Editor's Note: The following text is a verbatim transcription of an article written by George W. Murdock, for the Kingston (NY) Daily Freeman newspaper in the 1930s. Murdock, a veteran marine engineer, wrote a regular column. Articles transcribed by HRMM volunteer Adam Kaplan. For more of Murdock's articles, see the "Steamboat Biographies" category.

The "Rosedale" was featured in this week's Media Monday blog post, a 1911 film of New York Harbor.

Deemed one of the most handsome steamboats of her class ever to sail the waters of the Hudson river, the “Rosedale” enjoyed an existence of 45 years in which she saw service on many routes and finally was consumed by flames in the same port where she was launched many years before.

The wooden hull of the “Rosedale” was constructed at Norfolk, Virginia in 1877, being 216 feet long. She had a breadth of beam of 34 feet two inches, depth of hold 10 feet. The gross tonnage was 938 with the net tonnage rating of 677, and she was powered with a vertical beam engine with a cylinder diameter of 50 inches with a 12 foot stroke.

The “Rosedale” was built for service on the James river but was soon brought north to New York waters. Her first appearance in New York harbor created much favorable comment among steamboat men who admired her trim lines and considered her a very handsome vessel for her class. Few steamboats in and about New York harbor at that period carried their boilers in the hold and forward of the engine as did the “Rosedale.”

​In the summer of 1878 the “Rosedale” was placed in service between Peekskill and New York as a dayboat. This period of service was short-lived and the “Rosedale” next appeared as an excursion vessel around New York harbor, also making trips to Coney Island.

On September 18, 1879, the “Rosedale” inaugurated a day service under the management of Captain Anning J. Smith, between New York and Bridgeport as an opposition vessel, and the fare from Bridgeport to New York was reduced to sixty-five cents or one dollar per round trip. This opposition was continued until 1892 when the “Rosedale” was taken into the rival steamboat line.

1902 marked the advent of several new steamboats for use on this route, with the result that the “Rosedale” was laid up for a time. During the summer months of 1905 and 1906, Captain Smith engaged in the excursion business, running the “Rosedale” to Coney Island and Rockaway Beach.

The spring of 1907 found the “Rosedale” running on the James river during the Jamestown Exhibition; the following fall the steamboat was back in New York harbor. In the spring of 1908 the “Rosedale” was again used on the Rockaway Beach route and for short routes around New York.

​Philadelphia was the next port of call for the “Rosedale” as she appeared in and around the Quaker city on the Delaware river in 1917 and continuing there until 1920. She was then taken to Norfolk, Virginia and laid up at the Merritt & Chapman yard. Fire ravaged the Rosedale in 1922 while she was laid-up at Norfolk, ending the career which had begun 45 years previous at the same port.

A few years ago the Metropolitan Museum of Art release this beautifully shot film of New York City in 1911. Made by a team of cameramen with the Swedish company Svenska Biografteatern, these views of New York were just one of the films they made chronicling famous cities around the world. 

Some of this footage may look familiar, as you may have seen a shorter version (basically they cut the steamboats out!) published in 4K on YouTube a few years ago that went viral. A genealogist even did a follow-up investigation of some of the people featured in the film, and tracked down their ancestors!  

But for the maritime historians at HRMM, the version published by MOMA was super fun to watch because we got to see several historic steamboats in action! The Orient, Mary Patten, Rosedale, and the sidewheel steam ferry Wyoming are all featured, and the Rosedale and the Wyoming are both depicted underway with their walking beam steam engines rocking away. It's interesting to see how slowly the walking beam is moving when compared to the speed of the boats, which indicates that those pistons are moving with an incredible amount of force to turn the paddlewheels so quickly. 

Although the rest of the film is fun to watch, the steamboats are in the first two minutes, so we thought we'd give a little history of some of the vessels you're seeing!

