No. 157- General Slocum
Mention of the steamboat “General Slocum” brings to many persons the memory of a great disaster- a catastrophe that has been labeled “the greatest disaster in the steamboat history of the world”; for it was aboard the “General Slocum” that 1,021 persons, bent on a merry-making excursion, met death.
              
Devine Burtis, Jr., built the wooden hull of the “General Slocum” at Brooklyn in 1891. Her 235 foot keel was laid on December 23, 1890, and she was launched on April 18, 1891. Her over-all length was 255 feet, breadth of hull 37 feet six inches (over her guards she was 70 feet), depth of hold 12 feet six inches. The gross tonnage of the “General Slocum” was listed at 1,284, with net tonnage at 1,013. W.A. Fletcher Company of Hoboken, N.J., built the vertical beam engine which had a cylinder diameter of 53 inches with a 12 foot stroke. She carried two boilers- 23 and a half feet long and nine and a half feet in diameter.
              
The “General Slocum” was built expressly for the excursion trade, operating between New York and Rockaway Beach in line with the steamboat “Grand Republic,” and she was the first of the large excursion steamboats to adopt the innovation of hardwood finish on her outside joiner woodwork. The Knickerbocker Steamboat Company were the owners of the “General Slocum”- using her as a replacement for the steamboat “Columbia,” a sister ship to the “Grand Republic,” which had been sold to the Baltimore & Ohio Railroad Company during the winter of 1888.
              
The “General Slocum” and the “Grand Republic” ran on the Rockaway route for several years, and were then placed in the excursion business on the Hudson river and Long Island Sound- being the largest excursion steamboats out of New York.
              
Then came the tragic event which placed the greatest stain on the pages of steamboat history and caused the “General Slocum” to be remembered with feelings of horror.
              
On June 15, 1904, the “General Slocum” was chartered by the Sunday School and members of the congregation of St. Mark’s German Lutheran Church of New York City for an excursion. A few minutes before 10 o’clock in the morning the “General Slocum” left the recreation pier at the foot of East Third street and started up the East River at a 15 knot clip- it being the plan of the captain to reach Locust Grove, Long Island, the destination of the excursionists, shortly after the noon hour.
              
When the “General Slocum” reached a point opposite 97th street several of the crew, who were on the lower deck, saw puffs of smoke coming through the seams in the flooring. For some reason that will never be known, the discovery was not immediately communicated to Captain Van Schaick. Some of the deck hands went below and ran into the second cabin- believing they could easily extinguish the fire. They found the place a furnace, and rushed above to notify Mate Edward Flanagan of the blaze. The mate directed the fire apparatus placed in use and in turn notified the captain. Captain Van Schaick signaled Pilot Conkling to proceed at full speed ahead and point the bow of the vessel towards North Brothers Island- which was a good mile ahead.
              
The wind was blowing from the north and the swift progress of the “General Slocum” caused a strong air-current which fanned the flames and drove tongues of the fire backwards into the faces of the excursionists, who became panic-stricken. Mothers scurried frantically about in an endeavor to collect their families and guide them to a supposed place of safety while the crew turned their efforts to fighting the raging fire which was fast gaining terrifying proportions. People crowded back onto the after decks of the vessel and children were trampled. A policeman named Kelb endeavored to restore order but his efforts were in vain.
              
It was just 10:20 a.m. when the “General Slocum” was beached at North Brothers Island. When she struck bottom her bow was in four feet of water but her stern, where all the people were crowded, was in approximately 30 feet of water. The instant the vessel grounded many of the terrified passengers, believing they were in shallow water, jumped overboard. Scores of them never came to the surface. To add to the catastrophe the beaching of the vessel caused the stanchions supporting the hurricane deck to collapse under the weight of the milling passengers. Hundreds of unfortunates were hurled downward into the roaring furnace and were instantly burned to death. Later the vessel sunk and many of the bodies were never recovered. In all there were 1,021 people who lost their lives in this great disaster.
              
The hull of the “General Slocum” was later raised and sold to J.H. Gregory of Perth Amboy, N.J., to be broken up, but was later turned into a coal barge. The coal barge was sold to a Philadelphia company on June 15, 1905, for use on the Delaware river- but neither Mr. Gregory nor the purchasers realized at the time that the sale had been made on the anniversary of the fire.
              
The converted hull of the “General Slocum,” bearing the name of “Maryland,” was lost off the New Jersey coast in the vicinity of Sandy Hook on December 3, 1911, and was never recovered. The sister ship of the “General Slocum,” the “Grand Republic,” was likewise destroyed by fire- on April 26, 1924, at the foot of West 156 street.

Editor's Note: Hudson River Maritime Museum is pleased to feature this post by William Stewart Lindsay. He describes his introduction to the museum: "Having listened to your Museum’s interesting podcast interview with the Mariner’s Mirror (https://snr.org.uk/the-mariners-mirror-podcast/) , I am writing to you with details of a journey up the Hudson River, from New York to Albany, in October 1860, by my ancestor William Schaw Lindsay MP." Thank you, Mr. Lindsay, for accepting the museum's invitation to share this article.

Lindsay was on a tour of the Northern States to discuss potential improvements to the Navigation Laws. Born in Ayrshire, Scotland, and brought up in relative poverty, he spent nine years at sea. He became a successful ship’s broker in London, and owned one of the largest shipping companies in the UK at the time. He was elected MP for Sunderland, and advised the government on Maritime matters. He wrote extensively, and twenty or so of his journals are now housed in the National Maritime Museum in London.
​
He was greatly impressed with his trip up the Hudson River. He wrote to his brother-in-law Robert Stewart…
I think that the sail from New York to Albany is one of the finest of its kind in the world; and it is greatly enhanced by the size and beauty of the boats on which you make the trip, and the conveniences, and luxury, of their apartments. The view of the great city on a fine bright morning is in itself, with its domes and spires and busy hum of life, a sight of considerable interest.
 
Then with Jersey City on the opposite shore and Staten Island in the distance, studded with beautiful villas, it forms altogether a most attractive scene. Sailing rapidly past the almost interminable streets, and wherein there lay moored fleets of great ships, towering steamers, and river craft of various kinds, we soon reach the “Palisades”, precipices which rise in some places 500 feet above the river in an almost straight line from their base, richly wooded on their summits, and extending full 20 miles along the Southern shore of the Hudson.
 
From thence to Sing Sing which is 33 miles from New York, there is a succession of charming country residences. Here the river Croton joins the Hudson, and 2 miles further on the aqueduct which carries its clear water to the Metropole, commences. Perhaps no city in the world has a better or longer supply of water than New York, and should it ever reach London in size the Croton River will be far more than sufficient for all its wants.
 
Lindsay then continues, praising the building of the aqueduct. He says that it reminds him of the great work that his bother-in-law Robert carried out, bringing water to the City of Glasgow in Scotland, from Loch Katrine. Robert was Lord Provost of Glasgow at the time, and had to overcome many objections from his colleagues to enable the project to go ahead.
 
Lindsay explains to Robert that the rough weather has prevented him from writing more on this part of the journey. He proceeded up the river on the Persia, one of the Cunard Line ships. He continues…
 
There is no easing in the Cunard line. They have got their works to do in a given time and they go to it full steam ahead right against any gale and clean through the waves so that the green seas in a solid body wash right on the forecastle head when the ship is driving against a gale of wind and are only prevented from washing right aft by the “driving boards” – strait planks stretching across the ship on the fore part of the main deck.
 
As the gale still blows from the Westward and the ocean swell is coming from the Eastward the sea is consequently very confused, and even the Persia is rolling and pitching and at times bobbing up and down with heavy thumps or swaying like a great Yankee rocking chair. I hope we are not going to have a gale from the East for though an old sailor I hate a gale of wind at sea especially when it is right ahead. Everybody in the shape of a passenger is sick and even the sailors look like drenched scarecrows. Then, as the water in sheets of spray flys [sic] over the deck, there is no chance of breathing fresh air unless at the expense of a ducking. So I cannot get out, and here I sit jammed between the sofa and the table with a portfolio before me and an ink stand that every now and again makes a start as if it was determined to fly to the other side of the ship. It is most unpleasant and the only consolation that one gets is the announcement from one of the mates to one of the stewards “that we are going have a regular sneezer* right ahead.” [*A sneezer was an ancient sea term for a gale of wind]. I hate “sneezers right ahead” for they not only disturb one’s equilibrium and stomach and temper but they set everything cracking and jaunting and  splashing, so that I took the liberty of telling the mate that if he’d no better news to give us he would better hold his tongue.

