The steamboat “Mary Powell”, built in 1861, sailed on the waters of the Hudson River over a period of 55 years. She was one of the fastest steamboats of her time, was pleasing in appearance, and reliable. She became known as the “Queen of the Hudson.”
           
By the middle of the 19th century, commerce on the Hudson River was particularly vigorous. The Hudson River - Erie Canal corridor was one of the principal gateways to the west. The Delaware and Hudson Canal, opened in 1828, brought coal destined for use in the northeast from Pennsylvania to the Hudson River at Kingston. The railroads were just beginning to appear on the scene, all of which made the steamboat the principal method for the movement of people and freight.
           
By the 1860s, the section of Kingston bordering the Rondout Creek had become the leading port between Albany and New York. Between 1861 and 1863, three large steamboats were built to take advantage of the booming economy and home ported at the village of Rondout (in 1872 becoming part of the city of Kingston). Two of the steamboats were night boats for the carrying of freight and overnight passengers. The third was the “Mary Powell,” designed as a day steamer solely for the carrying of passengers.
           
For virtually her entire career, her schedule was to leave Kingston early in the morning and make landings at Poughkeepsie, Milton, Newburgh and Cornwall, arriving at her pier in lower Manhattan in the late morning. On her return she would leave New York at 3:30 p.m. and arrive back at Kingston in the early evening. Over the years, other landings were made or discontinued as traffic warranted, as did minor time changes in her schedule. The period of operation normally was from mid-May to late September or early October.

The “Mary Powell” was built at a shipyard in Jersey City, N.J. to the order of Captain Absalom Anderson at a reported cost of $80,000. Captain Anderson was to be both her operator and captain. As it turned out, over a period of 40 years, the “Mary Powell” had but two captains- Captain Absalom Anderson and later his son, Captain A. Eltinge Anderson. Other captains commanded the vessel for relatively short periods of time. During her last two years of service, her captain was Arthur Warrington of Kingston.
           
Initially, Captain Anderson was somewhat disappointed in his new vessel’s speed. After the close of her first full season in 1862, the “Mary Powell” was sent back to the shipyard, cut in two, and 21 feet added to her length. The added length achieved the desired result, and thereafter the “Mary Powell” was known as one of the fastest boats on the Hudson. Her reputation for speed was such that during the latter part of the 19th century, a number of newly built yachts were brought to the Hudson and run along with the “Mary Powell” to test the desired speed of the yacht.
           
The “Mary Powell” was always superbly maintained and had almost a yacht-like appearance. Known as a “family boat,” Captain Anderson saw to it that all passengers conducted themselves properly. If they did not, it was said they ran the risk of being put ashore at the next landing.
           
After the close of the 1902 season, the “Mary Powell” was acquired by the Hudson River Day Line, the largest operator of day steamboats on the river. Although the Day Line continued to operate her, as before, on the Kingston to New York and return run, a number of relatively minor physical changes were made to the steamboat, including new boilers and an enlargement of the second deck forward.
           
​In 1913, the Day Line placed in operation a new steamboat, the “Washington Irving,” the largest day boat to be built for service on the Hudson. Her appearance caused a realignment in service of their other vessels, including the “Mary Powell.” During the seasons of 1914 to 1917, the “Mary Powell” would start and end the seasons on her old Kingston to New York run. However, during the peak of the seasons, she would be used for charter trips, an excursion type operation from New York to Bear Mountain, and occasionally special trips to Albany. Finally, on September 5, 1917, she sailed on her old route. It was to be her last trip with passengers. She was subsequently played up at her old “winter dock” at Rondout Creek and in January 1920 was sold for scrapping,

Editor's Note: The following essay is by author and steamboat scholar Richard V. Elliott (1934-2014). His two volume history of Hudson River Steamboats "The Boats of Summer" is coming soon from Schiffer Publishing. For more information about "Mary Powell" visit the Hudson River Maritime Museum's online exhibit here: 

