On Saturday, May 19, 1928, in the early afternoon of a beautiful spring day, a collision occurred off Rondout Lighthouse between the ferryboat “Transport” and the steamer “Benjamin B. Odell” of the Central Hudson Line.
           
At the time, I was deckhand on the steamer “Albany” of the Hudson River Day Line, helping to get her ready for the new season after her winter lay up at the Sunflower Dock at Sleightsburgh. On Saturdays, we knocked off work at 11:30 a.m. As I rowed up the creek in my rowboat to go home, the big “Odell” was still at her dock at the foot of Hasbrouck Avenue at Rondout.
           
At 12:25 p.m. the “Odell” blew the customary three long melodious blasts on her big whistle, high on her stack, as the signal she was ready to depart.
           
At home, eating lunch, I heard her blow one short blast promptly at 12:30 p.m. as the signal to cast off her stern line.

From the Porch
Following a habit of mine from a young boy, I went out on our front porch to watch her glide down the creek at a very slow pace past the Cornell shops, Donovan’s and Feeney’s boat yards, and the freshly painter [sic] “Albany.”  The “Odell” looked to me like a great white bird slowly passing down the creek. At the time, I thought how in less than two weeks we would probably pass her on the “Albany” on the lower Hudson on Decoration Day, both steamers loaded with happy excursionists on the first big holiday of the new season.
           
As the “Odell” passed Gill’s dock at Ponckhockie, I went back in the house to finish lunch. A few minutes later I heard the “Odell” blow one blast on her whistle, which was answered by the “Transport” on her way over to Rhinecliff, indicating a port to port passing. Hearing steam whistles so often in the long ago day along Rondout Creek was something one took for granted, assuming they would be heard forever. Then I heard the danger signal on the whistle of the “Transport” followed by three short blasts from the “Odell’s” whistle, indicating her engine was going full speed astern. Shortly thereafter, I could hear the “Transport” blowing the five whistle signal of the Cornell Steamboat Company of 2 short, 2 short, 1 short, meaning we need help immediately.
           
I ran down to my rowboat tied up at the old Baisden shipyard, and looked down the creek. I could see the “Transport” limping in the creek very slowly, her bow down in the water, and her whistle blowing continuously for help. I also noticed several automobiles on her deck.
           
Looking over the old D. & H. canal boats that were deteriorating on the Sleightsburgh flats, I could see the top of the “Odell” stopped out in the river. After a few minutes, she slowly got underway and proceeded on down the river, her big black stack belching smoke, so I figured she was not hurt. 
​

Decision to Beach
           
As the “Transport” approached the Cornell coal pocket, her captain, Rol Saulpaugh, decided to beach her on the Sleightsburgh shore. Nelson Sleight, a member of her crew, asked me to run a line over to the dock a the shipyard in the event she started to slide off the bank.
           
I took the line and ran it from where the “Transport” grounded to the dock. In the meantime, the Cornell tugboat “Rob” came down the creek, from where she had been lying at the rear of the Cornell office at the foot of Broadway, and pushed the ferry a little higher on the bank.
           
After taking the line ashore, I went back and asked if there was anything else I could do. Captain Saulpaugh asked me if I would row up to the ferry slip and get Joseph Butler, the ferry superintendent, and bring him over to the “Transport,” which I did. On the way over, Butler told me he had already called the Poughkeepsie and Highland Ferry Company to see if he could get one of its ferries to run in the “Transport’s” place. The afternoon about 5 p.m., the Poughkeepsie ferryboat “Brinckerhoff” arrived in the creek and began running on the Rhinecliff route.
           
When we got back to the “Transport,” mattresses and blankets had been stuffed in the hole the “Odell” had slicked in the over-hanging guard and part of the hull. When she was patched, the “Transport,” with the “Rob’s” help, backed off the mud and entered the Roundout slip stern first - and the cars on deck were backed off. Then, the “Rob” assisted the ferry to make her way up to the C. Hiltebrandt shipyard at Connelley for repairs. There she was placed in drydock, the damage repaired, and in a week she was back in service on her old run.

A Flood Tide
           
The cause of the mishap at the mouth of the creek was a combination of a strong flood tide, a south wind and a large tow. Out in the river, the big tugboat “Osceola” of the Cornell Steamboat Company was headed down river with a large tow.
           
She had just come down the East Kingston channel and at that moment was directly off the Rondout Lighthouse. When there is a strong flood tide, there is a very strong eddy at the mouth of the creek. The tide,  helped by a south wind, sets up strong and when it hits the south dike, it forms a half moon about 75-100 feet out from the south dike and then starts to set down.
           
As the “Odell” was leaving the creek and entering the river, the “Transport” was passing ahead of the tow, around the bow of the “Osceola.” The “Transport” probably hit the eddy caused by the flood tide. In any event, she didn’t answer her right rudder and took a dive right into the path of the “Odell.”  The “Odell” couldn’t stop in time and cut into the forward end of the ferry about 6 or 8 feet. No one was hurt and there was no confusion on either boat. The “transport” bore the brunt of the bout; the only damage to the “Odell” being some scratched paint on her bow.
           
I heard later from the Dan McDonald, pilot on the “Osceola,” that there would be the lawsuit as a result of the collision - and he had been served with a subpoena to appear as a witness. He never had to appear, however, as Captain Greenwood of the “Odell” later told me the case was settled out of court.

The next year the Central Hudson Line, because of the inroads made by the automobile, went out of business. The “Benjamin B. Odell”, however, continued to run on the river for another company until February 1937 when she was destroyed by fire in winter lay up at Marlboro. The “Transport” continued running on the Rhinecliff ferry route until September 1938 when she was withdrawn from service. She was later cut down and made into a stake boat for the Cornell Steamship Company for use in New York harbor. 
​

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 First Steamboat "North America"
The first “North America” made her appearance on the Hudson river in the days when steamboats were scarce and not very practical, and after a little more than 10 years of service, she encountered the heavy ice- the nemesis of many steamboats- and had her career abruptly ended on the bottom of the river.