The sidewheel steamboat Orient was originally built in 1896 as the Hingham for the Boston & Hingham Steamboat Company. In 1902 she was purchased by the Montauk Steamboat Company and renamed Orient, where she operated until 1921 when she was sold to a company in Mobile, Alabama and renamed Bay Queen and continued to operate until 1928. 

Built in 1893 in Brooklyn, NY the Mary Patten was operated by the Patten Steamboat Company, running between New York City and Long Branch, NJ, which was a resort area in the late 19th century. The Patten Line (also known as the New York and Long Branch Steamboat Company) was founded by Thomas G. Patten in 1890 and in 1893 he built a new passenger steamboat named the Mary Patten after mother, Maria (Mary) Patten, who had died in 1886. (It is not, sadly, named after heroic Cape Horner Mary Ann Brown Patten.) The steamboat Mary Patten stayed in the family and on the NYC run until 1930, when the Patten Line folded and the Mary Patten was sold to the Highlands, Long Branch, and Bred Bank Steamboat Company, where she may have operated for a year until being taken out of operation. 

The history of the sidewheel steam ferry Wyoming was not easy to track down, especially since there were a number of other vessels named Wyoming, including an earlier sidewheel steamboat immortalized by James Bard. But thankfully Brian J. Cudahy's Over and Back: The History of Ferryboats in New York Harbor had some answers. 

The iron-hulled, walking beam sidewheel steam ferry Wyoming was built in 1885 by Harlan & Hollingsworth in Wilmington, Delaware for the Greenpoint Ferry Company (1853-1921). The Wyoming was in service as a ferry on the East River until around 1920, when she was sold to the City of New York. She "later ran for upper Hudson River interests" (p. 444 of Cudahy) until she was scrapped in 1943, likely a victim of both bridges and the war effort.

The above photo, taken in 1940 by steamboat historian Donald C. Ringwald, may have been one of her last. 

If you'd like to learn about the last steamboat visible in the film above, the Rosedale​, stay tuned! We'll featured more on her later this week.

In February of 1946, tugboat crews in New York Harbor had had it. They had been trying since October, 1945 to negotiate an end to the wartime freeze on wages, to reduce hours from 48 per week to 40, to receive two weeks paid vacation per year, and perhaps most importantly, to end the practice of stranding workers in far-away ports and forcing them to pay their own way home, without success. Although the war was over, the federal government was still regulating the price of freight, which meant that shipping companies didn't want to raise wages. Frustrated, the tugboat workers struck. Starting February 4, 1946, tugboats did not move coal or fuel in the nation's busiest port. 

Manhattan is an island, and maritime freight played a huge role in supplying the city with fuel, food, and other supplies, as well as removing garbage by water. At the time of the strike, officials estimated the city has just a few days of reserve coal. 

​The strike was covered in several newsreels at the time. ​British Pathe put together this short report on the strike:

​Universal put together this newsreel, sadly presented here without any sound:

Newly-elected mayor William O'Dwyer did not react well to the strike. Facing a fuel shortage for one of the nation's most populous cities in midwinter was no laughing matter, but O'Dwyer implemented measures that many later deemed an overreaction to the strike. He essentially rationed fuel for the entire city, prioritizing housing for the sick and aged, but enforcing a 60 degree maximum temperature for all other building interiors, turning off heat in the subway and limiting service, shutting down all public schools on February 8, and by February 11 shutting down entirely restaurants, stores, Broadway theaters, and other recreational venues. The bright lights of Times Square and elsewhere were also turned off to conserve electricity, as illustrated in this second newsreel from British Pathe: 

After 18 hours of shutdown, the shipping companies and the tugboat unions agreed to end the strike and enter into third party arbitration for their contract. Tugboats started moving fuel again, and the lights turned back on. And that's the end of the story - or is it? 

On February 14, 1946, the New York Times published an article entitled "Lessons of the Tug Strike," whereby they largely blamed O'Dwyer for the costly shutdown. "New York tugboat workers and management have sent their dispute to arbitration after a ten-day strike that endangered life and property, cost business millions of dollars and paralyzed the whole city for a day. We may well breathe a sigh of relief and at the same time examine some aspects of this incident that offer guidance for the future," the Times wrote, and went on to ask that O'Dwyer never do that again "unless the need is clearly established." 

