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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 June 11, 1972. On June 15, 1904 occurred one of the worst steamboat disasters of all time. On that sunny June morning, he New York harbor excursion steamer “General Slocum” caught fire and burned in the East River with a resulting loss of life of 1,021 people. The “General Slocum” was built in 1891 at Brooklyn to run between New York City and Rockaway Beach. She later ran as an excursion steamer on the Hudson River and Long Island sound, and — at the time — was the largest excursion steamboat out of New York. From time to time, she was chartered by local Ulster County groups and carried excursions out of Rondout Creek. On the day of the disaster, the “General Slocum” had been chartered by the Sunday School and members of the congregation of St. Mark’s German Lutheran Church of New York for an excursion to Locust Grove on Long Island. The vessel left a pier at the foot of East Third Street, Manhattan, shortly before 10 a.m. and proceeded up the East River. A Cabin Ablaze Off 97th Street, some of the deckhands on the lower deck observed wisps of smoke coming from the forward part of the vessel. Instead of notifying the captain, they tried to find the cause, apparently thinking they could put out the fire if there was one. They went below and found a cabin ablaze. Coming back on deck, they got the mate who immediately sent word to the captain and started to fight the fire. By this time the fire was beginning to gain momentum and spread. The East River, at the point where the fire was discovered, is deep and filled with treacherous tidal currents. The captain, William H. Van Schaick, thought his best course would be to reach shallow water and ordered the pilot to head at full speed for North Brother Island, approximately a mile ahead. The fire, unfortunately, spread rapidly, fanned by a breeze blowing from the north and the steamer’s speed through the water. Many passengers became panic stricken as everyone tried to crowd to the rear of the vessel away from the burning forward part of the steamboat. To add to the dire chain of events surrounding the tragedy, the steamer — on reaching North Brother Island — grounded forward. Her stern, however, where all the passengers were crowded, was still in water 30 feet deep. Many passengers, thinking the entire steamer was in shallow water, jumped overboard and were drowned. Due to the huge loss of life, the disaster naturally caused a great public furor and led to several investigations. There was strong criticism of the adequacy of the life saving and fire fighting equipment aboard the steamboat. As a result of the investigations, Captain Van Schaick was sentenced to prison. Almost all boatmen felt the captain was unjustly made a scapegoat for the resulting tragedy, instead of the owners of the steamer or the effectiveness of the life saving and fire fighting equipment then required — and the inspections of it by government inspectors. Suffered Injuries Captain Van Schaick was severely burned as a result of the fire and his eyesight was permanently damaged by the intense heat of the flames as he vainly sought to direct efforts to combat the holocaust. When he was sentenced to prison, he was sent to Sing Sing at Ossining. At that time, the State was building what is now Bear Mountain Park operated by the Palisades Interstate Park Commission. Some of the inmates of Sing Sing were used for cutting down trees, and other work. Al Walker, who later was a captain of Cornell tugboats, was then captain of a little steamboat used to carry prisoners back and forth between Sing Sing and the new park. Captain Van Schaick was one of the prisoners who was sent to the park to do what he could. Al told me he would always take Captain Van Schaick into the pilot house and let him steer or do whatever he wanted to do as, like all other steamboatmen of that day, he felt Captain Van should never have gone to prison. Captain Van Schaick eventually was pardoned by President Taft and later died at the Masonic Home at Utica in 1924. Several members of his family were also steamboatmen. A brother was a captain of steamboats of the Iron Steamboat Company, the steamboat line that ran from New York to Coney Island until 1932. Captain Arthur Van Schaick, who I believe was a nephew of the “General Slocum’s" captain, was a pilot and later captain of the "Chauncey M. Depew’’ of the Hudson River Day Line. On the ‘Sirius’ Before Captain Van Schaick became captain of the "General Slocum," he had been captain of the steamer “Sirius” of the Iron Steamboat Company. Jack Dearstyne, Sr., who was later captain of a number of Hudson River steamboats, was at that time first mate of the ‘‘Sirius." Captain Dearstyne later told me that Captain Van Schaick always used to say his one wish was to be captain of New York’s largest excursion steamer. Well, he got his wish and, as it turned out, to his great regret. AuthorCaptain William Odell Benson was a life-long resident of Sleightsburgh, N.Y., where he was born on March 17, 1911, the son of the late Albert and Ida Olson Benson. He served as captain of Callanan Company tugs including Peter Callanan, and Callanan No. 1 and was an early member of the Hudson River Maritime Museum. He retained, and shared, lifelong memories of incidents and anecdotes along the Hudson River. Learn more at the June 8, 2022 lecture by author Edward T. O'Donnell "The 1904 General Slocum Disaster: New York's Deadliest Day before 9/11" 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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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 May 21, 1972. 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. AuthorCaptain William Odell Benson was a life-long resident of Sleightsburgh, N.Y., where he was born on March 17, 1911, the son of the late Albert and Ida Olson Benson. He served as captain of Callanan Company tugs including Peter Callanan, and Callanan No. 1 and was an early member of the Hudson River Maritime Museum. He retained, and shared, lifelong memories of incidents and anecdotes along the Hudson River. 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!