The wooden hull of the “North America” was built by William Capes at New York in 1827, and her engine was constructed by John Stevens at Hoboken, N.J. Her hull was 218 feet long, her beam measured 30 feet across, and her hold was only eight feet deep. She had two vertical beam engines with cylinders having a diameter of four inches with a nine foot stroke.

Robert L. Stevens was the owner of the “North America,” and she was built for service between New York and Albany at a time when river transportation was entering upon an era of prosperity which brought forth many of the now famous steamboats and recorded in history glorious tales of the Hudson river.

The “North America” had a pair of beam engines and, as she was a rather light vessel, her owner had a hog frame on a truss placed in her to stiffen the hull. This was a departure from the methods of steamboat construction of that period and as a result the water lines of the “North America” were rather “hard” and she had what was termed a “spoon bow.”

These engines of the “North America” made 24 revolutions per minute and her history indicates that the vessel was not noted for speed- her best time recorded from New York to Albany being 10 hours and 30 minutes.

When loaded with freight the “North America” drew six feet of water and burned from 25 to 30 cords of wood on the 155 mile trip between New York and Albany.

​Robert L. Stevens ran the “North America” for several years and finally sold her to Isaac Newton and others who ran her in line with the “DeWitt Clinton.” In the fall of 1839, while on one of her regular trips from New York to Albany, the “North America” ran afoul of a field of heavy ice a short distance below Albany. She was unable to cope with the pressure of the ice which eventually cut through her planking, causing her to sink into the waters of the Hudson river and thus brought her career to an abrupt end.

The second steamboat "North America"
The 230 foot “North America” appeared in 1839, built by Devine Burtis at Brooklyn. Her vertical beam engine had a 48 inch cylinder and 11 foot stroke and she had two Milliken Patent boilers.

The new steamboat was built for Isaac Newton and other parties for the People’s Line of Albany, and was the second boat called the “North America” which was built for this line plying between Albany and New York.

The “North America” was in service only a short time when she had a new and larger consort, the “South America.” Together, these vessels brought fame to the Hudson river as they plied between the two cities, setting a fine style for the construction of steamboats. They eclipsed all their predecessors both in speed and style, and the “North America” was the first steamboat to use blowers for artificial blast, in the furnaces of boilers, by an independent engine.
 
The “North America” ran on the Albany route until the year 1850 or 1851, when she was retired from the People’s Line and then used as a consort to the “South America” and the “Hero” on the New York-Hudson night line. She was finally purchased by Captain Jacob H. Tremper, of the Rondout firm of Romer & Tremper night line, and was placed in service between Rondout and New York in line with the steamboat “Manhattan” until the fall of 1860, when she was replaced by the new “James W. Baldwin.”

​The vessel was then sold to J. W. Hancox and D.D. Chamberlain, and was chartered out in 1862 and 1863 at $325 and $400 per day. Finally, on July 9, 1863, she was sold to the federal government for $55,000. The “North America” was sunk at Algiers, Louisiana, opposite New Orleans, on October 8, 1863- and later was raised and taken to New Orleans, where she was broken up.

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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 “Chauncey Vibbard” was a wooden hull steamer built by Lawrence and Foulkes of Brooklyn for dayline service running between New York and Albany. When constructed in 1864, her original length was 265 feet, but after two seasons on the river she was hauled out of the river, cut in two, and lengthened 16 feet which gave her a hull span of 281 feet. At this time her 55-inch cylinder was replaced with a 64 ½ inch cylinder.

​Destined to become one of the famous river boats, the “Chauncey Vibbard” began her passenger-carrying career on June 20, 1864, and her appearance was the cause of a great deal of comment concerning her graceful proportions and beauty of structure. While running at high speed she portrayed a dignity and grace which was almost unseen up to that period, and scarcely a wave broke from her stem to the paddlewheels. She was for years the pride of the late Commodore Van Santvoord who spared neither time nor money in his efforts to make the “Chauncey Vibbard” second to none of the steamboats plying the waters of the Hudson. In 1864 she made the run from New York to Albany in 6 hours and 21 minutes- fast time for a steamboat of that period.

In 1880 the “Chauncey Vibbard” was rebuilt. Her two boilers located on the guards were removed and three new boilers were placed in the hold of the vessel with three smokestacks going up from the center of the vessel- an operation which altered the appearance of the vessel considerably. Thus she ran for seven years, then giving way to the steamer “New York.”

Following her retirement from regular service, the “Chauncey Vibbard” was held in reserve as the “Daniel Drew” had been, but her territory was soon shifted and her last years were spent away from the Hudson river. In 1895 she was sold, going to the Delaware river for service between Philadelphia and Lincoln Park, being used both on regular runs and for excursions. During the peace jubilee in 1899 directly following the Spanish-American War, she joined the naval parade - and this was the beginning of the end for the once-proud vessel. Crowded with passengers celebrating the return of peace, the “Chauncey Vibbard” began leaking and was run on a sand bar to prevent disaster. She was later towed to Cramer’s Hill and there dismantled as late as 1902 where the wreck of her hull remained for many years.

​One noteworthy fact in the career of the “Chauncey Vibbard” was her clean slate- no disaster or accident until her last trip to the sand bar. During her quarter-century activity on the Hudson river she carried millions of travelers from all over the world who viewed with delight the wonderful scenery of the highlands of the Hudson from the deck of one of the finest steamboats ever to ply the waters of the Hudson river- the “Chauncey Vibbard.”

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(p. 40)   The North America is splendidly fitted up and furnished; the cabinet work very handsome; the whole establishment of kitchen servants, waiters, and cooks, all people of colour, on a great scale.  *** 

(p. 41)   We had breakfast and dinner in the steam-boat.  The stewardess observing, that we were foreigners, gave notice to my wife some time previous to the (p. 42) breakfast-bell at eight, and dinner-bell at two, so that we might have it in our power to go to the cabin, and secure good places at table before the great stream of passengers left the deck.  Both meals were good, and very liberal in point of quantity.  The breakfast consisted of the same article that had been daily set before us at the city hotel, with a large supply of omelettes in addition.  The equipage and whole style of the thing good.  The people seemed universally to eat more animal food than the British are accustomed to, even at such a breakfast as this, and to eat quickly.
                The dinner consisted of two courses, 1. of fish, including very large lobsters, roast-meat, especially roast-beef, beef-steaks, and fowls of various kinds, roasted and boiled, potatoes and vegetables of various kinds; 2. which is here called the dessert, of pies, puddings, and cheese.