​As for the tugboat workers, it would take nearly another year for the threat of a strike to fade completely. Negotiations continued throughout 1946, with little movement, until the threat of another strike emerged in December of 1946. It was avoided by additional arbitration with Mayor O'Dwyer's emergency labor board. Finally, the arbitrators won concessions from both sides, and on January 5, 1947, the New York Times reported that a settlement had been reached. The tugboat workers got their 40 hour workweek, but not the same wages as 48 hours of work. They did get an 11 cent per hour wage increase along with a minimum wage for deck hands, a five day workweek, and time and a half for Saturdays and Sundays. However, the contract was only for 12 months, and in December of 1947, another strike was on the table as workers struggled for another wage increase. The strike was averted with more concessions from the companies, including a ten cent raise, food allowances, and more. But in the fall of 1948, the contract was up again, and the specter of the February, 1946 shutdown arose as a strike was once again on the table as part of the negotiations.

Strikes were common in the years following the Second World War, in nearly every aspect of American society. In particular, the Strike Wave of 1945-46 impacted as many as five million American workers across all sectors. The strikes, although sometimes effective in improving worker wages and conditions, were largely unpopular with the general public. In 1947, Congress overrode President Truman's veto of the Taft-Hartley Act, which limited the power of labor unions and ushered in an era of "right to work" laws. Learn more about the strike wave in this podcast from the National WWII Museum. 

​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!​

On June 13, 1927 25-year-old Charles Lindbergh returned to New York from the first solo transatlantic flight from New York. Lindbergh worked as a U.S. Postal Service pilot as well as a barnstormer. Barnstormers traveled the country performing aerobatic stunts and selling airplane rides. Lindbergh decided, with the backing of several people in St. Louis, to compete for the Orteig Prize—a $25,000 reward put up by French hotelier Raymond Orteig for the first person to fly an airplane non-stop from New York to Paris.  Lindbergh, at the age of 25, and the Spirit of St. Louis took off from a muddy runway at Long Island’s Roosevelt Field on the morning of May 20, 1927. He left the plane’s side windows open so that cold air and rain would keep him alert on the 33-1/2 hour flight. The sleep-deprived Lindbergh later reported he had hallucinated about ghosts during the flight. Read more about Lindbergh and the flight here: https://www.history.com/topics/exploration/charles-a-lindbergh​

This week's featured artifact is a recent acquisition! This large model of the Erie Railroad Barge No. 271 was donated by model maker John Marinovich, Jr. His grandparents and mother lived and worked aboard this barge for about five years after emigrating to the United States from Austria in 1912. 

The model has a number of very detailed aspects, including these living quarters at the stern of the barge. Mr. Marinovich even modeled his grandmother and mother along with window boxes, which he said were part of the original barge while the family lived aboard.

The model has a removable roof, some removable walls, and yes, it floats!

The Hudson River Maritime Museum was lucky to be able to receive so many historical details and photos in addition to the model itself. Mr. Marinovich graciously shared this newspaper article about his mother entitled, "Home on the Hudson," written by Ruth Woodward for Beachcomber, August 10, 1978. We reproduce the article below, interspersed with photographs provided by Mr. Marinovich:

​Beachcomber, August 10, 1978
 
HOME ON THE HUDSON
By Ruth Woodward
 
Marinovich means "son of a sailor" in the Croatian language. Mary Marinovich of Harvey Cedars acquired the name by marriage but she is a true daughter of a sailor. She spent her earliest years living on a Hudson River barge, with the deck as a play area and the whole panorama of the Hudson waterfront to stimulate her interest in faraway places. In the days before container ships, the Hudson River was dotted with barges, and Erie Barge 271 was the "old homestead" for Mary.
 
