawall, highlight how people come together, in their shared humanity, to help one another through disasters. Actions taken during those crucial hours exemplify the reflexive resourcefulness and resounding goodness that reminds us of the hope and wonder that’s possible on the darkest 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!
 The canal boat the Little Freddie at the entrance to Roebling's Delaware Aqueduct. Minisink Valley Historical Society. Note the woman at the tiller and the two children riding the mules. Happy Labor Day! For today's Media Monday, we thought we'd highlight this recent lecture by Bill Merchant, historian and curator for the D&H Canal Historical Society in High Falls, NY. "Child Labor on the D&H Canal" highlights the role of children on one of the biggest economic drivers of the Hudson Valley in the 19th century. Child labor was a huge issue in 19th and early 20th century America (learn more) throughout nearly every industry, including the maritime and canal industries. Although many canal barges were operated by families, many were also operated by single men who exploited orphans and poor children, often with fatal results. Children were most generally used as "drivers," also known as hoggees, who walked with or rode the mule or horse who pulled the barge through the canal. Work was long, often sunup to sundown or even longer, as the faster barges could get through the canal, the faster they could return and pick up a new cargo, thus making more money. The Kingston Daily Freeman reported a Coroner's Inquests on July 18, 1846, which recorded several deaths related to Rondout Creek and the D&H Canal, including a young boy. It is transcribed in full below: Coroner's Inquests. On the 11th, Coroner Suydam [sp?] held an inquest at Rondout on the body of Joseph Marival, a colored hand on board the sloop Hudson of Norwich, Ct. He went in the creek to bathe, and was accidentally drowned. The same officer held an inquest at [?] Creek Locks on the body of Henry Eighmey, on the 15ht, drowned in the canal by a fall from a boat about noon. We have record of a third by Mr. Suydam, held at Rosendale on the 12th, on the body of Andrew J. Garney, a lad of ten years old, a rider, who it was supposed fell from his horse into the canal about day break of that morning, a verdict conformable being rendered. In connection with the last case, we would remark, that the crew consisted of one man with the driver who was drowned. That the boat had been running all night [emphasis original]; that about three o'clock in the morning the man spoke to the land and was answered, and that some time afterwards he missed him, and concluded he must have fallen into the canal. Is there any thing strange in the fact that a lad of ten years, worn down with the fatigues of a long day and a whole night in the bargain, should drop into another world? Now we do not mean to mark this as a singular case, by any means. It is but one of the like occurring almost daily on the canal. Lads are hired at a mere pittance, and men are determined to get as much work out of them as possible, without the least regard to health, comfort, or safety. The poor children are toiling from daylight to dark, and if in addition they are forced to nod all or part of the night, the consequent sleep and death is nothing to be wondered at. We would call attention to this subject on the part of those who may able to devise a mode of reaching such cases. Nor would it be out of place in the Coroner's jury in the next instance should state the whole [emphasis original] truth in the verdict. Most laborers on the canal were paid at the end of the season, but it was not uncommon for unscrupulous barge operators to cheat the boys of their wages and abandon them in random canal towns. Even when working with their families, children who lived aboard barges sometimes had hard lives. Although the Delaware & Hudson Canal closed in 1898, children and families continued to work on the newly revamped New York State Barge Canal system and canals in Ohio and elsewhere into the mid-20th century. In 1923, Monthly Labor Review published an article entitled "Canal-boat Children," which looked at the labor, education, and living conditions of children on canal boats. Of particular interest was safety, as the threat of drowning or being crushed in locks was near-constant. Still, many families were able to make decent livings aboard canal barges, until tugboats took over canal barge towing in the mid-20th century. To learn more about New York Canals, visit the Hudson River Maritime Museum's exhibit "The Hudson and Its Canals: Building the Empire State," or visit the newly revamped D&H Canal Museum in nearby High Falls, NY. 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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