Once the World's Largest Tug Boat Company

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 Contributing Scholar Carl Mayer. This article was originally published on ​July 8, 1983 in the Ulster County Gazette.

Cornell Steamboat Company tugboat "Lion" at Cornell Steamboat Company docks on Rondout Creek. Hudson River Maritime Museum collection.

By WILLIAM O. BENSON as told to Ann Marrott
The Cornell Steamboat Company was quite an operation in its day.  At its height, about 1930, I would say Cornell was the largest tugboat company in the world.  With the railroad, ferry and tugboat operations, it employed between 800 and 900 people. 

I worked on the Cornell boats from 1930 to 1946 and was fond of some of her tugs like “Jumbo” and “Hercules” and the “Perseverance.”

One story about the “Jumbo” comes to mind.  On a June night in 1929, the “Jumbo” was going up under the Poughkeepsie bridge with a large heavy tow at about 2 in the morning.  It was very foggy and the tide was low.  They ran aground at Crum Elbow. 

Mel, one of the pilots, saw a man walking along the railroad tracks swinging a lantern.  He yelled over, “Hey.  Call our Kingston Office and tell ‘em we've run aground here and to send some boats to pull us off.” The man agreed. 

But the tide started to raise about four or five in the morning and they were able to back off themselves and started up the river.  Mel said to the pilot, if any of the tugs come down the river, don’t say anything about us running aground. 

Sure enough, when they got around Esopus Island, there were four or five tugs all coming down to pull the “Jumbo” out.  The superintendent out of the New York office was on the first tug and said, “Hey, we got a call that you fellows had run aground at Crum Elbow and we’ve come to pull you off. 

“No, we weren’t run aground, were we, Will?”

“No.  We’ve been coming all night.  Gee, that’s funny.  Who would call you up and tell you a think like that?” the other one asked. 

Then they all turned around and went back into the creek and no one knew the difference. 

The next was told to me by an older man about 1910.  Cornell owned a boat called the “Terror.” In making up a tow to Rockland Lake, a deckhand got his leg caught in a howser and he was thrown overboard and drowned.  Well, the family was going to sue Cornell for his death. 

So one day this friend of mine went to dock the boat in New York when he was told to take the “Terror” back to Rondout and not to stop for anything, no matter what.  They wouldn’t tell him why. 

When he got to Rondout about three that morning, there were seven or eight men waiting for him.  They immediately stripped her of her pumps and anything else valuable.  The next morning they hauled her over to the dock where the people were ready to claim her, but by that time the boat was worth only $100. 

Cornell had its wrecks, too.  The little tug “Cornell” was going down the river Nov. 4, 1955 helping the “Mary Cornell” with a big tow off of Tarrytown.  There was a south wind and ebb tide running.  It was very choppy and the “Cornell” was a boat that was low in the water.  Before she could get away from the tow, and the swells that were breaking between her and the scows, she started to sink and went right down.  She was the first diesel Cornell ever had. 

Another wreck occurred in 1919 when the Cornell tug “Hercules” was expressing a coal boat to Cornwall, when off Jones Point the pilot said to the deckhand, steer her for awhile.  I’m going down to the galley and knit my fishnets. 

The deckie dozed off near Fort Montgomery and the boat hit the shore, putting a hole in the bow.  The “Hercules” sank in 45 feet of water.  The only way the wrecking crew could locate her was by the howser she had had on the coal boat.  After they raised her, the “Hercules” ran for about 12 years. 

When Fred Coykendall asked the pilot how it happened, the pilot told him what he had been doing.  Coykendall said to the pilot, “well, now you can go home and knit your nets to your heart’s desire for the rest of your life.” And the pilot never came back on the boats again. 

I remember the last time I saw the “Lion,” one of Cornell’s tugs.  It was March, 1956.  The “Lion” left the Rondout Creek, her home port, forever.  She was towed away to Staten Island.  She had been tied up in the Cornell shops since the previous December, where they stripped her of everything they could use on other tugs, especially parts of her engine. 

She didn’t owe the Cornell Steamboat Company anything.  She had dragged heavy tows up and down the river, sometimes as large as 45 loaded scows.  I felt sad seeing her towed away, being that I worked on her on and off for many, many years. 
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It also brought back some of the memories of the men that I had worked with, but who are long departed from the Hudson now.  But it was the old “Lion’s” time to step down for something new and younger.  Well knowing that, I will follow that trail, also.

Author

Captain 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.

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