However I shall endeavour to banish all these unpleasant feelings, by going back in imagination to the South waters of the Hudson and endeavour to make more progress with my log of an idle hour than I did yesterday, in spite of the increasing gale.

Conspicuous from the river, and within a mile of Sing Sing, where the waters of Croton commence their artificial course to New York, may be seen the great prison of the State. I was told that the building for the male prisoners was about 500 feet in length with accommodation for 1000 persons, and that for the females three fourths as large. The whole, with outbuildings and yards (for there are no walls round the ground) within the circle of the sentry’s march, occupying about 130 acres.
 
Passing various pretty towns and villages we next reach Caldwell’s landing at the foot of the Dunderberg mountains a very fine and extreme range from which I was informed the view is truly grand and also beautiful. Amidst these mountain ranges the river Hudson forces its course smooth and placid in some parts and at others writhing and rushing in abrupt courses, as if struggling to be released from its iron bound limits.
 
The Hudson here in my opinion far exceeds in grandeur and in beauty any part of the Rhine, Though there are no views of Feudal castles to diversify the scene, there are the modern villas of the merchants of a great and free country – objects to my taste much more interesting that the emblems of a dark and barbaric age which only remind us of the despots who were once their lords and by their reminiscences cast a gloom over earths finest regions.
 
Here Lindsay discusses his impressions of American River Steamboats. He was very impressed with them as he explained…
 
In the midst of this mountain range stands West Point the celebrated military school or college. Here the Daniel Drew stopped to land and embark passengers, the first berthing place since we started from New York from which it is distant 54 miles. We arrived there at 8.20am and had performed the journey in 2 hours and 12 minutes, for I timed it, or at the rate of 25 miles an hour with the wind somewhat ahead of us and a slack tide neither for or against the steamer. I never was in a boat that steamed at anything like her speed and I afterwards learned that the Daniel Drew, American built and engines, was the fastest vessel in the world.
 
I had no idea of her fame when I stepped on board and indeed I had not previously heard of her. She was very much in appearance like the other ordinary passage boats on the Hudson. Her saloon on deck was light, roomy, and elegant – and her form was graceful with a very fine wedge like bow and remarkable clean stern. She moved through the water with great ease and hardly any motion, and her speed, as she passed the various points of land and vessels anchor, more resembled that of an express railway train than a steamer.
 
Her easy and swift motion attracted my attention and, learning that her builder was on board, I soon made the acquaintance of Mr Thomas Collyer of 43rd Street New York. I found Mr Collyer to be a plain sensible man; and the appearance of the Daniel Drew and her performance sufficiently testified to his abilities as a builder of great skill and knowledge. From Mr Collyer I ascertained her dimensions and follows:
Length over all                                             250 feet
Breadth without the usual platform            30½ ditto
Depth from main deck to flat of floor          9½ feet

Lindsay then continues with his description of his journey…
 
I have I fear detained you too long at West Point but the performance of the Daniel Drew induced me to make the remarks I have done in regard to the speed and comfort of our sea going steamers. I must now ask you to accompany me to Albany.

Leaving West Point, which in scenery and in its association is one of the most attractive spots on the Hudson, we pass Crescent, one of the finest of the mountain groups and reach Storm King the last of the range of these Highlands.
 
We then meet scenery if not as grand, quite as beautiful, and from the numerous villages  and well-kept lawns, and magnificent clusters of trees,  interspersed with rocks of sparkling granite, more picturesque. From thence we see the pretty town of Undercliff, pass swiftly on the Island of Pollepel and thereafter the bay of Newburgh around which are the graceful villages of New Windsor, Cornwall, Fishkill and Newburgh.
 
A few miles further on we come to the Town or “City" of Poughkeepsie, entertaining a population of 15000 and situated 75 miles from New York. Five miles further on we reach the village of “Hyde Park” on the Eastside of the river, and in the midst of a country of great fertility studied with handsome villas, and apparently thriving homesteads.
 
From this point to the base of the lofty range of hills known as the Catskills, the scenery is exceedingly beautiful and very interesting. Nor is it much less so from thence to Albany, as we pass a member of thriving towns and pretty villages amongst which may be noted Athens and Stockport,  and various other places the names of which I now forget.
 
Albany is situated 145 miles from New York and the rapidity of the Daniel Drew’s passage gave me close upon five hours to spare before the train started for Niagara. I employed the spare time at my disposal in strolling through the Town or rather “City” as that is the name given to any place in America containing more than 10,000 inhabitants. I think they are all either villages or corporate cities.
 
Albany is an old and somewhat aristocratic city containing 65,000 inhabitants, and it is the capital of the State of New York. It is pleasantly situated on high ground rising from the Hudson and carries on a considerable trade with the West and North by means of the Erie and also the Chaplain canals: and it is besides, the point from which many important lines of railway diverge. The streets are wide and in many cases lined with trees, and the houses are well built, and to all natured appearances very clean. In the vicinity of the State Capital, which is an imposing building, there are many very handsome mansions.
​

​Here, Lindsay ended his description of his journey on the Hudson River. Many years later, in 1876, he published a comprehensive reference entitled ‘The History of Merchant Shipping and Ancient Commerce’ in four volumes. For many years it was a reference that many interested in shipping, turned to. In this work, he praises Robert Fulton, whose early steamer, the Clermont, on the Hudson River, paved the way for passenger steamers. He devoted several pages to Fulton. (see History of Merchant Shipping, Lindsay, Vol 4 pages 48-59). He felt that Fulton’s innovation had been overlooked.
 
His comments were also published in The Pall Mall Gazette, 26 December 1874…
 
Mr. Lindsay is deliberately of opinion that the Marquis of Worcester is the first person who ever constructed a steam engine; and that though Papin, Savery, Jonathan Hulls, the Marquis de Jouffroy, Bramah, and others, helped forward very materially the knowledge of steam as a motive power, to Fulton is due the credit of having put former discoveries and his own improvements to practical use by running a steam-boat regularly for purposes of trade. This pioneer vessel, destined to have myriads of followers, was the Clermont, which as the year 1807, only two years after Nelson had fallen at Trafalgar, plied regularly between New York and Albany, and made an average speed of five miles an hour.
 
We agree with Mr Lindsay in his strong reprobation of Rennie and other engineers who have not scrupled to call Fulton a charlatan and a quack because he made use of other men’s discoveries.
 
Lord Worcester was the first man to make a steam-engine; Watt was the first man to show how such an engine could be used to propel ships; Fulton was the first man to propel ships with steam-engines. Surely, when we reflect what steam has done for the commerce, the civilization, the happiness of the world, we can do equal homage to that triumvirate of genius without disparagement to either.
 
Poor Fulton was neither so prosperous nor so happy that we need grudge him his fair share of fame. Persecuted by jealous rivals, oppressed by the State which he had benefited, he died poor and broken hearted; but he has left behind him an enduring fame and an everlasting stigma on those who nicknamed his undertaking “Fulton’s Folly”.
 
I can’t end mentioning Fulton without this cutting. It was among Lindsay’s papers:-
 
ADVENTURES, NATIONAL CUSTOMS, AND CURIOUS FACTS.
 
FULTON'S FIRST STEAM VOYAGE,
BY R. W. HASKINS.
Some years since, I formed a travelling acquaintance, upon a steamboat on the Hudson River, with a gentleman, who, on that occasion, related to me some incidents of the first voyage of Fulton, to Albany, in his steamboat, the Clermont, which I never met with elsewhere. The gentleman’s name I have now lost, but I urged him, at the time, to publish what he related; which, however, so far as I knew, he had never done. -
 
"I chanced," said my narrator, "to be at Albany on business, when Fulton arrived there in his unheard-of craft, which everybody felt so much interest in seeing. Being ready to leave, and hearing that this craft was to return to New York, I repaired on board and inquired for Mr. Fulton. I was referred to the cabin, and there found a plain, gentlemanly man, wholly alone, and engaged in writing.
 