A barge on the Hudson was a busy and exciting place for a small child to live. Ships from all over the world docked at piers along the New York Harbor. Barges were dispatched to meet the ships and transport their cargoes to factories, refineries or railroad cars. Large sliding doors on the roof of a barge's freight house would be opened and part of the ship's cargo would be lowered into the barge. The longshoremen on the dock would board the barge to arrange the cargo which was usually bundled in large burlap bags.        
 
The bags would be stacked until the freight house was filled. With the barge loaded the captain signed for his cargo and learned its destination from the dock master. As soon as one barge was loaded it would be pushed to another part of the dock and the next barge moved into place to be loaded. Tugboats would then pull the barges to the piers where the cargoes were to be unloaded -- to Hoboken, Brooklyn, West New York.
 
As soon as a barge captain reported that his cargo had arrived a ramp would be raised from barge to dock, the longshoremen would come with their hand trucks and load up. For the young children on the barge it was fun to watch the men run up and down the ramp and dump their cargo on the dock. When the barge was unloaded the captain reported to the office on the dock, where there would be orders waiting, telling him where to pick up the next load.
 
Mary Marinovich's story has its beginning on the island of Losinj in the Adriatic Sea. This was in the province of Istria, part of pre-World War I Austria. The land on Losinj was too poor to make much of a living from farming, so it was an island of sailors. Like so many European men around the turn of the century, young Joseph Sokolich left his wife and small son in the old- country and came to America alone to try to make a better living for this family. He was a seaman and he wanted to be near water so he found a job on the Judson, on an Erie Railroad barge. When he was ready to send for his wife and son, he applied for a barge with living quarters for a family. Men with families were given priority when applying for boats with two or three rooms for living quarters.

​​Living on a barge was a good way for a young family to get a start in the new country. Most families who rented apartments found it necessary to rent rooms to make ends meet, but the barge captain and his family had privacy and independence, as well as free rent. Coal for the stove and kerosene for lamps was provided by the Erie Railroad. Cargoes were usually things like rice, coffee, flour, sugar, spices, coconut - bags broke and the barge family was welcome to whatever spilled out. And you could barter with other captains when you docked for the evening. Those with refrigerated storage always  had fruit to trade. The Hudson was so clean in those days that you could take a rowboat and go under a dock to crab or fish. And if you happened to have a long haul down the center of the river, you could throw a line in and sit and fish while the tug was pulling you to the dock to unload. You might run out of fresh milk and eggs because there wasn't always an opportunity to leave your boat to get to a store. But there was always plenty of food and the family was sheltered and warm and cozy in the barge.
 
Mary was born in Hoboken because her mother new of a good midwife there. Mother and baby returned to the barge when Mary was ten days old. Later, when sister Tina was born. the midwife came on board the bare to deliver the baby. Whenever word got out that a pregnant woman was aboard a barge, the tugs would signal the news to each other with a signal to "Be Careful! Don't hit this barge hard." When a woman's time for delivery drew near, the dispatcher would see that the barge was sent to drydock for repairs or had some other excuse for staying docked in one place until the baby was safely delivered. To all of the immigrants it was a great source of pride to have a child born in America.

​​The Sokolich barge had a cabin with two large rooms, a kitchen and a bedroom. The bedroom had built-in bunks and the kitchen, dominated by the big, black stove, had built -in cupboards. The deck in front of the cabin could be used as porch or yard or outdoor sitting room and when the freight house was unloaded and empty, it was a room of many purposes. There was room here for Mary's other to set up the washtub and do the family wash. Water had to be brought on board only when the barge was docked in designated areas. The captain would be given a little extra time in order to take on water and this was usually a good time to get at the washing. The freight house was also a large playroom for the children. When it was empty, Captain Sokolich would put up gates so that the children could play there in safety. But Mary remembers sometimes playing in the freight house when it was loaded. "We'd jump all over the bags and play hide and seek. We didn't have any trees to bide behind, so we hid behind the bags instead."
 