                Pitchers of water and small bottles of brandy were on all parts of the table; very little brandy was used at that part of the table where we sat.  A glass tumbler was put down for each person; but no wine-glasses, and no wine drank.  Wine and spirits of all sorts, and malt liquors, and lemonade, and ice for all purposes, may be had at the bar, kept in one of the cabins.  There is a separate charge for every thing procured there; but no separate charge for the brandy put down on the dinner-table, which may be used at pleasure.  The waiters will, if desired, bring any liquor previously ordered, and paid for to them, to the dining-table.

p. 43      Dinner was finished, and most people again on deck in less than twenty minutes.  They seemed to me to eat more at breakfast than at dinner.  I soon afterwards looked into the dining-room, and found that there was not a single straggler remaining at his bottle.  Many people, however, were going into and out of the room, where the bar is railed off, and where the bar-keeper was giving out liquor.
              The men of colour who waited at table were clean-looking, clever, and active, -- evidently picked men in point of appearance.

              We had observed a very handsome woman of colour, as well dressed, and as like a female of education, as any of those on board, on deck.  My wife, who had some conversation with her, asked her, when she found that she had not dined with us, why she had not been in the cabin?  She replied very modestly, that the people of this country did not eat with the people of colour.  The manners and appearance of this lady were very interesting, and would have distinguished her anywhere.
                James Stuart.  Three Years in North America.   Vol. 1.   Edinburgh, 1833.

                                                              City of Kingston
The “City of Kingston” was a 246 foot, iron hull, stern-propeller steamboat constructed for the Cornell Steamboat Company of Rondout in 1884 at Wilmington, Delaware. She was constructed to replace the ill-fated “Thomas Cornell,” which was wrecked in the spring of 1882, was the first stern propellered steamer built for hauling freight and passengers on the Rondout line, and was capable of making 19 miles per hour.
               
The “City of Kingston” proved unsatisfactory for service on the Rondout line due to the necessity of many landings, and while she made good time while under way between stops, too much time was consumed in endeavoring to bring her into the dock.
               
Despite this deficiency, she remained in service here for five years and was then sold, in October, 1889, and was taken to the Pacific coast for service on Puget Sound. She left New York on November 22, 1889, for her long journey to the west coast.
               
An April 24, 1899, the Northern Pacific Oriental liner “Glenogle,” outward bound, collided with the City of Kingston” inward bound from Victoria. This accident occurred during a light fog at 4:35 o’clock Sunday morning off Brown’s Point. The “City of Kingston was struck on her starboard side, aft of her boiler room, and was cut in two by the liner’s iron bow. Three minutes later her hull was resting on the bottom of Puget Sound and her upper works, divided in two parts, was floating about the bay.
               
At the time of the accident the “City of Kingston” was the property of the Northern Pacific Railroad and was valued at $150,000. Confusion reigned aboard the stricken vessel but finally the 12 passengers and 60 members of her crew were gotten aboard the “Glenogle” without any loss of life. Thus the career of the namesake of this old Colonial city was brought to a close.

In 1865, after four years of service to New York City, the steamboat Mary Powell decided to move to a new pier. Previously docking at the Jay Street pier, the influx of freight vessels loading and offloading from the same pier made it difficult and sometimes dangerous for passengers to get to and from the Mary Powell.
​
Nearly every street along the Manhattan waterfront throughout the 19th century used to end in a pier. As an island with no bridges until the completion in 1883 of the Brooklyn Bridge, water was the main method of transportation for people, animals, and freight, so these piers became incredibly important. As trains and automobiles overtook boats and ships as the primary mode of moving people and goods, the piers became less and less important. The map pictured below was created in 1867 and illustrates the importance of piers to the “business portion” of lower Manhattan. 

On April 1, 1865, The World (NYC) published this short article:
​
“In consequence of the immense freighting business which has accumulated at the Jay street pier, rendering it almost impassable and certainly unsafe for any one, especially ladies, to pass along the same on their way to or from steamers, Captain A. L. Anderson, of the steamer Mary Powell, has made arrangements to arrive and depart from the fine new pier No. 40 North River, foot of Debrosses street, built for the day line of Albany steamers Daniel Drew and C. Vibbard, where the nuisances and dangers are not tolerated.  Ladies can there step from carriages and passing railroad cars upon a substantial and smooth plank walk, without fear of injury to their persons or damage to their dresses.  A great reform is needed in the construction of our piers, by which passengers can be protected from the risks and annoyances they now encounter.”

The Jay Street pier was named after the street that connected Hudson Street and West Street and continued out toward Pier 32. All that is left of Jay Street today is a stretch of street one block long between Hudson and Greenwich Streets. Where Pier 32 once lay is today partially filled in and open water just to the north of Stuyvesant High School. The park area between West Street and the river as well as the land on which Stuyvesant High School now stands did not exist in the 1860s. It has been completely filled in, likely right on top of the old piers that once lined the Manhattan waterfront.