'Mr. Fulton, I presume?’
 ‘Yes, Sir?’
 ‘Do you return to New York with this boat?’
 'We shall try to get back, Sir.'
 `Can I have a passage down?’
 ‘You can take your chance with us, Sir.'
 
"I inquired the amount to be paid; and, after a moment's hesitation, a sum, I think six dollars, was named. The amount, in coin, I laid in his open hand; and, with an eye fixed upon it, he remained so long motionless that I supposed there might be a miscount, and said to him, 'Is that right Sir?

This roused him, as from a kind of reverie; and, as he looked up at me, a tear was trembling in his eye and his voice faltered, as he said, 'Excuse me, Sir, but memory was busy, as I contemplated this, the first pecuniary reward I have ever received for all my exertions in adapting steam to navigation. I would gladly commemorate the occasion over a bottle of wine with you, but really I am too poor, even for that, just now; yet I trust we may meet again when this will not be so.’
 
"Some four years after this, when the Clermont had been greatly improved, and two new boats made – making Fulton's fleet three boats regularly plying between New York and Albany - I took passage in one of these, for the latter city. The cabin in that day was below; and as I walked its length to and fro, I saw I was closely observed by one I supposed a stranger. Soon, however, I recalled the features of Mr Fulton; but without disclosing this, I continued my walk, and waited the result. At length, in passing his seat our eyes met, when he sprang to his feet, and eagerly seizing my hand, exclaimed, ‘I knew it must be you, for your features have never escaped me; and although I am still far from rich, yet I may venture that bottle now.’ – It was ordered; and during its discussion Mr Fulton ran rapidly but vividly over his experience of the world’s coldness and sneers, and of the hopes, fears and appointments, and difficulties that were scattered through the whole career of discovery, up to that very point of his final, crowning triumph, at which he so fully felt he had at last arrived.
 
‘And in reviewing these,’ said he, ‘I have again and again recalled the occasion and the incident of our first interview, at Albany; and never have I done so without its renewing in my mind the vivid emotion it originally caused. That seemed, and still does seem, to me, the turning point in my destiny – the dividing line between light and darkness, in my career upon earth; for it was the first actual recognition of my usefulness to my fellow men.’
 
Such, then, were the events coupled with the very dawn of steam navigation – a dawn so recent as to be still recollected by many; and such as Fulton here related them, were causing a revolution in navigation, which has almost literally brought the ends of the earth into contact.
 
Having read this, all I can say is how lucky you are that your Museum is associated with such a fine pioneer. I am sure that you serve him well. He deserves it.

                                                 No. 20- Dean Richmond

​With the engine from the wrecked “Francis Skiddy” reconditioned and placed in a new wooden hull, the steamboat “Dean Richmond” came into being in 1865 as the property of the People’s Line running in night service between New York and Albany. This vessel like all the other splendid crafts built for the People’s Line was the acme of steamboat construction at that time.
              
While the vessel was still on the ways, newspapers persisted in reporting the progress being made in the building of the “General Grant”, but the officials of the People’s Line saw fit to name the vessel “Dean Richmond” in honor of the president of the New York Central Railroad.
              
Misfortune dogged the patch of the “Dean Richmond” in a like manner as those of other river craft, and on a moonlight night of September 20, 1867, she was in a collision with another vessel and sunk. While sailing south just below Rhinecliff, she sighted the Troy night boat, “C. Vanderbilt.” William Vanderburgh blew the customary one whistle which was answered by the “C. Vanderbilt” in a like manner, but unfortunately a propeller tug following the “Dean Richmond” also blew her whistle, causing a misunderstanding. The “Dean Richmond” changed her course but the “C. Vanderbilt” did not, and the latter vessel crashed into the larboard quarter of the “Dean Richmond” 30 feet aft of the bow, staving in the forward cabin. The engineer of the stricken vessel immediately raised the safety valves thus averting an explosion. The bow of the “C. Vanderbilt” was so firmly wedged into the “Dean Richmond that the latter boat was held up long enough to allow her passengers to climb over the wreckage onto the decks of the “C. Vanderbilt” before the water rose to the upper tier of the “Richmond’s” staterooms. A colored porter employed on the “Dean Richmond” drowned and his body was recovered by George W. Murdock.
              
The Dean Richmond was afterward raised, repaired, and again placed in service on the night line.
              
On June 14, 1877 just above Rockland Lake on a trip to Albany, the “Dean Richmond” met with another accident. This was caused by the breaking of a connecting rod and the end of the walking beam snapping off. No lives were lost, or anyone injured in this accident, but several thousand dollars worth of damage was done to the engine of the vessel.
              
The “Dean Richmond” was again repaired and placed in regular service until the advent of the steamboat “C.W. Morse” in 1904 when the “Richmond” was laid up and used only as an extra boat. After the burning of the “City Of Troy” belonging to the Citizen’s Line of Troy, on April 5, 1907, the “Dean Richmond was placed in service on the Troy route. Finally in 1909, having outlived her usefulness, the “Dean Richmond” was sold to wreckers in Boston and sailed to that port on her last trip where she was burned for the old metal that was used in her construction.

RIVER BOATS. An Interesting Sketch of Steamers Whose Names Are Familiar.
Fulton's Clermont Seventy-seven Years Ago and the Fast Steamers of the Present Day - The Limbo Where Old Hulks Rest from Their Labors -  Durability of Engines.

A little over seventy-seven years have elapsed since Fulton's Clermont started from New York and splashed and spluttered away toward Albany. Although several inventors had previously succeeded in applying steam as a propelling power to boats, Fulton's was the first venture which was followed by practical results, and the growth of steam navigation since that day has been remarkable. Previous to this, many of our Western rivers were practically closed to commerce by reason of their swift currents, which precluded any attempt at navigation. The commerce of the Hudson River was carried on by small sloops, and it is interesting to note the great results which have sprung from that trial trip of the Clermont in 1807.

According to the latest statistics the number of steam vessels plying on our inland waters is not far from 5,000, including canal, towing and freight boats of every description, and as we look it the splendid floating palaces that sustain our inland commerce to-day, we can imagine the astonishment that would mark the faces of the honest old burghers of four score years ago, if they could return for a brief period, to their former homes. Their amazement would not be lessened either, when informed of the various improvements that have been made from time to time since "Fulton's Folly," as they called her, made her successful trial trip. Notwithstanding the many improvements made in marine architecture, it is a curious fact that the engine has undergone but few changes, and the old "walking beam" type is still in use on nearly all of our river steamers. An engine generally outwears two hulls, and many steamers on the Hudson River and in this vicinity have in them the engines of boats built forty and fifty years ago.

The recent rebuilding of the famous Dean Richmond, of the People's Line, and the breaking up of the old Thomas Powell, recalls some of the memorable days previous to and during the war, when the opposition was so fierce between the rival lines on the Hudson River. Many of the steamers of that period have long since passed out of existence, while some of them are still in service as tow boats, and others are rotting away at Port Ewen, on the Hudson. This place is called the cemetery for old steamboats, scores of them having been brought here, their engines taken out and placed in other boats, and their hulls broken up.

No North Riverboat was better known than the Thomas Powell. She was always a favorite with the traveling public, and during the forty years of service on the river no boat of her inches could equal her in speed. She was built in New York in 1846, for Thomas Powell and Homer Ramsdell, of Newburgh, and was placed on the line between that place and New York: After running here a few years she was sold to parties in Philadelphia, who ran her on the Delaware River, and was subsequently brought back and placed on the North River again as a day boat to Rondout. Later on the Citizens’ Line, of Troy, purchased her, and, after lengthening her and putting on a suite of state rooms, placed her on the night line to Troy, where she ran for a number of years, with the old Sunnyside. From the day she was built until she was broken up, the Thomas Powell carried the same name, which fact speaks volumes in itself, in those days when so many old boats are palmed off on the traveling public as new, by the use of a little paint and putty and a new name. 

The New World was another famous boat, built about the same time, and ran for a number of years as a day boat to Albany. Old steamboatmen to-day say the New World was the fastest steamer that ever turned a wheel on the North River. Her engine is now in the St. John, of the People's Line.