As we approach the opening of our new exhibit, "A New Age of Sail: The History and Future of Sail Freight on the Hudson River," we thought we'd introduce this classic folk song about a collier named Nightingale by Stan Rogers. In it, a brave captain sacrifices himself to save his crew. Rogers was a Canadian folk singer who wrote "The Flowers of Bermuda" in 1978, apparently based on a true story. He wrote of the song, "I took my first trip to Bermuda in May, 1978 and loved it. While I was there, I discovered that the whole area around Bermuda is a kind of ship graveyard. I found a map showing the location of most of the known wrecks and discovered that a coal carrier called the Nightingale sank off the North Rock in the early 1880s. The rest of the details are pure invention, except for the fact that Bermuda is lovely." There was in fact a collier named Nightingale, although she foundered in the North Atlantic in the 1890s, not Bermuda in the 1880s. However, North Rock Reef in Bermuda was home to several shipwrecks, and you can still dive some today. Stephen Winick of Sing Out! magazine looked further into the history of Rogers' song and ship, and may have found the real vessel that inspired the song. Colliers were important cargo sailing vessels throughout the 19th and 20th centuries as they were able to ship coal without using any of it to fuel themselves. Bermuda was an important coaling station for the British Royal Navy's steamships and so the semi-fictional Nightingale would have been bringing coal from England or the United States to resupply the coaling station at Bermuda. Early steamships could not carry enough coal to go long distances without refueling, so stations like Bermuda were crucial to Naval operations. The Flowers Of Bermuda by Stan Rogers He was the captain of the Nightingale Twenty-One days from clyde in coal. He could smell the flowers of Bermuda in the gale, When he died on the North Rock Shoal. Just five short hours from Bermuda, in a fine October gale, There came a cry "O there be breakers dead ahead!" From the Collier Nightingale. No sooner had the captain brought her round, Came a rending crash below. Hard on her beam ends groaning went the Nightingale, And overside her mainmast goes. He was the captain of the Nightingale Twenty-One days from clyde in coal. He could smell the flowers of Bermuda in the gale, When he died on the North Rock Shoal. "O Captain are we all for drowning?" Came the cry from all the crew. "The boats be smashed, How are we all then to be saved? They are stove in through and through." Oh, are ye brave and hearty collier men? Or are ye blind and cannot see? The captain's gig still lies before ye whole and sound. It shall carry all O' we. He was the captain of the Nightingale Twenty-One days from clyde in coal. He could smell the flowers of Bermuda in the gale, When he died on the North Rock Shoal. But when the crew was all assembled, And the gig prepared for sea, Twas seen there were but eighteen places to be manned, Nineteen mortal souls were we. But cries the captain "now do ye not delay, Nor do ye spare a thought for me, My duty is to save ye all now if I can, See ye return quick as can be." He was the captain of the Nightingale Twenty-One days from clyde in coal. He could smell the flowers of Bermuda in the gale, When he died on the North Rock Shoal. Oh there be flowers in Bermuda. Beauty lies on every hand. And there be laughter, ease, and drink for every man, But there is no joy for me. For when we reached the wretched Nightingale, What an awful sight was plain, The captain drowned, lay tangled in the mizzen chain, Smiling bravely beneath the sea. He was the captain of the Nightingale Twenty-One days from clyde in coal. He could smell the flowers of Bermuda in the gale, When he died on the North Rock Shoal. To learn more about colliers and other sail freight vessels, be sure to check out "A New Age of Sail: The History and Future of Sail Freight on the Hudson River," opening Sunday, May 22, 2022! 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! Since the Hudson River was first navigated by steamboats in 1807, there have been hazards- natural and man-made- that have plagued the captains and pilots of these vessels. Fog, low water level, treacherous currents and ice have all taken their toll over the years, as have the occasional cases of inattention to duty, confusing or misunderstood whistle signals between steamers- not to mention fires, boiler explosions or mechanical failure of engine or steering gear. Some of these accidents are well known, such as the loss of the steamer Thomas Cornell when she ran up Danskammer Point, north of Newburgh, in the fog on 27 March 1882 as she was making her regular trip from Rondout to New York. Many years later, the Hudson River Day Line’s flagship Washington Irving was lost as a result of a collision just after she left her pier in New York on 1 June 1926. She was struck on the port side by an oil barge in tow of the tug Thomas E. Moran and sank after she was hurriedly run across the river to shallower water on the New Jersey side. Most of the accidents or incidents have never had the dramatic impact of losses such as that of the Thomas Cornell or Washington Irving. Many of them didn’t result in the loss of the vessel. The Cornell tug G.W. Decker was an example. This small tug was for many years employed as a “helper” tug on Cornell’s tows- picking up or dropping off individual barges at intermediate points on the journey to or from New York. Many years ago, the many brickyards at Haverstraw sent their production to New York on barges, with the helper tug shuttling between the brickyard wharves and the tow. The depth of the river at Haverstraw Bay is not particularly deep, and the fact that the Decker’s bottom plates were eventually found to be very thin was ascribed- in part at least- to the cumulative action of Haverstraw Bay sand on her bottom. We shall never know for sure, but it is a reasonable theory. The river’s depth is very shallow on the wide reaches of Haverstraw Bay outside of the main channel, and on the upper river where dredging had to be accomplished to allow ships to reach the port of Albany. In March 1910, long before the upper river was dredged, the very large and powerful steel-hulled Cornell tug named Cornell- accompanied by her helper Rob- was sent to Albany to break up an enormous ice jam in order that the river might be opened for traffic. It was found that her draft was so great that she grounded from time to time on the northbound trip, but she eventually accomplished her task with no small measure of hazard to Cornell and her crew. It was never attempted again. Over most of the river’s course from New York to the start of the dredged channel north