​Period newspapers lamented the state of the city piers in the 1860s. On April 13, 1865, the New-York Daily Tribune published “Our Piers, Reform Is Needed,” transcribed below:
​
“Something ought to be done by our city authorities in the way of affording better arrangements for the accommodation of the thousands of passengers who daily arrive in and leave the city by steam vessels.  Most of the piers and approaches thereto, are in a most filthy condition, while others are so incumbered by freight of every description, carts, wagons, &c., that it is oftentimes, almost unsafe for a man to steer his way among the vehicles, boxes, barrels, &c.; while ladies, in order to avoid being left behind, the ruin of their dresses, or personal injury are left the only alternative of hiring a carriage at exorbitant rates to convey them a few hundred yards.  It is contended by many Captains of steamers which ply to and from tis port, that in consideration of the high rates they pay for dock privileges, they ought to have better accommodations provided them.  This could be done by the construction of piers with flat coverings or roofs, upon which persons could pass to and from the steamers by means of stairs at convenient points.  The subject is at least certainly worthy the consideration of our City Fathers.  The annoyances are [sic; "and"] serious inconveniences to which passengers are subjected, have done much toward driving the People's Line, the Albany day line, and the Norwich and Worcester line of steamers up-town, and now it is understood that Capt. A. L. Anderson of the steamer Mary Powell has resolved to follow suit, and accordingly made arrangements for the season to land at and depart from pier No. 40 N. R., foot of Debrosses st., which has been planked by the leasees, and will be kept free from incumbrances of every kind, so that ladies, while on their way to or from the steamer need not feel any apprehension as regards their personal safety or ruin of their dresses.”

​The Desbrosses Street pier would remain Mary Powell’s Manhattan landing site for the rest of her career. In the 1900s, the Hudson River Day Line company headquarters also operated out of the Debrosses Street Pier for several decades. Today, the Desbrosses Street Pier is no more. 

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​The history of the “James B. Schuyler” is perhaps one of the most colorful of any of the old Hudson river steamboats, although the vessel was not too large, being only 195 feet long, but possessed of great speed for her size.

She was built in 1863 for service in New York waters, plying on several short routes out of New York harbor. In 1867-1868 she was in service on the Bridgeport-New York route running in line with the steamer “Bridgeport.”

Then in the winter of 1874, Commodore Hancox purchased the “James B. Schuyler” and this was the beginning of her career as one of the most colorful steamboats ever to ply the Hudson river. Commodore Hancox had been operating the steamboats “Connecticut” and “C. Vanderbilt” on a night line between New York and Troy for several years but had been forced off the route in the summer of 1872 by the Citizens Line of Troy.

In the spring of 1874 Commodore Hancox placed the “James B. Schuyler” in service, competing with the Troy and Albany lines- and then the fun began, lasting until at one time the fare between the metropolis and Troy and Albany was only ten cents. The “Sunnyside” of the Troy Line and the “Drew” of the People’s Line of Albany were the chief rivals of the “James B. Schuyler,” and the captains of the three vessels resorted to all kinds of schemes to give their boat the advantage in the race for the lion’s share of the business.

Several of the incidents recalled by Mr. Murdock relative to this keen competition are extremely amusing. Working on the ill-fated “Sunnyside,” along with William Fairbrother of Port Ewen, Mr. Murdock was an eyewitness to these various pranks which were written into the record of the “Schuyler.”

One of the favorite tricks of the skipper of the “James B. Schuyler” was to pull up along side of one of the opposition vessels such as the “Sunnyside” and then strike up the band aboard the “Schuyler.” The passengers aboard the other boat would crowd to one side of the vessel to better enjoy the music and this would cause the boat to list to one side, raising one paddle wheel out of the water and cause the vessel to lose speed and let the “James B. Schuyler” forge ahead to the next landing. On one such occasion the “Schuyler” was playing this trick on the “Sunnyside” when the “Dean Richmond” passed both vessels. The “Schuyler” immediately took out after the “Richmond,” caught up with her, and began the band playing all over again. The resourceful skipper of the “Dean Richmond” ordered the safety valves on his boat to be lifted, thus making a terrific racket and drowning out the band aboard the “Schuyler” so his passengers could not hear and therefore would not rush to one side of the steamboat.

Another incident told by Mr. Murdock records the happenings of a rainy night at Albany. The “Schuyler” docked at the Albany landing above the “Dean Richmond” and along the railroad tracks, waiting for passengers from the train. Clem Hancox, son of the owner of the “Schuyler,” went ashore with a red lantern under his coat, and when the train came along, he waved the danger signal, stopped the train, and while the train crew were investigating to find out why the engineer had stopped the train above the station, the train passengers, believing the station had been reached, left the train and flocked aboard the “Schuyler.” When the train finally arrived at its regular destination, there were no passengers left for the “Dean Richmond.”

Old Commodore Hancox at one time had decided that he would pay no wharfage at the Troy landing. so the train owners built a high board fence around the landing of the “James B. Schuyler.” When the steamboat pulled into the dock there was no place for the passengers to land. The Commodore’s men were immediately ordered ashore with axes and bars, and soon the high board fence was only a mass of splintered lumber floating away down the river. The police were called and the crew of the “Schuyler” was escorted to the city jail. Then it was that the Commodore decided to pay the usual wharfage.

The “James B. Schuyler” continued running as an opposition boat until the fall of 1875, and in the winter of that year the People’s Line and the Citizens’ Line united to buy off Commodore Hancox and bring an end to the destructive competition which was ruining the business of all three of the companies.

​The “James B. Schuyler” was used for excursions around New York Harbor during the summer of 1876 and was then stripped of her staterooms, her boilers placed in the hold, and she was converted into a regular excursion boat. Later she was used on the Fishing Banks run, continuing here until 1896, when on October 18, as she was laying at her wharf in New York, she caught fire and was totally destroyed. Her hull was sold and taken to Port Washington on Long Island, where it was broken up.

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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 6, 1972.

​One Saturday afternoon back in August 1926, the Cornell tugboat “Edwin H. Mead” relieved the tug “George W. Washburn” of the down tow off Yonkers. The “Washburn” was to run back up river light to the Cornell shops at Rondout to lay in and have some repairs made to her guards.
 
While the “Washburn” was running slow to pull in her towing cables, Jim Dee, her captain, and John Osterhoudt, her chief engineer, noticed the “Homer Ramsdell” of the Central Hudson Line steaming up river on her regular Saturday afternoon run to Kingston. The “Washburn’s” captain and chief decided to have some fun.
 