​In all of the history of illustrious Hudson River steamboats none it seems has ever surpassed the Mary Powell as the most loved of all. Throughout her long fifty-six years of service, she was the subject of stories, songs and poems. When she made her last voyage in 1918, people all along the shores of the Hudson went down to the waterfront to see her glide by for the last time. Old timers who recall the event say that no steamer has ever gone out in greater glory. Every steamer, tug, ferry and factory along the Hudson gave her a thrilling salute. Many of the women waved a fond farewell with their handkerchiefs and not a few of both the men and women were glassy-eyed holding back their tears. Others less inhibited, wept openly, for after over half a century on the River, she was a childhood pal to many generations of Valley people. The Mary Powell's personality was bound to be especially missed. It was not surprising to her contemporaries that one of her hundreds of thousands of admirers decided to write a special memorial or obituary on the occasion of her passing.

Fletcher Dubois spoke for a great many people in his poem of tribute to the Mary Powell, written in part as follows:
"Among the Hudson's wonderous fleet
No Vessel ever won such fame,
And carried through the passing years
Such widely known and honored name.
For many a year you filled the hearts
Of thousands here, both old and young,
And by thousands more your fame was known
Thru songs the poets' lore has sung …
Good-bye old boat, your work is done,
And now we shed the parting tear
And pay a tribute here in prose
to you, who friends hold dear."

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A different mural this time! This mural featuring an image of the steamboat "Mary Powell"  is one of Hudson River Maritime Museum's early artifacts. It measures 12 feet by 5 feet 4 inches and was donated in 1984, shortly after the museum's move to the present location at 50 Rondout Landing. The museum's donor file tells us that this section of the mural was painted in the 1920s and hung in a branch of the Bowery Savings Bank opposite Penn Station in New York City. 

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 February 27, 1972.

During the winter of 1920, both the “Mary Powell” and the “Albany” lay at the Sunflower Dock on Rondout at Sleightsburgh. The “Mary Powell” had been there since her last trip under her own power on Sept. 5, 1917.

On Saturday, shortly before the ice went out of the creek, my brother Algot and I took my father’s lunch over to him on the “Albany” where he was working as a ship’s carpenter. Rumor was that just as soon as the ice broke up, the “Powell” would be towed to South Rondout to be broken up.

​Knowing this, my brother said, “Come on Bill, let’s take a walk over on the ‘Powell.’ It will probably be the last we ever be on her.”

Cold and Dark
We went aboard the gangway right aft of the engine room. All her fine machinery was black from the grease that had been put on the engine when she layed up so it would not rust. All steamboat engineers always coated the bright work with grease in this manner when their boat was laid up at the end of the season. Everything was cold and dark and still.

When we went back to the dining room at the rear of the main deck. Most of the tables and chairs had already been removed. Everything was very dusty.

Up on the saloon deck, most of the carpeting had been taken up, with a few pieces remaining here and there. A few of the big easy chairs in the saloon where still there but most were gone. Some of the plate glass windows were cracked, and others broken - with canvas tacked over the openings.

​When we went up on the hurricane deck, my brother had to use a screwdriver to pry open the door to the pilot house. It was jammed, probably due to the fact that the “Powell's” stern rested on the bottom at low tide. The east end of the dock had been filling in and hadn’t been dredged since the “Powell” stopped running.

An Old Time Table
In the pilot house, there was a long, low locker across the back. The top of the locker could be raised so that things like flags, pennants and pilot house supplies could be put inside. I found an old Catskill Evening Line time table, with a picture of the steamer “Clermont” on the cover, which I took with me. There were no chairs, since these had already been removed.

The old side curtains on the pilot house windows were still in place. They would be pulled down on the side the sun would leaving Rondout on her flying trip to the metropolis to the south, or when the sun was going down behind the western hills on the up trip.

The canvas that had covered her pilot house windows from the strong icy winds and snows, had been removed. The interior of the “Powell’s” pilot house was all varnished and it has turned very dark from the passing years and added coats of varnish.

The big, hand steering wheel was only about half showing, most of the bottom half being concealed in a well in the deck. The top reached almost to the overhead of the pilot house. I noticed how the round turned spokes of the steering wheel were flattened out on both sides near the rim. I asked my brother what caused this.