of Hudson the channel is of moderate depth, but in the Highlands- from Peekskill north to Cornwall- there is a lot of water, sometimes extending almost to the shoreline because of the mountainous nature of the area. At Anthony’s Nose, the depth reaches about 90 feet, and under the Bear Mountain Bridge we may find nearly 130 feet of depth. In the region around West Point is where we may find the deepest point on the entire river. Between West Point and Constitution Island, in that part of the river called World’s End, a depth of 202 feet was recorded during one survey many years ago- and that is at mean low water during the lowest river stages. A small steamboat- or “steam yacht” in river parlance- named Carrie A. Ward, built in New Baltimore in 1878, maintained a local service between Newburgh and Peekskill during the 1880s. In late July of 1882, she sank near Cold Spring and was raised. On Saturday, 29 July, she sank for a second time for reasons thus far unknown, again in the vicinity of Cold Spring. By Tuesday, 1 August, she had not been located. The Newburgh Daily Journal reported on that day under the headline “Is She Gone For Good?”: “It is said that the river bed consists of rocks in the locality where she went down, and that the water is of varying depth. It may be fifty [feet] deep in one spot, and nearly twice that a few yards off. Some boatmen have doubts if the Carrie will ever be found. They say she may have settled into a hollow between some of the rocks and her presence may never be discovered.” The situation was not quite as dire as the boatmen predicted. By the next day, she had been located in 60 feet of water. The Journal remarked, “Arrangements are under way to have the yacht raised again.” The Baxter Wrecking Company brought in their divers and equipment on 5 August, and in a short time, the Carrie A. Ward had been raised, repaired and back in service. The Hudson hasn’t always been that kind to its vessels. There have been scores of sail and steamboats, barges and other craft that have sunk in the river never to be raised. We shall unfortunately never know the tales told by their crews. AuthorThis article was originally written by William duBarry Thomas and published in the 2007 Pilot Log. Thank you to Hudson River Maritime Museum volunteer Adam Kaplan for transcribing the article. 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!
We've written about the 1845 wreck of the steamboat Swallow before, but for those of you who'd rather watch and listen than read, this video offers a great, minute-by-minute overview of what happened that fateful night. The catastrophe just south of the Middle Ground Flats between Hudson and Athens, NY led to calls for a lighthouse. In 1873, the Hudson-Athens Lighthouse was finally installed, able to warn mariners away from the flats and prevent future shipwrecks. HFX Studios (Historical Film Experiences) has produced a number of great videos on a maritime history theme (including some which credit HRMM!), so be sure to check out their YouTube channel. 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 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. It was 2 o’clock in the morning, just 63 years ago today, December 1, 1875, that the magnificent steamboat “Sunnyside” met her fate. This memorable early morning disaster which claimed many lives, still remains a vivid picture in the memory of George W. Murdock, who was a member of the crew of the ill-fated vessel. The wooden hull of the “Sunnyside” was built by C.R. Poillon of Williamsburg, New York, in 1866. The vessel was 247 feet, six inches long, with a 35 foot, four inch breadth of beam. She was rated at 942 gross tons and was powered by an engine with a cylinder diameter of 56 inches with a 12 foot stroke, built by S. Secor & Company of New York. The “Sunnyside” and “Sleepy Hollow” were sister steamboats, built for service on the lower Hudson river, running in passenger service between Sing Sing and New York. Both vessels were fine examples of modern steamboat construction of that period and both were possessed of good speed. They began operating in the spring of 1866, making landings at Yonkers, Irvington, and Tarrytown, with one vessel and covering the identical route but extending to Grassy Point with the other vessel. This double service continued until July of the following year (1867), when the “Sunnyside” was placed in operation running to Newburgh for the balance of the season, and was then laid up. In July, 1870, Joseph Cornell in partnership with Captain Black, bought the “Sunnyside” at auction for $45,000. She was then converted into a night boat and placed on the Coxsackie route, continuing in service on this route for the balance of that season and through the year 1871. She made a landing at Catskill on alternate days with the “Thomas Powell,” which plied the Hudson river only as far as Catskill. During the winter of 1871-1872, Joseph Cornell, George Horton and Thomas Abrams organized the Citizens’ Line, placing the “Sunnyside” and “Thomas Powell” in service in opposition to J.W. Hancox, who was operating the “C. Vanderbilt” and the “Connecticut.” In July, 1872, the Hancox steamboats were withdrawn and the Citizens’ Line was without opposition. The “Sunnyside” was one of the fastest night boats carrying staterooms on the Hudson river during that period, and in July, 1874, she made the run from New York to Troy in eight hours and 55 minutes. The hand of fate seemed to hover over the “Sunnyside” almost from the time she first slid into the waters of the Hudson river. She met with numerous accidents during her career, some of little consequence, while others caused damage to the vessel and claimed lives of some unfortunates. One night, on her down trip from Troy, in the latter part of May, 1874, the “Sunnyside” collided with the abutment of the Congress street bridge at Troy, staving in her starboard boiler which was located on her guards. The escaping steam caused the death of one man. In November of the same year she ran aground on Fish-house bar between Troy and Albany, striking with such force that she stove a hole in her hull and almost sunk. During the month of August 1875, she caught fire from spontaneous combustion in some bales of cotton on her main deck, but the flames were discovered in ample time to avert serious damage. On Tuesday afternoon at 2 o’clock on November 30, 1875, the “Sunnyside” left Troy for her last trip of the season, and what later proved to be the