Chief Osterhoudt said to his firemen, “Get her hot. I want to show Howard Eaton, the chief of the ‘Ramsdell,’ what the old ‘Washburn’ can do.” The “Washburn” had exceptionally fine hull lines for a tugboat and was probably the fastest tug in the Cornell fleet.
 
When the “Washburn” hooked up, the “Homer Ramsdell” was almost a half mile ahead. Evidently Jess Travis, captain of the “Ramsdell,” and Howard Eaton, her chief, could see what the men in charge of the “Washburn” had in mind and they, too, decided to join in the fun and maintain their lead. The “Homer Ramsdell” was a fine steamboat and no slouch when it came to speed.
 
Up through Tappan Zee the “Washburn” chased the “Ramsdell,” neither gaining or losing ground. North of Tarrytown, Chief Osterhoudt of the “Washburn” decided to try some “strategy.” As used to be the case on all coal burning steamboats, the fires in the boilers had to be periodically cleaned and the ashes removed. When this would take place, the steam pressure would drop and then after the first were cleaned the steam pressure would build up again.
 

​Chief Osterhoudt said, “I’ll wait until Chief Eaton of the ‘Ramsdell’ cleans his fires at Rockland Lake. I’ll let mine go and then we’ll get alongside of her.” By watching the ‘Ramsdell’s’ smokestack and when he saw the grayish white dust coming out, he knew the ‘Ramsdell’ was cleaning fires. He then opened up the ‘Washburn’s’ throttle a little more and the “Washburn” began to gain.
 
On the “Washburn” they could see Chief Eaton of the “Ramsdell” come out in the gangway and look back to see if the “Washburn” was gaining, the chief of the “Ramsdell” thinking the “Washburn” would clean fires also, which she didn’t.
 
When they were just north of Haverstraw, the “Washburn’s” bow was even with the “Ramsdell’s” stern. That is the way they stayed for nearly 10 miles – past Stony Point, around Jones Point, and past Iona Island, Anthony’s Nose and Conn’s Hook. Finally, the “Homer Ramsdell” had to slow down for the landing at Highland Falls and the “Washburn” sped by.
 
It must have been quite a sight, the “Washburn” hanging just off the “Ramsdell’s” stern, the “Ramsdell” belching black smoke from the soft coal she burned and the “Washburn” trailing the bluish haze from her stacks from the anthracite she burned during that period. It was a sight to bring joy to the heart of any boatman. Two old timers of the Hudson having it out through the Highlands in the twilight of their lives, all forgotten about now except by aw few who remember the days gone by and never to return.
 
This incident was related to me by Fred Parslow, a long time Hudson River tugboat pilot and captain, in 1931. At the time of the “go” he had been pilot on the tugboat “Hercules” and was sailing to Rondout on the “George W. Washburn” as a passenger.
 
The “Homer Ramsdell” left the Hudson River in 1930 after the Central Hudson Line went out of existence and went to Boston. At Boston she was renamed “Allerton” and used as an excursion steamer, running to Nantasket Beach until the early 1950’s. The “George W. Washburn” continued her towing career on the Hudson River until the mid 1940’s. Both vessels were broken up, the “Washburn” in 1950 at Staten Island and the “Ramsdell” at Bordentown, N.J. in 1953.
 
(In [this] article, "Ramsdell and Washburn Have Some Fun," the chief engineer of the "George W. Washburn” was given as John Osterhoudt.  It should have read Harold (Zeke) Herdman of Kingston.)

Last week we learned about the steamboat Rip Van Winkle and learned a wonderful story about Samuel Schuyler. But what really happened to the Rip? This newspaper article, originally published on August 23, 1872 in the Hudson Daily Star​ gives us some insights. 

Marine Notes.
On Tuesday afternoon the old steamer Rip Van Winkle was towed from Port Ewen, where she had been moored since her collision with the bridge at Albany last spring, and by which she sustained such serious injuries it was not considered desirable to repair her, to the dock in front of Major Cornell’s repairing shops, where her state-rooms and other upper works are being removed preparatory to removing the engine and boilers, purchased a few days since by Mr. Isaac Hirsch of this city, and the conversion of the hull into a barge.

The Rip Van Winkle was built in New York in 1845 for the Schuylers of Albany, and was a steamer of 640 tons burthen, with an engine of 54 inches diameter of cylinder and 10 feet stroke of piston. She was furnished with forty-three state-rooms a great number in those days, and one hundred and ninety-two berths. She ran on the through night line between New York, Albany and Troy, until 1852, when she was purchased by Anderson, Romer & Co., then engaged in the freighting business in the place where Romer & Tremper now are.
​
The “Rip” ran between this place and New York one season, commanded by Captain A. L. Anderson, now of the Mary Powell. The Andersons, father and son, disposed of their interest in the concern to Messrs. Tremper & Gillette in 1853, when the firm became Romer, Tremper & Gillette, and the Rip Van Winkle was by them again placed on the route between New York and Troy, where they continued to run her for two years, when she was sold to the Troy Company, then being managed by a man named Haywood, we believe. In 1862, we think it was, the boat was purchased by the Simmonses of Saugerties, and plied for some years between that place and New York. She was rebuilt in 1864, and finally taken off the Saugerties route and used as an excursion boat, principally to the Fishing Banks until 1870, when Major Cornell purchased her. In the spring of ’71, she ran in place of the Thomas Cornell for a time, and during the summer was chartered by Ovid Simmons to run to the Fishing Banks. This spring she was chartered to run to troy in place of the Thomas Powell until that vessel was ready, and it was while on that route she received her death blow by coming in contact with the Albany Bridge during a freshet. – Rondout Freeman.

​The following text is a verbatim transcription of "Rivals of the Hudson" published in the New York Herald on August 5, 1881. Many thanks to volunteer George Thompson for finding and transcribing this article.