He said it came from the wear on the spokes caused by the pilot climbing the wheel like a ladder in order to turn the boat in a hurry. The old “Powell” never had a steam steering gear like the more modern steamboats.

He Walked the Wheel
“The pilot of the ‘Powell’ would have to climb the wheel coming into the Rondout Creek from the river on a flood tide,” Algot said. “When it is flood tide, there’s a very strong eddy at the mouth of the creek. The tide sets up strong and when it hits the south dike, it forms a half moon about 75 feet out from the south dike and then starts to set down. To keep steerage way on the ‘Powell’ the had to keep her hooked up until she entered the creek, because a side wheeler running slow or just drifting would have no rudder power. So the pilot in order to get the rudder hard over to port or starboard in a hurry would have to walk right up the steering wheel.”

Algot, who had been quartermaster on the “Mary Powell” in her last years, pointed out that when the pilot got the steering wheel hard over he would then put the becket on the wheel to hold it. When the becket was taken off, the wheel would spin right back to midships. He added with a smile, “At times like that, the fatter and heavier the pilot, the easier the job.”

Algot went on to point out to me the same act of walking up the steering wheel would take place on going around West Point and Anthony’s Nose and rounding up in New York harbor.

​In those long ago days when going down through the harbor on an ebb tide, a pilot had to get around very quick and find a hole in the heavy steamboat, tugboat, ferryboat and steamship traffic. On a steamboat like the “Mary Powell” with a hand steering gear, when going up or down through New York harbor, the pilot house was always fully manned. The captain or first pilot would be at the steering wheel, the second pilot standing with his hands on the bell pulls to the engine room or ready to grab the whistle cord, and the quartermaster as lookout on the forepeak.

Leaving Their Marks
Later in life when I saw the hand steering wheels of the “Jacob H. Tremper” and the steamer “Newburgh” of the Central Hudson Line, the spokes were all worn down and loose the same way. It showed how former pilots and captains left their marks on their steamboats long after they were gone.

We left the old Queen of the Hudson after out farewell visit in the bright sunshine of the late winter afternoon. On April 20, she was towed by the tug “Rob” on her final trip to South Rondout where she was dismantled.

The Mary Powell was one of the longest-serving and most famous of the Hudson River passenger steamboats. She was in operation from 1861 to 1917, and many of her crew were Black and African American. Although it is not clear whether or not Black or African American passengers were allowed to travel aboard the Mary Powell, many of them did work aboard the boat, mostly restricted to lower-paying jobs such as deckhands, waiters, and boilermen. Some steamboats did have Black stewards, and the Mary Powell had Fannie M. Anthony – the Black stewardess who managed the ladies’ cabin for decades, but it is unclear if any of the stewards listed in the Mary Powell crew records were African American or not.

However, there were enough Black employees working aboard the Mary Powell for them to form their own club - The Mary Powell Colored Employees Club. 

The little evidence we have of the Mary Powell Colored Employees Club comes from newspaper articles, primarily organized around the annual cake walk the club put on each year between at 1909 and 1917.
​
Cake walks were a style of dance popular in the 1890s and 1900s among Black communities, and often co-opted by Whites. Originating in enslaved communities as a mockery of the formal dances, primarily the Grand March, of Southern plantation owners, athletic variations invented by African and African-American dancers lent themselves well to competitions. Cake walks generally had two variations – graceful and athletic versions designed for Black audiences, and wild caricatures designed for White audiences, often in conjunction with minstrel shows. These two historic films illustrate the differences. The first shows Black dancers in formalwear, focused on elegance. The second features those same dancers in exaggerated dress, performing a comedic routine, likely for a White audience.