final sailing of her career. The following account is told by George W. Murdock, a member of the crew on this last trip, who was an eye-witness to the fateful voyage and who narrowly escaped the clutching fingers of death which claimed many victims in that early morning catastrophe. We left New York Monday, November 29, and headed up river with a heavy cargo of freight. The thermometer in New York registered from 40 to 45 degrees above zero at the time we left the dock. Coming up the river, the temperature rapidly changed, becoming much colder until at Kingston we began pushing our way through thin ice. We arrived at Troy at 8 o’clock Tuesday morning, November 30, with the thermometer registering zero. Unloading was accomplished as quickly as possible with the temperature hovering at zero throughout the day. On reaching Albany we took the steamboat “Golden Gate” in tow to follow us down the river. We broke through the drift ice from Troy to Kinderhook, there encountering solid ice. The steamboat “Niagara,” with a tow of canal boats and several schooners, lay ice-bound at this place. We left the “Golden Gate” also ice-bound, and backed and filled several times, breaking a course through the ice and relieving the ice-bound fleet; after which we proceeded down the river. At Barrytown it was discovered that our vessel was leaking, and the pumps were started. At Esopus Island we ran through clear water which washed away the fine ice which had formed about the hole which had been made on the port side when we had crashed through the ice at Kinderhook. We were off West Park and endeavored to make shore at Russell’s dock as we were leaking badly by this time. The “Sunnyside” went through thick ice on the west bank of the river, but slid back into deep water. The flood time swung the bow of the vessel up the river until the pilot house was filled with water, and all that remained out of water was about 40 feet of the hurricane deck, aft. This was 2 o’clock in the morning and the weather was bitter cold, the thermometer registering five below zero. Captain Teson, in charge of the “Sunnyside,” ordered the boats to be lowered, sending Mate Burhonce in charge of the first one. It capsized, drowning 11 out of 18 passengers and crew. The mate swam ashore. We then succeeded in getting a line ashore from the steamboat and so established a rope ferry. It was now 5 o’clock in the morning. In this fashion we pulled the life boat through the ice and the passengers and crew of the ill-fated steamboat were landed on snow-covered shore of Ulster county. They climbed the rocks along the shore and made their way to the farm houses in the vicinity where every attention possible was given them, but several died from the results of too long exposure. Among those lost were Sarah Butler and Susan Rex (colored), of New York, chambermaids; John Howard (colored), of New York, officers’ waiter; Samuel Puteage (colored), waiter, of New York; Matthew Johnson (colored), of Albany; George Green (colored), second cook, of Norwich, Connecticut; Mrs. Haywood of Tenafly, N.J., Mrs. Stewart of New York, Mrs. Walker of Troy, an Irish girl called Bridget, resident of Jersey City; and an unknown peddler of silks and jewelry. At the request of my uncle, Abram Parsell, of Port Ewen, who was chief engineer on the “Sunnyside,” I set out afoot for Port Ewen at 6 o’clock on that bleak morning of December 1, to break the news of the disaster to his wife and the people of the town. At that time the thermometer had gone down to six degrees below zero and hiking that distance of about 10 miles was rather a task. Stories of the tragic accident had already arrived at Port Ewen so my news that my uncle was safe was joyously received by his many friends in the town. The crew of the “Sunnyside” were: Captain Frank Teson of Lansingburg; first pilot, Robert Whittaker of Saugerties; second pilot, Watson Dutcher of New York; mate, Jacob Burhonce of Troy; chief engineer, Abram Parsell of Port Ewen; assistant engineer, Jerry Deyo of Port Ewen; purser, John Talmadge of New Baltimore; steward, George Wolcott of New York; freight clerk, Edward Johnson of Troy. The “Sunnyside” was raised and her hull broken up, while her engines were placed in the steamboat “Saratoga.” AuthorGeorge W. Murdock, (b. 1853-d. 1940) was a veteran marine engineer who served on the steamboats "Utica", "Sunnyside", "City of Troy", and "Mary Powell". He also helped dismantle engines in scrapped steamboats in the winter months and later in his career worked as an engineer at the brickyards in Port Ewen. In 1883 he moved to Brooklyn, NY and operated several private yachts. He ended his career working in power houses in the outer boroughs of New York City. His mother Catherine Murdock was the keeper of the Rondout Lighthouse for 50 years. 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 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 June 23, 1974. Of all the steamboats operated by the Hudson River Day Line during its long history, only one was lost by accident while in scheduled service. The accident unfortunately involved the largest and grandest Day Liner of them all — the “Washington Irving." The accident occurred In New York harbor on June 1, 1926 just as the “Washington Irving” was leaving her New York pier on a routine trip to Albany. She was in collision with an oil barge which tore a gash in her hull and led to her sinking a short time later off the end of a pier at Jersey City. The accident took place at a time when the Day Line was at the peak of its operational history. Only the year before, during the season of 1925, the Day Line had carried 1,968,744 passengers, the most ever. The company had seven steamers in operation and had embarked upon the 1926 season with high hopes and considerable promotion for what it called its “Centennial Season."As a result, the loss of the “Washington Irving,” virtually at the season’s start, was a severe blow. The “Washington Irving," which the Day Line used to call “the flagship of its fleet,” had opened the season of 1926 on May 12 with a special trip on the river with invited guests of the company. On May 14 she opened the regular season to Albany. On Saturday, May 29, Sunday, May 30 and Monday, May 31 — the Memorial Day weekend — the “Irving” had made three special round trips from New York to Kingston Point. In those days of long ago, the Day Line had three New York landings, one at the foot of Desbrosses Street in downtown New York, one at West 