 New Baltimore as it appears from the river today. Photo courtesy of author Mark Peckham. The hamlet of New Baltimore is an unincorporated community of less than 200 homes situated on the west bank of the Hudson River approximately 15 miles south of Albany. From the river, New Baltimore is identified by several early nineteenth century houses with verandahs, the steeple of the Dutch Reformed Church and the squared bell tower of a former Methodist church. Driving through the hamlet, one might notice the well-preserved nineteenth century houses, carriage barns and church buildings, as well as the lawns and mature trees which contribute to its attractiveness. The core of the hamlet was entered on the National Register of Historic Places in 1996. Appearances, however, can be deceiving. At its height of its prosperity and physical development, New Baltimore was a substantial community with hotels, stores, hundreds of houses, docks and industries. Of the latter, shipbuilding and ice harvesting were dominant. Today’s New Baltimore reflects little of the urban density and industrial character typical of much of its waterfront during the nineteenth and early twentieth centuries. The hamlet was first settled by several Dutch families and New Englanders at the end of the eighteenth century. By 1800, the place had accumulated two dozen houses and the name New Baltimore, often abbreviated as simply “Baltimore.” New Baltimore was strategically located just below an area of the river choked with islands and bars that often impeded ship navigation to Albany. One of these obstructions, the infamous “overslaugh” bottled up shipping during periods of low water. New Baltimore had the advantage of being below these obstructions and still close to Albany. A promotional map from 1809 encouraging investment in real estate describes the place as “commanding a spacious harbor and intersected by extensive turnpike roads opening a fair prospect for the mercantile and seafaring adventurer.”  New Baltimore in the early 19th century showing a sloop, a two-masted periagua and and the early warehouses at the center of the community. Illustration by Ann Frances Sherman (1813-1886).  Typical 19th century sloop from an illustration in Verplank and Collyer, "The Sloops of The Hudson", 1908. Shipbuilding was clearly underway in New Baltimore by 1793 when the sloop Sea Flower was built by Nathan Dunbar. This was followed by more than a dozen new sloops, schooners and a brig built for the river trade and even trade with the West Indies. These sailing vessels tended to average 60 to 70 feet in length on deck and carried freight and passengers up and down the river while maintaining communications between Hudson River towns, New York City and southern New England. At least one New Baltimore sloop remained in service locally into the 1870s. The town’s yards also thrived repairing and rebuilding sailing vessels. By 1830, a community of shipbuilders, masters, owners and merchants had emerged building docks, warehouses, several shipyards and a series of mostly frame houses on small lots along what are now Main and Washington streets.  The tug "Joel D. Smith" being transferred to the marine railway at the Baldwin yard for launch in 1905.  The sidewheel steamboat "G.V.S. Quackenbush" on the marine railway for repairs in an undated photograph. The boat was built in New Baltimore in 1878. Photograph courtesy of Hudson River Maritime Museum, Donald C. Ringwald Collection. A drydock was added to New Baltimore’s yard facilities in 1835. Sloops continued to be built and repaired here into the 1850s, when steamboats and barges began to be produced. In 1858, Jedediah R. and Henry S. Baldwin purchased the Goldsmith and Ten Eyck shipyard and began a business that continued almost uninterrupted until 1919. The Baldwins built at least 100 steamboats, canal barges, hay barges, tugboats and a large steam dredge over their 61-year history and repaired many more. A marine railway was built at the company’s Mill Street yard in 1884 which facilitated the launching of new boats and the repair of passenger steamboats of all but the largest sizes. Among the more notable boats built here were the 182-foot sidewheeler Andrew Harder in 1863, 253-foot propeller steamboat Nuhpa in 1865, the sidewheel towboat Jacob Leonard in 1872, the 127-foot sidewheel steamboat G.V.S. Quackenbush in 1878 and the 139-foot hay and excursion barge Andrew M. Church in 1892. Between 1905 and 1906, 13 boats were launched at the Baldwin yard. Photographs of the yard taken in the late nineteenth and early twentieth centuries show the marine railway in use, new boats being built on the shoulders of the railway slip, an office and loft building, several storage buildings, a steam mill for sawing and planning lumber, a basin adjacent to the river to keep logs from drying and checking, several steam boxes with brick furnaces and teams of workers with caulking mallets in hand. Launches of the larger boats were often celebratory events for the community and recorded in photographs.  