Rivals of the Hudson. The Mary Powell and Albany as Speedy Travellers.
It is not a new thing for steamboats on the Hudson, in their eager competition for popular favor, to try to outrival each other in speed. This keen rivalry has been a source of endless entertainment to the denizens of the romantic banks of the American Rhine, and it has been useful at least in this, that it has given to the wayfarers in search of the beauties of the noble river the advantage of travelling on what are undoubtedly the fastest steamers in the world. No one who has travelled on the Kaiser Wilhelm or any of the others of the so-called palace steamers of the Rhine will for a moment compare them in point of speed to the Albany, the Vibbard or the Mary Powell.  But still they are not happy — the people along the Hudson River. Fast steamers they know they possess, but they want to know which is the fastest. They want a steamboat race. Though many are supposed to be of Dutch extraction, and therefore presumed to be of that staid and sober temperament opposed to the pleasure of excitement, there is no doubt that a genuine steamboat race would be one of the greatest delights of their placid lives. Life in the Hudson River towns and villages is rather dull and news is scarce. There are a number of weekly papers in the Hudson River settlements which, whenever the news budget becomes slim, immediately reopen the favorite popular topic — i.e. the steamboat race. Anything on that subject is as sure to be read with the greatest avidity as the British government is sure to pay the interest on its consols. It stirs up a ripple of excitement in the whole region, is copied from one paper into another, and soon the banks of the Hudson, from Tarrytown to Albany, reverberates with the eager question, "When will it take place?" There is something very homelike and affectionate in the staunch adherence of the people to their favorite boat. As one of the captains expressed it the other day, travel on the Hudson boats seems like a "family affair." People get into the habit of riding on a certain boat, and go by it year after year unless, indeed, their boat allows itself to be "beaten" in too transparent a fashion. There is a great deal of room for "fine figuring" on the question of comparative speed, as no formal contest has yet taken place, and it is wonderful to hear with what accuracy and precision the friends of each boat will figure out by how many revolutions of the wheels and quarter lengths the one boat has the best of the other.

The Two Rivals.
The two great rivals just at present are the Albany, of the Albany day line, and the Mary Powell, running to Kingston, both guaranteed by their owners to "whip the universe" for velocity. Each boat has a host of friends who back the opinions of respective owners and captains with the most enthusiastic positiveness as to the vastly superior swiftness of the one against the other. That there has been no formal race  — for, of course, every day that the boats are running they are trying to outdo each other  — is a source of infinite disgust to those sanguine friends of the Mary Powell and the Albany. A number of times has the contest been projected, and immense excitement along the river has been the result from the moment the race has been on the tapis. Everyone, more or less, has been wanting to bet on the result from $10,000 down to a white hat. And after a ripple of excitement the fever of anticipation has subsided into keen disappointment when it has been ascertained that there would be no race after all, and that all bets were "off.” A few people have been found, to be sure, who have been old fashioned enough to declare that it was a very good thing that no race was to take place and that no one was to be blown up, but these were outvoted by a large majority and declared to be "old fogies." The man whose heart is bent on seeing a race, and particularly such a unique contest as a race between two great palace steamers, each noted for very remarkable speed, wouldn't mind a little playful diversion like that.

Is It to Take Place?
More recently, however, reports that a race was projected and was definitely to take place as soon as the busy season was over have assumed such a tangible shape that it was thought worth while to sift these rumors, and with this view, the captains of the two boats have been sounded, and the results of the interviews are here given. It will be soon seen that though both sides think there is no comparison to be made as to the speed of each other's steamers the matter of the race is still left somewhat dubious. The engineer of the Mary Powell remarks that should a race take place, a man who could charter all the available New York Central trains to follow the boats and charge $25 a seat (or $5 more than even the extortionate Patti is reported to expect in this American El Dorado) would make his fortune. But it requires no very lively imagination to picture to one's self the scene which such a race would call forth. The two steamers, followed by a perfect cloud of craft, from the biggest ferryboats to the smallest rowboat and trains and carriages  and buggies and vehicles of every description lining the two shores and trying to keep up with the two gigantic racers for as long a time as possible. It was the universal opinion of all those whose views were sought on the question that more money would changes hands than probably at any horse race that has ever taken place in this country. It is certain that if the latest project again falls through there will be manifest disappointment, not only in betting quarters, but among many who are usually not interested either in racing or betting, but who would like to witness a trial of speed between the two steamers claiming to be the fastest in existence. And now the readers of the Herald will probably be interested to learn what the leaders of the rival hosts of steam boatmen may have to say on the subject.

Captain Anderson, of the Mary Powell.
Captain Anderson, of the Mary Powell, is a fine specimen of an old captain. He is a veteran in the service to which he has devoted over thirty years of his life. The Captain has a kindly shrewd face, but the most marked feature is an expression of predominant caution. There is a wary look out of his eyes, and his venerable gray mustache adds to this expression. One could very soon gather, even after a scant observation of the man, that however much the reputation of the Mary Powell might be dear to him, and though he would, no doubt, like to establish her superior speed as against that of the hated rival, he would still think more of the solid popular belief in her safety, which, he fears, might be endangered by such a devil-may-care proceeding as a race. When he spoke of the Mary Powell as being too much of a "family boat" for such a reckless procedure one could see that the proud glistening of his eyes, as he pronounced the words, spoke well for the safety of the lovely mothers and darling infants which are so numerously placed under his care on every trip. Of course, as will be seen later on in an interview with the Captain of the Albany, the latter sneers at this noble regard for the "family boat" feeling and pooh-poohs it, declaring that the Albany is just as much of a "family boat," and that he, nevertheless, would be perfectly willing to consent to a race. But, for all that, the "family" feeling will probably be on the side of Captain Anderson, and future generations will be grateful to him for not having exposed them in their present tender state of babyhood to the ignominy of having been conveyed up or down the river in what Captain Anderson gravely fears might be forever after dubbed a "racing boat."

How the Albany's Model Was Spoiled.
"What about the proposed race between your boat and the Albany?" the captain was asked.

"Well, I have heard a great deal about it," the good Captain replied with a smile.

​"The weekly papers along the river have made a great outcry about it of late, but then they always do it when news gets scarce."

"Do I understand you, Captain, that it is only talk then, and that no race will be arranged?"