In 1909, the Kingston Daily Freeman announced the first annual cake walk of the “colored employees of the steamer Mary Powell.” About a month later, on September 23, the Freeman reported on the success of the cakewalk. Held at Michel’s Hall (located at 53 Broadway), “The hall was filled with friends of the Powell’s colored employes [sic], besides many others composing the officers and crew of the boat.” This mention of other officers and crew seems to imply that the event may have been integrated.
​
The article also lists the officers of the Mary Powell Colored Employees Club:

• President – C.J. Graves
• Treasurer – Seymour Darling
• Financial Secretary – George Bynoe
• Corresponding Secretary – James H. Page
• Sergeant at Arms – Fitz Seeley
• Assistant Sergeant at Arms – H. DeWitt
• Floor Manager – Richard Miller
• Assistants – C. J. Graves and Edward Smith

​Prizes were offered for the best dancers, and first prize went to John Schoonmaker of Kingston, NY and Medina Schoonmaker of Poughkeepsie, NY. “Second honors were taken by Ott Overt and Maude Overt of Poughkeepsie.” The Poughkeepsie Evening Gazette also reported on the cake walk, likely because residents of that city placed in the contest.

The cake walk continued in 1910, held on September 15, again at Michel’s Hall. This time the walk featured Professor Butler’s orchestra from New York City, as well as “several professional cake walkers from New York, Newburgh and Poughkeepsie.”

No articles appear for the 1911 dance, but in October of 1912 something curious happened – two different dances for Mary Powell employees occurred, just days apart. On October 2, 1912, the Mary Powell Colored Employees Club held their “fourth annual ball and cake walk” at Michel’s Hall, with Professor Butler’s orchestra and “two couples of professional cake walkers.”

But on October 3, 1912, the Kingston Daily Freeman announced “The first annual dance of the deck hands of the Mary Powell will be held in Washington Hall on Saturday evening.” On the appointed day, October 5, the Freeman reported:

“The Mary Powell deck hands will hold their annual dance in Washington Hall this evening. This dance has always been one of the most popular of the season and it is expected that this year will be no exception.”

Were these the same dance? Likely not – one took place on October 2nd in Michel Hall, located at 53 Broadway in Kingston. The other took place on October 5th in Washington Hall, located at 110 Abeel Street in Kingston. Was one a dance for the Black employees and the other a dance for White employees? Did the person writing the October 5th article confuse the deck hands’ dance with the Mary Powell Colored Employees Club dance? Or did the deck hands really have dances before 1912?

It seems likely that 1912 was the first year of the deck hands’ dance, corroborated by an advertising poster from 1912 confirming that as the first year.

Notably, future Mary Powell captain Arthur Warrington is listed as the President of the Mary Powell Deck Hands. Lawrence Dempskie is listed as Vice-President, John Malia as Treasurer, Frank Sass as Secretary, and George Brown as chair of the Floor Committee. Note also the reduced price for ladies.

There is almost no further mention of either club or dance, except for one reference in the New York Age, a Black newspaper based in New York City. On September 20, 1917, the reported, “The annual dance given September 12 by the young men of the steamer Mary Powell was largely attended. Good music contributed to an enjoyable evening. Many from out of town attended.” This is almost certainly referencing the Mary Powell Colored Employees Club event.
​
1917 was the last season of the Mary Powell – she remained out of service in 1918 and was sold for scrap in 1919.

To learn more about Black and African American workers aboard the Mary Powell, check out our previous blog posts on Fannie M. Anthony, the Black Glee Clubs of the Steamboats Mary Powell and Thomas Cornell, and check out our online exhibit about the Mary Powell. For more information about Black history on the Hudson River and in the Hudson Valley, check out our Black History blog category for more to read. 

​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!​

Within a few years after the introduction of steamboating on the Hudson River, Rondout Creek soon developed into the leading port between New York and Albany. This was due principally to the fact that it was the eastern terminus of the D. & H. Canal. Shipments of Ulster County blue stone. Rosendale cement, lime, the concentration of  brickyards along the river north of Kingston, and the natural ice industry also all played major parts in the growth of Rondout harbor. As activity along the creek grew, so did the size of the steamboats serving Rondout.