A marine boiler being driven through the “town square” circa 1905. Small boats were also produced and serviced in New Baltimore. In the 1880s, Herrick & Powell produced yachts and launches with steam and early internal combustion engines. In 1898, William H. Couser moved his boat shop to Mill Street where he produced and repaired small craft for some years. The Baldwin firm built or repaired at least one small auxiliary schooner at its Mill Street yard and briefly operated a small yard nearby at Matthews Point for building smaller tugs.  Detail from the 1891 birdseye view of New Baltimore published by L.R. Burleigh in 1891. The “town square” with the tall mast is at the center on Main St. The Baldwin shipyard and the marine railway are at the lower left hand corner of the image. New Baltimore’s mid and later nineteenth century prosperity was expressed in its fine homes and churches. Stylish homes with verandahs overlooking the river and sometimes distinctive cupolas were built by the town’s leading industrialists and merchants in the latest styles of the day. Steamboats connected New Baltimore to Albany, Hudson and ports in between and a five-story hotel was built on the town square. Large warehouses flanked the public dock and coal pockets were built near the steamboat dock and a short distance south on Mill Street. By the 1890s, the waterfront was flanked by enormous icehouses at its north and south ends and across the river on Hotaling Island. New Baltimore’s decline was gradual. The West Shore Railroad by-passed the hamlet by more than a mile when service began in 1883, limiting the possibilities that direct rail service might have provided. Major fires in 1897, 1905, 1912 and 1929 largely destroyed the business center of the community. The natural ice industry declined during this same period due to public concerns over bacterial contamination from polluted river water and the simultaneous rise of clean manufactured ice. The Baldwin shipyard was purchased by William Wade in 1919 and incorporated as the New Baltimore Shipbuilding and Repair Corporation. It may have built one or more wooden tugs. The last launch in town was the 90-foot wooden steamship Kittaning built in 1922 for the Manhattan State Hospital on Ward’s Island. Thereafter, the yard became a dock for Wade’s adapted sand and dredging company. While ideal for building wooden sloops, barges, tugs, ferries, and small to mid-sized steamboats, New Baltimore did not have enough available flat land along the river or the access to rail shipments necessary to create an efficient yard for building with steel. Steel shipbuilding succeeded elsewhere on the Hudson River where adequate land and infrastructure were available, notably at Kingston, Newburgh, and Cohoes.  The New Baltimore waterfront in 1941 several hundred feet south of the former Baldwin Shipyard. Photograph by John Collier, Jr., October, 1942, U.S. Office of War Information, Library of Congress, 2017821391. https://www.loc.gov/item/2017821391/ With its prime industries lost, New Baltimore lost status, population, and a number of ancillary businesses that once thrived on its booming economy. Images taken by Office of War Information photographer John Collier, Jr. in October 1941 show a town with little apparent activity, dilapidated fences, unpainted porches and a waterfront with rotting barges. Buildings continued to be lost to fire and neglect and trees reclaimed industrial sites and yards. Areas of dense-packed housing were gradually thinned and by the 1970s, the town had lost as much as one-fourth of its historic building stock. The hamlet’s stabilization and recovery, beginning in the 1970s, paralleled a broadened appreciation for the Hudson River and the gradual clean-up of its waters. Today, the hamlet is an attractive bedroom community for families and individuals with employment in adjacent communities and nearby cities. Its maritime heritage is echoed in the houses of the shipbuilders, captains, shipwrights and rivermen, the remains of the earth-filled docks and slips, a lone derrick, several subbing posts along the shoreline and the stone foundations of some of its lost buildings and industrial sites.  New Baltimore’s Main St. today. The Captain Joseph Sherman House, built circa 1820, stands at the left. Photograph by author Mark Peckham. Sources: Bush, Clesson S. Episodes from a Hudson River Town, New Baltimore, New York. SUNY Albany, 2011. Gambino, Anthony J. By the Shores of New Baltimore: Its Shipyards and Nautical History. Self-published C.D., 2009. Historic photos courtesy of Town of New Baltimore Historian's Office and Greene County Historical Society. AuthorMark Peckham is a trustee of the Hudson River Maritime Museum and a retiree from the New York State Division for Historic Preservation. 