42nd Street, and an uptown landing at West 129th Street. While their steamers were underway in the crowded waters of New York harbor, it was also the customary practice of the Day Line to have the captain and second pilot at the main deck gangway to make the appropriate bell pull signals while making or leaving a landing. On that fateful hazy morning of June 1, 1926, as the “Washington Irving" lay at her Desbrosses Street pier she was the picture of everything that characterized the Hudson River Day Line in its heyday. Gleaming white on the exterior, spotless interior, and with her orchestra playing and flags flying, there was scant evidence of the fate that would soon befall the huge steamboat. Promptly at her departure hour of 9 a.m., the “Irving’s” first pilot, Harry Kellerman of Kingston pulled the main deck gangway bell pull three times to signify to the pilot house that the gang plank was ashore, all mooring lines except the bow line and a stem line were cast off and the steamer was ready to get underway. As the “Washington Irving” began to move ahead out of the slip. Captain David H. Deming blew the customary long blast on the whistle to warn river traffic she was underway. Out in the river, the tide was ebbing strongly and the tugboat “Thomas E. Moran” was coming up stream with an oil barge lashed to each side to refuel a trans-Atlantic liner. Because of the ebb tide, the tugboat was in close to the ends of the piers to escape the full brunt of the tide, effectively hiding her from view while the “Irving” was still at her pier. On leaving the slip, the paths, of the “Washington Irving” and the “Thomas E. Moran” with her two oil barges rapidly converged. If it were not for the strong ebb tide, probably all would have been well. The “Irving” — just getting up to speed — was caught broadside by the tide and was borne down towards the tow. Captain Deming threw his wheel hard over in an effort to throw the “Irving’s” stern away from the oil barges. The maneuver, however, failed and the corner of the starboard oil barge cut a hole in the hull of the “Washington Irving’s” after boiler room. The “Irving” moving ahead caused a gash about 20 feet long which also ripped through a water tight bulkhead into the steamer’s galley. It was a mortal blow. The “Washington Irving” was equipped with six transverse water tight bulkheads. If the hole had been in but one compartment, she probably would have survived. However, with two water tight compartments ruptured, the blow was too much. Captain Deming made a quick survey of his predicament and headed his wounded steamboat towards the New Jersey shore. In that crowded part of New York harbor there was no place to beach her. Crossing the river, with her whistle blowing the distress signal, harbor craft sped to her aid. The “Irving’s” passage was accompanied by a thunderous roar as her engineers opened her steam escape valves to “blow her off” and reduce the pressure on the steamer’s boilers. The “Irving” was expertly maneuver by her captain to the end of Pier 9, Jersey City. He neatly placed her forward guard over some piles to help keep her on an even keel so the passengers could get ashore. There she sank to the bottom in a matter of minutes with the water reaching the third deck. The “Washington Irving" sank right on top of the Holland Tunnel which was then under construction. The tunnel, however, was far enough beneath the surface so that no damage resulted. When the “Washington Irving” was sunk, she was only 13 years old — the prime of life as far as steamboats go. She bad been built in 1913 by the New York shipbuilding Company, Camden, N.J. and was a steamboat of superlatives. She was the largest of the Day Liners, the most luxuriously furnished and reportedly the fastest. She was licensed by the federal government to carry 6,000 passengers, at the time the most for any inland steamer. Steamboats, like people, have their faults. Yet, possibly because absence makes the heart grow fonder, I have never heard a boatman who was associated with her ever say a bad word about the “Washington Irving." Despite her size, former pilots used to sing her praises as to her ease of handling and maneuverability, particularly at landings. Fortunately, at the time of her sinking, the “Washington Irving” had aboard only about 200 passengers and her crew of 110. All but two passengers and one crew member were saved. The crew member, a mess-boy, at the time of the accident was asleep in a berthing compartment in the after part of the hull. The two passengers — reportedly the only passengers lost by accident in the Day line’s history — were a young mother and her three year old daughter who allegedly refused to leave the second deck until she had found her other two children, aged 5 and 7, who already had safely been taken off by a tugboat. A fourth indirect victim of the sinking was said to have been the “Washington Irving's" captain, David H. Deming, the only master the steamer ever had. Although he survived the actual sinking and the following season commanded the Day liner “Hendrick Hudson," the accident was said to have preyed heavily upon him and he died at his home in Albany in 1927. The salvage of the sunken steamer proved to be extremely difficult and almost another year had passed before the “Irving’s” hull was again afloat and the hole in her hull patched. Before being raised almost her entire superstructure had to be removed. What was left of the once proud steamboat remained tied up to a New York pier for years. Finally, in 1933 she was towed away for scrapping. Ironically, the tugboat that towed the “Washington Irving” away on her final voyage was reported to be the “Thomas E. Moran" — the same tugboat that was towing the oil barge that holed her seven years before. Today, nearly 50 years have passed since the “Washington Irving" was lost. Few remain of those who played leading roles in the events that took place on that June morning of long ago. As far as I know, two are Thomas Kraljic, the “Irving’s” second mate now living in New York, and Perry H. Banks, who was the Chief Engineer of the “Washington Irving," and now nearly 90, lives at Catskill. AuthorCaptain William Odell Benson was a life-long resident of Sleightsburgh, N.Y., where he was born on March 17, 1911, the son of the late Albert and Ida Olson Benson. He served as captain of Callanan Company tugs including Peter Callanan, and Callanan No. 1 and was an early member of the Hudson River Maritime Museum. He retained, and shared, lifelong memories of incidents and anecdotes along the Hudson River. 