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 ​ July 8, 1973.

Since railroad trains have been operating along the east shore of the Hudson River for virtually its entire length between New York and Albany since 1851 and along the west shore of the river from Haverstraw to a point below West Park since 1883, Hudson River boatmen have had plenty of opportunity to observe the changes that have taken place over the years in railroading. 

One big change, of course, was the disappearance of the steam locomotive and its replacement by perhaps the more efficient but much less colorful diesel engine.  I well remember the end of steam locomotives on the old West Shore Railroad. 

Late April 1953 marked the end of passenger trains on the West Shore pulled by the previously reliable iron horse.  The morning of the last stem [sic] runs, shortly after sun-up, I was on the tugboat “Callanan No. 1" bound north with a tow.  We were just south of Crum Elbow, in close along the west bank of the river to get out of the tide.  Along came what we used to call the "paper train," the passenger train out of Weehawken with the New York newspapers for the communities all along the river. 

It was a cool April morning with a north east wind and the sun shining very bright out of the east.  As the train was going up the West Park hill, black soft coal smoke was pouring out of the locomotive’s stack.  I knew it marked the end of an era:

As the train pulled abreast of us, I blew a one long, one short blast on the whistle which the locomotive engineer answered.  Then I blew the traditional three long whistles of farewell. 
I can still see in memory of the three white plumes of steam from the train’s whistle as the engineer answered. 

As the train charged up the incline and out of sight, the wheels of the locomotive pounding, and black smoke and steam belching from the short, stubby, stack, I was reminded of the words of an almost forgotten poem of old, “Pulling up along the track, with the choo choo of the stack, how I love to watch the local as it comes along the track; Pulling up along the track, with the choo choo of the stack, up, up along the lonely track.”

Another change in railroading caused by the passing years, was the disappearance of the track walkers.  For many, many years, the railroad used to employ men to make regular foot patrols of their trackage, especially in the vicinity of rock cuts along the river’s shore.  It was their job to watch for fallen rocks and to make regular inspections of the rights of way. 
For years, boatmen at night would see the track walkers on their lonely patrols carrying a lantern and later with a good flashlight.  This was especially true in the Hudson Highlands from Stony Point to Cornwall where there were extensive rock cuts. 

In the lonely morning hours around 2 or 3 a.m., when seeing a track walker, I would always turn our searchlight on and blink it or raise it up and down.  In return, they would waive their lanterns back to us.  It was a friendly greeting at that hour.  I used to think that it must have been very lonely for them walking along those tracks in the dark. 

A train would come roaring along if a passenger train or rumbling along if a freight, making a great deal of noise, and then it would be all peace and quiet again.  You would see the track walkers going into their little flag shanties along the tracks to get warm and then go out again in another hour for another patrol. 

During the middle 1950’s there was a big stock proxy contest for control of the New York Central Railroad.  A group, headed by Robert R. Young, won control and shortly after that the new management made a lot of changes in the operation of the company.  One of the changes was to do away with the jobs of the track walkers.  After that, no more did boatmen see their friendly lanterns moving back and forth as the track walkers walked their solitary way in the night looking for broken rails, loose spikes or rock slides. 

Before the days of radar on tugboats, when the boats were running in fog, the track walkers were a blessing to the boatmen.  Sometimes we would be running pretty close to shore and see dimly the friendly light of their lantern.  They probably over the years, unbeknown[st] to them, saved many a steamboat or tugboat from running on the shore or rocks. 

On other change is the demise of the hoboes or knights of the road.  Either our affluent society has done away with the hobo or, if there are any left, they must have all taken to the highways. 