And the freight house was the "company room." As soon as the barge docked for the night families looked around to see whether any friends were at the same dock. Each barge captain had a distinctive ornament or figurehead on his boat so that it could be easily recognized. There were German, Dutch, Belgian and Austrian families plying the river, all people who had made their living on the water in Europe. Friends would gather in one of the empty freight houses for the evening. There was always wood floating on the river so the men made benches and tables for the freight houses in their spare time. The tables and benches were brought out when company came and the men settled down to an evening of cards and the women to sew and chat. With the abundance of flour and sugar available on the barges there were always homemade cakes and breads and rolls to pass around. 

Mary remembers that one of the nicest things that could happen was to learn that a ship was expected to be two or three days late arriving in the harbor. Then the barge could stay in one place for a few days and there would be time for her mother to go shopping to buy shoes for the children and fabric to make them clothing. If they were in an area where they had friends living ashore they could fit in a rare visit.
 
The children first learned to read from the signs along the river. They spelled out "Lipton Tea, Coffee, Cocoa" as the sign flashed on and off as they approached Hoboken. Their geography lessons came when they passed ships of all nationalities docked in New York harbor. Mary remembers seeing Japanese ships with the crew sitting on the deck eating from a large communal pot.  Her mother would tell the children where the ship was from and what the men were eating. Most exciting would be to pass a German passenger ship with a brass band in the bow. The children could prance to the sound of the oom-pah-pah as long as they could hear the music.

When Mary's brother Joe reached school age, he first stayed in Hoboken at a boarding school run by the church, joining the barge only on weekends. But he was homesick for this family and as soon as he was able to travel by himself, he came back to the barge after school each day. Every afternoon Father would telephone from the dock, leaving a message at the school telling this son just where the barge would be docked for the night. And young Joe would travel by trolley to wherever his home happened to be. This was customary for the barge children. Even the tiny ones learned the trolley routes and traveled across the city to get home each night.
 
Even with the camaraderie of the other barge families on the river, it was a lonely life for the women. It was difficult for them to shop and it was difficult for them to get to church. The barge was the responsibility of the captain so some member of the family usually had to stay on board, though occasionally another bargeman could be asked to keep an eye on the boat for a short time. When barge people left their boats, they talked of "going up the street." But it was difficult for the women to get up the street because it meant walking through the dock areas and the railroad yards and it was not always safe. The captain had to be ready to move whenever orders came, but if a captain knew that there would be an hour's time before a tug's arrival, he would "go up the street" and bring back a bucket of milk. Mary still remembers what a treat this was as a change from condensed, canned milk.
 
To while away the time on the barge, Mrs. Sokolich learned to play dominoes and taught the children to ply. She carved picture frames from cigar boxes and she delighted in making paper flowers. "My mother's barge was the talk of the river because she loved flowers so much. Right in front of the cabin she had a big pot of ivy and she had window boxes for flowers.  And when she couldn't grow plants, she made them.  She would take a piece of straw from the broom and cover it with green crepe paper for the stem. Then she would cut and fold paper to make petals and turn them on a matchstick to create her own 'roses.' She worked had to make our cabin homelike.  She scrubbed the wood floor until it was white and her stove was always polished like a mirror."

Life for the barge families changed abruptly when the United States entered World War I. Instead of flour and sugar and spices the barges hauled barbed wire, machinery and ammunition. It was no longer safe for families to live on the boats and they move ashore to a house in West New York, New Jersey. All of New York harbor was declared a war zone, since it was used for troop embarkation and debarkation. Captain Sokolich and the other barge men had to show their credentials whenever they came on the piers and they had to leave the area as soon as they were off duty. Many people were suspicious of the German and Austrian men, even though they had become American citizens.
 
The Sokolich family never returned to the barge to live. "Once we were able to go to the store and buy a loaf of bread, we never wanted to go back," Mary says. "I can still remember how exciting it was when we moved to shore and turned on the faucet and got all the water we wanted. My mother never could get used to letting the water run!"
 