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Editor’s Note: The replica ship Half Moon was completed in Albany in 1989 and served as a cultural ambassador celebrating the role of the Dutch in naval architecture, exploration, international trade, and colonization. An earlier replica was built in Amsterdam and presented to the United States during the Hudson-Fulton Celebration in 1909. This first replica was not maintained after the celebration and did not survive long as a static exhibit at Bear Mountain and later at Cohoes. The 1989 replica performed well once her characteristics were understood and was exhibited in a number of ports along the Atlantic seaboard. Later, she served as valuable and successful educational platform on the Hudson River through her “Voyages of Discovery” program for school children. The ship is currently in the Netherlands after spending several years as an exhibit in Hoorn. To read more about the technology and terminology of sailing in the seventeenth century and later, John Harland’s Seamanship in the Age of Sail, 1984 (republished by the Naval Institute Press in 1987) is recommended. For an account of Henry Hudson’s four voyages of exploration, including his trip up the Hudson River in 1609, Donald Johnson’s Charting the Sea of Darkness, International Marine, 1993 is recommended. This latter book is dedicated to the shipwright who designed and built the replica, Nick Benton. Follow Muddy Paddle, Able Seaman aboard the replica ship Half Moon here.  Diagram of the Half Moon’s sail plan and rig illustrating the spars comprising the masts. Illustration by Muddy Paddle. The Maiden Voyage It was mentioned earlier that the 1609 Half Moon carried a standard six-sail rig of the period. This means that she carried a foremast and a mainmast, each spreading two square sails to drive the ship as well as a bowsprit and a mizzen spreading smaller sails that helped supplement the rudder to steer the ship, or more accurately position the ship’s angle relative to the wind direction. The foremast and mainmasts are comprised of three connected spars each; a heavy mast rising 30 to 40 feet above the deck; a lighter topmast 20 to 25 feet in length rising up above the circular tops colloquially called “crows’nests” and topgallant poles rising a little less than 20 feet above crosstrees at the top of each topgallant mast. The combined height of the mainmast assembly was approximately 78 feet above the waterline. The mizzenmast at the stern of the ship was shorter and lighter carrying only one sail and comprised of only one large spar and one short pole above that. The bowsprit overhanging the bow of the ship was shaped from a single spar. The replica Half Moon was fitted with an engine to facilitate movement when wind and tide were not favorable. Adding an engine was also intended to add a margin of safety and reliability to the replica’s operations.  The Half Moon returning to her Albany berth. The bridge she struck is visible on the left. Photograph courtesy of an onlooker. The unofficial but actual maiden voyage of the replica Half Moon took place just before sunset early in October, 1989. The ship was docked on her port side where she was held off of the bulkhead by a steel camel or pontoon. The work on this side was complete and it was time to turn the ship around so that the starboard side would be more accessible. After the volunteers arrived, lines were cast off. A paid member of the construction crew took command and the ship proceeded south under her own power. At the Port of Albany, our provisional captain ordered the helmsman to make a hard port turn. The helm was slow to answer, owing to the placement of the propeller on the port side of the ship and the relatively small surface area of our rudder. It took most of the width of the river to turn the ship around and to head back north to our dock. After straightening up, our captain gave the engine more throttle and we found that steering improved. We were sailing with the incoming tide and making rapid progress. A west wind picked up and even with sails furled, our ship heeled gently over. By now, a few boaters had begun to follow us and snap off photographs of the scene against an atmospheric sunset. We approached our dock and the highway bridge just north of it very quickly. The captain planned to proceed to the bridge, turn, and then dock with the starboard side to the wall. Once again, the ship was very slow to make a port turn. The ship’s momentum and the tide were quickly carrying us to the bridge which had a vertical clearance of less than 70 feet. Our captain shifted to reverse, and revved up the engine, but reverse failed to engage. As our foremast approached the bridge, all of the crew on deck tried to find cover. Some dove into the forecastle or down the main hatch. One dove into the river. The foretopgallant mast struck the bridge, broke off and went into the river. The taller main topmast was next in line to strike the bridge and would have resulted in a lot of falling spars and blocks and cordage. Fortunately, reverse engaged at the last second and the mast was spared. Our captain sheepishly landed at our dock. As a token of humiliation, the broken fore topgallant mast was hooked by one of the boaters and towed to us for presentation while we secured lines. Within hours, a replacement was hastily planed down from a long fir timber and raised into position before the owner of the ship arrived the next day for an inspection.  