Three other steamers engaged in the traffic on the river about this time were also famous for their speed. They were the Alida, Armenia and Reindeer, which, with the Henry Clay, formed the two opposition day lines to Albany in 1852. These boats made the principal landings along the river, and so fierce was the opposition between the two lines that scarcely a day passed that one or the other of the boats did not narrowly escape a serious collision at some place in the race for first landing. Runners for each line were on the docks and tickets sold as low as ten and twelve cents for a passage from Albany to New York, and it is said that the confusion at some of our excursion wharves to-day would be peaceful in comparison to the scene at some of the up river docks at this time. During a race on the down trip in the Summer of this year the Henry Clay caught fire around her boiler and was burned to the water's edge - many of the passengers losing their lives before the opposition boat, which was some distance astern, could reach the burning steamer. The Reindeer was also destroyed by fire a short time after this; the Armenia continued on the day line until a few years since, when she was taken to Washington, D. C, where she is still in service on the Potomac River. The Alida was until quite recently engaged in the towing business, and her hull is now among the decaying hulks at Port Ewen.

The steamer Senator was built at New York, in 1846, and taken to California during the "gold fever” in 1849, and ran on the Sacramento River until 1854, when she was fitted up for outside business, running to San Diego. She continued on the southern route until purchased by the Pacific Mail Company. While running on the Sacramento, the cabin passage was $35 and deck passage $15, and it was not long before she paid for herself ten times over, her receipts averaging close to $20,000 a trip. Although fitted with new boilers on several occasions, her engine, a vertical beam, remained in her from first to last, and her after cabin through all changes was never touched, as the joiners on all occasions declined, for the reason that the highly polished rosewood and mahogany could not be improved on. At the lowest calculation over a million passengers have traveled on her, and it is said she made more gold than could be carried on her. She outlived scores of the finest steamers afloat, and about a year ago was converted into a coal hulk and sent to New Zealand.
The old Oregon and Isaac Newton ran for many years. The former was sunk in a collision with one of the Stonington boats in the North River, off Desbrosses street and the latter was destroyed by fire near Fort Lee while on the up trip. The Erie, Champlain and Ohio were peculiar looking craft, having a separate engine and walking beam for each wheel. The Santa Claus, South America and Francis Skiddy were also famous "old timers," the latter being at one time one of the regular Albany day boats. She had four boilers and carried four smoke stacks and did not run long before she was sunk, her engine being placed in the Dean Richmond. The last mentioned boat has just been rebuilt at a cost of over $100,000. When she was first built she was the finest river steamer afloat, many novel arrangements now common to a first class passenger steamer being introduced for the first time in her construction. Among these were the bedstead berths in the staterooms, gas lighting, card rooms, barber shop, smoking room, etc.

Among the famous boats of to-day on the Hudson River may be mentioned the Mary Powell, which after a service of twenty odd years is still in the prime of her life, having been entirely rebuilt a few years ago. She is the "grayhound," of the Hudson, and the most popular boat on the river, and has never been off the line between Rondout and New York since she was launched. Until quite recently she was owned by her commander. Captain A. L. Anderson, but on account of failing health he very reluctantly sold her to Thomas Cornell, of Rondout, and Captain John Brinkerhoff, of Poughkeepsie.
​

The latest addition to the fleet of Hudson River steamers is the iron propeller City of Kingston, built by Harlan & Hollingsworth at Wilmington, Del. Besides being a new departure in the line of river steamers, she is also noticeable from having a type of engine heretofore unknown on the Hudson River. It is a compound direct action engine, with high pressure and low pressure cylinders, of the same pattern in use on the finest ocean steamers of to-day. She is lighted by electricity, and has steam steering gear, and all the latest appliances known in marine architecture.

The freight steamer City of Fall River, built two years ago, was the first boat ever built with a compound walking beam engine, and her success has far exceeded the hopes of her builders. The second steamer supplied with a compound walking beam engine is the new ferryboat built for the Newburgh and Fishkill Ferry. She was built by Ward, Stanton & Co. at Newburgh and is now running on the above named route.

Strange as it may sound in those days of progress, it is nevertheless a fact that among the steamboats built in recent years none have ever succeeded in breaking the record of fast time made by the steamers of the ante bellum days. The principal reason for this is found in the fact that the boats of to-day are built too deep; the great consideration being ample freight and passenger accommodations rather than speed. Then again, the boats of to-day do not have the power in proportion to their size which the old timers possessed. Twenty-five years ago it was a common occurrence for one of the Albany day boats to average a speed of twenty-four miles an hour; to-day the boats on the same route average from eighteen to twenty miles an hour.

Fulton's Clermont ran from New York to Albany in thirty-two hours actual running time. The fastest recorded time over the same route was made by the New World, when she ran from Chambers street to Albany dock in six hours and thirteenth minutes, making eleven landings, which would bring her actual running time inside of six hours. The Chauncey Vibbard has made the same run in six hours and forty-two minutes. On another occasion the New World ran from New York to Anthony's Nose, a distance of forty-eight miles, in two hours.
"The North River steamboats don't go as fast now as in old times," said an old engineer, not long ago. "There's no such opposition among the steamboat lines now as existed then. The crafts have it in 'em, though, I think. Short runs ore not the best tests of steamboats relative speed. I remember once the old South America ran from the foot of Jay street up to a mile above Piermont in an hour, distance twenty-six miles. She had a strong southerly wind and the flood tide in her favor at the time. This is pretty fast traveling, but I don't care what they say to the contrary, when the New World first came out and clinched the Thomas Powell in a run up the river, floating craft never traveled through the water faster than they did."

The question as to which is the fastest boat on the Hudson River at the present day remains to be settled between the steamer Mary Powell and the steel steamer Albany, of the day line. Old steamboat men incline to the opinion that the latter is the fastest, but be that as it may, it is a fact that the Albany has never yet been run to her utmost speed, and if a race were arranged between them thousands of dollars would change hands in wagers on the relative merits of these two crack steamers. The owners of both boats are reluctant to have the question settled, as in either case a reputation is at stake, and they are quite content to let the matter stand in doubt. D. B. F.

On a bright June morning in 1883, a boat flying the red and yellow Chinese flag left a pier in lower Manhattan and steamed up the Hudson River. Onboard were hundreds of Chinese American men who attended missionary Sunday Schools. Though most of these adult pupils worked for low wages in steam laundries that mechanized the washing of clothes, they had saved their pennies to organize a getaway for the white women who taught them how to speak English and read the Bible. Through telescopes and opera glasses, students and their teachers watched from the deck of the steamer as city turned to mountains, wetlands, forests, and meadows.[1] After a journey of almost fifty miles, the party landed at Iona Island to explore hundreds of acres of woodland, grassy lawn, salt marsh, and an abandoned vineyard.[2] “Frantic with excitement,” the Chinese American students “immediately set off quantities of fireworks” that turned “the atmosphere of the island blue,” according to the New York Times. As smoke and sparks shaped like “dragons, serpents, and birds of different species” filled the air, the smell of gunpowder masked the salty sea breeze.[3] After a day spent listening to music, resting in the shade, flying kites, picnicking, and praying, the party embarked for home in the late afternoon.[4]

 This was one of many steamboat excursions that exposed the city’s working people to the wilder places outside New York in the late nineteenth century. All excursionists shared the desire to see gorgeous scenery, relax and recover from a relentless work schedule, and breathe air that was much fresher than what could be found on the crowded and unsanitary streets of Manhattan. But excursions had extra layers of meaning for Chinese Americans during the era of Chinese Exclusion. 

 The excursion to Iona Island took place in 1883, the year after U.S. legislators passed the first Chinese Exclusion Act in the context of rising anti-Chinese xenophobia. For more than a decade, white workers had been condemning immigrants from China, framing boatloads of hungry newcomers as ruthless competitors whose willingness to labor for low wages would push others out of work. The following horrifically racist cartoon reflects this fear, blaming people of Chinese descent for low pay and job scarcity in the United States. 