"Oh, I really can't tell you anything definite," the Captain replied.  "All I can say is that the Mary Powell is not afraid."

"You think she is really the faster boat of the two, Captain?"

That word "really" seemed to be a little too much for the Mary Powell's commander.

"Why, I know she is," he replied in energetic tone; "the Mary Powell is the fastest boat in the world.  She hasn't her equal anywhere."

"How about the Albany?"

"Well, the Albany is a good boat, too; but unfortunately she's ben spoiled. You see, her model is all wrong. She'd be a very fast boat and might catch up with the Mary Powell if she had not been built six feet too wide across. They ought to have modelled her after the Mary (this word the old Captain pronounced in a very affectionate tone) and then she would have been all right."

"What is the outlook for a race between the two boats, Captain?"

"Well, I have been pressed by a number of friends who travel by this boat to consent to a race, because they think they can make a pile of money out of it, and then they would like to see Captain Hitchcock's pretensions — you know, he's the captain of the Albany — silenced once for all."

Vast Sums to Be Bet.
"How much are they willing to bet?"

“Well, there is a certain party of capitalists who always travel by this boat who talk of putting up $50,000. Then there's another party wanting to bet $10,000. Oh, there's no lack of money," the Captain added with quite an exhilarated manner, being evidently warmed up by the subject.

"If the race comes off when is it likely to take place?"

"Oh, of course, it could only take place after the season, and then we'd take no passengers at all — that would be against the law."

"Would you consent to it, Captain?"

This was a "poser," but the Captain, after a little hesitation, said: — "Well, if my friends insist upon it perhaps I might, but then I'm opposed to it myself, and I'll tell you why. Not that there would be any doubt about our beating the Albany, there's another reason why I am opposed to it, and don't think I'd like to consent to it."

"And why is that's Captain?"

"Well, the Mary Powell, you know, is a family boat, and has always been a family boat. We carry in her all the time a great number of ladies and children, who go with us unattended. Why, they feel here as they would in their own homes. Every woman and child between New York and Kingston knows the Mary. Now, I would not like her to get the reputation of a racing boat. That is why I do not like to accommodate my friends who want me to race her against the Albany after the season."

The Albany's Faults Pronounced Hopeless.
“You have never had any actual contest, Captain?"

"No, except this. Everybody knows what time we make and that the Albany does not come anywhere near it. You ask anybody who has been travelling by the two boats and is not particularly friendly to either and they will tell you that. Well, last fall, after the season, the Albany, just to show what she could do, after all that had been said about the Mary Powell being such a superb boat, made a race against time up the river, and in the first nine miles up to Fort Washington she was five minutes behind the Mary's time."

"Hasn't she been doing better this season, Captain?"

"Why, no; she can't do any better unless they change her model and make her more like the Mary. Why, during that race against time her wheel made twenty-six and one-half revolutions to the minute to our twenty-five, and yet we go faster. That shows that there's something radically wrong with her."

"How fast are we going now, Captain?" was the final question asked, as the boat seemed to be under full headway and favored by tide and wind.

"About twenty-five miles an hour," the Captain proudly answered; “and that only with thirty pounds of steam, while we can carry fifty if we like. So you see what the result would be if we'd race with a boat like the Albany. Mind you, in whatever you say in the Herald, remember I have nothing to say against Captain Hitchcock or his boat; all I say is, that if he thinks he has as fast a boat as the Mary he is very much deceived; that's all."

What One of the Engineers Says.
One of the engineers of the Mary Powell was gently accosted; but he drew himself up, and in a serio-comic style, which would have done credit to an actor, said, "Well, now, we engineers have so often been misrepresented on this subject that, like other public men, we now decline to be interviewed." Presently, however, he became more communicative, and did not hesitate to give his views.

"Why," said he, "there can be no doubt as to which is the faster boat of the two. It takes the Albany three hours and twenty-five minutes to go to Newburg, and we make one landing more — Cornwall — and do it in three hours and twenty five minutes, beating her by five minutes.  What do you think of that?"

An expression of high approval greeted this complacent query and drew out further interesting statements bearing on the question.

"Last fall, when she made her race against time, from Twenty-second street to Poughkeepsie, making the trip in 3h. 13m., she ran behind time fully 2 minutes.  I'll show you how: — The Mary Powell left Twenty-second street at 3:34 and arrived in Poughkeepsie at 7:09, making the trip in 3h. 35m. Now, they only allowed us 2 minutes for every stop, but, as a matter of fact, it takes us 5, and counting only 4 minutes for each of the six stops, or 24 minutes in all, we did it in 3h 11m. and beat her by 2 minutes, didn't we? And then she carried forty-five pounds of steam and we carried only thirty-four, and they had her all cocked and primed for it, while we were not prepared in the least."

Why a Race Will Not Take Place.
"Do you think a race will take place?"

"Well, I don't know; I think it doubtful."

"Why."

“For several reasons," and here the engineer smiled and his eye gave a merry twinkle.

"Just name one."

"Well, you see one of the boats would have to be behind, and that would be quite a damper on he business for the future.  That's the principal reason."

"Do people, then, care so much whether the one boat reaches her destination a couple of minutes sooner than the other?"

"I should think they did! Why, this is our fast week, when we have the tide in or favor.  Next week, when it is against us and we'll be five minutes later, a great many of the people riding with us this week will go up to their homes by the Central. This is a fast age.," the engineer added sententiously.

"Do you think that a race would create much excitement?"

"There never was anything like the excitement you'd see. The man who would charter all the trains in the New York Central to follow the boats and charge $25 a seat would still make his fortune. More money would change hands than at any race that has ever been held in this country. Why, it would be the greatest thing known!"

"By how much would you beat the Albany, do you think?"

"Oh, it's hard to say."

"Take a race to Poughkeepsie; would you beat her by fifteen minutes?"