Any steamboat serving Rondout, obviously had to be able to turn around in the creek. The width of the creek, as a result, had some bearing on the design of the steamboat, particularly its length. I suppose this factor also had a direct bearing on the location of the steamboat docks as well as the early growth of Rondout itself. The creek is at its navigable widest just south of where the Freeman Building is now located and this was where the steamboat wharves and docks were located — between the foot of Broadway east to the foot of Hasbrouck Avenue.
 
Steamboats in regular service out of Rondout almost always turned around as soon as they entered the creek, prior to the unloading of passengers and freight. This fact is borne out by old time photographs of steamers berthed at Rondout. Of the many photographs have seen, all but one show the steamboats facing downstream. The sole exception is a photo of the “Mary Powell”, and in this one photograph only she lies head up.  

Rondout’s Largest
For years, the largest steamboat sailing out of Rondout Creek was the “Thomas Cornell,” built in 1863 and 310 feet long. Other larger steamboats out of Rondout were the famous “Mary Powell” at 288 feet, the “James W. Baldwin” at 275, and the “Benjamin B. Odell” at 264. The longest one of all to sail regularly out of Rondout was the Day Liner “Albany,” 326 feet long, which replaced the “Mary Powell” on the Rondout to New York run during the season of 1914 through 1917. I, have been told the “Albany,” on occasion, used to use the steam yacht “C. A. Schults” — that once ran between Rondout and Eddyville — to help pull her bow around. All of the, others turned unassisted.
 
For many years, Ben Johnston owned a drug store on East Strand. Johnston told me when the “Benjamin B. Odell” turned around in the creek, at times the vibrations set up by her turning propeller would shake bottles off the shelves in his drug store. This was due to the fact that all the land along the Strand was filled-in land.

​It is my understanding that the area all along the Strand was once a dandy beach — and the old sloop and schooner captains would beach, or strand, their vessels on this beach at high tide.  Then, when the tide went out, they would make bottom repairs or caulk under-water leaking seams on their boats exposed by the drop in tide.  When the tide came back in, they would float their sloops and schooners.  I have been told this act of stranding their vessels on this beach is what gave the Strand its name when the area was filled in and the beach was developed into a street.

An old boatman also once told me about an incident that took place when the “Benjamin B. Odell” was turning around off her Rondout wharf. Normally, she would come along-side the dock, can her bow out from the dock and put a stern line from the port quarter out to a bollard on the dock. Then, she would go ahead slow and swing around like a slowly moving giant pendulum. Captain George Greenwood would be up on the bridge and the mate down on the main deck in charge of the deckhands tending the lines.
 
On this particular day, just as the “Odell” got broadside in the creek, the stern line snapped. The mate had a police whistle and blew a series of toots on it to let the captain know the line had snapped. Before the mate could get another line out, the “Odell” started to move across the creek.
 
Except for stopping the engine, Captain Greenwood gave no indication anything was wrong. The mate in the excitement didn’t notice the engine had stopped and continued to blow his police whistle. After several series of excited toots and getting no response from the captain, the mate bounded up the companionways at the stern of the “Odell” to the top deck. There, Captain Greenwood stood calmly on the bridge watching the slowly approaching south shore of the creek.
 
Captain Greenwood let the “Odell’s” bow slowly drift right onto the creek’s south shore and the incoming tide carry her stern up stream. When the angle was right, Captain Greenwood backed down, put the “Odell’s” port quarter close to the Rondout dock, got out a spring line, went slowly ahead and brought his steamer alongside the dock so perfectly he wouldn’t have broken an egg had one been between the steamboat and the dock.
 
The old time captains, like Captain Greenwood, were superb ship handlers. They knew exactly what their steamboats would do in any combination of wind and tide. They were true masters of their trade, made the difficult look easy, and rarely got the recognition they deserved. It seems the only time anyone took notice of them was in the rare event something went wrong. And, then, it was often due to something over which they had little control, such as a mechanical failure, rarely an error in judgment.

​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 October 13, 1974.