Race drew a perceived line between worthy workers and harmful outsiders. Newcomers from Europe arrived in much higher numbers, but those from China faced extra blame and condemnation. Three hundred German American protesters who gathered in New York’s Tompkins Square in 1870 cheered as a labor leader condemned “the lowest and most degraded of the Chinese barbaric race” for taking jobs away from white immigrants.[5] Nativist fearmongering overshadowed the culpability of greedy employers, who drove down wages knowing that there would always be someone desperate enough to accept less pay. What made laborers replaceable, furthermore, was the mechanization of production that eliminated the need for extensive job training. Immigrants of Chinese descent were scapegoats during a complex transition to industrial capitalism. This prejudice became policy in 1882, when the Chinese Exclusion Act banned Chinese laborers from entering the United States.[6]

The excursion to Iona Island that took place the next year pushed back against the Chinese Exclusion Act. The strategic guest list suggests that the getaway was about politics as much as play. Organizer Der Ah Wing invited prominent Chinese Americans to join the Sunday school students and their teachers, like editor of the Chinese American newspaper Wong Chin Foo and Chinese Consul Au Yang Ming. White guests included Postmaster Henry Pearson, who managed the delivery of mail from China, and merchant Vernon Seaman, who spoke Chinese and was an advocate against exclusion.[7] Also onboard was Customs House Collector William Robertson, who enforced the Chinese Exclusion Act as the manager of New York’s port. Robertson shared the deck with a man he had detained: Professor Shin Chin Sun, who arrived without the proper paperwork to prove that he was not a laborer banned from entry to the country.[8] The excursion set the stage for influential men from opposing sides of the nativist law to meet one another and engage in potentially transformative conversations onboard the steamboat and in the leafy grove at Iona Island.

The Sunday School excursion furthermore pushed a story of friendship between people of Chinese and European descent into public view, countering the pervasive narrative of conflict and competition. Newspapers reported that “American ladies and Chinese gentlemen were chatting affably together, Chinese boys were playing with American children, and the language of America and China mingled in conversation.”[9] Harper’s Magazine printed the following image of students and their teachers listening to music and flying kites together at Iona Island. While the white women’s faces are drawn more carefully, the Chinese American men are depicted here with much more respect than in the cartoon above. The friendly relationships that the excursion showcased likely shaped this media coverage that was much less dehumanizing towards people of Chinese descent than was usual for the time.

The excursion taught some onlookers that people of Chinese descent could assimilate into New York’s general population. The Times framed the excursion as proof of “the civilization of American-resident Chinamen,” drawing on the racist framework that cast non-Westerners as uncivilized, but also breaking from stereotypes of Chinese Americans as permanent outsiders.[10] As other newspapers reported on the prayers and religious songs that excursionists sang together, Christian readers learned that they shared more with some of their Chinese American neighbors than they might have assumed. The excursion to Iona Island made similarities and amity between New Yorkers of Chinese and European descent visible at a tense moment when many whites argued that immigrants from China were too different to become Americans. Excursions became an annual tradition for Sunday schools because these getaways offered not just fun and relaxation away from the city, but also opportunities to shift ideas about Chinese Americans.[11]

As journalist Wong Chin Foo covered the Iona Island excursion, he recognized the power of the event. But Wong was not a Christian. In 1888, he joined with fellow members of the Knee Hop Hong mutual aid society to organize what he called a “heathen picnic” for “the anti-Christian element of the Chinese.”[12] This excursion, which landed at Staten Island’s Bay Cliff Grove, also pushed against anti-Chinese nativism—but from another angle. While the Sunday School excursion drew attention to Chinese immigrants who converted to Christianity, members of the Knee Hop Hong were proud “joss worshippers,” according to Wong, who held fast to their beliefs.[13]

The Knee Hop Hong excursion rejected cultural assimilationism too. While Sunday school excursionists drank coffee and ate what the Brooklyn Daily Eagle called “American dishes,” those on the Knee Hop Hong excursion toasted with “sparkling Noi Mai Dul” and ate chow chop suey.[14] Some smoked opium, a drug that was becoming increasingly taboo as prejudice towards Chinese people and culture mounted.[15] Excursionists indulged in Chinese American food, drink, and drugs as they celebrated what Wong called “the Birthday of Chinatown,” or the “founding of the New York colony.”[16] By praising the neighborhood where Chinese culture flourished, members of the Knee Hop Hong insisted that people of Chinese descent belonged in New York whether or not they assimilated.[17]

The Knee Hop Hong excursion displayed the political and economic influence of Chinese American New Yorkers.[18] Decked out in diamonds, the organization’s president Tom Lee was a prospective alderman who reaped riches from Chinatown’s gambling halls and opium dens.[19] Also aboard were the neighborhood’s prominent merchants and Gon Hor, the grand master of the Chinese Free Masons.[20] Only “a small number of tickets,” Wong explained, were given to whites, “who must come well recommended as to character.”[21] While the Sunday school excursion showcased paternalistic relationships between white missionaries and their Chinese students and included an enemy who enforced the nativist law, the Knee Hop Hong made it clear that the only whites welcome aboard were demonstrated friends and collaborators. Chinese Americans had power of their own making, organizers of the excursion seemed to say, and owed no one deference.

Once the party reached its destination in Staten Island, the crowd of at least 400 people listened to what Wong called “patriotic speeches,” given in both English and Chinese, that denounced exclusion.[22] JC Baptize asserted that “Chinese immigration was restricted by the politicians lest the Aldermen lose their jobs and a Chinaman be elected President of the United States.”[23] In his speech, Wong praised “the prosperity of the Chinese merchants, despite the opposition of Americans to them.”[24] The “prejudice of Americans” towards people of Chinese descent harmed the United States, Wong asserted, because “a grand result would be achieved if the moral and political virtues of the Chinese could be added to the enterprise and energy of the Americans.”[25] Insisting that immigrants from China enhanced the nation, speakers countered assumptions that their community was parasitic. Through their words and actions, these excursionists argued that they were worthy Americans because of, rather than despite, their Chinese roots.

Yet newspapers stuck to hateful tropes when they covered the Knee Hop Hong excursion. The Sun reported on “unmarried gentlemen” who smoked opium with their white dates before laying down together to “sleep off its effects.”[26] Hinting at the possible outcomes of these taboo activities, the Evening World mockingly quipped that “a number of the merchants had their white wives and cute half-breed children with them.”[27] The next week, the Philadelphia Inquirer called the engagement of grocer Huet Sing to Florence McGusty a “sequel to the great heathen picnic.”[28] Most Chinese American men who dreamed of marriage and family partnered with white women, as biased enforcement of the 1875 Page Act—which banned immigrants who might pursue “lewd and immoral purposes”—targeted Asian women. These interracial unions triggered a stereotype that cast men of Chinese descent as sexual predators.

This racist myth was what eventually brought about the end of Sunday school excursions. The News described “pretty Sunday school teachers” watching students who played “in their childlike way” on an excursion in 1886, but assumptions that these Chinese American men were naïve and asexual eroded the next decade.[29] In 1895, the Police Illustrated News reported that a white teacher went “in the shrubbery” at Iona Island with her “favorite Sunday School scholar.” Making it clear what the pair were up to, the paper noted that many “slant-eyed children of white women by Chinese fathers” attended the trip too.[30] Then in 1909, the body of Sunday school teacher Elsie Siegel was found in a trunk in Chinatown. As authorities searched for her murderer, the media cast suspicion far beyond her classroom and acquaintances—towards all Chinese Americans.[31] The annual excursion was canceled, as newspapers from as far away as Minnesota reported that “there were many Lotharios among these Chinamen, sleek satiny yellow men, who boasted of their conquests of young pretty teachers.”[32] The annual excursion became a threat, rather than a boon, to the reputations of Chinese Americans.

In the late nineteenth and early twentieth centuries, New Yorkers of Chinese descent used steamboat excursions to make a case for their belonging. Sunday school students showcased friendly relationships with their teachers along with their religious and cultural assimilation. Members of the Knee Hop Hong proudly practiced traditions from China as they sailed out of New York Harbor, asserting that they could be Chinese and American at the same time. Both encountered suspicion and harmful stereotypes that only grew in the following decades, as the Chinese Exclusion Act was extended multiple times and expanded to cover most of Asia. Excursions aimed to soften views of immigration from China, but there was no escaping xenophobia and racism during the long era of Chinese exclusion—even during a holiday away from daily urban life. 