When the war ended, Mary's father found a job on a Lackawanna Railroad lighter. A lighter was an open boat with a small cabin in front. The freight area was open and the lighter carried heavy articles like tires, cars and steel pipes that could be exposed to the weather.
 
John Marinovich laughingly reminded his wife that when Captain Sokolich no longer had his family on board that he had "another woman" on his boat.  The Captain had a life-sized cardboard figure of a Moxie girl, advertising a popular soft drink. The Moxie girl was a pretty and had a winning smile and he took the head from the figure and attached it to the cabin window with springs. As the lighter plied the river, the men working on the docks would wave and grin and flirt with the girl who was smiling and nodding to them from the cabin window. Sailors on the Rhine had the Lorelei to tempt them, but the men on the Hudson had a Moxie girl!

The model of the Erie RR Barge No. 271 is now safely ensconced behind a plexiglas bonnet in the Charles Niles Model Shop exhibit in the Hudson River Maritime Museum. You can see it in person whenever you visit!

Did you know that the Statue of Liberty was an official lighthouse from its opening in 1886 until 1901, when it was transferred to the War Department. The Statue of Liberty was also the first electrically lit lighthouse in the country. 

To learn more about the history of the Statue of Liberty and her days as a lighthouse, check out the museum's RiverWise film, "When the Lady Was a Lighthouse." 

To learn even more about the Statue of Liberty's time as a lighthouse, including a list of keepers, you can visit her page on the Hudson River Lighthouses website.

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 18, 1974.

During the 1920's, every Sunday from late May until early September, the steamer “Homer Ramsdell" of the Central Hudson Line offered an excursion from Kingston to New York.  Leaving Rondout at 6:30 a.m., she would make landings at Poughkeepsie and Newburgh and arrive in New York at her pier at the foot of Franklin Street at 1 p.m.  Returning, she would leave New York at 4:30 p.m. and get back to Kingston at 11 p.m. 

In those days of long ago, the Sunday excursions on the “Homer Ramsdell” were very popular with residents of the mid-Hudson valley and many Kingston families made this day long sail on the Hudson an annual event.  In July of 1924, as a boy of 15, my father took me on one of these excursions. 

To a boy who thought the greatest thing in the world was a steamboat, the excursion was a memorable experience.  I made a note of every steamer we passed and in retrospect it is difficult to believe there were once so many steamboats in operation on the Hudson. 

After leaving Rondout on that sunny Sunday morning a half a century ago, the first steamer we met was the “Poughkeepsie” of the Central Hudson Line, off Staatsburgh.  She was coming up on her way to Kingston, having left New York the night before.  Landing at Poughkeepsie, I saw the ferryboat “Gove Winthrop” going into her Poughkeepsie slip and her running mate “Rinckerhoff" [Brinckerhoff?] landing at Highland. 

After we left Poughkeepsie, we saw very few boats as it was too early in the morning.  At Newburgh, the old ferryboat "City of Newburgh” was just coming over from Beacon and as we passed Cornwall we overtook the "Perseverance” of the Cornell Steamboat Company going down with the down tow of about forty loaded scows and barges.  The Cornell tugs “Victoria” and ‘‘Hercules” were helping on the tow.  When passing West Point, the ferry “Garrison” was going over the river to her namesake landing. 

Down off Grassy Point, the graceful “Hendrick Hudson” of the Day Line went by on her way to Albany and looked as if she were almost loaded to her passenger capacity of 5,500.  Off Croton Point, the brand new “Alexander Hamilton” went past on her way to Kingston Point — and just below Hook Mountain the “DeWitt Clinton” was going up river bound for Poughkeepsie.  Not too far behind her was the “Albany,” probably going to Indian Point.  In slightly over an hour we had passed four Day Liners.  Then came the Bear Mountain steamer “Clermont.”