“Oh, no; we'd do well to beat her by a few lengths. But, then, as I said before, I don't think you'll see a race. I know that if I had the two boats I wouldn’t consent to it. Now, each boat has her friends and is considered the fastest by them, while the race would put a damper on one of the two. And then you can't always tell what might be happening on a certain day. The water might not work well in the boiler or a journal might become hot; some mishap might happen and the reputation of the boat might be jeopardized, while she might really be the faster of the two."

Captain Hitchcock "Ready for ‘Em.”
"We're ready for 'em!" Captain Hitchcock, of the Albany, stoutly exclaimed when approached on the subject yesterday. The Captain is also a weather-beaten veteran, like his rival of the Mary Powell.

"I'm told your model has been tried and failed?" was the next query.

"Why, I know they told you that on the Mary Powell, and of course they did.  They  think there never was a model like hers."

"I'm also told you ought to have fashioned the Albany more after the model of the Mary Powell to have made a really fast boat of her."

"I'll never make the Albany like the Mary Powell, because then she'd be completely spoiled. Why, the man who made the Mary Powell's model told me that Captain Tallman, of the Daniel Drew, came to him and told him to spoil her, and that he cut her away so as really to have spoiled her; and Captain Anderson tells you that the Mary Powell is the better model? Well, that's rich, I must say."

“Captain, I am very much perplexed," the interviewer appealed, "by the conflicting statements I have heard about the two boats. Now tell me, please, which is which?"

“Why, there's no comparison. We had the Mary Powell some years ago, and if she had been such a superior boat don't you think we'd have kept her?"

"But since then it is claimed she has been remodelled."

"Remodelled?  A few old rotten timbers taken put and a few new ones put in their places," the Captain responded, with an expression of unmistakable disgust stealing over his face. "I tell you just all there is about the Mary Powell. The Mary Powell is a wonderfully good boat when she's got a tide like a millrun and a regular gale of wind blowing in the right direction — then she'll make first rate time. But the Albany is the only boat in the world I ever saw that could make time against tide, wind or anything else, and always does make time!"

"But isn't your boat six feet too wide?"

"Oh, Captain Anderson told you that too, did ne? Why, if she was twelve feet wider than his boat she'd still be faster. I really wish the Albany were five or six feet wider than she is!"

The Money Behind the "Albany."
"The Mary Powell has a fifty thousand dollar pool behind her in case of a race, I'm told, Captain?"

"Fifty thousand dollars?  We can go that better and triple it," was the contemptuous reply. "Does Captain Anderson tell you he's got a party willing to bet $50,000 that the Mary Powell beats us?"

"That's just it, Captain."

"Well, I don't believe it — unless these are men who travel with him and he's filled them up with good things and deceived them. Now, mind you, I have nothing against Captain Anderson or his boat — all I say is that if he thinks he has a faster boat he is a very much mistaken man."

"We won't stickle at a few thousands, Captain, but do you really think that considerable money would be bet on the Albany in case of a race with the Mary Powell?"

"Do I?  Why, Joe Cornell, of the Citizens' Line, wants to take $20,000 right off, and John Chase, of the Hoboken Ferry, says to put him down for $10,000. Those are only two men. They'll get all the money they want — no trouble about that, my friend!"

"Would you consent to a race?"

"I'd like to see it.  It's really the only way to settle the question," the Captain added, in a firm decided — almost bitter — tone. "If Captain Anderson thinks he has the faster boat, why the only way to settle it is to put the two boats together.  It's the only way, and I'd like to see it done."

"What do you think the result would be?"

The Captain's answer was sharp and quick. "I don't think they'd go very far before they would go back," he replied, and he added vigorously. "I think they'd feel sick at their stomachs before they were out any long distance."

The Mary Powell Misproportioned.
"Why do you think so, Captain?"

"Why, the Mary Powell is all out of proportion. She wasn't made right. She was cut away too much, to begin with, and they she has a 72 cylinder, while her air pump, bed plate and condenser are made for only a 62 cylinder. Now, the Albany has a 73 cylinder and is proportioned for it throughout."

"What time are we making now, Captain?"

"About twenty miles an hour."          

"Five miles less than the Mary Powell?"

"Did they tell you she was making twenty-five miles and hour?  (In a tone of immense astonishment.)  Well, well!"

"How much pressure do you use?"

Here the engineer, who had heard part of the conversation, broke in, saying, "Don't tell him how little we use, or we'll have to bet even, and they won't give us any odds!" At which hilarious sally both captain and engineer gave a gleeful chuckle."

"Captain Anderson says he would not like to let the Mary Powell race because she is a 'family boat?'"

"Well, and ain't we a family boat?" the Captain spoke up, warmly. "Ain't we as much of a family boat as they are? Why, just go down to the cabin and you won't be able to step over all the babies that are about. Haven't we as many women and babies on board as they have?  Just look and see for yourself."

"Conceding that point, Captain, he also seems to be afraid that it might give the Mary Powell the reputation of a 'racing boat?'"

"That's all poppycock! Isn't she racing now every day as it is? She's got the reputation of a racing boat now, for they want to beat everybody else, and they say she can whip creation. I'll tell you what I'll do. If they don't want to bet I'll go for fun. Why, if she wins, it'll be the greatest feather in her cap, and I'll acknowledge the corn. (With a mock rueful air.) I'll tell you up and down than that I was a sadly, sadly deceived man."

"And in that case, Captain, would you model her after the Mary Powell?"

"Model the Albany after the Mary Powell? Do you think that's what I have been forty-nine years steamboating for? Not much!"

"But supposing you two were to come in bow and bow?"

"I'll guarantee against that. I'm not much of a betting man, but I'll bet $5,000 on that — myself!"

End of article, published August 5, 1881 in the ​New York Herald.

The Albany and the Mary Powell did eventually get their race. It was a short one, but considered a race nonetheless! On Wednesday, July 19, 1916, the Powell and the Albany were both headed south on the Hudson at approximately the same time. As the Mary Powell left the dock at Milton, the Albany was just a few minutes behind, and put on a burst of speed in an effort to past. The two boats went full steam ahead for Poughkeepsie, but the Mary Powell was the victor.  ​

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