Back during the Great Depression of the 1930’s, when on the tugboats we would be bucking the tide with a large tow, we would get close to shore so the tide wouldn’t have such an effect on our tows.  Then, when a freight train of 90 or 100 cars would come along we would try and see how many knights of the road we could count.  Sometimes there would be as many as several dozen.  Times change.  Today, when the freight trains go by one never sees anyone riding the rails. 
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Also, in those depression years, boatmen would see the fires of hoboes burning along the rails or in culverts under the tracks.  If a box car were standing along the tracks on some isolated siding and if we threw our searchlight beam on it, you would frequently see someone slip out the other side or come to the half closed door and peek out. 
Like the seasons and the tides of the river, things along the Hudson are continually changing.  Hopefully, the hoboes of yesteryear have all found the destination they were seeking and surroundings more hospitable than that formerly provided by the "water level route” of wooden ties and steel rails.

Editor's Note: This article is from the January 1, 1851 issue of  Holden's Magazine​.

                         View on the Hudson River at Anthony’s Nose
The Frontispiece of this Number, is a sketch which cannot fail to interest all – as well from the natural beauty of the scenery, as from the hallowed associations connected with it. It was sketched from nature, expressly for Holden’s, and engraved by J.W. Orr. Every one who has passed the spot, by railroad or on the river, will note the fidelity of the engraving.

The building of the Hudson River Railroad has modified, to say the least, the scenery on the east bank of the Hudson. Monsieur Anthony’s profile, and especially Monsieur Anthony’s nose, has suffered by all the blasting, and excavating, and tunneling for the iron track. And indeed things have very much changed since the days of Dolph Heyliger and Antony Vander Heyden. The number of witches has very much decreased, the “storm-ship” has not been seen for these many years, and the trip from the city of the Manhattoes, to the goodly town of the Van Rensellaers, Gansevoorts, and Rosebooms, will now be reduced from four days to as many hours.
In accordance with the spirit and progress of the age, we are bound to let the spirits of the past sleep in their inaccessible hiding places, and talk of railroads and tunnels.
The Hudson River Road is now in full operation between New York and Poughkeepsie, and will probably be completed to Albany by the end of the present year, 1851. Its total cost from New York to Albany is estimated at nine millions of dollars. This includes the expense of a double track from New York to Poughkeepsie, and of the depots along the road. The cost of grading the road from New York to Poughkeepsie, averaged in round numbers, $42,480 per mile. Much of the road is built in the river on solid stone causeways, and between these two points there are no less than ten tunnels: one of these at New Hamburgh is 830 feet in length. The one represented in the engraving at Anthony’s Nose is between 300 and 400 feet in length. The expense of grading the road from Poughkeepsie to Albany will be much less. It is estimated that it will average $28,985 per mile. We are informed that no tunnel will be required above Poughkeepsie. One of 880 feet in length was contemplated at Judson’s Point, six miles north of Hudson, but upon examination it is proved that this may be dispensed with, and indeed it would not in all probability stand if built, as the rock is a mixture of slate and graywacke, and liable to decompose upon exposure to the atmosphere.

The running time of the express trains between New York and Albany, will not be over four hours – and possibly may be less. This is an average of forty miles an hour. It is proposed to run thus express trains each day both ways, and four way trains. The locomotives on this road are the finest in the country, and ranging in weight from eighteen to twenty-two tons. The passenger cars are surpassed in convenience and elegance by none.

The rates of fare established for passengers have been on the scale of one and one third cents per mile, with the exception of the two months of January and February, when the rate was raised to two cents per mile. These rates are very low, and will command the bulk of travel. They are equivalent to two dollars through to Albany in the summer, and three in winder. Most persons prefer to ride on a rail-road rather than on a steamboat, even if the expense is a little greater, and when the time of making the journey is one half, most of the travelling public will patronize the rail-road, though the fare should be double or treble that of the steamboat.

Thus are the facilities of intercommunication being rapidly and wonderfully increased. Distant points are brought in close proximity, and a vastly enlarged intercourse between the inhabitants of different sections of the country is promoting a sympathy of feeling, and a oneness of interests, which cannot but be promotive of intelligence, liberality and union.