​Ever since the rumble of summer thunder in the Catskills was attributed by Washington Irving to a form of bowling by his merry little men, the Hudson Valley has had a certain renown for its thunder and lightning storms.  Many a boatman has been a witness to spectacular lightning displays, primarily because his boat has been in the middle of the river and he had, as a result, a particularly good vantage point. 

There have been a number of instances where river boats have even been struck by lightning, although I don’t know of a single instance where a boat has been seriously damaged as a result.  This has probably been due, I suppose, to the fact the boat has been effectively grounded by the water on which it floated. 

When boats have been struck by lightning, almost always the target for the lightning bolt has been the flag poles.  In some instances, a flag pole has been split right down the middle.  In others, a flag pole has been snapped off like a matchstick.  Events, such as I describe, I know have occurred to the Day Liners “Alexander Hamilton," "Hendrick Hudson" and “Albany.”

Since the beginning of steamboating, steamers have always carried flagpoles and generally, a generous display of flags and bunting.  If nothing else, the flags gaily flapping in the breeze helped attract attention to the steamer. 
​
Even at night or in the dreariest weather, one would always find a pennant or a wind sock flying from the forward flag pole, for this would help tell the pilot from which direction the wind was blowing.  

The Day Liners, in particular, always had a lot of flag poles.  The big sidewheelers carried eleven flag poles — one at the bow from which on a good day would fly the union jack, one in back of the pilot house from which would fly the house flag, one at the stern from which would fly the national ensign, and eight side poles from which would fly smaller American flags. 
​
During their profit making years, a Day Liner would start the season with a complete set of new flags for sunny days, a complete set of older flags for rainy days, and a set of pennants for windy days.  Prior to World War I, the side poles used to fly the flags of foreign countries, allegedly as a tribute to the diverse population of New York City and its reputation as the nation’s “melting pot," not to mention the possibility of perhaps attracting the people of these diverse backgrounds to ride the steamers.

When lightning would strike a steamer’s flag pole, the jack staff - the one at the bow - seemed to be the greatest attraction.  One one occasion in the 1930's, the “Alexander Hamilton” was in the lower river when she ran into a severe thunderstorm.  The passengers scurried for cover.  Shortly thereafter a bolt of lightning struck the jack staff, snapping it off.  The pilot later related a ball of fire appeared to roll down the edge of the deck from the broken jack staff to about opposite the pilot house and then roll overboard, with no visible damage other than the broken bow flag pole.

​The "Hendrick Hudson” had a similar experience but without the accompanying fire-ball.  The lightning bolt that struck the "Albany” did so in August 1926 while she lay along the Day Line pier at the foot of 42nd Street, New York during a heavy thunder shower.  The lightning in this case struck the stern flag pole and split it down the middle so it lay open like a large palm.  In both cases there was no other damage whatever.

​Perhaps the most spectacular damage from a thunderstorm to a river steamer occurred on June 20, 1899 to the well-known “Mary Powell.”  Here, however, the damage was caused by tornado like winds accompanying the storm and not by lightning.  Captain A. E. Anderson at the time said it was the worst storm he had encountered in his then 25 years of steamboating.

The “Powell” was on her regular up trip from New York to Rondout.  Going through Haverstraw Bay, there appeared to be two thunderstorms, one to the southwest and one to the north, both accompanied by generous displays of lightning.  Near Stony Point the two storms appeared to meet with the “Mary Powell” right at the center.  A cyclonic funnel of dust laden wind seemed to move out from the west shore straight toward the graceful steamboat. 

The wind caught the "Mary Powell” with great force and listed her sharply to starboard. 

The starboard smoke stack came crashing down toward the bow onto the paddle box, the stack’s guys snapped and the supporting rods twisted.  A very short time later, the port smoke stack also toppled over athwart in this instance the aptly named hurricane deck.  The resulting shower of sparks was doused by a deluge of rain that accompanied the storm. 

In about 15 minutes the storm abated and it was all over.  In addition to the toppled smoke stacks, a sliding door had been blown in, the life boats had been lifted from their chocks and the davits bent, and quite a number of folding chairs had been blown overboard. 