Endnotes:
[1] “A Celestial Racket,” Truth, June 12, 1883, 1.
[2] Iona Island Application to General Services Administration, May 20, 1965, Bear Mountain Archives at Iona Island, Palisades Interstate Park Commission.
[3] “The First Chinese Picnic,” New York Times, June 12, 1883, 1.
[4] “The First Chinese Picnic,” Brooklyn Daily Eagle, June 17, 1883, 1.
[5] “The Coming Coolie,” New York Times, July 1, 1870, 1. This protest responded to the hiring of 68 Chinese immigrants to work at the Passaic Steam Laundry in Belleville (now Newark), NJ. More people of Chinese descent were settling in East Coast cities, as violence on the West Coast pushed them away. Tyler Anbinder, City of Dreams: The 400-Year Epic History of Immigrant New York (Boston: Houghton Mifflin Harcourt, 2016), 521.
[6] Erika Lee, America for Americans: A History of Xenophobia in the United States (New York: Basic Books, 2019), 73-112.
[7] “Mails from China and Australia,” New York Times, May 20, 1883, 10; “The Baptist Pastors,” New York Times, March 14, 1882, 3.
[8] “The Chinese Excursion,” Evening Telegram, June 9, 1883, 1.
[9] “The First Chinese Picnic,” Brooklyn Daily Eagle, June 17, 1883, 1.
[10] “The First Chinese Picnic,” New York Times, June 12, 1883, 1. For views of Chinese immigrants as incapable of assimilation, see Tyler Anbinder, Five Points: The 19th-Century Neighborhood That Invented Tapdance, Stole Elections, and Became the World’s Most Notorious Slum (New York: The Free Press, 2001), 422; John Kuo Wei Tchen, New York before Chinatown: Orientalism and the Shaping of American Culture 1776-1882 (Baltimore: Johns Hopkins University Press, 1999), 266-278.
[11] “Chinamen have a Picnic,” New-York Daily Tribune, June 9, 1885, 5; “Chinamen in New York,” The News, July 23, 1886, 1.
[12] “A Celestial Racket,” Truth, June 12, 1883, 1.
[13] Joss houses are statues that believers in Taoism, Confucianism, Buddhism, and ancestor worship care for as homes to deities. Older stock New Yorkers were highly suspicious of Chinese religion. Anbinder, Five Points, 417-418.
[14] “The First Chinese Picnic,” Brooklyn Daily Eagle, June 17, 1883, 1.
[15] “Chinamen on a Picnic,” New-York Daily Tribune, July 24, 1888, 5; Anbinder, Five Points, 407, 410, 413.
[16] Wong Chin Foo, “A Heathen Picnic,” The Sun, July 16, 1888, 5.
[17] By the time the neighborhood gained the name “Chinatown” in the 1880s, few Chinese American New Yorkers lived there, instead settling throughout the city and Brooklyn near the laundries where most they worked. But they went to Chinatown to shop and socialize. Daniel Czitrom, New York Exposed: The Gilded Age Police Scandal that Launched the Progressive Era (New York: Oxford University Press, 2016), 396-401; Anbinder, Five Points, 405.
[18] While many New Yorkers of Chinese descent were among the city’s lowest paid workers, some had amassed fortunes. Anbinder, Five Points, 403.
[19] “Chinatown’s Mayor Dead,” New York Times, January 11, 1918, 6; Arthur Bonner, Alas! What Brought Thee Hither? The Chinese in New York, 1800-1950 (Madison: Fairleigh Dickinson University Press, 1997), 85; Anbinder, Five Points, 410-413.
[20] “The Chinamen’s Picnic,” New York Times, July 23, 1888, 8.
[21] Wong Chin Foo, “A Heathen Picnic,” The Sun, July 16, 1888, 5.
[22] Wong Chin Foo, “A Heathen Picnic,” The Sun, July 16, 1888, 5.
[23] “Chinamen on a Picnic,” New-York Daily Tribune, July 24, 1888, 5.
[24] “Knee-Hop-Hongs on a Lark,” Evening World, July 23, 1888, 2.
[25] “The Heathen Chinese,” The Sun, July 24, 1888, 2.
[26] “The Heathen Chinese,” The Sun, July 24, 1888, 2.
[27] “Knee-Hop-Hongs on a Lark,” Evening World, July 23, 1888, 2.
[28] “A Heathen Captures a Christian Heart,” The Philadelphia Inquirer, July 26, 1888, 1.
[29] “Chinamen in New York,” The News, July 23, 1886, 1.
[30] “Ching a Ling’s Picnic,” Illustrated Police News, June 22, 1895, 3.
[31] Mary Ting Yi Lui, The Chinatown Trunk Mystery: Murder, Miscegenation, and other Dangerous Encounters in Turn-of-the-Century New York City (Princeton: Princeton University Press, 2005); Bonner, Alas!, 120.
[32] “Boasts of the Pagans,” The Duluth Evening Herald, June 25, 1909, 6.

                                                No. 10- Francis Skiddy
Appearing on the river for the first time in June, 1852, the 1,235 ton, 322 foot “Francis Skiddy” created somewhat of a sensation, as she was one of the most up-to-date vessels that had yet sailed into the waters of the Hudson.
              
During the “forties,” steamboats began to appear with saloons on the second deck, with the “Empire,” “Oregon,” “Isaac Newton” and “Hendrick Hudson” among the first to be so constructed. These vessels were used on the night lines, and the dayboats had their dining rooms in the hold aft. They all carried pilot houses on the second deck, but in the year 1852 the “Francis Skiddy” was launched with the saloon on the second deck and the pilot house resting on a third deck. As a further departure from the usual standards, the “Francis Skiddy” sported a long and extensive promenade on her second deck for the use of the passengers. This innovation was formed by a roof extending from just forward of the boilers to a point a short distance aft of the after boilers, and from that point to the stern a light framework was erected on which an awning could be stretched. The design was the creation of George Collyer, of New York city.
              
On June 30, 1852, the “Francis Skiddy” left the foot of Chambers street, New York, and sailed up the river to Hudson in the time of five hours and three minutes, allowing 20 minutes for five landings en route. This is a speed of 23.04 miles per hour and established a record which this vessel held until some time after the Civil War. On her regular run between New York and Albany, the “Francis Skiddy” averaged seven and a half hours and made a round trip every 24 hours for a period in 1853.
              
In 1855, the “Francis Skiddy” was rebuilt into a three-deck night boat, the cabins being placed on the second and third decks. This added weight brought her down lower in the water and caused her speed to be considerably less than before. These state rooms, built into her in much the same manner as those on the “New World” and the “Isaac Newton,” caused her to draw too much to make the trip to Troy, and so an additional hull was built around the old hull, decreasing the draft by two feet and thus making it possible to put into Troy. The larger hull was framed the same as that of a new boat and was fastened around the hull of the “Francis Skiddy” in such a manner that amidships there was a distance of six feet between the inner and outer hulls.
              
On the night of November 28, 1861, the “Francis Skiddy” was proceeding down the river off Blue Point, two miles below Poughkeepsie, and encountered the schooner “W.W. Reynolds.” It was a “pitch dark” night and the schooner had failed to hang out her lights, and before the pilot of the “Francis Skiddy,” Hazzard Morey, realized his proximity of the schooner, there was a crash. Morey veered his vessel to the windward but too late to avoid the collision, and the schooner’s bowsprit entered the galley’s window and penetrated the boiler of the “Francis Skiddy,” causing an explosion in which three of the firemen were killed and four passengers fatally scalded.
              
​The damage was repaired and the “Francis Skiddy” resumed her schedule. Then on the night of November 25, 1864, she ran aground at Van Wie’s Point, four miles below Albany, and was wrecked. Her engine was salvaged and placed in the new steamboat, “Dean Richmond,” in 1865, but her hull was broken up for scrap.

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. See more of Murdock's articles in "Steamboat Biographies". 

                                                         No. 100- Homer Ramsdell
Although she left the waters of the Hudson- the river where she was launched- nine years ago, the memory of the steamer “Homer Ramsdell” is still a vivid picture to many of the present generation, and the vessel which once plowed the waters of the Hudson river, is still in service although the name “Homer Ramsdell” no longer appears on her bow.