By that time we were off Tarrytown.  Looking down the river on that clear day, one could see all the way down to New York harbor and could see everywhere all kinds of passenger steamboats and yachts coming up the river.  I was eagerly peering ahead to see if I could find my favorite, the “Benjamin B. Odell.” Sure enough, there she was coming up river with a big bone in her teeth, flags flying and black smoke pouring out of her big black smokestack. 
​
The "Odell" was overtaking the “Rensselaer” of the Albany Night Line — and had just passed the  propellor “Ossining” and the sidewheeler ‘‘Sirius" of the Iron Steamboat Company.  As she sped by the “Ramsdell", she blew one long blast salute on her whistle.  The white steam from her whistle ascending skyward and the big red house flag of the Central Hudson Line with the white letters “C.H.,” briskly flapping in the breeze from the flag staff in back of her pilot house, made a very impressive scene. 

​After we had passed this cluster of steamboats, along came the “Benjamin Franklin” of the Yonkers Line, closely followed by the Day Liner “Robert Fulton" on her way to Newburgh.  We then passed the ‘‘Mandalay" headed up river.  With her ferry boat-like bow, she was a nice looking steamer.  Below Hastings, a tow in charge of the Cornell tugboats “Geo. W. Washburn” and “Senator Rice" was on its way up river.  The “Washburn” blew a long salute to the "Ramsdell."

​Down off Yonkers, the speedy “Monmouth” of the Jersey Central Railroad and the Central Hudson steamer “Newburgh” were coming up, loaded with passengers for a day's outing up the river.  When we landed at 129th Street, I couldn't help but wonder how many people had boarded boats at that pier that morning.  It must have been several thousand.  On the south side of the pier lay the "Cetus" of the Iron Steamboat Company taking on passengers for Coney Island.

Going down through the harbor I saw the "Leviathan” of the U.S. Lines, then called the largest liner in the world, lying at her pier.  With her three big red, white and blue smokestacks, it was the first time I had ever seen her.

Christopher Street, the ‘‘Robert A. Snyder" of the Saugerties Evening Line was lying on the south side.  Going up river was the little sidewheeler ‘‘Sea Bird" with her large hog frame and walking beam.  The ‘‘Sandy Hook" was just leaving her pier at Houston Street on her way to Atlantic Highlands and the “Mary Patten" was on her way to Gansevoort Street, coming back from Long Branch.  By that time it was nearly 1 p.m. and we were landing at the Franklin Street pier. 

We left New York on our return trip promptly at 4:30 p.m.  For the next two and a half hours we passed a steady parade of steamboats, only this time they were all returning to New York.  We passed again all of the steamers we had in the morning except the "Hendrick Hudson" which had gone on to Albany.  In her stead, we passed the big “Washington Irving" which that day was the down Day Liner from Albany.  The down Cornell tow in charge of the "Perserverance" had gotten all the way down to Hook Mountain.  As we passed very close I remember how loud her whistle sounded when she blew a passing salute. 

When we were at Iona Island, I could see the "Onteora,” another favorite of mine, just pulling away from Bear Mountain.  That was the first I had seen her in two years as she had gone up river after we had landed at New York.  My older brother, Algot, had been the mate of the “Onteora" and in March of the year before he died of pneumonia.  When my father saw the “Onteora" ahead, I remember he got up and without saying a word walked to the other side of the "Ramsdell." I suppose he could not bear to see her got [go?] by knowing my brother was no longer aboard.

As the "Onteora" went by she was just straightening out on her course down river with a heavy port list after completing her turn around.  We passed so close I could make out Ben Hoff, her captain, at the wheel in the pilot house.  We again passed the “Geo. W. Washburn” and the "Senator Rice" with the up Cornell tow off Cons Hook.
​ 
After we left Newburgh we passed the steamer ‘‘Ida" of the Saugerties Evening Line on her way to New York and, off Danskammer Point, the freighter "Storm King" of the Catskill Evening Line also bound south.  After that, as far as I know, we didn’t pass anything.  I remember dozing off in an easy chair on the saloon deck and getting off at Rondout about 11 p.m, and going home to bed.  For a boy, it had been a day to remember.