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 tone of these historic newspaper articles reflect the time period in which they were written. Many thanks to museum volunteer Carl Mayer for compiling, organizing, and transcribing these articles. In the 1960s, historian, expert boat modeler, and former antiquities thief Forrest Van Loon Ryder published a column in the Greene County News called "Old Timers: Boats of the Hudson." In this article, entitled "Steamer Redfield burns at Sandbar between Athens and Hudson on 1910-06-20," published on September 16, 1965, Van Loon Ryder recounts the history of the steam freighter William C. Redfield. Although not a sidewheeler, at the time of her appearance the WILLIAM C. REDFIELD was considered one of the most modern freight boats on the Hudson River. She carried one stack and had four large openings on each side of her housing for loading freight and also boasted a small saloon for passengers on the second deck. The vessel was named for a man who made historic contributions to steamboat navigation, William C. Redfield of Cromwell, Connecticut. At a time when frequent boiler explosions were creating a fear of steamboats, Mr. Redfield devised Safety Barges, built in the manner of steamboats, but without power and towed by a steam boat. These lavishly furnished barges were popular from 1825 to around 1830 when their favor diminished, due to lack speed, and to fewer boiler disasters which eventually restored the public's confidence in steamboats. Mr. Redfield, who was superintendent of the Swiftsure Towing Line, also suggested the system of towing lets of canal boats, rather than having one of two canal boats on either side of the towboat. Quite often he would have towboats towing as many as 40 or fifty canal boats and barges. The REDFIELD was constructed for Commodore Alfred Van Santvoord for service between New York and Albany. After serving on this route five years she was sold to new owners who placed her in service between Stuyvesant, Coxsackie and New York as a freight and passenger carrier. Running in line with the THOMAS MCMANUS these two large propeller vessels were a familiar site on this route for many years. Eventually the Catskill Evening Line acquired title to the REDFIELD and MCMANUS, and the two steamers continued to run in line until August 27th, 1902, when the MCMANUS burned at her pier in New York. Finally the REDFIELD was returned to the route for which she was originally built and in later years was used only as a freight carrier. The REDFIELD was destined for a fate similar to that of her old running mate, the MCMANUS. On June 20th, 1910, as the REDFIELD was being tied up at her Athens dock, a fire was discovered in her hold. In flames, she was towed to the Middleground, a sandbar between Athens and Hudson, where she burned to the waters edge and became a total loss. STATISTICS: Lewis Minnersley, builder, East Albany, NY. Wood hull, 370 tons. Length 182 feet; beam 33 feet; depth 10 feet. Fletcher & Harrison No. 49, single cylinder engine having a 36 inch cylinder with 34 inch stroke. An article from the Boston Globe dated June 21, 1910 recounts the accident: ANCIENT STEAMER BURNED. Sidewheeler W. C. Redfield, Built in 1864, Destroyed on the Hudson at Athens. HUDSON, N Y, June 20 - The freight steamer W. C. Redfield, owned by the Catskill & New York steamboat company, was destroyed by fire this afternoon, while lying at Athens, across the river from here. Her crew escaped unharmed. The vessel was at her dock when the flames were discovered and buildings along the water front were endangered. A ferryboat towed the steamer onto the flats, where she burned to the water’s edge. The Redfield was a sidewheeler of 700 tons, built in 1864, and was for many years of her early usefulness in passenger service on the Hudson. 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: These accounts are from the June 9, 1831 issue of The Evening Post (NY) and the National Gazette (Philadelphia, PA). The tone of the articles reflect the time period in which they were written. June 9, 1831 The Evening Post (NY) General Jackson Boiler explosion – Lives Lost and Saved The morning papers contain a few further particulars concerning the late steamboat disaster on the North River. Two other deaths in consequence of the explosion are to the added to the list which we gave yesterday. The name of one of the unfortunate victims is Mr. Marshall, a passenger, and the other was Mr. Brady, of this city, a carpenter, and a man of much talent and ingenuity. He was exceedingly skillful as an architectural, machine, and ornamental iron work draughtsman. Among the persons severely, but it is hoped not fatally scalded, are Mr. John Glads, of Haverstraw, the bar-keeper of the boat, and Mr. Rathbone, of this city. Mr. Rathbone is a young gentleman of wealth, who was returning to New York from his country seat, on the North River, opposite Grassy Point. At the time of the disastrous explosion he was in the act of stepping on board the steamboat from his own boat. One of his arms was broken, and his leg dreadfully torn and shattered, so much so that amputation has, we learn, since been resorted to. The Journal of Commerce relates the following instance of fortunate escape. A singular circumstance is related to us of another gentleman, well known to the public as a zealous promoter of every good object, who had intended to come down in the same boat [General Jackson]. It appears that he was waiting, either at Peekskill or one of the landing-places lower down, when the Captain of a sloop, which was just getting under way, solicited him very earnestly to take a passage with him. No, he replied; he was waiting for the steamboat. The Captain still pressed the invitation, and withal manifested so much good nature, that the gentleman finally consented. [Money of course was no object with him, being independently rich.] The winds afterwards became less favorable, and he did not arrive in the city till after midnight. He then told his companion that he had been silly enough to go on board a sloop instead of taking the steamboat, and had got well paid for his folly, by being detained till that hour. What was his surprise when he learned that to this circumstance, under Providence, he was probably indebted for the preservation of his life. June 9, 1831 The National Gazette (Philadelphia PA) Steamboat General