The steel hull of the “Homer Ramsdell” was built by the T.S. Marvel & Company at Newburgh in 1887, and her engine was the product of William Wright, also of Newburgh. Her dimensions are listed: Length of hull, 225 feet, 8 inches, breadth of hull 32 feet, 6 inches (over guards, 37 feet, 6 inches), depth of hold 11 feet, 9 inches; engine compound fore and aft, diameter of cylinders, high pressure 28 inches, low pressure 52 inches by 36 inch stroke. She had two steel boilers of the lobster-back type which were constructed by W. & A. Fletcher Company at Hoboken, New Jersey. Her gross tonnage was 1181, and her net tonnage 822.

The “Homer Ramsdell” was built for the night line between Newburgh and New York, and was launched on February 24, 1887. She was owned by the Homer Ramsdell Transportation Company of Newburgh, and was a large, speedy, first class propellor steamboat of the most modern design. Her speed was rated at 16 miles per hour and she cost $115,000 when she was completed.

Two fast trips recorded in the history of the “Homer Ramsdell,” one on August 21, 1887, and the other on July 28, 1889, (from New York to Newburgh), give a good indication of the speed of the steamboat, when she completed the trip in three hours and nine minutes, and three hours and seven minutes respectively.

One year before the launching of the “Homer Ramsdell,” the Homer Ramsdell Transportation Company had the propeller steamboat “Newburgh” built at Philadelphia. The “Newburgh” was launched at the Quaker city on April 1, 1886, and the steamer “Homer Ramsdell” was constructed as a consort for the “Newburgh” on the New York line. These two vessels plied this route until 1899 when a new company was formed. This new company, the Central Hudson Steamboat Company, was formed out of the former Poughkeepsie Transportation Company and the Romer & Tremper Line of Rondout.

On Sunday evening, May 21, 1911, after 24 years of service on the Hudson river, the steamer “Homer Ramsdell” burned to the water’s edge at her wharf at Newburgh. Michael Boyle, a deckhand, was drowned when he jumped overboard to escape the flames. The fire was caused by the explosion of a lamp, and four of the crew were on board when the fire started. Three escaped to the dock while Boyle remained behind in an endeavor to start the pumps. The deckhand, believing his escape to the dock to be cut off by the fire, leaped overboard and was drowned. The owners of the “Homer Ramsdell” estimated their loss to be $250,000.

The hull of the burned steamboat was rebuilt- part of the wood for the joiner works coming from the steamboat “Central Hudson.” (formerly the “James W. Baldwin”), which had been abandoned. The rebuilt “Homer Ramsdell” made her first trip on December 2, 1911, and continued in the service of the Central Hudson Steamboat Company until May 1929 when the Hudson River Night Line and the Hudson River Dayline jointly purchased the assets of the Central Hudson Steamboat Company at a receiver’s sale. Five steamboats were included in the transaction. These were the “Jacob H. Tremper,” “Homer Ramsdell,” “Newburgh,” “Benjamin B. Odell,” and the “Poughkeepsie.” The “Jacob H. Tremper” was of little use and was broken up at Newburgh in 1929, but the other four vessels were placed in service on the Hudson river.
              
On November 28, 1929, the Nantasket Beach excursion fleet was burned. The destroyed vessels (all sidewheelers) included the “Old Colony,” “Mary Chilton,” “Rose Standish,” “Betty Alden,” and “Nantasket,” and this event marked what is probably the end of the “Homer Ramsdell’s” service on the Hudson river. In the spring of 1930 the “Homer Ramsdell” and the “Newburgh” were sold to the Nantasket Steamboat Company and were converted into excursion steamboats. May 1, 1930, saw the name “Homer Ramsdell” disappear from the bow of the former Hudson river vessel and the name “Alleston” take its place. The “Newburgh" was renamed the “Nantasket” on the same date, and the two vessels were taken east to run from Boston to Nantasket Beach where they are still in service.

                                                                    No. 89- Nuhpa
Built originally for service on the Hudson river, the “Nuhpa” was in use for 33 years and was finally broken up at Boston, Massachusetts, after spending her last years on Long Island Sound. During her career on the Hudson river, she ran afoul of the ice on two occasions, sinking in one instance and being run aground to save herself in the second encounter.
              
The hull of the “Nuhpa” was rebuilt from the hull of the ill-fated steamboat “Berkshire” which was destroyed by fire in 1864 with a loss of 30 lives.  [Editor's Note: see "Berkshire"'s story below.} J.R. Baldwin and H.S. Baldwin rebuilt this hull in 1865 at New Baltimore, N.Y., the length recorded as 253 feet, breadth of beam 37 feet, depth of hold 10 feet. The gross tonnage of the “Nuhpa” was listed at 1232, not (sic) tonnage 906, and she was powered with a vertical beam engine with a cylinder diameter of 37 inches with a five foot stroke. A feature of this engine was its placement- crosswise of the vessel with a direct connection with the propeller which was a departure from the usual custom of gears. This resulted in an exceptionally fast steamboat, and the “Nuhpa” was the largest propeller steamboat built for the Hudson river up to that period.
              
The “Nuhpa” was constructed for George H. Powers and other parties of Hudson, N.Y., for service on the Hudson and New York night route, and she has the distinction of being the largest and fastest vessel that ever made the city of Hudson her home port.
              
April 7, 1873, is the date of the first encounter with the ice- and the “Nuhpa” came out of the affair “second best.” She was on her way from the up-river city to the metropolis when she was crushed by the ice off Barrytown about 2 o’clock in the morning. She sank and was abandoned, and about April 25th was raised and towed to New York. She was repaired and returned to her regular route. In December, 1876, she again met defeat before the crush of the river ice- this time she was cut through by the ice and run ashore on Esopus Island to avoid sinking. This accident took place just above the location where the “Sunnyside” met her fate a year before.
              
​In the spring of 1877 the “Nuhpa” was returned to her regular route- seeing service for another year, when she was transferred to the excursion business, making a round trip per day from New York to Iona Island. On August 24, 1878, she was sold by the New York and Hudson Steamboat Company to parties in Bridgeport, Conn., and in 1879 she was again placed in service on excursion trips to Iona Island. In July, 1879, the name of the “Nuhpa” was changed to the “Metropolitan” and in 1880 the “Metropolitan” was sold to the New London Northern Railroad Company who operated her in line with the “Tillie” and “Doris” between New York and Groton, Connecticut, until 1896 when two new steamboats, the “Mohawk” and “Mohegan,” made their appearance, and the “Metropolitan” was laid aside as a spare vessel.
              
​ In 1897 the “Nuhpa” under the name of the “Metropolitan” was sold to a concern in Boston, Mass., who took her to Boston where she was broken up.

                                                            No. 22- Berkshire - 1864
The largest steamboat ever constructed for the Hudson-New York Route, the “Berkshire,” was one of the show boats of her time, but her career was short, and the memory of the “Berkshire” is one of those horrors which occurred in the early days of steamboating.

The “Berkshire” was built at Athens in 1864 with a 250 foot keel and a beam of 37 feet. She was owned by George H. Powers, of Hudson, and had a speed of 18 miles per hour.
           
On June 8, 1864, one of the most heartrending disasters in the annals of steamboating occurred to the “Berkshire.” She left Hudson early in the evening for New York City, and as she was rounding Krum Elbow about two miles from Hyde Park, a fire was discovered in her crank pit. The cause of this blaze was never determined but it was thought that some interested passenger who had been watching the great crank revolve, had actually dropped the lighted stump of a cigar into some cotton waste in the pit.
           
It was not long before the flames were roaring up through the engine shaft and setting fire to the deck cargo of bailed hay, cutting off communication from either end of the boat. There were 130 passengers aboard, most of whom had embarked at Hudson and Catskill, and of these 40 were either burned to death or drowned. The scene of the catastrophe was one that will long be remembered by the survivors, and the bravery of a Mr. Carter, of the editorial staff of the New York Times, who crawled over one of the paddle boxes to safety, leading with him many more, was one of the highlights of the accident. A Mrs. Hannaford, with a baby in one arm and her daughter in the other, leaped overboard, leaving her little son on the deck. Both her baby and daughter slipped from her grasp in the water and she herself was saved by a man who was obliged to let go his grasp on his own little boy in order to save the woman. All the children were lost. A Saugerties merchant by the name of French, jumped from the hurricane deck with his son and daughter clinging to him, and escaped the clutching fingers of death.
           