The “Powell's” engineers started her blowers and the steamer continued on her way, making her regular landings at Cranston’s (later Highland Falls), West Point, Cornwall, Newburgh, New Hamburg, Milton, Poughkeepsie, Hyde Park and Rondout.  At the time of the great storm, the "Mary Powell” had aboard approximately 200 passengers.  Fortunately, none were injured although many were probably shaken by their experience. 
​
The “Mary Powell” must have presented a strange appearance as she steamed into Rondout Creek with her fallen smoke stacks.  Repair crews had been alerted and as soon as she docked, the workmen commenced work.  A gang of men worked throughout the night and it is said the steamer left Kingston the following morning for New York on her regular schedule.

In 1917 the steamboat Mary Powell took one of her last excursions. The above advertisement, published in June, 1917, gives Hudson Valley residents the opportunity to travel down to New York City to see Billy Sunday's Tabernacle. 

Sunday was a former baseball star turned evangelical Christian and had been known for his fiery revivals. But although he once said Prohibition was a greater cause than the First World War, when the U.S. entered the war in April of 1917, he turned to his pulpit to decry Germany and Kaiser Wilhelm as tools of the Devil. 

He arrived in New York City to enormous crowds just days after the U.S. entrance into the war. Thousands met him at Penn Station, where he required a police escort. Thousands more thronged into his custom-built Tabernacle where he preached fiery revivals with a patriotic tinge. The tabernacle included 16,000 seats. He gave revivals multiple times a week in New York City for over ten weeks. ​

Without amplification, Sunday used enormous gestures, a gregarious personality, and special acoustics along with music to make his points. 

While in New York City in 1917, Sunday purportedly converted nearly 100,000 people to his brand of Christianity and was in the pages of the New York Times constantly during the ten weeks of the revival.

But like the Mary Powell, Billy Sunday's career waned after 1917, especially after the end of the First World War and the onset of Prohibition - his cause celebre - in 1920. He continued to preach the revival circuit, albeit to smaller and smaller crowds, until his death in 1935. The Mary Powell's 1917 season was her last. She was out of service in 1918, sidelined due to coal shortages thanks to the First World War, and sold in 1919 for scrap. 

To learn more about the Mary Powell and her long career, visit our online exhibit, "Mary Powell: Queen of 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!​

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

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

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

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

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

​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!​

The Fourth of July is the celebration of the Declaration of Independence, when thirteen colonies asserted their right to self-rule. Six years of war ensued, but in the end the new United States were victorious. Throughout the 19th century, Independence Day was celebrated as a unifying national holiday, even as the original thirteen states expanded to include all of the territory between two oceans. But like the war that followed the Declaration, the ensuing years were not without problems, problems which were often at odds with the freedoms espoused by the Declaration. Slavery, immigration, Indian Removal, and the struggle for women’s rights all marked the first 60-odd years of American history. On July 5, 1852, Frederick Douglass’ scathing speech, “What, to a slave, is the Fourth of July?” given in Rochester, NY, illustrated many of the divisions present in our new nation.

The steamboat Mary Powell, called “Queen of the Hudson” from her launching in 1861, held many Fourth of July excursions over the years, with a schedule sometimes as long as 6:00 a.m. to 11:00 p.m. But one of her first Independence Day excursions was held on July 4, 1863. Unlike excursions in later years which focused on the celebrations and fireworks at Kingston Point Park, this advertisement, published in the New York Observer on July 2, 1863, focused on a daytime sightseeing cruise around Staten Island and New York Harbor. Mary Powell departed New York City for Kingston at “3 ½ o’clock,” missing the fireworks held in New York City that evening.

It was the middle of the American Civil War, and, unbeknownst to most Americans, July 4, 1863 would become a major turning point of the war. On that day, Confederate General Robert E. Lee and the Army of Northern Virginia were resoundingly defeated at Gettysburg, Virginia. At the same time, General Ulysses S. Grant’s six month siege of Vicksburg, Mississippi was finally broken on July 4 with the surrender of the starving Confederates.