Rigging completed. Photograph by Muddy Paddle. Sea Trials Several days later, plans were made to send the Half Moon down to New York on a shakedown cruise. An experienced pilot was hired. The crew returned with sea bags in hand for a trip down the river. Once the owner came aboard, we cast off lines, started the engine and moved away from the dock. Cannon fire from the Rensselaer shoreline saluted the ship as she moved into the main channel. The trouble began almost immediately. Smoke billowed out of the engine compartment and up and out of the main hatch. While a few folks went below for fire extinguishers, our new pilot quickly reviewed the options and decided to run for the docks at the Port of Rensselear and get everyone off the ship. Several of us gathered up lines to secure the ship as soon as we touched. The pilot killed the engine and we hit the dock with a thud, breaking the rampant lion figurehead. After the smoke cleared we learned that the shaft bearings had overheated. The engine and the shaft were misaligned. The trip was cancelled. We all took our gear and departed. A week or so later, a tugboat named Spuyten Duyvil came up the river, attached a towline to the Half Moon’s forward bitts and unceremoniously towed the ship to New York and then to Bridgeport for drydocking. From there, she was taken to North Carolina. Thus ended the first chapter of Half Moon’s Albany story and her association with most of her original volunteers and would-be sailors.  The Half Moon’s forward bitts located below the forecastle on the orlop deck. Illustration by Muddy Paddle. Join us again next Friday for the Part 3 of the "Half Moon" adventure! AuthorMuddy Paddle grew up near the Hudson River and always loved ships and boats. A job change in 1988 brought him to an office near the site where the Half Moon was being built and he became involved as a volunteer. Muddy learned the ways of seventeenth century sailing and accompanied the replica ship on a series of adventures and misadventures on the river, in New York Harbor and even offshore. He maintained a journal, which served as a reference for on-board terminology and operations as well as a place to record a few highlights of his trips. The accounts presented here, and several of the illustrations, were based on this journal and his recollection of these trips.
If you enjoyed this post and would like to support more history blog content, please make a donation to the Hudson River Maritime Museum or become a member today! Editor’s Note: The replica ship Half Moon was completed in Albany in 1989 and served as a cultural ambassador celebrating the role of the Dutch in naval architecture, exploration, international trade, and colonization. An earlier replica was built in Amsterdam and presented to the United States during the Hudson-Fulton Celebration in 1909. This first replica was not maintained after the celebration and did not survive long as a static exhibit at Bear Mountain and later at Cohoes. The 1989 replica performed well once her characteristics were understood and was exhibited in a number of ports along the Atlantic seaboard. Later, she served as valuable and successful educational platform on the Hudson River through her “Voyages of Discovery” program for school children. The ship is currently in the Netherlands after spending several years as an exhibit in Hoorn. To read more about the technology and terminology of sailing in the seventeenth century and later, John Harland’s Seamanship in the Age of Sail, 1984 (republished by the Naval Institute Press in 1987) is recommended. For an account of Henry Hudson’s four voyages of exploration, including his trip up the Hudson River in 1609, Donald Johnson’s Charting the Sea of Darkness, International Marine, 1993 is recommended. This latter book is dedicated to the shipwright who designed and built the replica, Nick Benton. Follow Muddy Paddle, Able Seaman aboard the replica ship Half Moon here.  The "Half Moon" on the Hudson River illustrating the standard six-sail rig. Photograph by Muddy Paddle. Building the ship I was pretty skeptical when I first heard about it. Someone was planning to build a replica of Henry Hudson’s Half Moon, the ship Hudson sailed up the river now bearing his name in 1609. It seemed even more unlikely that construction would take place in Albany, a city with little in the way of docks or living maritime traditions. I realized the project was real when I drove past a downtown Albany parking lot along the river and was startled to see the outline of a wooden ship with a keel, a stem and a sternpost resting on thick timbers and braced in position. It was the summer of 1988.  