Jackson’s Boiler Explodes near Grassy Point Dock on June 7, 1831 [From the N. Y. Com. Advertiser of Wednesday.] Steamboat Explosion - The startling intelligence was received last evening, and spread rapidly over the city, that the Steamboat Gen. Jackson had exploded yesterday afternoon, some where in the neighborhood of Sing Sing, and that many lives had been lost. The accounts of this disaster given in the morning papers, are in substantial agreement, and we have selected that of the Mercantile, which is as follows: Another Steamboat Explosion. – The steamboat General Jackson, Capt. Vanderbilt, that has plied daily between this city [New York] and Peekskill, on her passage down burst her boiler with a terrible explosion. The accident occurred about 4 o'clock, while she was lying near Grassy Point Dock, a new landing in Haverstraw bay, about two miles below Stoney Point Light House, and thirty-five miles from the city. Captain Vanderbilt was on shore at the time, assisting in the landing of passengers and merchandize. Such was the force of the explosion that the boiler was blown entirely from its place, and fell in the river between the boat and the dock; a great part of the forward deck was demolished - the bows blown out, and in about 20 minutes, the boat sank, the stern only being visible above the surface of the water. When the accident happened, the steam boat Albany, Capt. Jenkins, on her passage down, was only a few miles from the scene of this terrible catastrophe, and in half an hour thereafter, Captain Jenkins was near enough to send his yawl onshore, to the assistance of the sufferers. Capt. Vanderbilt and six passengers returned to the city in the Albany last evening, and from their report we regret to state, that a man and a boy were killed, and when the Albany left the scene, a black man was on the point of death; about 15 others were wounded, some of them, including the engineer, so seriously that their lives were despaired of. The Gen. Jackson had on board about 40 passengers, but the short period that elapsed between the accident and the departure of the Albany, together with the confusion of the scene, render the particulars thus far received, rather imperfect. Whether any passengers were missing or not, was unascertained; nor did we learn that any cause could be assigned for the fatal explosion. Since the above was prepared, one of the passengers in the Gen. Jackson has called to inform us, that the following persons are already dead; viz: - John Van Tine, Engineer; Oliver Mott, Fireman; - Morris, Waiter; Captain Van Wart, the Pilot; a colored man by the name of Smith, (the Cook;) and one of the hands, also a colored man, who died this morning. This is the second narrow escape of our informant, who was a passenger on board of the Washington, at the time of her late disaster. There was a countryman on board of the Gen. Jackson, who was blown to a considerable height, and fell into the river, where he was picked up with but little injury. He was ascending the gang-way from the cabin, at the time of the explosion; but he says he heard nothing of it, and while supposing himself just stepping on the deck, he was surprised to find people pulling him out of the water. The boat went down in ten minutes from the time of the accident. P. S. Just as we were putting this paper to press, the following list of persons dead, or injured by the explosion, was handed to us, from which it appears that the pilot and engineer of the boat are not dead. Captain Vanwart, pilot, badly scalded; John Vantine, engineer, a fireman, (a colored man) and a deck hand, all very badly scalded; Mr. Marshall, a passenger, dead; John Glass, of Haverstraw, very badly scalded; Miss Dow, dead; Rufus (a waiter) missing; the bar keeper had his legs badly scalded; Mr. Bradley, (architect) of this city, very much mangled, and not expected to recover. The Journal of Commerce says: - The only additional fact which we have learned with certainty in respect to the explosion on board the steam boat Gen. Jackson, is, that among the sufferers is Mr. Rathbone of this city, a gentleman of wealth, whose country seat is nearly opposite Grassy Point, where the accident happened. His leg is dreadfully torn, the cords being all separated above the knee, and one of his arms broken. June 10, 1831 The National Gazette (Philadelphia PA); Further Details about the Explosion on the General Jackson New York, June 9 Further particulars of the late Steamboat Disaster. By the North America steamer last evening, the following additional particulars of the late melancholy disaster of the General Jackson, were received by the morning papers, from which it will be seen that the dead and wounded are more numerous than we had hoped, or than was first reported. "In the [steamer] North America, (says the Mercantile,) the dead bodies of John Vantine, Engineer, Josiah R. Brady, architect, and Miss Dow, were brought to this city. John Glass, Esq. calico printer from Glasgow, who settled in Haverstraw a few years ago, and Mr. Mitchell, of Peekskill, are dead; and two it is said died while they were being conveyed to Poughkeepsie. Rufus, a waiter, is missing - as well as three or four others. Fourteen are badly bruised or scalded, of whom not more than three are expected to recover - among them are Mr. Edward B. Rathbone, merchant, of this city, whose arm was broken, and whose left leg was terribly shattered. Dr. Proudfoot, who was on tho spot, set the former immediately, and yesterday, amputated the latter, but Mr. Rathbone is in a very precarious situation. Smith, the cook; capt. Van Wart, the pilot; the barkeeper, the fireman, a colored man, and a deck hand, are severely scalded and not expected to survive - these are all the names that have come to our knowledge. The General Jackson is a complete wreck; save the deck, scarcely one plank remaining to another." The remains of Mr. Vantine have been taken to New Brunswick for interment. Mr. Van Wart was not dead last evening, but was not expected to live through the night. Mr. Glass was found after the explosion, suspended by his neck-handkerchief - dead. Dr. Proudfoot was conversing with Brady, at the time the latter was injured, and was himself unharmed. The number of the dead is thus summed up: Five died at Grassy Point; two died on their way to Poughkeepsie; two no doubt were carried down in the vessel, as they were distinctly heard halloing for help, and how many more is not known. [Final death toll turned out to be 14 people.] AuthorThank you to Hudson River Maritime Museum volunteer Carl Mayer for sharing and transcribing these articles and for the glimpse into nineteenth century life in the Hudson Valley. 