These two victories were celebrated throughout the Northern states. On July 6, 1863, the New York Herald reported, “The great and glorious victory won the eve of the Fourth of July by our heroic Army of the Potomac has, we verily believe, settled the fate of the rebellion.” But it was not to be. Determined to hold on until the Presidential election of 1864, in hopes that Lincoln would be defeated and non-abolitionist Northerners would capitulate, the Confederacy fought on. ​

In New York City, which was largely pro-slavery in stark contrast to abolitionist Western New York, the first weeks of July, 1863 brought the Draft Riots. A new mandatory conscription law had been passed making every male citizen between the ages of 20 and 35, and every unmarried man between the ages of 35 and 45 eligible for conscription. Black Americans were not considered citizens, and therefore were not eligible for the draft. In addition, wealthy men could buy their way out of the lottery, avoiding conscription with a fee that equaled a year’s wages for the average laborer.

After the first draft lottery on July 11, 1863, tensions over the draft exploded. On July 13, thousands of White men, mostly Irish immigrants, attacked first government buildings, and later Black residents, including setting fire to the Colored Orphans Asylum. White dockworkers, including the Longshoremen Association, attacked waterfront businesses that catered to Black workers, attempting to drive Blacks out of the workforce altogether. Symbols of Black economic success and White abolitionists or sympathizers were also attacked. Black men in particular were lynched or beaten to death throughout the city. The official death toll was 119 people, although some historians estimate it may have been as high as 1,200. It took the intervention of New York regiments of federal troops, fresh off the Battle of Gettysburg, to quell the riots.

In just four days, White rioters had destroyed millions of dollars of property and left some 3,000 Black residents homeless. Between 1860 and 1865, New York City lost a quarter of its Black population.

​1863 is also the year Captain Absalom Anderson added the “Goddess of Liberty” figurehead to the top of the Mary Powell’s pilot house. Representing Columbia, the personification of the United States, it’s difficult to say what she meant to Anderson. Did he have abolitionist sympathies? Was it a statement about maintaining the Union? We may never know. In 1864, the Mary Powell offered another July 4th excursion to New York City, and the Poughkeepsie Eagle News reported that her excursion around Staten Island was “the excursion of the day.”

In 1865, the assassination of President Lincoln just days after the end of the war with the surrender at Appomattox shocked the nation, but also derailed Lincoln’s efforts at Reconstruction. In 1865, the Mary Powell was sold to Thomas Cornell and although we can find no mention of a Fourth of July excursion that year, the advertisements resumed in 1866 and the trips seemed to continue throughout her career, with the last occurring in 1916. The Mary Powell’s last season of service was 1917, and her career, which had started with the Civil War in 1861, ended with the U.S. entrance into the First World War. Although the Mary Powell saw a period of incredible change in American life, one constant sadly remained. Like their grandfathers who had served the Union Army, Black troops returning from the First World War still faced discrimination and violence. And, like with the Draft Riots of 1863, White laborers still feared Black economic success. Summer, 1919 became “Red Summer” for its succession of race riots, including in New York City in July, 1919.   

​As it has since the beginning, the Fourth of July, American Independence Day has represented many different things to many different people. And, since the beginning, freedom has not always been accorded equally. But on this day we can look to the higher ideals and strive to form “a more perfect union,” one that truly affords everyone “life, liberty, and the pursuit of happiness.”

Bibliography & Further Reading:

• Mapping the Fourth of July: Exploring Independence Day In the Civil War Era – newspapers and primary sources compiled by Virginia Tech.
• “Torn on the Fourth of July,” by Winston Groom – overview of the Confederate defeats at Gettysburg and Vicksburg and their impacts.
• “The New York City Draft Riots of 1863” by Leslie M. Harris.
• “New York Draft Riots” by History.com editors
• “Blood in the Streets: The New York City Draft Riots” by William F. B. Vodrey, Cleveland Civil War Roundtable.
• A Nation's Story: "What to the Slave is the Fourth of July?" National Museum of African American History and Culture
• “Red Summer: The Race Riots of 1919” by the National WWI Museum and Memorial