The "Half Moon’s" keel, stem and stern, 1988. Photograph by Muddy Paddle. The original Half Moon was one of two “jagten” (yachts, meaning hunters or chasers) ordered by the VOC or Verenigde Oostindische Compagne (Dutch East India Company) in July, 1608. The Half Moon was to be 70 old Amsterdam feet long “binnen steven” (between stem and sternpost) 16 feet in beam and 8 feet depth of hold and she was to have a cabin fitted behind the mizzen mast. She carried a standard six-sail rig of the period and was built at the East India Company’s Scheeps-Timmer-Werf in Amsterdam in 1608-1609. Englishman Henry Hudson was employed by the VOC to search for a passage to the Far East in 1609 and set sail for the company aboard the new ship on March 25, 1609. Disregarding instructions, Hudson and his mixed Dutch and English crew explored much of the American east coast before sailing up the river that later bore his name in September. After the ship was returned to the Netherlands, she appears to have come to an accidental or deliberate end no later than 1618. The replica ship’s nascent frame was soon enclosed by a steel shed as the work of erecting frames (the ships wooden ribs) continued during the colder weather and into the winter. A job change took me to a downtown Albany building near this site, and I became involved as a volunteer, checking in at lunchtime, occasionally offering a little time at the end of the workday and helping on weekends.  Illustration of the "Half Moon’s" completed frame, 1989. Illustration by Muddy Paddle. The Half Moon (Halve Maen in Dutch), replica was conceived of by Andrew Hendricks, a doctor from North Carolina with Dutch ancestry. Donations were solicited and volunteers welcomed. The ship was designed by Nick Benton, a young shipwright from Rhode Island. Benton travelled to Amsterdam and learned that the 1608 Halve Maen was quite different from the replica built in the Netherlands in 1909 for the Hudson Fulton Celebration. Subsequent research had uncovered the Dutch East India Company’s 1608 construction resolution which detailed critical dimensions and details. It was also theorized that hulls of this period were designed according to the Tangent Arc system instead of taking lines off of a model or drawings. As Benton described the system, frames were lofted directly using a system of mathematical proportions, straight edges and compasses. The resulting hull shape featured a very flat bottom, abrupt chines (the places where the hull changes from bottom to sides) and pronounced tumblehome (the sides are wider at the waterline than at the deck and “tumble” inward). The bow of the ship was very rotund while the stern was narrow and rose high above the intended waterline. We later learned that its high profile worked like the tail of a weathervane in maintaining the ship’s course while reaching and tacking, that is, sailing across the wind or slightly into the wind at an angle. In addition to Benton, the Albany work force consisted of Nicholas Miller who served as the foreman and an enthusiastic group of volunteers, many of whom brought useful skills and experiences to the team. After a temporary steel shed was built over the keel and the first positioned frames, several volunteers served as docents, explaining the project to visitors and encouraging participation. The project was promoted in the local press and advertised with car cards on city busses. There was an aggressive schedule to launch and sail the ship in the summer of 1989. This necessitated a non-traditional approach to the ship’s construction. Unlike the traditionally framed original ship or the 1909 replica, the structural members of the hull were all pre-fabricated and shaped offsite using glue laminated oak. Likewise, the decorative flourishes, cannon, rigging and sails were all being produced elsewhere by specialty contractors while the hull was under construction. Each frame was a composite, bolted together from multiple futtocks (sections of the ribs), braced at the top for rigidity and tilted into position. The frames were temporarily held in position by ribbands, scrap strips of wood, until the inner and outer coverings gradually replaced them. One pair of frames in the stern was misshapen, and they could not be shaped true. The tight schedule dictated using them anyway. The bulges remained but were not noticeable because they were below the waterline.  