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 following text is a verbatim transcription of an article written by George W. Murdock, for the Kingston (NY) Daily Freeman newspaper in the 1930s. Murdock, a veteran marine engineer, wrote a regular column. Articles transcribed by HRMM volunteer Adam Kaplan. See more of Murdock's articles in "Steamboat Biographies". No. 157- General Slocum Mention of the steamboat “General Slocum” brings to many persons the memory of a great disaster- a catastrophe that has been labeled “the greatest disaster in the steamboat history of the world”; for it was aboard the “General Slocum” that 1,021 persons, bent on a merry-making excursion, met death. Devine Burtis, Jr., built the wooden hull of the “General Slocum” at Brooklyn in 1891. Her 235 foot keel was laid on December 23, 1890, and she was launched on April 18, 1891. Her over-all length was 255 feet, breadth of hull 37 feet six inches (over her guards she was 70 feet), depth of hold 12 feet six inches. The gross tonnage of the “General Slocum” was listed at 1,284, with net tonnage at 1,013. W.A. Fletcher Company of Hoboken, N.J., built the vertical beam engine which had a cylinder diameter of 53 inches with a 12 foot stroke. She carried two boilers- 23 and a half feet long and nine and a half feet in diameter. The “General Slocum” was built expressly for the excursion trade, operating between New York and Rockaway Beach in line with the steamboat “Grand Republic,” and she was the first of the large excursion steamboats to adopt the innovation of hardwood finish on her outside joiner woodwork. The Knickerbocker Steamboat Company were the owners of the “General Slocum”- using her as a replacement for the steamboat “Columbia,” a sister ship to the “Grand Republic,” which had been sold to the Baltimore & Ohio Railroad Company during the winter of 1888. The “General Slocum” and the “Grand Republic” ran on the Rockaway route for several years, and were then placed in the excursion business on the Hudson river and Long Island Sound- being the largest excursion steamboats out of New York. Then came the tragic event which placed the greatest stain on the pages of steamboat history and caused the “General Slocum” to be remembered with feelings of horror. On June 15, 1904, the “General Slocum” was chartered by the Sunday School and members of the congregation of St. Mark’s German Lutheran Church of New York City for an excursion. A few minutes before 10 o’clock in the morning the “General Slocum” left the recreation pier at the foot of East Third street and started up the East River at a 15 knot clip- it being the plan of the captain to reach Locust Grove, Long Island, the destination of the excursionists, shortly after the noon hour. When the “General Slocum” reached a point opposite 97th street several of the crew, who were on the lower deck, saw puffs of smoke coming through the seams in the flooring. For some reason that will never be known, the discovery was not immediately communicated to Captain Van Schaick. Some of the deck hands went below and ran into the second cabin- believing they could easily extinguish the fire. They found the place a furnace, and rushed above to notify Mate Edward Flanagan of the blaze. The mate directed the fire apparatus placed in use and in turn notified the captain. Captain Van Schaick signaled Pilot Conkling to proceed at full speed ahead and point the bow of the vessel towards North Brothers Island- which was a good mile ahead. The wind was blowing from the north and the swift progress of the “General Slocum” caused a strong air-current which fanned the flames and drove tongues of the fire backwards into the faces of the excursionists, who became panic-stricken. Mothers scurried frantically about in an endeavor to collect their families and guide them to a supposed place of safety while the crew turned their efforts to fighting the raging fire which was fast gaining terrifying proportions. People crowded back onto the after decks of the vessel and children were trampled. A policeman named Kelb endeavored to restore order but his efforts were in vain. It was just 10:20 a.m. when the “General Slocum” was beached at North Brothers Island. When she struck bottom her bow was in four feet of water but her stern, where all the people were crowded, was in approximately 30 feet of water. The instant the vessel grounded many of the terrified passengers, believing they were in shallow water, jumped overboard. Scores of them never came to the surface. To add to the catastrophe the beaching of the vessel caused the stanchions supporting the hurricane deck to collapse under the weight of the milling passengers. Hundreds of unfortunates were hurled downward into the roaring furnace and were instantly burned to death. Later the vessel sunk and many of the bodies were never recovered. In all there were 1,021 people who lost their lives in this great disaster. The hull of the “General Slocum” was later raised and sold to J.H. Gregory of Perth Amboy, N.J., to be broken up, but was later turned into a coal barge. The coal barge was sold to a Philadelphia company on June 15, 1905, for use on the Delaware river- but neither Mr. Gregory nor the purchasers realized at the time that the sale had been made on the anniversary of the fire. The converted hull of the “General Slocum,” bearing the name of “Maryland,” was lost off the New Jersey coast in the vicinity of Sandy Hook on December 3, 1911, and was never recovered. The sister ship of the “General Slocum,” the “Grand Republic,” was likewise destroyed by fire- on April 26, 1924, at the foot of West 156 street. AuthorGeorge W. Murdock, (b. 1853-d. 1940) was a veteran marine engineer who served on the steamboats "Utica", "Sunnyside", "City of Troy", and "Mary Powell". He also helped dismantle engines in scrapped steamboats in the winter months and later in his career worked as an engineer at the brickyards in Port Ewen. In 1883 he moved to Brooklyn, NY and operated several private yachts. He ended his career working in power houses in the outer boroughs of New York City. His mother Catherine Murdock was the keeper of the Rondout Lighthouse for 50 years. 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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