The heat of the flames had driven the engineers from their posts and the paddle wheels continued to revolve after the boat had run aground. Many of the struggling passengers who found themselves in the water, were disabled by being struck by the paddles or were forced out into the river by the current set up by the motion of the wheels, and were drowned. Those who were fortunate enough to escape were picked up by the “James W. Baldwin” of Rondout, which hurried to the rescue and put out small boats to pick up those in the water.
           
​What remained of the “Berkshire” was rebuilt into a freight and passenger craft named the “Nuhpa”, which ran the same route between Hudson and New York.

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 volunteers Carl and Joan Mayer. See more of Captain Benson’s articles here. This article was originally published December 16, 1973.

​In today’s jet age of airplane travel, and human nature being what it is, some people seem to take a perverse delight in recounting incidents where their flight — because of adverse weather conditions — was diverted to an airport other than that of their original destination, or now of delays encountered because of the energy crisis.  In the simpler age of steamboat travel, there were also on occasion unforeseen delays.
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In that long ago era before the advent of the automobile and the airplane, virtually every trip of more than a few miles was made either by railroad or, if the destination was adjacent to navigable water, by steamboat.  Travel by steamboat was generally leisurely and delightful.  However, you always didn’t get to where you were going when you expected to. 

One such incident was related to me years ago by Captain Ed Van Woert of the Cornell tugboat “G. C. Adams.” In December 1913, Captain Van Woert had to go to New York to testify in a lawsuit being held there pertaining to damage to a schooner that occurred while being landed at Hudson some months before.  He thought he would take his wife along for the trip.

On this particular day, Captain Ed left the ‘‘Adams” at Athens and went home to get ready.  That evening, he and his wife boarded the steamer “Onteora” of the Catskill Evening Line at Athens, expecting to be in New York the following morning. 

After going aboard the “Onteora” and getting their stateroom, they had a leisurely supper in the steamer’s dining room. 

After eating, Captain Ed said to his wife, “I guess I'll go up in the pilot house awhile and talk to my friend the pilot.”’ At this point, the “Onty” was approaching the landing at Cheviot and a snow storm had set in. 

On leaving Cheviot, the "Onteora" headed for County Island to get over in the main channel.  The snow storm had increased in intensity and visibility had decreased almost to zero.  The pilot held her on the west course a little bit too long and she went hard aground just north of County Island, with her bow in about five feet of water and her stern in deep water.  They backed and backed, but she wouldn’t come off.

The tide was falling and at daybreak the next morning the "Onteora" was still hard aground.  Captain Van Woert and his wife got off in a small boat and after being rowed to shore, walked through two feet of snow to the nearest railroad station to catch a train for New York.  The “Onteora” got herself off on the next high tide and was back on her run — although nearly 12 hours late — none the worse for her mishap.

Another incident that took place about the same period, although this time during the summer, was related to me by my old friend George W. Murdock, an old time Hudson River steamboat engineer who died at his home in Ponckhockie in 1940, well into his eighties. 

On a Saturday summer’s afternoon, Mr. Murdock boarded the “William F. Romer” at her New York pier for the run to Kingston.  At that time, the “Romer" of the New York to Rondout night line regularly would leave New York on Saturday in the early afternoon and arrive at Rondout in the early evening.  Mr. Murdock’s brother-in-law, Joel Rightmyer of Ponckhockie, was the “Romer's" pilot.  On this particular trip, the “Romer” was bucking a strong ebb tide from the time she left her New York pier.

The wind, like it so often does during the summer, was blowing straight up river out of the south.  Worse yet, what breeze there was was blowing at about the same velocity as the “Romer’s" speed through the water, so that while underway the “Romer’s” flags hung limp on their poles.  Underway, it was hot, humid, virtually airless and, because of the strong ebb tide, the steamer was running later and later with each passing hour. 

Past the Palisades and up through Tappan Zee and Haverstraw Bay, the “Romer” plodded her way up river.  It wasn’t much of a day for steamboating.  Finally, the "Romer" reached the Hudson Highlands and as she approached the landing at West Point, Mr. Murdock noticed a West Shore passenger train chuffing away from Highland Falls.  He decided to leave the steamer and catch the train for the rest of his trip to Rondout,

As he was leaving the steamboat, Mr. Murdock said to his brother-in-law, “Joel, I don’t think you'll get to Kingston by nightfall." Replied Pilot Rightmyer, “Well, George, if we don’t get there today, we’ll get there tomorrow.”

Mr. Murdock boarded the train at West Point, thinking he’d get home well ahead of the steamer.  However, as luck would have it, there was a freight train stuck on the West Park hill where the tracks make their incline from the river and head inland.  His train, on the same track as the freight, stood on the tracks for what seemed like an eternity in the hot summer air. 

Finally another locomotive was sent down from Kingston and got the freight train ahead moving.  Eventually, Mr. Murdock got to Kingston and took the trolley car for Rondout.  As he was walking up Abruyn Street to his home in Ponckhockie, he glanced over his shoulder — just in time to see the top deck of the “William F. Romer” gliding past on her way in Rondout Creek to her berth on Ferry Street!
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During the 1950’s the Cunard Line had a great slogan — “Getting there is half the fun.”  Generally it was.  Sometimes, though, as it is in all forms of travel, the fraction was wrong.

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                                                            No. 92- “New York”       
Many of the homes of this area contain a picture of a large steamboat- a colored picture showing a magnificent white passenger vessel against the background of a green towering mountain. This picture shows the steamboat “New York,” one of the vessels of the celebrated Hudson River Dayline, whose career was cut short after 21 years of service by a fire which burned her to the water’s edge.
              
The steel hull of the “New York” was built by Harlan & Hollingsworth at Wilmington, Delaware, in 1887. W. & A. Fletcher Company (North River Iron Works), of Hoboken, New Jersey, built her engine. Her hull was 301 feet long with an overall length of 311 feet, a breadth of beam of 40 feet 4 inches which widened to 74 feet over the guards, depth of hold measuring 11 feet 2 inches. Her gross tonnage was listed at 1,552 with a net tonnage rating of 1,091. The vertical beam engine of the “New York” had a cylinder diameter of 75 inches with a 12 foot stroke, and she carried three 33 foot boilers with a shell diameter 9¼ feet and front width measuring 11 feet. Her wheels, of the feathering type, were constructed of steel with 12 buckets measuring 12½ feet long by 3 feet 9 inches in width. In 1897 the “New York” was lengthened, 34 feet being added to the length of her hull making her 335 feet long and increasing her tonnage rating to 1,921 gross and 1,751 net tons.
              
The “New York” replaced the steamboat “Chauncey Vibbard,” which had been in service for years on the Hudson River Dayline. She was the second steel-hulled vessel built for the Dayline, and combined speed, luxury and beauty to surpass in elegance and appearance any marine craft built for the Hudson river up to that period.
              
The construction of the “New York” was somewhat different from the usual methods of steamboat construction, thus giving her a bit different appearance from the usual Hudson river boats. Instead of placing the shaft forward of the cylinder as in most beam engines, the cylinder was placed forward of the shaft.
              
On August 14, 1907, the “New York” made the run from New York to Albany in six hours and 13 minutes, an indication of the speed which the steamboat possessed, and together with her consort, the “Albany,” she formed a combination which was unquestionably the finest river day boat passenger steamers in the world.
              
October 1908 marked the event which indirectly led to the destruction of the “New York.” The tugboat “William Flannery” crashed into the “New York” in the North River off West 13th street, damaging the dayline steamer to such an extent around the guards, that she was taken to the Thomas Marvel Shipbuilding yards at Newburgh for repairs. On the morning of October 16, 1908, as she lay in the yards in Newburgh, fire was discovered in the after hold of the “New York.” Captain A.H. Harquart and the crew of 73 men were asleep in their berths but were aroused in time to get ashore safely. The fire gained headway so quickly that in less than five minutes from the time the alarm was sounded, the after end of the magnificent steamer was in flames. Captain Harquart realized that it would be impossible to save the vessel and ordered the crew ashore, but soon after they had landed it was discovered that four colored (sic) waiters were missing. A search of the shipyards was unsuccessful- and later it was found that the four men had been trapped below the decks by the flames and had perished.
              
The “New York” was completely destroyed and later the engine was taken from the smoke-blackened hull, rebuilt, and placed in the new steamboat “Robert Fulton,” which is now in service under the banner of the Hudson River Dayline.