Photo of the "Half Moon’s "frame from within the hold, 1989. Photograph courtesy of an onlooker. The ship’s structural frame was completed in February of 1989 and was almost 30 feet in height. The interior of the hull was graceful, symmetrical, and might have been likened to the inverted rib cage of a huge whale. Ceiling planking (sheathing of the interior) and deck clamps (curving planks that would carry the deck beams) were installed next, followed by the exterior planking. This was also done in a non-traditional way by nailing and gluing one-inch strip planks to the frames. These were followed by two layers of plywood laid in diagonal strips and then covered by an outer shell of Kevlar up to the waterline. Scaffolding was raised as the sides grew in height. Laminated deck beams were installed and the decks were built as epoxy sandwiches of thin planks and plywood. Some volunteers quipped that the ship should be renamed the Half Glue. The volunteers quickly learned that few cuts were guided by straight lines. Everything was curved, cambered, beveled and often bent, requiring the use of templates and some degree of estimation. Once the main deck was completed, the large band saw was winched up and installed on deck near the main hatch, making the fitting of the forecastle (the small cabin in the bow), half deck and poop deck easier.  A crane is positioned to lift the "Half Moon" from the building site. Photograph by Muddy Paddle. The Launch The temporary shed was removed on June 6 and the hull was launched on June 10. It rained hard the night before and the bilges filled with rainwater. On the morning of the launch, volunteers desperately tried to pump out as much of this water as possible; there was some discussion that the crane hired to place the ship in the water was barely rated to handle the weight of the hull dry. A crowd assembled along the river and small boats motored out into the Hudson for the event. The owner’s wife christened the ship by breaking champagne on the bow. The crane successfully picked the hull up and then crawled over a bed of timbers to the river’s edge where the ship was gradually lowered into the river amidst cheers and musket fire. Later, we learned that the crane’s boom cable had come out of its seat and that it was a small miracle that a complete failure had been avoided. Work on the upper portions of the hull resumed almost immediately.  The "Half Moon’s" bow peering over the Hudson River bulkhead. Photograph by Muddy Paddle Nick Benton began the training of the volunteer sailing crew the following week. We learned of the appropriate roles of the ship’s officers, the difference between commands and orders, and seventeenth century sailing handling techniques. Goosewinging, lacing-on-bonnets, up-ending the sprits’l, cockbilling, tricing, club-hauling and smiting became part of our new lexicon. Each sail and its handing were covered separately. Days later, Benton was killed in a shocking accident on the other side of the river in Rensselear. He was removing the shrouds from a coastal schooner when the mast he was perched atop broke, pitching him 80 feet down to the deck below. It was his 35th birthday. Sadly, his wife and children witnessed the accident. A memorial service was arranged aboard the Half Moon two weeks later. Nick was the charismatic force behind the project, and although it continued, the enthusiasm of the volunteers and the pace of work waned. The summer tour schedule, revised many times, was finally scrapped.  The "Half Moon" afloat on the Hudson soon after the launch. Photograph by Muddy Paddle. Nevertheless, the shipbuilders and volunteers found several ways to shake off the gloom. Once the masts were stepped and the main yard and sail were rigged, an evening film festival was staged, projecting images onto the huge sail. Gunnery practices with the replica cannon (four brass three pounders mounted on the orlop deck) were scheduled. One volunteer slipped a small concrete-filled can into the muzzle of one of the guns and watched it hit the far bank of the river. On another occasion, a blank round was fired just as a local dinner cruise boat was docking behind the ship, startling the pilot and making him miss his landing. A complaint was lodged with the Coast Guard. As the rigging neared completion, plans were made to turn the ship around so that finish work could be more easily completed on the starboard side. This became an excuse to take the ship out for an “evening spin,” which became her unofficial maiden voyage. It was a near disaster. Join us again next Friday for the Part 2 of the "Half Moon" adventure! AuthorMuddy Paddle grew up near the Hudson River and always loved ships and boats. A job change in 1988 brought him to an office near the site where the Half Moon was being built and he became involved as a volunteer. Muddy learned the ways of seventeenth century sailing and accompanied the replica ship on a series of adventures and misadventures on the river, in New York Harbor and even offshore. He maintained a journal, which served as a reference for on-board terminology and operations as well as a place to record a few highlights of his trips. The accounts presented here, and several of the illustrations, were based on this journal and his recollection of these trips. If you enjoyed this post and would like to support more history blog content, please make a donation to the Hudson River Maritime Museum or become a member today!
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